Through the thick glass window of the fire simulation chamber, my four-year-old daughter, Lily, was frantically pounding her tiny hands against the door. Choking black smoke had turned her little face a terrifying shade of purple. The heart rate monitor next to the glass was blinking wildly, the numbers screaming at 190. The piercing alarm cut through my ears like a knife. “Open the door. Let her out. Now.” I screamed, my voice cracking. But Carter held my wrist in a vice grip, pinning my hand away from the emergency stop button. “Her training session isn’t over yet.” “She has a congenital heart condition. She is your own daughter, Carter.” He didn’t even look at the monitor. “Valerie is having a panic attack down the hall. I have to go to her. The system is automated. Nothing will go wrong.” The heavy steel door slammed shut behind him. In that exact second, Lily’s body went limp like a doll with its strings cut. She collapsed headfirst into the swirling black smoke. I went completely wild. I grabbed a heavy fire extinguisher from the wall and began smashing the glass door, blood dripping from my split knuckles. By the time Carter returned, holding a weeping Valerie in his arms, the paramedics had already stopped their chest compressions. Valerie huddled against his chest, shedding fake tears. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have had a panic attack.” Carter tightened his arm around her shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Valerie.” I supported myself against the cold wall, my voice reduced to a raspy, broken whisper. “Then what about my daughter?” He looked at me with those cold, detached eyes. “It was a necessary sacrifice for the research.” I stared at his hypocritical face, my heart turning into a block of ice. Fine. Carter, since you taught me what sacrifice means, now it’s my turn to teach you.

Joanna’s POV Carter knew our four-year-old daughter, Lily, had a congenital heart defect. Yet, behind my back, he locked her inside that horrific fire simulation chamber. At preschool, Lily wasn’t even allowed to run too fast without gasping for air. But Carter, her own father, forced her into that suffocating black smoke all for some twisted “stress-tolerance training.” By the time I stormed into the control room, the monitoring screens were flashing with an icy glow. On the center screen, four-year-old Lily was clutching her favorite yellow teddy bear, curled up helplessly in the corner of the dark room. Thick, toxic smoke pumped into the chamber. The crimson emergency lights strobed violently. My baby’s face was deathly pale, her wide eyes filled with absolute terror. Beside the screen, her heart rate monitor was spiking out of control. I shoved the technicians out of my way and lunged for the emergency stop button. “Open the door! Let her out!” But Carter grabbed my wrist, his voice chillingly calm. “The simulation run isn’t complete. We can’t stop it.” “She has a heart condition! Have you lost your mind?!” Tears poured down my face. “Valerie ran the safety assessment. It’s fine,” Carter said, not even blinking. “She’s my daughter. She needs to learn to stay calm in a disaster.” I stared at the man I shared a bed with in sheer disbelief. “She’s four! You’re using your own daughter as a lab rat?” Carter frowned, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Joanna, you used to run this project. You of all people should know that effective training requires discomfort.” On the screen, Lily began pounding desperately on the glass. But the soundproof blast door swallowed her tiny screams. I could only watch as my daughter gasped for air, her little hands hitting the glass over and over until she dropped her teddy bear, too weak to pick it up. The monitor let out a sharp, continuous beep. Heart rate: 190! “Open the door! Carter, I’m begging you, please!” I dug my fingernails deep into Carter’s arm until I drew blood. Carter just looked away. “Don’t let your personal emotions cloud your professional judgment.” Just then, the intercom buzzed. Valerie’s trembling, tearful voice came through: “Carter… I’m so scared. The alarms… they’re triggering my PTSD from the fire back then. I can’t breathe…” Hearing her voice, Carter’s cold expression cracked instantly. The veins on his hands popped. Sensing his movement, I immediately blocked the control room door. “You are not leaving! Lily is still in there!” Over the radio, Valerie’s voice grew weaker. “Carter… help me…” Carter couldn’t take it anymore. He shoved me aside brutally. “Valerie is in trouble. I have to go.” “What about our daughter?! Lily is going to die!” I screamed hysterically. “The automated system is monitoring her! Nothing will go wrong!” Carter didn’t even look back as he threw the door open. “Stop being so dramatic, Joanna.” The door slammed shut. The control room was filled with nothing but the screaming red alarms. I lunged at the console, hitting the override button repeatedly. But the screen flashed a cold red message: AUTHORIZATION LOCKED. ACCESS DENIED. Then, the main lights in the simulation chamber cut out. The emergency red lights flooded the space. On screen, little Lily clutched her chest in agony. Her body swayed, and she collapsed flat onto the floor. My heart stopped beating. I lost my mind. I ran out of the control room, shoving past the staff in the hallway. I snatched the fire extinguisher off the wall and began smashing the heavy lock of the chamber door. The security guards tried to pull me away, but they backed off, terrified by the bloody, desperate look in my eyes. After what felt like a hundred strikes, the lock finally shattered. The door swung open. I threw the extinguisher aside and fell to my knees, pulling my daughter’s cold body into my arms. Her lips were blue. Her chest was completely still. “A doctor! Someone call 911!” I carried her and ran, tripping over the threshold and scraping my knees raw. But I couldn’t feel the pain. I scrambled back up, screaming for help like a madwoman. The paramedics rushed in, taking Lily from my arms. They immediately started CPR, bagging her, pushing epinephrine… By the time Carter returned, Valerie was wrapped in his jacket, leaning against him. Her face was slightly pale, but her breathing was perfectly steady. She had a few dry tears on her cheeks. I sat paralyzed on the dirty floor, my hands covered in blood, like an empty shell. The lead paramedic finally stopped. He looked at Carter and shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Carter… we couldn’t get her back. She’s gone.” Carter froze. Seeing this, Valerie immediately covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Carter… If I hadn’t had that attack, you wouldn’t have left Lily. This is all my fault…” Carter took a deep breath and held her tightly. “This isn’t your fault, Valerie.” Hearing those words, I slowly raised my head and stared at Carter. My voice was completely gone, reduced to a raspy whisper. “Not her fault? Then whose fault is it? Carter, that was your daughter!” Carter avoided my eyes. He frowned, his voice returning to that professional, icy tone. “This was an extreme anomaly. High-stress data collection requires realistic environments. Lily’s sacrifice proves we need to push this training program forward. Without this data, more people will freeze in real disasters.” Using the wall for support, I slowly stood up. I walked right up to Carter. With every ounce of strength left in my body, I slapped him across the face. SLAP! The sharp sound echoed down the corridor. Carter’s face snapped to the side, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Joanna! You designed these harsh training protocols years ago!” Carter hissed, grabbing his jaw. “You of all people should understand what sacrifice means!” I didn’t answer him. I stared at the blood on his lip. I bent down to pick up my baby’s cold, lifeless body, but the world suddenly spun into pitch black, and I collapsed.

Joanna’s POV When I woke up in the cold hospital room, the only sound was the dripping of the IV. Lily’s cause of death had already been officially written off by Carter as a “sudden cardiac event due to pre-existing conditions.” The hospital door was slightly ajar. Out in the hallway, I could hear Carter’s assistant talking in a hushed, urgent whisper. “Carter, I checked the logs. Before Lily went in, Valerie secretly raised the visual and audio stimulation levels by two whole notches! She even bypassed the safety redline in the system!” Carter’s voice was cold and commanding. “Delete that part from the incident report. Not a single word of it gets out.” The assistant panicked. “But Joanna’s original safety standards for kids were clear! If a child’s heart rate stays over 160, the system must shut down automatically!” “She isn’t the head of this project anymore,” Carter cut him off coldly. “But why did Valerie change the data? She said… she said she wanted to test the limits. She wanted to see the absolute breaking point of a civilian in a crisis. Carter, Lily was only four years old!” The room was deathly quiet. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. The wounds from smashing the door yesterday split open, dripping blood onto the white sheets. I couldn’t feel the pain. Outside, Carter’s cold voice rang out again. “Never mention this again. Lock the data. Until the press conference is over, Joanna must not get her hands on any project files.” Footsteps approached. I quickly closed my eyes. Carter pushed the door open. He walked quietly to my bedside and gently pulled the blanket up to my chin. “Are you awake?” I didn’t move or open my eyes. He sighed, his voice thick with a fake, exhausted tenderness. “About Lily… I know you hate me right now.” I slowly opened my eyes and stared at him. “How are you writing up Lily’s death report?” Carter’s hand paused. “The training run followed all safety protocols. She participated voluntarily as part of the family pilot program.” I turned my head away, my voice dry as sandpaper. “A four-year-old? Voluntary?” Carter frowned, his patience wearing thin. “It’s just for the public, Joanna. Lily is gone. We can’t let her death turn into a scandal that ruins the entire project. You’re her mother. If you cooperate with the media, everyone will believe us.” My eyes drifted down to his sleeve. There was a light pink thread stuck to his jacket. It was from Valerie’s sweater. Last night, he was holding the killer, comforting her. And this morning, he was using those same hands to offer me a cup of warm water, coaching me on how to cover up for his mistress. Nausea rose in my throat. I forced myself to stay calm. “Fine. I’ll cooperate. But I have one condition. I want a divorce, and you will sign the settlement agreement I draw up.” Carter let out a visible sigh of relief. He reached out to touch my forehead, but I flinched away. His hand froze in midair before he awkwardly pulled it back. “Deal. Just do as I say. Rest up. I’ll pick you up for the press conference tomorrow morning.” The moment the door clicked shut, I ripped the IV out of my hand. Blood welled up, but I ignored it and got out of bed. In the cabinet of the hospital room, there was a duffel bag containing Carter’s backup laptop. The password was still Lily’s birthday. I sat down and plugged in a flash drive. Carter had locked me out of the main database to keep me quiet. But he forgot one thing: I built the foundation of this entire system. I had left an undocumented backdoor. Time was running out. Anyone could walk in at any second. I quickly copied the most critical system logs, the ones proving the chamber was operated dangerously above safety limits, and that Lily’s medical profile should have barred her from entering. The next morning, Carter arrived to pick me up. He brought a high-collared black coat for me. “During the interview, keep your answers short. If they ask about Lily, just say she was a brave girl.” I put the coat on. In the inner pocket, my fingers tightly gripped the flash drive containing the truth. Thinking I had finally submitted, Carter reached out to adjust my collar. “Once today is over, everything will go back to normal.” I looked up at his handsome, lying face, and a cold smile touched my lips. “Yes. It will.”

Joanna’s POV Right after the press conference, I met with my lawyer. I handed him the flash drive. He looked at the files for less than three minutes before his face turned grim. “Joanna, this is gold. It’s enough to ruin them.” I stared at him. “Can we go to the police?” He closed the laptop. “Yes. But in the short term, it won’t touch Carter.” “My daughter is dead.” “I know.” My lawyer lowered his voice. “But in the San Francisco Fire Department, Carter is a decorated hero. Right now, you only have partial logs and medical reports. It’s not enough to convict him instantly.” My hands tightened on the desk. “I can file the charges,” he continued, “but you need to be prepared. Once we file, he’ll get notified immediately. He has powerful friends. He will bury this.” “So what do I do?” “Get him to sign the divorce and asset division papers first, before he suspects anything.” When I walked out of the law firm, my phone had seventeen missed calls. All from Carter. The eighteenth call came through. I answered. “Where are you?” Carter demanded instantly. “Meeting my lawyer.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. “What are you trying to do, Joanna?” “I’m reporting you to the police.” Carter’s voice dropped to a freezing temperature. “You’re emotionally unstable right now.” “I have never been saner.” “Then you should think about Evelyn.” I froze on the sidewalk, my fingers clenching the phone. Carter spoke slowly. “Evelyn had a heart scare this morning. I had her moved to a private care facility. The security there is a bit… loose, and the staff can be quite negligent. If you say anything stupid at the media briefing later, I can’t guarantee she’ll make it through the night.” “Carter! You bastard!” “I’ll see you at the venue,” he said, completely ignoring my rage. “Wear the black coat. And don’t bring anything you shouldn’t. My security will check you at the door.” He hung up. Evelyn was my foster mother. She wasn’t my biological mother, but she was the one who took me out of the foster system when I was ten. When I had high fevers, she stayed up all night sponging my forehead. When I won my first engineering award, she framed the certificate and hung it in the living room. On my wedding day, she held my hand and said, “Joanna, if he ever hurts you, you come back home. I’m always here.” And now, Carter had her in a chokehold. The media briefing was set for 3:00 PM. At the entrance, Carter’s assistant stopped me. He held out his hand. “Phone, bag, and empty your coat pockets, please.” I handed over my phone. When his fingers brushed the inner pocket of my coat, he felt the flash drive. I stared at him. The assistant slipped the flash drive into a plastic evidence bag. He whispered, “Mr. Carter is doing this for your own good, Joanna.” I said nothing. I walked onto the stage. The room was packed with reporters. The flashing lights were blinding. Carter sat on my right. Valerie sat on my left, her face pale, a white bandage wrapped around her wrist. The first reporter jumped up. “Mrs. Carter, we heard rumors that you accused the training project of causing your daughter’s death. Is that true?” Carter casually placed his hand on the back of my chair. I felt the warning pressure of his fingers. I looked straight into the camera lens. My throat felt like it was coated in ash. “I was emotionally unstable yesterday.” The room went dead silent. Valerie lowered her head, wiping a tear. “Lily had a congenital heart condition,” I continued, forcing each word out. “Her death was a tragic medical anomaly. In my grief, I lashed out and wrongfully blamed my husband and Valerie.” Carter’s hand relaxed, patting my shoulder gently. Another reporter pressed on. “So there were no safety violations in the simulation?” I saw Carter’s phone, which was sitting on the table, light up. It was a live security feed from the care facility. Evelyn was lying in a hospital bed. Two strange men in black suits were standing right by her door. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. “There is no evidence of any violations.” The moment those words left my mouth, Valerie sobbed softly. “Joanna… I know how much pain you’re in. I don’t blame you for pointing fingers.” Carter handed her a tissue. The cameras instantly swerved to capture the touching scene. By the next morning, my name was dragged through the mud online. “Grieving Mother Exploits Daughter’s Death to Attack Fire Hero.” “Former Engineer Suffers Mental Breakdown, Accuses Top Charity Project.” “Valerie Working Through Illness for Charity, Attacked by Jealous Wife.” I sat in the dark living room, scrolling through Twitter. People called me a psycho. They said I was using my dead child for clout. They dug up my old engineering credentials, calling me a hypocrite who designed brutal training simulations myself. Carter stood behind me, looking down at my phone. “See? No one will ever believe you.” I locked the screen. Carter walked around to face me. “As long as you behave, Evelyn will receive the best medical care. Lily is gone. If you keep causing trouble, you’ll only hurt the people who are still alive.” I kept my head down to hide the burning hatred in my eyes. Fighting him head-on right now would only get me killed. I had to survive first. And I had to keep Evelyn safe. I pulled out the settlement agreement, which had the divorce papers hidden inside, and slid it across the table. “Sign it. You promised.” Carter picked up the pen. Just as he was about to read the fine print, his phone rang. Valerie’s whimpering voice came through the speaker. “Carter… it hurts so much… can you please come over?” Carter’s expression softened instantly. He stood up to leave. I grabbed his arm, my face expressionless. “Sign it first.” Irritated, Carter quickly flipped to the back page, scribbled his signature without looking, and rushed out the door.

Joanna’s POV Three days after the press conference, I was cornered by Carter’s fanatic supporters outside Evelyn’s care facility. “How dare you show your face here? Carter is a hero, and you’re trying to ruin him!” “Valerie is an angel! How could you lie about her?” “You’re trash!” Someone yanked my hair. Another person kicked my knees. The paper bag in my hands ripped, and the hand-knit sweater I brought for Evelyn fell into the muddy puddle. My head hit the edge of a concrete planter. Warm blood began to trickle down my forehead. By the time security finally showed up, the crowd was still screaming at me. “Stop acting like a victim! You’re just a crazy bitch!” I dragged myself up against the wall, my ears ringing. I knelt down, picking up the muddy sweater, trying to brush off the dirt. My phone rang. The voice on the other end was quiet and professional. “Is this the family of Evelyn Vance?” My hand froze. “Yes. I’m her daughter.” “I’m so sorry. The transport vehicle carrying Ms. Vance suffered a sudden engine explosion on the highway. Her remains have been brought to the city morgue. The damage is severe, so please prepare yourself.” The sweater slipped from my fingers back into the mud. “Whose remains?” I whispered, unable to breathe. “Evelyn Vance.” When I arrived at the morgue, they only showed me a black body bag. The coroner wouldn’t let me look for long. But I saw the old silver bracelet on her charred wrist. I bought that for her with my very first paycheck. She had worn it for years. The chain had broken three times, but she always got it fixed because she couldn’t bear to part with it. I reached out to touch the metal. My fingertips came away covered in cold, black ash. Valerie was staying in the hospital’s VIP suite. When I pushed the door open, she was sitting up in bed, sipping water. The room was filled with fresh pink roses. Carter had just sent them. Valerie gasped when she saw me, then set her cup down. “Joanna? What are you doing here?” I locked the door behind me. “Evelyn is dead.” Valerie’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “I heard. Such a tragedy.” “You did this.” “Joanna, you can’t just blame me for everything bad in your life,” Valerie said with a soft sigh. “Your daughter had a weak heart and couldn’t handle the training. You blamed me for that, too.” I took a step closer to her bed. Valerie shrank back slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “If the little brat hadn’t run around with a bad heart, she wouldn’t have died. But of course, you blame me.” I grabbed the glass of water from her bedside table and splashed it directly into her face. Valerie shrieked. “Everyone around you dies, Joanna. Maybe you’re just bad luck,” she sneered, wiping the water from her face. Her sweet, innocent mask was completely gone. “Carter will always protect me. Who is left to protect you?” I lost control. I lunged forward and grabbed her throat. Valerie choked, her face turning red as she violently slammed her hand onto the nurse call button. The door was kicked open. Carter stormed in. He grabbed my wrist and threw me hard onto the floor. Valerie huddled under her blankets, sobbing and shaking. “Carter… I’m okay… Don’t hurt Joanna. She’s just grieving…” I pushed myself up from the floor, screaming. “She killed my mother!” Carter blocked Valerie’s bed. “Enough, Joanna!” “Get out of my way!” “How long are you going to keep acting like a lunatic?” Carter roared. I grabbed a paring knife from the fruit basket on the table and pointed the blade at Valerie. “I will make her pay!” Carter’s eyes narrowed. He lunged to grab the knife. In the chaotic struggle, the sharp blade sliced deeply across my right hand. Blood instantly gushed out. My fingers lost all strength, and the knife clattered to the floor. This was the hand that had designed countless safety protocols. The hand that had built the most precise simulation models in the country. The hand that had held Carter through his night terrors after his failed missions. Now, the cut ran from my thumb all the way across my palm, deep enough to show bone. Carter barely even blinked. “You haven’t worked as an engineer in years anyway,” he said coldly. “If your hand is ruined, so be it.” I looked up at him, my heart completely empty. The last trace of my love for this man died right there. When I was brought back to our house, my right hand was wrapped in a thick bandage. Carter locked me in the guest bedroom. His voice came through the thick door. “Stay here for a few days. Don’t leave until you’ve cooled down.” The key turned in the lock. His footsteps faded away. I sat on the cold floor and pulled out a small cloth pouch from Evelyn’s belongings that I had managed to keep. Inside was an old photo of me as a baby. On the back, there was a phone number and a handwritten note: “Joanna, if you ever find yourself with nowhere left to go, call this number. Find the Aston family in Seattle. They are your real family.” I dialed the number with my trembling left hand. A woman’s shaking voice answered. “Is… is this Joanna?” I held the phone tight, watching the blood slowly seep through my white bandages. “I need to escape from Carter.” The phone was taken by a man. His voice was deep, powerful, and steady. “We will bring you home, sweetheart. But you must remember two things.” I looked at the locked door. “What?” “First, Carter must believe you are dead. Second, the authorities must find zero evidence that the Astons helped fake your death.”

Joanna’s POV “If you run now, Carter will destroy the evidence first, then he will destroy you. Valerie will keep playing the victim, and they will paint you as a madwoman,” the man’s voice was low and calm. He was Arthur Aston, my biological father. “Joanna, endure it just a little longer. When the time is right, the Astons will make sure they lose everything. We will collect every single debt they owe to Lily and Evelyn.” I stared at the light bleeding under the door crack. “I want them ruined.” “I want them to face justice.” “They will. I promise you,” another voice joined the call. It was Ashley, my biological sister. “The moment you give us the green light, our people will move.” I hung up. A moment later, the door unlocked. Carter walked in, followed by two burly security guards. He glanced at my bloody hand. “Valerie’s hand was hurt in the scuffle, too.” I looked up at him. “You’re going to the hospital to take care of her,” Carter said flatly. Evelyn’s ashes were sitting in a small black box on my vanity. Just a small box. That was all that was left of the woman who raised me. I looked at the box. “My mother just died.” “I know,” Carter said, frowning. “That’s why you need to keep busy. It’ll keep you from overthinking.” “You want me to nurse her killer?” “You’re delusional again! Valerie is the victim here! She’s been shaking all night because of you, and her wrist is sprained. You owe her this, Joanna.” “Fine,” I said, a dry, mocking laugh escaping my throat. “I’ll go.” I reached out and picked up the urn. Carter blocked me. “Why are you bringing that?” “I don’t want my mother to be lonely.” Carter remained silent for a few seconds before stepping aside. The VIP hospital room was warm. Valerie was sitting up in bed, a bandage around her wrist. But on her fingers, she wore a small, silver-plated safety bracelet on a red string. On the back of the silver plate, the name Lily Vance was engraved. I froze at the entrance. Carter had placed that bracelet on Lily’s wrist for her third birthday. I remembered him kneeling down, tying the red string around our daughter’s tiny wrist, then holding my hand. “I will protect both of you from now on.” And now, that red string was on Valerie’s wrist. Valerie raised her hand, showing it off. “Carter said I’ve been having nightmares, so he gave me this to keep the bad spirits away. You don’t mind, do you, Joanna?” I looked at her with pure disgust. “Keep it. Dirty things belong together.” Valerie picked up a bowl of chicken soup from her tray, smiling sweetly. “Really? Joanna, I had the kitchen make this soup for you. You haven’t eaten in days. Have some.” She opened the box next to her, and my blood turned to ice. That was the urn I had brought. Valerie used a silver spoon to scoop out a small mound of grey ash, slowly pouring it into the hot soup. “Evelyn died such a painful death. Drink this, and you two can be reunited.” “You sick bitch!” I lunged at her, but the guards immediately pinned me down. One of the younger guards looked at Valerie’s sadistic smile, a flash of disgust crossing his face. He subtly loosened his grip on my arm, but he didn’t dare let go completely. Valerie walked up to me with the bowl, forcing my jaw open. “Drink up! Don’t you want to be with your mother? Hahaha!” I struggled wildly, but the soup mixed with ash was forced down my throat. I coughed violently, tears streaming down my face. Valerie turned around and dumped the rest of the ashes onto the tiled floor. The greyish-white powder scattered everywhere. She stepped on it with her slippers, looking down at me. “See? Who can you protect, Joanna?” I managed to wrench myself free from the guard’s grip and tackled Valerie to the ground. My left hand gripped her neck, while my right hand’s bandages tore open, dripping fresh blood onto her face. “I will kill you!” Carter slammed the door open and dragged me off her. Valerie scrambled into his arms, sobbing hysterically. “Carter… I just wanted her to eat something… she suddenly went crazy…” Ignoring the excruciating pain in my hand, I crawled on the floor, desperately trying to gather Evelyn’s scattered ashes with my bare fingers. Carter stepped on my wrist, hard. “Take her to the basement cold storage room. Let her freeze until she calms down.” As I was dragged away, my eyes burned red. After I left, the younger guard stared at the messy room. He clenched his teeth, pulled out his phone, and took photos of the spilled ashes and the soup bowl. When no one was looking, he used a clean plastic bag to scoop up a small amount of the ash and soup, hiding it deep in his pocket. The heavy steel door of the basement cold storage slammed shut. The freezing air immediately cut into my bones. I curled up in the corner. My right hand was completely numb, and the taste of ash still lingered in my mouth. I pulled out my phone and typed one word: Proceed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “439540”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I have been working as a professional organizer for three years. Today, I received an anonymous booking. The moment I stepped into the client’s apartment, I froze. Sex toys and intimate items were scattered all over the place. The scene was incredibly messy and suggestive. The young man standing in the living room rubbed his neck, looking embarrassed. “Sorry about the mess,” he said. “Please don’t mind it. My girlfriend is just… way too clingy.” Then, he started complaining, though his tone was filled with a mix of helplessness and bragging: “Her sex drive is off the charts. She just can’t keep her hands off me. Last time, we were literally in the middle of dinner when she suddenly jumped me.” “At night, she wears me out completely. I’m always the one who’s exhausted the next morning. I told her to tone it down, but she claims it’s just her way of showing love.” Looking at the chaotic, intimate mess in the room, a sudden chill ran down my spine. My fiancée, Sarah, had been with me for three whole years, but she was incredibly cold. She never allowed me to get close to her. I pushed down the bitter disappointment in my heart and got ready to start cleaning. Just then, the man’s phone rang. He grinned and showed me the screen. “See? Speak of the devil. She’s calling me again.” The caller ID displayed one clear name: Sarah. I completely froze. Wasn’t that… my fiancée?

The man turned around and slid into his bedroom to answer the phone. “Babe, miss me already?” “Then come over today.” There was a brief silence on the other end before a familiar female voice agreed. “But I can’t stay over tonight.” “I’ll make it up to you next time.” I stood frozen in the living room, mechanically putting on my face mask and gloves. A voice deep inside me desperately whispered that this was just a coincidence. It was just someone with the same name and a similar voice… I pulled out my phone and opened my Snapchat chat with Sarah. The last message was still her wishing me a happy birthday. I quickly typed: [What time do you get off work today?] After sending it, I locked the screen and went to work. The man’s flirtatious conversation kept drifting out of the bedroom, but I forced myself to pretend I heard nothing. Usually, time flies when I’m working, but today, every second felt like torture. By dinner time, I had finished organizing the living room. I forced a professional smile. “Mr. Marcus, your booking is for two days. I’ll come back tomorrow to finish the rest of the apartment.” Seeing the spotless living room, Marcus grabbed my hand, his eyes shining. “Wow, thank you so much!” “Just in time, too. My girlfriend is coming over soon. She’ll be thrilled to see the place this clean.” “Though, I guess I’m in for another wild, exhausting night with her…” I squeezed out an unnatural smile and left the apartment. Pulling out my phone, I saw a reply from Sarah sent five minutes ago. [I have to work late at the law firm today. I won’t be able to make dinner. I’ll be home late.] Working late again… Over the past six months, since she started her own law firm, she was always busy until midnight. But I had never doubted her. After all, Sarah had severe intimacy issues. It was so bad that she would literally throw up if she had any physical intimacy with a man. I gripped my phone tightly and let out a long breath, trying to calm the overwhelming bitterness in my chest. Right then, Sarah sent a second message: [Happy birthday, babe.] [I know your back always hurts from all the bending during your organizing work, so I ordered a massage chair for you. It should have been delivered to the house already.] [I’m so sorry I can’t be with you tonight. Once this busy season is over, I promise I’ll make it up to you.] Seeing the phrase “make it up to you,” my eyes stung. Sarah was always so thoughtful. Over the past three years, no matter how busy she was, she always cared about my health. How could a woman like her be the same person who was just flirting with another man on the phone? I must be too tired lately. My nerves were playing tricks on me. When I got home that night, a massive massage chair was sitting quietly in the living room. I lay down on it. As the rollers massaged my back, the tiny seed of doubt in my mind began to fade. Out of habit, I opened Instagram to do some mindless scrolling before bed. Suddenly, a newly posted update caught my eye. The poster was my client from today, Marcus. It was a headless bed photo. Under the dim lighting, he was lying down, holding his phone up for a selfie. A woman was lying on his chest, her face buried in the pillow, revealing only her bare, fair back. The caption read: [She said this is my compensation.] My breathing stopped instantly. The woman’s right hand was resting by the pillow. On her wrist was a delicate silver chain bracelet. Hanging from the bracelet was a tiny silver pendant. That bracelet was handmade by my late mother. She had made two. One for me, and she had personally put the other one on Sarah’s wrist, saying it was a gift for her future daughter-in-law. For three years, Sarah had never taken it off, not even when showering or sleeping. My whole body began to shake. My stomach churned violently. With trembling hands, I took a screenshot of the photo and sent it directly to Sarah. My fingers were so stiff that I could barely type: [When you were sleeping with him, didn’t you feel like throwing up?]

Less than a minute after the message was sent, Sarah initiated a FaceTime call. I took a deep breath and swiped to answer. On the screen, Sarah was still wearing her professional office suit. The background was clearly her private office at the law firm. “Babe, what kind of ridiculous screenshot is this?” She frowned slightly, her tone laced with exhaustion and frustration. “I’ve been in my office reviewing case files all night. I haven’t even had dinner yet.” “Are you just too tired from work lately? Why are you letting your imagination run wild again?” She panned the camera around. Her desk was piled high with documents. She was indeed the only one there. Looking at the red veins in her eyes, my tense nerves suddenly relaxed. A wave of immense guilt washed over me. “I’m sorry, Sarah… I just… that bracelet looked exactly like yours.” “Silly,” she smiled gently. “There are millions of similar bracelets out there. Go to sleep. I’ll be home soon.” In the middle of the night, I heard the front door click open. Sarah wrapped her arms around me from behind, whispering softly in my ear: “Stephen, happy birthday.” “Babe, I missed you so much.” A sudden, unnameable urge surged inside me. I turned around, returned her hug, and initiated a kiss on her lips. Sarah stiffened for a fraction of a second, but soon began to respond passionately. We kissed and touched in the dark. Everything was going incredibly smoothly. Just when I thought we were finally going to cross that barrier, Sarah suddenly pushed me away as if she had been electrocuted. She stumbled and rushed into the bathroom. Immediately after, the sound of violent, painful throwing up echoed from inside. I lay frozen on the bed. Her warmth still lingered on my skin, but my chest felt like it was being crushed by a heavy stone. It was hard to breathe. As expected, she still couldn’t do it. I shouldn’t force her… The next day, I gathered my emotions and went back to Marcus’s apartment to finish the job as agreed. Marcus was in an exceptionally good mood today, lounging around in a loose bathrobe and chatting with me: “Man, yesterday was such a close call. My girlfriend’s fiancé almost caught us!” My hands paused in the middle of folding a shirt. He continued to brag proudly: “But my girl is just too smart.” “To keep that idiot quiet, she literally dragged me to her office!” “You have no idea how thrilling it was on that office desk. When she was on FaceTime with her fiancé, I was literally kneeling right between her legs.” My brain went entirely blank. I quickly pulled out my phone and opened the screenshot of my FaceTime call with Sarah from last night. I zoomed in on the picture. Farther, and farther. Finally, in the shadow under the right corner of Sarah’s desk, I spotted the cuff of a pair of men’s sweatpants. It was the exact same pair Marcus was wearing right now! “What are you looking at?” Marcus leaned in, his eyes landing on my phone screen. He froze for a second, and the smugness on his face instantly vanished. He looked me up and down, a sudden realization dawning on him. “Wait… so you’re the fiancé?” “What was your name again? Stephen, right?” My blood ran cold as I stared dead at him. Marcus curled his lip, deciding to lay all his cards on the table. “Did you seriously think that ‘accident’ three years ago was some kind of destiny?” My heart squeezed hard. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Marcus said, leaning back on the sofa and crossing his legs. “That alley didn’t even have streetlights. Why would Sarah conveniently walk past there in the middle of the night?” “Those thugs were hired by Sarah. She paid them to put on a show just so you would fall head over heels for her!” “What did you say…” I felt like I had fallen into an icy abyss. Three years ago, I was planning to confess my feelings to a girl I had liked for years, Aurora. On my way, Sarah blocked my path, holding a massive bouquet of roses, and confessed her love to me in public. I rejected her without hesitation. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I already like someone else, and I’m going to see her today.” I still remembered how Sarah’s face darkened instantly. She was always so proud. At the time, I thought she was just bowing her head in sadness. But I never could have imagined that on that very night, I would be brutally ambushed in that alley… “Too bad the actors took it too far,” Marcus sneered, leaning closer to me. “She didn’t expect those thugs to actually lose control and beat you half to death.” “Even though Sarah sent them to prison afterward, she’s been disgusted by you ever since.” “She told me that every time she looks at you, she pictures you pinned to the dirt, getting beaten up like a dog.” “She thinks you’re a coward. You have no backbone. How could she ever be attracted to a guy like you?” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug deep into my palms. Marcus continued, his voice dripping with utter contempt: “She said a man who gets beaten like that and doesn’t even fight back is pathetic to look at.” “Unlike me. I actually know how to make her happy.” I stared at him without saying a word. My eyes were as cold as ice. Marcus was momentarily intimidated by my gaze, but he quickly recovered his smug expression.

“Sarah said being with you every single day makes her sick.” “It’s just that the incident was too high-profile back then. She couldn’t just dump you without people talking behind her back.” Marcus walked over, looking down at me. “Stephen, if you know what’s good for you, pack your bags and leave.” “Don’t wait for Sarah to kick you out. It’ll just be embarrassing for everyone.” Looking at him, I suddenly laughed. “What are you laughing at?” Marcus frowned. “I’m laughing at how stupid you are.” I stood up. I was half a head taller than him, and he instinctively took a step back. “Do you really think Sarah loves you?” I stared straight into his eyes. “She was willing to ruin my life just to get her way. What makes you think she won’t do worse to you when she’s done playing with you?” Marcus’s face turned pale. “What do you mean?” “She used a few thugs to destroy me. Do you honestly think she’ll use gentler methods on you when she wants to get rid of you?” I picked up my toolbox and walked out without looking back. At the door, I paused, but I didn’t turn around. “Good luck, Marcus.” Once out of the apartment building, I dialed a number at the very bottom of my contact list—a number I had only looked at in the dead of night. The phone rang twice before a voice answered. “Stephen?” The woman’s voice sounded surprised. “Aurora.” I leaned against the brick wall, looking up at the gray sky. “Can you do me a favor?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “439539”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The excruciating pain of a blade ripping through my flesh finally faded. I gasped, opening my eyes to find myself back in the spring of my senior year of high school. I had been reborn. Before I could even process the shock, I heard my roommate, Tyler, complaining about his online girlfriend. “We’ve been e-dating for three months, and she won’t even send me a revealing photo,” Tyler grumbled, his face twisted in frustration. “All she does is nag me to study and prepare for the SATs. It’s freaking ridiculous!” Noticing I was awake, he grabbed my shoulder, his eyes lighting up with an idea. “Hey, Ethan, aren’t you e-dating someone too? Why don’t we swap accounts?” My eyes were calm, but my heart was screaming with the brutal lessons of my past life. In my previous life, I had stupidly rejected his proposal. My online girlfriend, Bella, was never the rich heiress she claimed to be. She was a rebellious, drop-out high school girl who hated the world. She seduced me into skipping classes, wasting my potential, and eventually, I only got into a mediocre community college. Later, she ran up identity fraud on my name, leaving me with hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. I ended up dead on a rainy street, stabbed by her loan sharks. Meanwhile, Tyler’s e-girlfriend, Chloe, was the school’s resident genius. She had pushed Tyler to study night and day. She got into Caltech and dragged Tyler into a top-tier university with her. They built a tech startup together, got married, and went public. But years later, Tyler’s scandals of cheating and embezzling company funds leaked. He was eventually stabbed to death by his mistress. Having seen the two completely different paths of destiny, I looked Tyler dead in the eye and said, “Sure. Let’s swap.”

The moment I got Chloe’s Snapchat account, the first thing I did was link it to my phone number. Watching me, Tyler let out a mocking laugh. “Seriously? I’m not going to back out of the deal.” I ignored him. In my past life, he didn’t back out. But in this life, I wasn’t taking any chances. I logged in. The last message in the chat history was Chloe asking Tyler if he wanted to hit the library this weekend. Tyler had replied with a rolling-eyes emoji. I scrolled up. They had been talking for three months, but their total message count was less than what Bella and I would send each other in a single week. It was always Chloe initiating. She would ask how his prep was going, if he needed help with AP Calculus, or if he wanted her study guides. Tyler either left her on read or replied with a lazy “K.” During those three months, Tyler thought she was too boring and never even met her in person. She kept asking him to study together, and he kept making up excuses to skip. That was probably why Tyler assumed she was just a boring, nerdy chick. His loss, my gain. Their last conversation was three days ago, and Tyler had left her hanging. I tapped the text box, typed a few words, deleted them, and finally sent: 【Do you think our first meet-up is a bit rushed?】 She replied almost instantly: 【Then what do you propose?】 I thought about it and typed: 【Let’s go for a run tonight. Whoever loses has to make the study guide for the next exam.】 This time, she paused for a few seconds. I stared at the screen, my palms sweating. Then, a notification popped up: 【Deal.】 I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Even though I had been reborn, my academic knowledge hadn’t vanished. In this life, I actually had a shot at flipping the script. I jumped out of bed and started packing my bag for the library. Tyler was chatting with Lucas, laughing loudly. “I’m meeting Bella tonight to play Valorant. She just loaded five hundred bucks into my account so I can carry her in ranked.” He shot me a boastful look. “Bella is so generous. She always buys me dinner and gifts me those expensive weapon skins.” I didn’t say a word. I just threw my backpack over my shoulder and walked out. After dinner, I waited for Chloe by the school track. My heart was racing—not out of romantic nervousness, but because I knew this girl held the key to my destiny. In my past life, the first time I met Bella, she dragged me to an internet cafe, bought me some cheap game currency, and made me play all night. In the end, I had to pay for her Starbucks, and she still complained that I didn’t buy her the venti size. I wondered if Tyler would actually manage to get any real money out of her this time. Footsteps sounded behind me. I turned around and saw a girl walking toward me. She was tall, with a cool, sharp beauty, holding a water bottle in her hand. Her name was Chloe. In my past life, I had only seen her face on the news. Feeling a bit intimidated, I avoided her gaze. She looked at me, handing over the water. “Warm up first, or you’ll get cramps.” I took the bottle and followed her onto the track, starting with a slow jog. Neither of us spoke. The only sounds were our footsteps and breathing in the quiet evening. After the run, I bent over, hands on my knees, panting for air. Chloe stood beside me, checking her smartwatch. “Four minutes and two seconds. You lost.” “You’re making the study guide,” she said. “Starting tomorrow.” I looked up at her. Under the moonlight, her face was incredibly serious, marked by a determined, no-nonsense look. “Okay,” I said, my heart fluttering, my cheeks flushed from the run. She nodded, turned, and walked away. I stood there, watching her figure disappear into the shadows, then looked down at the water bottle in my hand. My heart rate slowly returned to normal. Ethan, I told myself, you don’t need a girlfriend right now. You need an Ivy League acceptance letter. It was almost 10 PM when I got back to the dorm. My legs were sore, but my mind was incredibly sharp. In my last life, this was the exact day I started going down the wrong path. But not this time. I looked at Tyler’s bed. It was empty. Lucas poked his head out from his bunk. “Tyler said he’s not coming back tonight. He went to a motel with Bella after their gaming session.” I didn’t reply. I just lay down on my bed and closed my eyes.

From that day on, my life revolved around studying with Chloe. During class, I stayed in my room, but the second the bell rang, I met her in our usual corner of the library. We worked quietly, occasionally exchanging notes. She didn’t talk much when explaining concepts, but every word she said was precise. Once, I got stuck on an advanced calculus problem. She glanced at it for two seconds, then tapped a number on the sheet with her pen. “You missed this constraint.” I reread the prompt. She was right. “How did you spot that so fast?” I asked, a bit self-conscious. “Because I’ve already done all these practice sets,” she said simply. “Your issue isn’t that you don’t know the math. You’re just careless with the details.” I froze. She’s done all of them? I buried my head in my notebook, pretending to study hard, hoping she couldn’t hear how fast my heart was beating. On the other hand, Tyler was skipping classes constantly. He stopped turning in essays. Any free time he had was spent running off to see Bella. In the dorm, he would look at me with pure disdain, always finding ways to brag. “Bella just bought me a new mechanical keyboard. Look at this. Can your ‘study buddy’ do that?” I tried to warn him. “You should really study, Tyler. The SATs are coming up.” Tyler rolled his eyes. “You’ve been hanging out with Chloe too much. You’re becoming just as dry as she is.” “What’s the point of studying all day? Chloe tells you to run, you run. She tells you to study, you study. Are you her boyfriend or her puppy?” He looked at my practice sheet and sneered. “In a real relationship, your girl should either be spending money on you or letting you into her bed. You? You’re just letting a girl boss you around.” I didn’t argue. Some paths can only be understood once you fall into the ditch yourself. I had already fallen once; I wasn’t going back. When the results of the next SAT prep test came out, my score had jumped significantly. I snapped a picture of my report card and Snapchat-ed it to Chloe: 【Thanks to you.】 She sent back a photo of her own scorecard. Still a perfect 1600, sitting comfortably at the top of the district. I couldn’t help but smile at my screen. Tyler, who was sitting nearby, leaned over to peek. His face instantly darkened. “You just got lucky,” he said loudly. “Everyone knows your real level, Ethan. Don’t act like you’re some genius now.” I slid my phone into my pocket and ignored him. The bell rang, and Bella was waiting for Tyler at the classroom door. He went out for a bit and returned holding a brand-new iPhone 15 Pro Max. He intentionally waved it in front of my face. “Pretty nice, right? Bella bought it for me. The latest model.” I stared at the phone. I had the exact same one in my past life. Back then, I thought Bella had saved up her allowance to buy it for me. I had cherished it like a treasure. Only later did I find out she had used my social security number to open a high-interest online credit line. I was the one paying for it all along. Seeing me quiet, Tyler assumed I was jealous. He proudly shoved the phone into his pocket. “What’s the point of being smart? You don’t marry rich by getting good grades. You do it by knowing how to make a girl spend her money on you.” I remembered the cold, indifferent look on Bella’s face when I was dying in my past life. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “It’s all about having a good eye.”

Seeing my progress, I trusted Chloe’s guidance even more. I studied like a man possessed. Meanwhile, Tyler’s grades plummeted. He couldn’t even keep up with the basic curriculum anymore. The way he looked at me grew increasingly hostile. And then, the rumors started. Lucas pulled me aside one afternoon, looking worried. “Ethan, Tyler’s been telling everyone that Chloe is using you like a dog.” “He says you do whatever she wants, like a total simp. And…” “And what?” “And he said Chloe is just playing with you for fun. Once she gets bored of her ‘nerdy pet,’ she’ll dump you. He says you’re a fool doing free labor for her without even getting laid.” Lucas looked at me cautiously. “He said you’re embarrassing all the guys in school.” My grip on my pen tightened. “Ethan, maybe you should keep some distance from Chloe?” Lucas suggested. “Just until the rumors blow over.” “We’re not dating,” I said. “We’re just studying.” Lucas opened his mouth to reply, but our academic advisor, Mr. Davis, suddenly appeared at the door. “Ethan, my office. Now.” In the office, Tyler was standing in the corner, a smug, vindictive grin plastered on his face. Chloe was there too, along with her advisor, Mr. Miller. I felt a surge of anxiety, but I kept my face blank. Mr. Davis cleared his throat. “Ethan, what is the nature of your relationship with Chloe?” “We’re study partners,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “We both have subjects we struggle with, so we help each other out.” Tyler cut in eagerly. “Study partners? Do study partners need to be glued to each other’s sides? “ “You guys hang out after school, study together every weekend, and you do whatever she tells you to do! He’s like a trained poodle, Mr. Davis!” I ignored him, wanting to explain further, but Chloe spoke up first. “I like him. Is there a problem with that?” The office fell into a dead, stunned silence. Tyler’s eyes went wide, his smug grin melting into pure, ugly jealousy. He probably thought the school was going to suspend us for some inappropriate conduct. Mr. Davis blinked, trying to find his words, but Mr. Miller raised a hand to stop him. “And what are your intentions, Chloe?” Mr. Miller asked gently. Chloe glanced at Tyler. “Can he leave?” Tyler looked outraged, but Mr. Davis gave him a stern look, gesturing for him to get out. Tyler dragged his feet, shutting the door reluctantly. Once the door was closed, Chloe looked at the advisors. “What Ethan said is true. What I said is also true. Though, I haven’t officially asked him out yet. He didn’t know.” I stood there, completely dumbfounded. Chloe continued, “You’ve seen our latest academic reports. Both of our scores have gone up. I enjoy studying with him. He gives me motivation and a sense of partnership.” “He is the most resilient person I have ever met. I developed feelings for him, and I wanted us to get into our dream colleges before making it official.” She looked at Mr. Davis and Mr. Miller, her expression so calm and mature it didn’t belong to a high schooler. “But you’ve disrupted my plan, and I am not pleased.” She sounded as if they were the ones who had made a mistake. My heart was pounding, and my eyelids fluttered. I couldn’t help but think: Being a genius is truly a cheat code. She just turned the tables on the advisors. The funny thing was, Mr. Davis and Mr. Miller didn’t even look angry. They looked at each other, probably having never met a student who defended her “romance” so logically and righteously. I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Chloe shot me a quick look. I quickly suppressed my smile and looked at the teachers seriously. “We will keep our focus on our studies, sir. Chloe wants to pursue aerospace engineering at Caltech. I want to change my life and make something of myself in tech.” “Whatever our relationship is, it will only push us to work harder for our future.” Chloe looked at me, her eyes shining brighter than I had ever seen. The two advisors exchanged glances. Finally, Mr. Miller sighed. “We will monitor your mock exams. If there is even a slight drop in your grades, this joint study arrangement ends.” “Understood.” Walking out of the office, I turned to Chloe. “What you said in there… did you mean it?” She looked at me. “What if I did?” My heart skipped a beat, my palms grew sweaty, and my mind went totally blank. “Let’s just focus on the next SAT prep test,” I muttered, trying to keep my cool. “It’s in a week.”

When the results of the second prep test came out, Mr. Davis and Mr. Miller were ecstatic. I had jumped another fifteen ranks, and Chloe had secured the number three spot in the entire district. Meanwhile, Tyler’s scorecard was slammed onto the principal’s desk. He got a 300 on his math section. His overall score was in the bottom tier of the school. When his mother was called into the office that afternoon, I realized how bad Tyler’s situation had gotten. Skipping school, failing classes, staying out all night—his academic performance had completely collapsed. His mother sobbed in Mr. Davis’s office, promising she would hire a private tutor to fix this. When Tyler came out of the office, his face was pale and tense. Seeing Chloe and me sitting together in the hallway, reviewing a chemistry sheet, he lost it and marched over. “Chloe, you’re going to tutor me.” Chloe didn’t even look up. “I don’t have time.” “I’ll pay you!” Tyler pulled a stack of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and slammed them onto our study table. “Name your price.” Chloe finally raised her head, her gaze cool and detached. “I don’t need your money.” Tyler’s face flushed a deep, angry red. His voice cracked. “Who are you pretending to be? You wear cheap clothes from Target. You eat the cheapest salads in the cafeteria. Don’t play the rich girl with me!” He pointed a finger at my nose. “Is it because Ethan is your little dog that you tutor him?” “If you help me get my score up for an Ivy League school, I’ll do whatever you want—” “That is enough!” Mr. Davis’s voice boomed from the doorway. Tyler froze, his mouth shutting instantly. His father, who had arrived late, walked down the hallway and stopped dead when he saw Chloe. “Chloe?” Tyler’s father gasped. Tyler was confused. “Dad, you know her?” Tyler’s father quickly stepped forward, offering his hand to Chloe with immense respect. “This is Mr. Wood’s youngest daughter. I just saw her at her father’s private charity gala last month.” The hallway went dead silent. Tyler’s face turned white as sheet. The puzzle pieces finally clicked in his head. “Chloe!” Tyler lunged forward, grabbing her arm. “I’m your actual e-boyfriend!” “Ethan is a fraud! He thought Bella was annoying, so he forced me to swap accounts with him!” I took a deep breath. “You were the one who begged me to swap, Tyler.” “Shut up!” Tyler screamed at me. “You knew Chloe was a rich genius all along! You pretended to know nothing just so she would tutor you!” “You’ve been targeting her family’s wealth from the start!” He turned back to Chloe, his eyes bloodshot. “I’m your boyfriend! I’m your first love!” “We talked for three months! You cared so much about my studies. You can’t tell me you felt nothing for me!” Tyler’s parents stood by, silent but with a desperate spark of hope in their eyes. If Chloe really was Tyler’s girlfriend, his grades would be saved, and their family would secure a tie with the wealthy Wood family. Chloe pulled her arm out of his grip and took a step back. “Did you honestly think I didn’t know you cheated me?” Tyler froze. Chloe said, “The very first day I met Ethan, I knew he wasn’t the guy I had been texting.” Her voice was ice-cold. “Your business with Bella wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew you guys were skipping school to hang out at motels and internet cafes.” “And I know you bragged to Bella about swapping your ‘boring nerd’ e-girlfriend for her.” Tyler’s face drained of all color. “I never liked you,” Chloe added. “My roommate was the one using my account to text you back then because she thought your profile picture was hot.” “The day I agreed to meet Ethan was the first day I actually used that account myself. From the very beginning, the only person I liked was Ethan.” Both Tyler and I stared at her, utterly stunned.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “439538”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

To help my wife’s tech startup climb to the top of the industry, I went completely off the grid. I spent two agonizing years working in stealth mode in Silicon Valley. For two years, I lived like a ghost, eventually breaking through the industry’s most difficult barrier: the core AI chip technology. Before I left, Chloe clung to me, her voice soft and promising: “Go focus on the R&D, babe. Once the technology is deployed and the company goes public, you’ll be the co-founder. I’ll make sure you’re set for life.” With that promise locked in my heart, I returned to the company holding the exclusive patent. But what awaited me was a cold-blooded betrayal. I walked in only to see my wife leaning intimately into the arms of my former assistant. She announced to the entire room: “Starting today, Asher is appointed as our Chief Technology Officer. He will take full control of all core projects!” As Chloe finished speaking, Asher smirked. He slid his hand around her waist, pulling her close. “Thank you for your trust, Chloe. I’ll make sure AuraTech’s technological future is in safe hands.” I stared at Chloe’s slightly swollen belly, then at the triumphant smile plastered on her face. My heart turned to ash. Two years of sweating blood, sacrificing my health in that lab, and my life’s work was nothing but a stepping stone for them. Swallowing the rage burning in my throat, I sneered. I opened my laptop and remotely shut down all of the company’s core servers. You want to steal my hard work? You want to use my brain to buy your happy ending? Fine. I don’t mind burning down everything you stole from me.

With a loud bang, I pushed open the doors to the banquet hall on the top floor of the company. Inside, the lights were dazzling, and the room was filled with elite guests in formal wear. To break through that fatal coding bottleneck, I had worked day and night in Silicon Valley for two years. I slept less than four hours a day. I even ended up in the ER three times from sheer exhaustion. I had returned with the final patent authorization, eager to give my wife, Chloe, the ultimate surprise. But the scene in front of me felt like a bucket of ice water poured straight down my spine. On the stage in the center of the hall, Chloe was wearing a custom haute couture gown I had personally designed for her. She was wrapping her arms lovingly around a young man’s waist. It was Asher. The intern assistant I had hired before going to Silicon Valley. He was a college grad who couldn’t even write a basic line of clean code, a boy who only knew how to sweet-talk. Now, he was wearing a bespoke tuxedo. On his wrist was the Patek Philippe watch I had eyed at an auction—the one Chloe had told me was “too expensive, maybe next time.” “Partners, investors!” Chloe raised her champagne glass, her voice booming with pride. “Today is the most important day for AuraTech!” “Our core AI chip is finally a success. Next month, we will officially ring the bell on Nasdaq!” The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Chloe turned to Asher, her eyes dripping with affection. “And here, I want to give a special thanks to someone very close to my heart.” “Our newly appointed CTO, and my future husband—Asher!” “For the past two years, he led the team, working day and night to achieve this breakthrough.” “And… I am already carrying his baby.” The hall went wild. “They look so perfect together!” “Congratulations, Chloe! Double blessings!” “Asher is so young to carry such a massive tech project. What a genius!” Standing at the entrance, listening to these disgusting, flattering words, I felt a wave of pure absurdity wash over me. Asher led the team? A technological breakthrough? That idiot couldn’t even tell the difference between C++ and Java! For two years, I was the one leading the core engineers in the research base. Under immense pressure, I wrote those core algorithms line by line. I nearly died to get this technology, and now it was Asher’s stepping stone to the top? I took a deep breath and walked toward the stage. The sound of my leather shoes clicking against the marble floor echoed sharply in the quiet room. The crowd parted automatically. The executives who used to bow to me now turned pale, dodging my gaze and whispering among themselves. When Chloe saw me, her smile froze instantly. She instinctively let go of Asher’s waist. Panic flashed in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by cold indifference and annoyance. Asher, on the other hand, didn’t look guilty at all. He squared his shoulders, stepped closer to Chloe, and spoke in a mocking tone. “Oh, Ethan! You’re finally back!” He raised his glass, looking down at me like a victorious king. “Grab a seat, we’re celebrating.” “You worked hard ‘studying’ abroad these past two years. Don’t worry about the R&D anymore. I’ve got it covered. You can just relax and retire.” Looking at his smug face, I let out a cold laugh. “Studying? Covered?” I turned my eyes to Chloe, staring at her coldly. “Chloe, is that what you told them?” “I risked my life in that lab to build your technology, and you told everyone I went to ‘study’?” Chloe frowned, quickly stepping down from the stage. She grabbed my arm and whispered harshly: “Ethan, what the hell are you doing? There are investors here today! Don’t embarrass me!” “Embarrass you?” I violently shook off her hand. “You took my code to put your new boy toy on a pedestal, and you’re worried about embarrassment? I have nothing to lose!”

Chloe’s face turned pale. “What nonsense are you talking about! Your code? That was a collective effort by the company’s team!” “As the project manager, Asher deserves all the credit!” “Ethan, I know you feel left out. But you need to face reality.” “You weren’t here for two years. Asher was the one helping me manage everything, inside and out.” “He is highly capable, and now, I’m pregnant with his child. I have to give him a proper place in this company.” She spoke with such righteousness, as if I was the one who had cheated and stolen. I laughed out of sheer anger, pointing at Asher’s smug face. “Highly capable? He doesn’t even understand basic algorithmic logic! What project could he possibly manage?” “Did he manage to ‘inspire’ you in bed?” Slap! Chloe swung her hand and slapped me hard across the face. I tasted blood in the corner of my mouth. The entire hall fell into a dead silence. Asher took a few steps back, standing behind Chloe, pretending to play the peacemaker. “Ethan, calm down. Today is not the day to make a scene.” Chloe shielded him, pointing at me viciously. “Ethan! Keep your dirty mouth shut! If you dare touch Asher, I swear I’ll ruin you!” The surrounding executives and colleagues began pointing fingers at me. “Ethan, you’re being incredibly childish.” “Chloe is a billionaire CEO now. What’s wrong with her choosing a younger, better-looking man?” “Exactly. Asher is the hero of the company now. You haven’t contributed anything in two years. Who are you to scream here?” “Just apologize to Asher and get out. Don’t ruin Chloe’s big day.” I wiped the blood from my lip, looking at these fake, social-climbing faces. My heart was completely dead. Years ago, Chloe and I had started this company in a cramped basement. To get our first investment, I drank with clients until my stomach bled, landing me in the hospital for two weeks. To meet project deadlines, I pulled so many all-nighters that I lost partial hearing in my left ear. It still hasn’t fully recovered. I took her from a broke, nobody student and turned her into the glamorous tech queen she was today. And now that she was at the top, she looked down on the husband who had built her throne. “Chloe, did you forget? I own forty-nine percent of AuraTech!” I looked at her coldly. “Want me gone? Sure. Let’s split the company. I’m taking my half!” Chloe let out a mocking laugh, as if she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. She adjusted her gown, walked up to me, and whispered in a voice only I could hear: “Shares? Ethan, while you were away, we went through multiple rounds of equity restructuring and dilution.” “Your shares are worth less than one percent now.” “But for old times’ sake, I’ve prepared a five-million-dollar settlement for you.” “Take the money, sign the divorce papers, and hand over the core source code.” “Otherwise, you won’t get a single penny, and I will blacklist you from the entire tech industry!” I grit my teeth. “Five million? For half of my company? For two years of my life?” “Chloe, you’re out of your mind!” I turned to leave. “Stop him!” Chloe barked. A dozen security guards rushed forward, surrounding me instantly. Chloe walked up behind me, her voice icy. “Ethan, don’t make this ugly.” “Without that source code, our chip cannot go into mass production. The IPO will fail.” “If you don’t hand over the encrypted hard drive containing the code today, you aren’t leaving this room.” She was outright robbing me. I looked at the menacing guards, reached into my bag, and pulled out a black, encrypted hard drive. Chloe’s eyes lit up, her hand reaching out to grab it. I sneered. With a sudden swing, I threw the hard drive directly into the giant champagne tower next to us. Crash! The sound of shattering glass echoed through the hall. The hard drive hit the floor, and without hesitation, I slammed my foot down on it. Crack. The drive shattered into pieces. “You want my source code? In your next life!” Chloe’s eyes turned red with fury. She lunged at me like a madwoman. “Ethan! You psycho! I’ll destroy you!” Taking advantage of the chaos, I shoved a guard aside and ran out of the hall without looking back.

Outside, the rain was pouring. I didn’t have an umbrella. I was soaked to the bone, the icy wind cutting straight to my chest. I called an Uber and went back to the luxury villa Chloe and I owned downtown. We bought it on our third anniversary. The down payment came from selling the old house my father had left me. I walked to the front door and scanned my thumb. Beep. Fingerprint denied. I froze, then typed in the passcode. Incorrect passcode. I began banging on the door furiously. “Open up! Open the door!” After a long minute, the door cracked open. It was Chloe’s father, Marcus. He was wearing a silk robe, holding a glass of Cabernet, looking at me with pure disgust. “Screaming in the middle of the night! Shut up!” When he realized it was me, he rolled his eyes and tried to slam the door. I jammed my foot in the frame, staring at him coldly. “This is my house. Let me in.” Marcus sneered, looking at my soaking wet, miserable state. “Your house? The deed has Chloe’s name on it!” “You’re a useless loser. How dare you call this your house?” “Chloe told me everything. You’re getting divorced, and Asher is moving in tomorrow!” “Get lost. Don’t bring your trashy energy into our home!” Footsteps echoed from the living room. Asher, wearing my limited-edition slippers and wrapped in my cashmere throw, walked over lazily, biting into an apple. “Marcus, who’s making all that noise? I can’t sleep.” Marcus’s face immediately shifted into a fake, sycophantic smile. He turned to greet him. “Asher, it’s just a beggar. I’m throwing him out.” Asher walked to the door, pretending to be shocked. “Oh, Ethan! Why are you so wet? Didn’t Chloe book a hotel for you?” “Look at this place. Chloe said the master bedroom’s decor is too old-fashioned. We’re gutting it tomorrow to build my walk-in closet.” “By the way, I had the housekeeper pack all your cheap clothes and old junk. They’re in the trash bin in the basement garage.” I shoved Marcus aside, forced my way through the door, and ran straight up to the second-floor study. My father’s last notebook—his handwritten programming journal—was kept there. It was my most precious possession, the only thing I had left of him. I burst into the study. The room was a complete disaster. My desk was cleared out. The bookshelves were empty. I spun around, glaring at Asher, who had followed me up. “Where is my dad’s notebook?!” Asher covered his mouth, letting out a chuckle. “That dusty old book? The pages were yellow and filled with weird scribbles.” “I thought it was dirty, so I told the maid to burn it with the trash.” “Ethan, you’re not going to get mad over a piece of garbage, are you?” Burned… My mind went blank. Every ounce of sanity I had left snapped. I lunged forward, grabbing Asher by his collar, and slammed my fist into his face. “You burned my father’s legacy! I’ll kill you!” Asher shrieked like a pig, struggling wildly. Marcus screamed, rushing over to tear at my clothes. “You animal! How dare you strike Asher! Get off him!” I kicked Marcus back, throwing him to the ground, and slammed Asher’s back hard against the drywall. “Give it back! Give me back my father’s notebook!” Asher’s forehead was bleeding. He began to sob hysterically. “Help! He’s killing me! Marcus, help!” Suddenly, loud footsteps rushed through the front door downstairs. Chloe burst in with several beefy bodyguards. Seeing the scene, she roared, “Ethan! Stop!” She ran up and shoved me away with all her strength. I stumbled back, hitting my spine against the wooden banister. A sharp pain shot through my back, leaving me breathless. Chloe frantically helped Asher up, wiping the blood from his face. “Asher, baby, are you okay? Where does it hurt?” Asher clung to her, trembling. “Chloe, it hurts so bad… Ethan tried to kill me…” Chloe turned to me, her eyes venomous. “Ethan, you are a literal psychopath!” “I swear, for what you did to Asher today, I will make you pay!” “Throw him out! And make sure he never sets foot near this property again!” The bodyguards dragged me up from the floor and threw me out onto the wet driveway. Bam! The heavy door slammed shut in my face. I stood in the freezing rain, my back throbbing in pain. Water mixed with dirt ran into my eyes, blurring my vision. I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. Chloe. Asher. Marcus. Everything you owe me… I will make you pay back a thousand times over.

I lost track of how long I stood in the storm. Suddenly, a black umbrella appeared over my head, blocking out the heavy rain. I looked up. A cold, striking, and incredibly sharp face came into view. Elena Vance. The CEO of Vance Group, Chloe’s biggest rival in the tech industry. She was also my true, “secret business partner” for the past two years. “Mr. Vance, it seems your homecoming party didn’t go as planned,” Elena said smoothly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. I stood up straight, looking at her. “Are you here to mock me, Ms. Vance?” Elena smiled faintly, handing me a dry trench coat. “I’m just here to bring my Chief Technology Officer home.” “My car is waiting. Let’s go.” I didn’t decline. I followed her into the Rolls-Royce Phantom parked by the curb. Inside, the heater was blasting. Elena handed me a cup of hot coffee. “The hard drive. You actually destroyed it?” she asked casually. I held the warm cup, letting the heat seep into my hands. “It was a dummy. Filled with anime files.” Elena raised an eyebrow, a smirk of appreciation playing on her lips. “And the real source code?” I tapped my temple. “All in here. I’m the only person on this planet who can make that system run.” Elena leaned back against the leather seat, her long fingers tapping her knee. “Chloe thinks she can kick you out and use your tech to ring the bell on Nasdaq.” “She has no idea you built a backdoor into that entire system.” I sneered, a dark look crossing my eyes. “Did she really think my work was that easy to steal?” “I’m going to let her climb as high as she can, just so she can feel the bone-crushing pain when she falls.” Elena looked at me, her eyes deep and scheming. “What do you need me to do?” “Help me prepare a grand gift,” I said, watching the city lights blur past. “Doesn’t Chloe want an IPO launch? I want the whole world to see who she really is.” The next morning, while I was resting in the hotel Elena had booked for me, my phone rang frantically. It was Chloe. I pressed answer and quietly hit the record button. “Ethan! What the hell did you do to the source code!” Chloe’s voice was hysterical, like a wounded animal. “Why are all the test runs showing errors? The system won’t even boot up!” “The investors want to see the final demo tomorrow morning! Hand over the decryption key right now!” I took a slow sip of my milk. “Ms. Aura, we are getting a divorce. Whether your company goes public or goes bankrupt has nothing to do with me.” Chloe gritted her teeth. “Ethan, don’t push me!” “You think I can’t touch you just because you won’t hand it over?” “Lest you forget, your sister Lily’s kidney transplant surgery years ago was paid for by the company! Three million dollars!” “I have every single bank transfer and signature. If I report this to the police, it’s grand larceny and embezzlement!” “It’s enough to put you in federal prison for ten years!” My grip on the phone tightened. Lily had suffered from acute kidney failure back then, needing an urgent transplant. I was locked in the stealth lab and couldn’t leave. Chloe had offered to use company funds to pay for it, saying we would deduct it from my future dividends. So she had been setting me up even back then. She intentionally framed that medical payment as embezzlement just so she could hold it over my head today! “Chloe, you are truly disgusting,” I spat. “Call it whatever you want!” Chloe laughed coldly. “Three o’clock today. Come to the office, sign the divorce papers, and hand over the decryption key.” “Otherwise, expect a warrant for your arrest. You can spend the rest of your youth in a cell!” She slammed the phone down. I stared at the black screen, laughing out of sheer anger. Great. Perfect. Chloe, if you want to play dirty, let’s play.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “439537”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

1 I’ve always been obsessed with hunting for bargains on secondhand apps. It wasn’t a hobby; it was a survival tactic to keep our heads above water. Marcus would hold me close, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m useless. I hate seeing you live like this.” I would brush it off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Secondhand stuff works just as well. Why pay retail when you can get the exact same thing for a fraction of the price?” One evening, I was scrolling through a thrift app, looking for a Lego set my six-year-old son, Toby, had been begging for. That’s when I stumbled across a seller who seemed too good to be true. Her profile was filled with high-end baby gear, designer clothes, and toys, all listed at throwaway prices. I messaged her immediately about the Lego set. She was incredibly sweet. When she found out I was a struggling mom, she even threw in a brand-new skateboard for free. Over the next few weeks, I bought several more things from her. Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked why she sold such valuable items for next to nothing. She laughed and said she didn’t need the money. Her husband absolutely adored her, showering her and their son with new gifts almost every day. She simply had no room to store it all, so she cleared it out online. We eventually added each other on Instagram. Her feed was a constant stream of domestic bliss, romantic gestures, and family outings. I watched from the sidelines, occasionally leaving a supportive comment, genuinely happy for her. Then came the photo that shattered my world. It was a shot from a family vacation. A young boy was piggybacking on a man’s back, turning toward the camera to flash a bright grin. My breath caught. The boy’s face. The man’s broad shoulders. I froze. My hands trembled so violently I almost dropped the phone. I zoomed in, closer and closer. The boy’s face was a miniature, carbon copy of my husband’s. And the man’s back… I had stared at those shoulders every night for eight years. I knew every curve, every line. I tried to scream at myself that it was just a bizarre coincidence, but the wall of denial crumbled instantly. I exited the app, my chest aching. I took a slow, shuddering breath, forcing down the urge to scream at Marcus. Instead, I went back to the thrift app and dug deeper. Using her seller handle, I tracked down her public Instagram account. Her name was Isla. I stared at her profile picture: two hands with fingers tightly locked together. Her bio read: M_and_I_Forever. Marcus and Isla. M and I. Mine. A cold, hollow laugh escaped my throat. There were over two thousand posts, a meticulous, sun-drenched archive of her perfect life with Marcus. Unlike her private accounts where he was kept in the shadows, here his face was proudly on display. I scrolled down, my heart sinking deeper into a cold, dark void with every swipe. Isla hadn’t been bragging; Marcus really did worship her. He bought her bespoke jewelry, took her on spontaneous trips to Paris and Rome, and spared no expense. I stared at Isla in her designer dresses, her flawless blowout, and her glittering diamonds. Then I looked down at my own faded, thrice-patched cotton dress. A suffocating lump rose in my throat. Marcus didn’t just have another family. He was worth millions. Yet, he played the part of a struggling blue-collar worker in front of me, claiming he made barely three thousand dollars a month at a dead-end desk job. I had starved my own needs, scrimped, and saved out of love for him, while he threw gold at her feet. What a pathetic joke. “Mom, look at the Lego castle I built!” Toby ran in, tugging my sleeve to show off his creation. Looking at his bright, innocent eyes, I had to swallow the bitter tears threatening to spill. My sweet boy had no idea that the secondhand toy he treated like gold was just a piece of trash Marcus had bought for another child, only discarded when the other boy grew bored of it. Isla’s son, Ollie, was only six months younger than Toby, but he looked so much healthier, taller, and stronger. He was a child raised on organic food, premium care, and effortless luxury. When Toby was a baby, my milk had dried up from stress. We couldn’t afford the organic formula, so I bought the cheapest generic brand on the shelf. As he grew, I tried to make sure he got enough protein, but with our tight budget, I had to ration our meals. Toby had always been smaller than his classmates. Marcus knew all of this. He had watched our son struggle and chose to do nothing. They say love is reflected in where a person spends their money. Marcus’s love was never with us. So, we wouldn’t give him ours anymore. I knelt down, brushing Toby’s hair out of his eyes. “Hey bud, how about we go to the diner for burgers and milkshakes? And then, we’re going to the store to buy you a brand-new Lego set.” Toby gasped, his face lighting up. “Really, Mom? I literally dreamed about chocolate milkshakes last night!” My heart shattered. “But Mom…” Toby looked back at the secondhand Lego on the table, his smile faltering. “If we spend all that money, will we have enough for the rent? We don’t need a new toy. This one is still really fun.” Seeing a six-year-old child worry about rent, seeing him learn to settle for crumbs, made me physically sick. “Toby, Mom has plenty of money. Don’t worry about a thing. Just be happy, okay?” I held him so tight I thought he might pop. When we got back, Marcus was already home. He stared at the brand-new Lego box and the bag of fresh groceries, a flash of cold annoyance crossing his face. “I just gave you the household budget for the month, Naomi. Why are you suddenly throwing money away like this? Since when did you become so irresponsible?” I kept my voice calm. “Toby, go play in your room for a bit, sweetie.” Toby looked at his father’s tense face, then ran into his room without a word. I turned to Marcus. “Irresponsible? Our son is six years old, and this is the first time in his life he’s ever owned a toy that didn’t belong to someone else first. You think that’s irresponsible?” Marcus flinched, pulling at his collar. “Naomi, that’s not what I meant. We just don’t have the budget for luxury items…” “Stop it, Marcus. Aren’t you tired of playing this stupid game?” I interrupted, my voice sharp. He blinked, his brow furrowing. “Naomi, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.” I didn’t want to waste another breath. I unlocked my phone, opened Isla’s Instagram page, and shoved it right in front of his face. “Eight years, Marcus. I had no idea I was married to such a calculating liar.” Marcus went completely pale. “No, Naomi, I can explain… I… I was going to tell you.” “Explain? Explain how you built a second family during our second year of marriage? Explain how you have millions in the bank while your wife and son live like beggars? Or explain how Isla and her son are the ones you actually care about?” “Naomi, don’t be so dramatic,” Marcus said, tearing off his tie in frustration. “Dramatic?” I laughed, the sound hollow and sharp. “While you were throwing thousands at Isla, I was fighting for pennies on thrift apps. While you took them around the world, I was losing sleep over the electric bill.” I pointed at the dusty box of secondhand Legos. “Do you know what that is? That’s the garbage Isla’s son threw away. Toby treated it like a treasure. Is Toby not your son? How could you do this to him?” A flicker of genuine guilt crossed Marcus’s eyes. He reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped back, leaving him clutching empty air. “Naomi, do you have to be so stubborn?” he grumbled, his guilt morphing into irritation. When I didn’t answer, his voice softened. “Look, whatever Isla and Ollie have, I promise you and Toby will have it too. I swear.” “Really? Transfer fifty thousand dollars to my account right now, then.” I held up my banking app. “You… money, money, money. Is that all you care about?” Marcus snapped, turning on his heel and storming out of the apartment. I watched him leave. Marcus, you don’t deserve a single second of the eight years I gave you. My phone buzzed. Isla had updated her Instagram. It was a clear photo of Marcus’s face. The caption read: Finally convinced my husband to show his handsome face. He was getting so tired of hiding. She knew exactly who I was. The thrift app, the friendly chats, the photo… it was all a game to her. The sheer disgust of being toyed with boiled over. I commented directly under her post: You really deserve an Oscar for this performance. Within seconds, my phone rang. It was Marcus. “Naomi, what the hell are you doing?” “She’s throwing her affair in my face, and you’re asking me what I’m doing?” “Isla isn’t like that. Just apologize to her, and we can move past this,” Marcus said, his voice cold and demanding. “Are you out of your mind, Marcus?” I spat. “Fine. Then you can figure out Toby’s school enrollment on your own,” he said impatiently. My heart stopped. Toby was supposed to start elementary school in the fall, and I had been struggling to secure a spot in a decent district. I never thought Marcus would weaponize our son’s education to protect his mistress. I couldn’t risk Toby’s future. “Fine. I’ll apologize.” That afternoon, I took Toby with me to Isla’s address. Even though I thought I was prepared, standing in the foyer of her massive suburban mansion made my chest tighten. He had built a paradise for them. Everything I had only ever seen in luxury magazines was scattered carelessly around the house. “Don’t just stand there. Come in,” Marcus said, his arm wrapped tightly around Isla’s waist as they walked down the grand staircase. “Are you ready to apologize?” “Marc, honey, let it go. This must be so hard for Naomi,” Isla murmured, her voice dripping with sweet poison. I took a step forward and bowed my head slightly. “I was jealous of you, Isla. I let my envy get the better of me. I am truly sorry.” Marcus looked surprised, a complex emotion flitting through his eyes. Before he could speak, Toby suddenly charged forward like a little rocket, shielding me. “Don’t you dare bully my mom!” he screamed at them. Before I could grab him, Ollie lunged and shoved Toby hard. Toby stumbled backward, losing his footing, and crashed into a massive ceramic vase. The vase toppled, shattering against the hardwood floor with a deafening crash. Sharp ceramic shards exploded everywhere. “Toby!” I screamed, my heart leaping into my throat. When I reached him, my breath hitched. Blood was pouring from deep cuts on his arms and legs, staining the white ceramic pieces crimson. Ollie stood nearby, clapping his hands with a nasty grin. “Serves you right! That’s what you get for yelling at my parents!” My mind went completely blank. All I knew was that I had to save my baby. I shoved Ollie aside and knelt beside Toby, tears streaming down my face as I cradled his shaking body. I looked up at Marcus and screamed, “Get the car! We need to go to the hospital right now!” Marcus panicked, grabbing his car keys and stepping toward us. But suddenly, Ollie let out a piercing shriek. “Daddy, it hurts! It hurts so bad!” Marcus froze, his eyes darting to Ollie. Isla burst into tears, wrapping her arms around her son. “Ollie, sweetie, did that woman hurt you?” Ollie nodded through big, theatrical tears. Isla looked at me, her eyes red and accusing. “Naomi, how could you lay your hands on a child?” I looked at Marcus’s darkening expression and felt my heart sink. “I didn’t hurt him! I just moved him out of the way! I barely touched him!” “He’s just a little boy, Naomi. Children don’t lie,” Isla sobbed, looking up at Marcus with trembling lips. “Marc, please, we need to get Ollie checked out. My chest hurts just looking at him.” Marcus turned around, scooped Ollie into his arms, and walked toward the front door with Isla at his side. “Marcus!” I cried out, desperate. “Toby is bleeding! He needs a hospital!” Marcus glanced back, a brief hesitation in his eyes, before he hardened. “It’s just a few scratches. He’ll be fine.” With that, he walked out. Watching his retreating back, something inside me died permanently. I picked up my bleeding son and stumbled out of the mansion. We hadn’t even reached the main road when the skies opened up, pouring freezing rain over us. Despair, heavy and suffocating, threatened to pull me under. For a split second, the thought of just giving up forever crossed my mind. But Toby seemed to sense my breakdown. “Mom, it doesn’t hurt. Don’t cry,” he whispered, reaching up with a trembling hand to wipe the rain and tears from my cheek. The gesture snapped me back to reality. I had to live. For my son, I had to be strong. “I’m here, baby. Mom’s got you.” Finally, a kind stranger driving by pulled over and rushed us to the emergency room. The doctor said the cuts were deep. Toby had to get several stitches in his arm and leg. He didn’t cry once. Instead, he reached up with his small, uninjured hand to cover my eyes. “Don’t look, Mom. I’m a big boy.” I couldn’t even speak. I could only nod, my tears soaking his hand. Over the next few days, I was consumed with taking care of Toby, changing his bandages, and desperately looking for school options. I had no time for anything else. Until my neighbor gently knocked on my door and told me to check my phone. I had gone viral. Isla had uploaded a heavily edited video of the incident at the villa. It showed me apologizing and then “shoving” Ollie, completely cutting out the part where Ollie pushed Toby into the vase. The internet was ruthless. Thousands of comments called me a bitter, unstable ex-wife trying to claw her way into a rich family, attacking an innocent child out of pure jealousy. Toby’s school admission was instantly rejected. The admissions officer told me flatly, “We cannot accept your son. The negative publicity is too much of a risk, and other parents would complain.” I didn’t go looking for Isla, but she came to me. We met at a quiet corner café. She sipped her cappuccino, looking down her nose at me. “How does it feel to have nowhere left to turn, Naomi?” “What do you want?” I asked, staring her down. “My son is starting school soon, but he doesn’t have a legitimate name,” she said, slowly stirring her cup. “You want my husband’s name. You want to be the new Mrs. Sinclair.” “You’re smarter than I thought,” Isla smirked. “I’ll sign the divorce papers. But I want half of everything Marcus owns.” “Don’t be greedy, Isla. If I were greedy, I would take him for every penny he has. He is the one who strayed.” “Don’t push your luck, Naomi. We’ll see who wins this,” she hissed, grabbing her designer bag and slamming her chair back as she left. I finished my coffee slowly, my heart hardening into steel. For my son, I would not sit back and take this. That evening, a massive expose hit the internet. Marcus’s phone began to vibrate violently. He looked at the screen with a smug grin, thinking I had finally cracked under the pressure and was calling to beg for a truce. But as he opened the trending local news app, his face drained of all color, and his hands began to shake.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “507059”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 When my mother was pregnant with me, the Harrington family was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. But the moment her pregnancy test came back positive, our family’s fortune shifted as if a divine hand had cleared our path. Warehouse stock that had been collecting dust for months sold out to a major European client within a week. A massive joint venture that had been stalled for six months was suddenly signed, with the partner voluntarily cutting their own profit share by two percent. Even our banks reached out, offering long-term loans with unprecedentedly low interest rates. My grandfather declared I was the family’s golden child, our lucky star. On the day I was born, he transferred twenty percent of the company’s shares directly to my name and announced to the entire board: “This child will be the future head of Harrington Enterprises.” Because of this, I grew up shielded from the harsh realities of the world, never having to compromise on anything. Until my twentieth birthday. My brother brought a woman named Vivian home to our estate for the party. While my brother went back inside to grab some dessert for me, she stood behind me near the edge of the outdoor pool. Without warning, she kicked me straight into the freezing water. “You’re just a girl destined to be married off to some other family anyway,” she sneered as I splashed. “What makes you think you have any right to inherit the Harrington empire?” I hauled myself out of the pool, dripping wet, shivering as the cold wind hit my skin. I glared at her, my voice laced with ice. “I don’t care who you are, sweetheart, but you might want to start planning your own funeral.” Vivian blinked, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Who do you think you’re threatening? You’re just a spoiled brat Grandfather ruined. You think you’re invincible?” Before I could tear her apart verbally, my brother, Austin, walked out carrying a plate of mango mousse. The moment he saw me standing by the edge of the pool, dripping wet, his face went completely white. He dropped the plate, the porcelain shattering on the stone tile, and rushed over. “Audrey! What happened? How did you fall in?” He immediately threw his tailored blazer around my shoulders, his hands hovering over my face in panic. “Are you alright? Come on, let’s get you inside to change.” I pushed his hands away, refusing to speak. I kept my eyes locked on Vivian. Vivian’s demeanor changed in a heartbeat. Her eyes welled with tears, her shoulders trembling delicately. “Austin… the moment you walked away, Audrey accused me of trying to steal her spotlight. She threatened to throw me into the pool. I was so terrified that I pushed her back, and she fell… Austin, please don’t be mad at me.” Austin’s brows furrowed as he turned to look at me. “Audrey, is that true?” Looking at my brother, completely blinded by this woman’s pathetic act, I let out a dry, humorless laugh. We had grown up under the same roof for twenty years. He knew my character, my pride. Yet he believed a stranger over me without a second thought. It was truly pathetic. I pushed my wet hair back from my forehead. “No. She kicked me in.” Austin’s face hardened instantly. He turned back to Vivian. “Vivian, is that true? Did you kick Audrey?” Vivian sobbed harder, her body practically collapsing into Austin’s chest. “Austin, please believe me, I would never… I just met her today. We have no history. Why would I do something so horrible to your sister?” She wept so violently she seemed to lose her breath, clinging to his shirt. “If Audrey doesn’t want me here, I’ll just leave. I don’t want to cause trouble…” Austin, completely intoxicated by her tears, didn’t question a single word. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and glared at me. “Audrey, you’ve gone too far! Even if you don’t like Vivian, you shouldn’t lie like this to ruin her reputation!” My heart went entirely cold. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t scream. I just looked at him and smiled. “So, you believe her over me?” Austin’s scowl deepened, his tone dripping with impatience. “Audrey, Vivian is gentle and honest. She wouldn’t lie about this. If you felt threatened by her presence, you could have just told me and I would have taken her home. You didn’t need to resort to such a cheap, vindictive trick.” A dull, suffocating pain bloomed in my chest. This man, the brother I had trusted for two decades, felt like an absolute stranger. I took off his damp blazer and threw it at his feet. “Austin, I am telling you one last time: she kicked me. I am not lying.” Seeing my anger, Vivian let a tiny, triumphant smirk slip across her lips before burying her face back into Austin’s neck. “Austin, look at her… she’s so aggressive. Maybe I really should just go before I ruin your family.” She made a show of trying to pull away, stumbling slightly for dramatic effect. Austin held her fast, his gaze toward me turning into pure resentment. “Audrey, stop making a scene, alright? Today is your birthday. There are hundreds of guests inside. Do you have to make things so ugly? Look, just apologize to Vivian, and we can put this behind us. I won’t even tell Mom, Dad, or Grandfather.” Apologize? I almost laughed out loud. I was the one who had been assaulted, and now I was being ordered to apologize to the culprit? What kind of warped logic was this? I wiped the remaining water from my cheek. “Austin, you can be as blind as you want, but I am not stupid. Apologize to her? In your dreams.” I turned toward the mansion. “But since you’ve chosen to protect her, make sure you’re ready to handle the consequences.” Inside the estate, our butler gasped when he saw me. He immediately ordered the maids to fetch warm towels, a dry dress, and running hot water for a bath. Sitting in front of the vanity, looking at my reflection, my gaze slowly turned to steel. Since the day I was born, everyone had credited our success to my good luck. It had allowed my family to assume that my achievements were just the universe throwing me a bone. Perhaps it was time to show my claws. It was time to prove that my position in this family wasn’t built on luck, but on raw, unyielding capability. Vivian thought I was just a girl to be discarded. She thought the Harrington empire belonged to Austin. I was going to show her exactly what this “discarded girl” was capable of, and whether her precious heir could actually protect her when the storm hit. By the time I changed and walked back downstairs, the grand ballroom was still filled with music, laughter, and expensive champagne. Grandfather was sitting on a velvet sofa, conversing with several prominent board members. Seeing me, he immediately waved me over. “Audrey, sweetheart, come here. Say hello to Mr. Barlow.” I walked over, offering a polite smile. Grandfather took my hand, his brow furrowing as he felt my skin. “Why are your hands so cold? Where have you been?” Before I could answer, Austin and Vivian walked into the ballroom from the terrace. Vivian’s eyes were still red, her hand resting delicately on Austin’s arm, playing the perfect victim. Austin walked up to Grandfather, smoothing over the tension with a casual tone. “Grandfather, there was a minor misunderstanding out by the pool. Vivian accidentally bumped Audrey into the water. Audrey was a bit shaken up, which is why she took so long to come back down.” With one sentence, he dismissed a deliberate assault as an accident, and framed my absence as a childish tantrum. Vivian bowed her head, her voice soft and trembling. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Harrington. It was entirely my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Please don’t blame Austin.” Grandfather’s expression darkened instantly. He turned to me. “Audrey, tell me what happened.” I stood close to Grandfather, resting my hand on his arm, and recounted the entire event calmly. I didn’t exaggerate, and I didn’t leave anything out. I repeated Vivian’s exact words. Grandfather’s face grew black as thunder. He slammed his heavy mahogany cane against the marble floor. The loud crack echoed through the massive ballroom. The music stopped, and the chatter died instantly. Every eye in the room turned toward Austin and Vivian. Austin’s face pale, but he tried to stand his ground. “Grandfather, that’s not true. Vivian would never say those things. Audrey must have misheard.” “Misheard?” I looked at Austin, a cold smile playing on my lips. “There are high-definition security cameras facing the pool. Let’s pull up the footage and see who is telling the truth.” Grandfather slammed his hand on the armrest. “Exactly. Project the security footage onto the main ballroom screens right now.” The butler, who had been waiting nearby, immediately went to execute the order. But less than two minutes later, he returned, his face pale and his voice barely a whisper. “Sir… the security feed for the pool terrace… the lines were cut. They’ve been offline since last week.” The ballroom fell into a suffocating silence. The color returned to Vivian’s face. She looked at me with a sudden surge of arrogance, stepping out from behind Austin. “Audrey… you insisted there was footage. But the cameras have been broken for a week. You must have known that. What are you trying to do? Are you trying to drive me to suicide just to get your way?” Austin seized the opportunity, his brow furrowing with disappointment. “Audrey, Vivian already apologized for the accident. Why must you keep dragging this out? I tried to save your dignity, but you insist on making a scene. I suggest you drop it while you still can.” I looked at Vivian’s smug expression, and the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Out of all the cameras on this massive estate, only the pool terrace was offline. And Vivian just happened to attack me in that exact blind spot. If this wasn’t a coordinated setup, I was a fool. But with hundreds of high-profile guests watching, dragging out a dispute without concrete proof would only make me look hysterical. It would damage my standing as the heir. I suppressed the fury burning in my chest and let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Fine. Since the cameras are convenient offline, it’s my word against yours. Arguing further would only make me look like a bully.” I raised my glass to the room, my voice carrying clearly across the silent hall. “I apologize for the disruption, everyone. It was just a minor misunderstanding. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening.” The guests, relieved by the transition, quickly picked up their conversations, though their curious glances still drifted toward us. Grandfather’s hands were shaking with anger, his knuckles white on his cane. I squeezed his hand gently, whispering, “We will handle this tonight, Grandpa. Let’s keep up appearances for the guests first.” Looking at my calm, calculated expression, Grandfather managed to suppress his rage. He glared at Austin and Vivian, dismissively waving his hand. “I am too old for these childish dramas. I am retiring for the night. But let it be known; if I find out anyone has laid a hand on my granddaughter, they will learn exactly how ruthless I can be.” With that, his assistants escorted him upstairs. Once the crowd dispersed, Vivian walked over to me, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. She reached out to touch my arm. “Audrey, thank you for being so understanding…” I stepped back, avoiding her touch entirely. I walked past her without granting her a single glance. My retreat wasn’t out of fear. It was strategy. I knew that without proof, throwing a tantrum would only play into their hands. It was far better to let them believe they had won, to let them grow careless, while I uncovered who was pulling the strings. For the rest of the night, I played the perfect host, laughing and drinking with our associates. Austin tried to approach me several times, but I avoided him effortlessly. Believing I had accepted defeat, he spent the rest of the night introducing Vivian to our extended family, practically presenting her as the future lady of the estate. Looking at them, I realized my brother was entirely unfit to run this company. A man with his temperament would bankrupt Harrington Enterprises within two years. As soon as the party ended, I called my personal assistant, Alistair, into my study. Alistair had been with me for years; he was brilliant, highly capable, and fiercely loyal. He had managed all my private investments outside the family firm, a secret known only to Grandfather. “Ms. Harrington, you called?” Alistair asked, noting my tense expression. I sat at my desk and laid out everything that had happened by the pool. “I need you to investigate two things immediately. First, Vivian. I want her entire background; her family, her education, how she met Austin, and every detail of her schedule. Leave nothing out. Second, find out who was responsible for the estate’s security maintenance this past week. Find out who handled the pool terrace lines, and who authorized leaving them offline.” Alistair took swift notes. “Should we keep this from your brother?” “Absolutely,” I replied, taking a slow sip of water. “Keep it from my parents as well. This investigation must be entirely silent.” “Understood. I’ll have the initial reports by tomorrow morning.” “One more thing,” I added, recalling Vivian’s arrogance. “Check if Austin has been in contact with any outside investment firms lately, particularly those hostile to Harrington Enterprises. And run a check on his personal accounts for any massive, unusual transactions.” I wanted to believe in family. But his behavior tonight went far beyond being blinded by infatuation. If he was merely stupidly in love, I could handle him. But if he was actively plotting to destroy our family legacy… Well, he had just earned a permanent spot on my blacklist.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “507056”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After the miscarriage, my best friend booked me a session at a virtual-reality AI memorial studio. She told me that through immersive simulation, I would be able to hold my baby girl in my arms one last time before letting her go. My daughter had been stillborn at seven months, a tragic accident where the umbilical cord had wrapped around her neck. This memorial was supposed to be a fragile, digital balm for my shattered heart. Naturally, I called Thomas, asking him to come with me. But his voice through the receiver was flat, thick with irritation. “It’s all a marketing gimmick, Gemma. I already had a priest say a prayer for the baby. He’s in heaven now. Let it go.” He hung up before I could say another word. In the end, I went to the studio alone. When I finally stumbled out of the building, my eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying, I ran straight into Thomas. He was standing near the entrance, holding his graduate student, Serena, as she sobbed. They had just finished an AI memorial service for her deceased cat. A digital projection of a playful kitten was still bounding around their ankles. Serena, crying hysterically, threw her arms around Thomas’s neck. Thomas held her close, leaning down to gently kiss the tears from her face. That night, after wandering the freezing streets of Boston for hours, I returned home. The heels of my black pumps had worn my skin raw, and the biting wind had left me dizzy and feverish. The moment I crossed the threshold, I collapsed onto the sofa, my head spinning. A few minutes later, the front door opened. Thomas walked in carrying a bouquet of tulips and a boxed Mille-feuille pastry. Seeing me slumped on the sofa, he rushed over, kneeling before me and grasping my hands in a panic of guilt. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I was buried under peer reviews and thesis grading today, which is why I couldn’t make it to the studio. If you still want to do the service, I’ll take off work and go with you tomorrow. I promise.” He rambled on, but my mind was numb. My eyes drifted past him to the pastry box on the coffee table. When I had walked out of the memorial studio earlier, I had watched Thomas and Serena leave together. I couldn’t help myself; I had hailed a cab and followed them to the upscale shopping center downtown. I watched him take her to the very French bistro we had frequented since our college days. He ordered her favorite Mille-feuille, the exact dessert I loved. To cheer her up, he had bought her tulips from the boutique florist next door. I watched him smile, pluck the glazed cherry from the top of the pastry, and feed it to her. I had fled before the tears could blind me. Now, looking at the Mille-feuille on our coffee table, I saw the empty indentation where a single cherry had been plucked away. A bitter, dry burn rose in my throat. I pushed Thomas away, stood up without a word, and locked myself in the bedroom. He knocked on the door repeatedly, offering frantic apologies, saying he knew how much I was hurting after losing our baby and that he was a fool for prioritizing work. I buried my face in the duvet, sobbing until the pillows were soaked. Thomas slept on the sofa that night. He always did that. Whenever we had a disagreement, he would play the martyr, sleeping on the couch without even a blanket just to make me feel guilty. Usually, I would slip out of bed in the middle of the night, kick his leg to wake him up, and tell him to go to the guest room. By the next morning, the anger would be gone. But not tonight. I walked out silently and picked up his phone. The passcode was still my birthday. But his WhatsApp had a new pinned chat. I was number one, and Serena’s profile picture was number two. Unlike our dry, transactional messages about groceries or bills, his chat with Serena was alive, buzzing with messages every few minutes. It had started with academic questions, but quickly evolved into sharing their daily lives, meeting for breakfast before going to the clinic, and then, something far more intimate. She had sent him photos of herself in a silk slip, complaining about a bug bite on her neck. He had gone from short, professional replies to buying her soothing creams online. Last night, he had told me he had a breakthrough on a research paper and had to run to the clinic. In reality, Serena had messaged him: My cat passed away. I’m so heartbroken. I put the phone down, my tears spilling onto the cold screen. Later that night, he slipped into the bedroom, wrapping his arms around me and whispering, “I love you, wife,” before falling back asleep. I stared at his face, then quietly slipped out of bed, walked to the dining room, and tore the divorce papers I had drafted the night before into tiny pieces, throwing them in the trash. The next morning, he was gone, but he had left my favorite breakfast on the kitchen counter. My phone buzzed. It was Sasha, my best friend. “Did you talk to Thomas? What happened yesterday?” I had called her from the studio, so she knew I had seen him there. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud. I was still clinging to a desperate hope that it was all a misunderstanding. “I asked him,” I lied. “It was just a misunderstanding. She’s his student, and they ran into each other.” I turned off my phone, sat at the table, and began to eat. But as I chewed, my tears began to fall, splashing into my coffee cup. After breakfast, I called the assistant nurse at his dental clinic. “I’m ready to schedule my dental implant procedure. I can come in this afternoon.” Thomas is a dentist. In fact, he had chosen the profession because of me. As a child, I had terrible cavities and was absolutely terrified of dentists. When we were teenagers, Thomas had grown so frustrated with my tears that he declared, “Fine, I’ll become a dentist so I can fix your teeth myself.” After establishing his practice, he had imported a specialized titanium implant material from Switzerland, customized specifically for me, with a fifty-year warranty. I was supposed to get the procedure months ago, but my pregnancy had put it on hold. Now seemed like the right time, and it gave me an excuse to see Serena in person. But the nurse hesitated on the other end. “Oh, Gemma… Dr. Bennett already used that imported material for someone else.” My heart faltered. “Who?” “His new graduate student’s younger brother. The boy just finished his high school exams and needed the procedure before moving out of state for college.” I sat in silence, unable to process her words. It took her calling my name several times to bring me back. I muttered a quick thank you and hung up. I sat on the sofa for half an hour, staring at the wall, before dialing Thomas’s number. He answered almost instantly, his voice dripping with warmth. “Hey, sweetheart. Why are you calling at this hour?” “I was planning to come in for my implant today,” I said, keeping my voice remarkably level. “But your nurse told me you gave my customized Swiss material to your student’s brother. I wanted to ask what happened.” Thomas remained completely calm. “Ah, the nurse told you? That’s my fault, Gemma. I figured you wouldn’t be able to get the procedure this year anyway since you’re still recovering from the miscarriage. Serena’s brother really needed it before college. But don’t worry, I’ve already ordered another batch from Switzerland.” It was the first time in twenty years I had ever known Thomas to show such soft-hearted generosity to anyone other than me. He was naturally reserved, almost cold, barely speaking to his own parents. I opened my mouth, the bitter urge to scream rising in my chest. Did she beg you in your office? Did she beg you in your bed? But before the words could leave my throat, a sweet, youthful voice echoed on his end of the line. “Dr. Bennett, I’ve booked our table. Let’s go get lunch.” Without another word to me, Thomas hung up. Listening to the dial tone, the tears finally spilled over. At four in the afternoon, my phone rang again. “Sweetheart, some colleagues are gathering for drinks tonight, so I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up for me.” True to his new pattern, he hung up before I could reply. This time, I didn’t sit on the sofa and cry. I went to the bedroom, changed into a sleek dark dress, and took a cab straight to his clinic. I needed to see the truth with my own eyes. I arrived at six. The other dentists from his department waved to each other, getting into their cars in the parking garage and driving away. Thomas walked out, lit a cigarette, and stood by the entrance. Once he finished smoking, he took a detour to the secluded alley behind the clinic. Ten minutes later, Serena slipped out of the back door. The moment she saw him, she ran forward and threw herself into his arms. Thomas didn’t push her away. Instead, he cradled the back of her head and kissed her passionately. When she finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, she whispered something that made them both laugh. The scene looked agonizingly familiar. It was the exact mirror of when we were eighteen, hiding in the shadow of my parents’ house, sharing stolen kisses. I would push him away, blushing, saying, “Stop, what if my parents see us?” and Thomas would pull me back, growling, “Who cares? We’re adults.” Now, Thomas did the exact same thing. He pulled Serena back to him, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. Then, holding her hand, he led her to the luxury SUV my parents had bought us as a wedding gift. They drove away. The cab driver turned to look at me in the rearview mirror. “Do you want me to follow them, ma’am?” My tears were silent, hot as they tracked down my face. “No. Take me to Sasha’s law firm, please.” When I walked into Sasha’s office holding a six-pack of beer, she looked up from her desk in surprise. “Gemma? What are you doing here? I have three divorce files to draft tonight, I don’t have time to listen to you brag about your husband.” I set the beer on her desk, cracked open a can, and took a long swig. “Let me skip the line. I need a divorce.” Sasha’s pen slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “507052”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I’ve been able to understand animals since I was born. When I was three, the old golden retriever at my grandma’s house started barking frantically at me. [Don’t drink that! There’s rat poison in the soup!] I got so scared I knocked the bowl of chicken soup off the table. Half an hour later, a rat that licked up the spill on the floor dropped dead by the baseboard, foaming at the mouth. When I was seven, the neighbor’s pet canary spent all day cursing out their nanny. [Thief! Stole the money and hid it under the bed!] The police did a search and found the missing three thousand dollars exactly where the bird said it was. Fast forward to today. I was waiting in the ER to pick up my dad from his shift when a chaotic scene broke out. The young daughter of a powerful, old-money heiress had been bitten by a snake. The heiress’s fiancé rushed into the ER. His own hand was swollen from a snakebite, but he didn’t care. He practically shoved a clear plastic container with a snake in it right into my dad’s face. My dad, an ER doctor with twenty years of experience, immediately identified it as a cobra and ordered the nurses to prep the cobra antivenom for the little girl. But suddenly, a piercing, frantic series of barks erupted from a fluffy Pomeranian near the door. [That’s not the snake that bit the little master!] [That man swapped the snakes! He wants to marry into the rich family, but he doesn’t want to be a stepdad! He’s intentionally misleading the doctor to let her die!] [The snake that actually bit her was a King Cobra!] My pupils contracted violently. I yelled out before I could stop myself. “Dad, stop! You can’t just give her cobra antivenom! You need to give her banded krait antivenom too!” The entire emergency room froze and stared at me. My dad looked utterly confused. “Leo, a cobra bite only requires one type of antivenom. We don’t need the banded krait serum.” I took a step forward. “But what if the snake that bit her wasn’t this one? What if it was a King Cobra?” The moment the words left my mouth, the man claiming to be the heiress’s fiancé went completely pale. That was all the confirmation I needed. The Pomeranian was telling the truth. This guy had swapped the snakes. I looked at my dad, keeping my voice steady. “Dad, you know a King Cobra bite delivers both neurotoxins and cytotoxins simultaneously. A single antivenom isn’t going to be enough.” My dad was a veteran of the ER. He was sharper than most. Hearing me lay it out like that, his expression shifted. “But her current symptoms align perfectly with a standard cobra bite. And the family brought the specimen right here…” [He’s full of crap!] The Pomeranian was jumping up and down in a panic, wagging its tail so hard it looked like a helicopter blade. [Adam intentionally sent the nanny away and had someone release a King Cobra through the garden fence!] [After the little master was bitten, he let the King Cobra escape, pulled out this regular cobra he had prepared beforehand, and let it bite his own hand!] [If the doctor only gives her one antivenom, she is going to die! And then the mistress will definitely make the doctor take the fall for it!] I sucked in a sharp breath. This guy was pure evil. He wasn’t just trying to murder a little kid; he was setting my dad up to take the blame for medical malpractice. Before I could say another word, Adam, who had just finished receiving his own dose of antivenom, lashed out. “Who the hell are you? Do you know spouting nonsense in an ER can kill someone?!” The tear tracks on his face were still wet, but his eyes were sharp and vicious. “I’m warning you. This is the granddaughter of the Sterling family! If you delay her treatment, you won’t be able to afford the consequences!” I didn’t back down an inch. “You’re the one delaying her treatment! You want the Sterling family fortune, but you don’t want the baggage of a stepdaughter. So you came up with a sick plan to swap the snake and mislead the doctors.” “You thought you could walk away with clean hands, inherit the money, and even look like a tragic hero who tried to save her!” The ER went dead silent. Every single pair of eyes snapped to Adam. Except for the Pomeranian, who was staring at me in absolute shock. [You can hear me?!] It read my expression and went completely wild with excitement. [Oh my god! Yes! The little master is saved! Finally, someone is exposing this evil man!] Adam’s face lost all its color. He clearly couldn’t fathom how I knew the exact details of his plan. But he was a good actor. He regained his composure in a split second. “Do you have any proof of this insane conspiracy theory? Keep spouting this garbage and I will sue you for defamation!” I ignored him. I turned to look at the Sterling family patriarch, a distinguished older gentleman standing near the bed. “Sir, please believe me. The little girl was bitten by a King Cobra.” “If you only administer one type of antivenom right now, the neurotoxins in her system will go untreated. She won’t survive the night.” The old man’s deeply lined face was tense with anxiety. He hesitated. “Adam… are you absolutely sure this is the snake that bit Kayla?” He asked it gently, but Adam instantly made his eyes red and glassy, putting on a masterful display of wounded grievance. “Grandpa, you’ve seen how much I love Kayla. You know how good I am to her.” “I was so terrified she would be misdiagnosed that I chased down the snake with my bare hands, knowing I would get bitten! Why would you listen to the crazy ramblings of a total stranger over me?” “If you still don’t believe me, ask the nanny! She was right there when it happened!” Everyone’s gaze shifted to the middle-aged nanny hovering nervously in the corner. She was already terrified because her negligence had led to the child getting bitten. Hearing Adam essentially offer her a lifeline, she immediately nodded vigorously. “Y-Yes… sir, little Kayla was definitely bitten by this exact snake.” “It came out of nowhere, bit her, and tried to slither away. Mr. Adam reacted so fast, he just threw himself at it to protect her.” The Pomeranian was grinding its teeth in pure rage. [I spit on you! This man is the biggest faker in the world! He bribed the nanny months ago to find out everything the little master liked, just so he could suck up to the family and get engaged to the mistress!] [Behind their backs, he calls the little master a burden! He even calls the old man a half-dead geezer!] [But look at the old man’s face! He’s getting soft! He’s going to fall for it!] Just as the dog predicted, the old man hesitated for a few seconds before sighing. “Adam, forgive me. My mind is just clouded with panic. I didn’t mean to doubt you.” “Doctor, go ahead with the cobra antivenom.” My dad knew I wasn’t the type to cause a scene without a reason. He had been quietly but intensely observing the little girl’s symptoms this entire time. “Sir, I strongly advise we exercise caution here. The patient is already beginning to exhibit subtle signs of neurotoxicity…” Before he could finish his sentence, the Director of the ER shoved his way through the crowd and yanked my dad aside by the arm. “Dr. Hoffman! The family literally brought the specimen with them! What is there to hesitate about?!” “This is the Sterling family! We need to administer the antivenom immediately! If you delay this any longer and something happens to that child, who’s going to take the fall? Because it won’t be me!” The Director glared at me, his face turning an ugly shade of purple. “And why are you letting your son run his mouth in my ER?! He’s a vet med student! What does he know about human clinical toxicology?!” My dad’s brow furrowed, ready to argue back, but Adam exploded first. “Director Vance! Is this how the doctors in your hospital operate?!” He lifted his chin, radiating arrogant entitlement. “I risked my own life to catch this snake, and you’re going to ignore the hard evidence because a vet student had a hunch?!” “It seems I need to have a serious conversation with my father about pulling the Adam Corporation’s funding for this hospital next quarter.” Director Vance’s face instantly went sheet white. The Adam Corporation was the hospital’s largest private donor. They funded millions in medical equipment procurement every year. Vance didn’t hesitate for half a second. He whirled around and screamed at my dad. “Dr. Hoffman! Administer the cobra antivenom immediately! This is a direct medical order!” “If you don’t execute it right this second, you can pack up your locker and get the hell out of my hospital!” My dad looked down at the little girl on the bed. She was seven years old. The swelling on her arm was traveling rapidly up her lymphatic vessels toward her shoulder, and she was crying weakly in pain. He took a deep breath, turned to the nearest nurse, and spoke with absolute clarity. “Nurse Sarah. Go to the pharmacy and pull the banded krait antivenom.” Director Vance’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Are you insane?! She was bitten by a standard cobra!” My dad’s voice was rock solid. “I am the attending physician for this patient. I have the ultimate authority to determine the treatment plan based on clinical presentation.” Nurse Sarah froze for a second, then nodded and turned to run toward the pharmacy. Adam panicked. He lunged forward and grabbed Sarah by the sleeve of her scrubs, his voice pitching high. “Don’t you dare! Kayla was bitten by a cobra! If you pump her full of unnecessary antivenom and she dies from toxic shock, who is going to take responsibility?!” He whipped his head toward the Director. Director Vance was sweating profusely. He yelled at my dad. “Dr. Hoffman, wake up! Mr. Adam and the little girl were bitten by the exact same snake!” “Mr. Adam is showing absolutely zero signs of neurotoxicity! He only has localized swelling!” But that only made my dad more confident. “Exactly. Putting aside what species of snake it is, why would two people bitten by the exact same snake exhibit two completely different physiological reactions?” Someone in the crowd of onlookers muttered quietly. “Yeah… why are their symptoms different?” “Could the kid be right? Did this guy really swap the snake because he didn’t want a stepkid?” “It’s totally possible. Remember that crazy true crime case on the news last month?” Adam’s face visibly tightened, but he recovered fast. “It’s obvious! I’m a full-grown adult with a strong immune system. My body metabolizes venom differently. Kayla is a small child, so the toxins are overwhelming her system!” “Plus, I already received the antivenom and I’m fine. That proves it’s the right treatment!” Director Vance nodded frantically like a bobblehead. “Mr. Adam is absolutely right, this is basic physiolo—” Before he could finish, a woman in a sleek black trench coat strode into the ER, flanked by four massive bodyguards. Maya Sterling, the heiress herself, looked at her daughter lying on the bed, her jaw tightening so hard it looked like it might snap. “What is going on? Why hasn’t she received the antivenom yet?” Adam threw himself at her, trembling and crying. “Maya! It’s this vet student! He keeps physically blocking the doctors from giving Kayla the shot! I caught the cobra with my own hands, but he keeps insisting it was a King Cobra! He’s trying to force them to give her a second, highly toxic antivenom! He’s literally trying to kill her…” Maya didn’t even look at him. She took a step forward, her freezing, calculating gaze landing directly on my face. “You’re claiming the snake that bit my daughter isn’t the one in that box. What proof do you have?” The Pomeranian was going absolutely feral, jumping and barking at Maya’s ankles. [Mistress! Mistress! I told the nice boy! I saw it with my own eyes!] Unfortunately, Maya couldn’t hear the dog. But I could definitely feel the intense, suffocating pressure of her stare. Proof? What proof did I have? Was I supposed to tell a billionaire heiress that I heard it from her fluffy lap dog? She’d lock me in a psych ward. Seeing that I was temporarily speechless, a flash of smug triumph crossed Adam’s eyes. “See? I asked him for proof earlier and he couldn’t produce a single thing! He’s just deflecting and throwing insane accusations at me to delay Kayla’s treatment!” “Maya, it’s been almost an hour since she was bitten! We have to give her the shot now!” Maya finally turned her head to look at him. “You seem very eager.” Her eyes were completely devoid of emotion, but something about the way she said it made Adam flinch. “N-No… I’m just terrified for Kayla. Even I feel dizzy and sick, and I’m an adult who already got the antidote.” Maya acted like he hadn’t spoken. She turned her icy gaze back to me. “I checked the security footage from the estate. Kayla ran into a blind spot in the garden. The cameras didn’t catch the bite. Did you see something?” I was desperately trying to figure out how to spin a believable lie when the Pomeranian started barking frantically again. [The Boss! Find the Boss! There’s a stray tabby cat that lives in the garden! The little master always feeds her, and the Boss loves her!] [After the little master got bit, I saw the Boss chase after the snake! The other strays followed her! They’re definitely going to avenge the little master!] A tabby cat? I’m a vet med student. I know animal behavior. A cat’s reaction time is ten times faster than a snake’s. To a street-smart stray cat, a snake is basically just a very spicy string toy. If what the Pomeranian was saying was true, the tabby had definitely caught it. I looked up at Maya, radiating absolute confidence. “Ms. Sterling. The cameras might not have caught it, but you can send your security team to sweep the perimeter of your garden. Check every inch outside the fence, specifically anywhere the stray cats congregate. The snake that actually bit your daughter is going to be right there.” Adam’s face warped in horror. “Are you insane?! I already caught the snake! You’re sending people on a wild goose chase just to—” I let out a dry laugh, cutting him off completely. “Mr. Adam, for a guy who just claimed to be dizzy and sick, you’re awfully energetic. What exactly are you so terrified of? Are you scared they’re going to find the snake? Or are you scared they’re going to find something else?” “You—!” He realized he was overreacting and forced himself to calm down. “What do I have to be scared of? My conscience is perfectly clear! But if Kayla suffers permanent nerve damage because of your little stunt, you will pay for it!” I ignored his empty threats and kept my eyes locked on Maya. “The golden window to administer antivenom is two hours. I’m sure the Sterling family’s security team is efficient enough to sweep a garden in a fraction of that time.” “But if you inject the wrong antivenom right now, there is no undo button. It’s your call.” I had done everything I could. If they insisted on giving her the wrong treatment, it was out of my dad’s hands. I just had to pray that this woman wasn’t the type of mother to let her kid die just because her fiancé told her to. Maya stared at me for two long, agonizing seconds. Then she pulled out her phone. “Sweep the garden. Find the snake.” I had barely let out a sigh of relief when she locked eyes with me again. “Listen to me very carefully. The golden window might be two hours, but every minute counts. If my daughter suffers any lasting neurological damage because of this delay, I will personally destroy your life.” So I try to do a good deed and get a death threat in return? Nice. But there was a kid’s life on the line. I swallowed hard and nodded. “Understood.” Now I just had to pray to God that the street cat actually won the boss fight against a King Cobra. The next ten minutes felt like ten years. My dad stood by the bed, continuously checking the little girl’s blood oxygen levels. Director Vance paced back and forth, muttering under his breath. “We’re dead. If the Sterling family blames the hospital, the entire ER is going down… no, the whole hospital is finished.” The Sterling patriarch was frantically rolling a string of wooden prayer beads through his fingers, murmuring silent prayers. Adam was staring daggers at me, his eyes practically dripping poison. The Pomeranian was lying flat on the floor by my feet, its ears pressed against the tile, its tail thumping rhythmically. [The Boss definitely killed it. I just hope those stupid bodyguards aren’t blind…] Ten minutes later, Maya’s phone rang. She answered it. Slowly, a deep crease formed between her brows. She hung up, looked at me, and her eyes turned utterly lethal. “They swept the garden three times. They checked a ten-mile radius. Aside from a few feral cats, there is no King Cobra.” [Impossible! The Boss would never let it get away!] The Pomeranian jumped up in a panic. My heart sank into my stomach. Did the cat lose? Adam instantly burst into dramatic, heaving sobs. “Maya! I told you he was just stalling! Please, tell the doctors to give Kayla the shot before it’s too late!” Maya’s gaze on me was colder than liquid nitrogen. She raised a single finger, gesturing to her bodyguards. “Take him to the police station.” Two massive men in suits stepped forward and grabbed my arms. The Pomeranian let out a miserable, high-pitched whine. [It’s over… it’s over… the little master is dead…] As the bodyguards started dragging me toward the door, I fought back, screaming at the top of my lungs. “You can’t just give her one shot! You’re going to kill her!” Adam stepped up and slapped me hard across the face. “Shut your mouth!” “What King Cobra? What stray cats? You made up this entire psychotic fantasy just to delay Kayla’s treatment!” “Who paid you?! Was it one of Maya’s corporate rivals?!” He was working himself into a frenzy. He raised his hand to slap me again. My dad, who was being restrained by hospital security, screamed, his voice breaking. “Don’t touch my son! He doesn’t lie!” Adam whipped around and roared at my dad. “He didn’t even see the snake and he’s screaming about a King Cobra! If that’s not lying, what is?! You two are in this together!” “This whole snake incident is suspicious! He won’t tell the truth until he learns a lesson. Throw him in the back of my car! I’ll interrogate him myself!” “And grab his dad too! He’s probably an accomplice!” Adam smiled smugly as the bodyguards dragged me closer to the automatic doors. The Pomeranian was desperately biting at the hem of Maya’s trench coat. [No! It’s not true! The nice boy didn’t lie!] [Don’t let him take the nice boy! Adam will torture him!] Maya glanced down at the little dog tugging on her coat, a slight frown on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could— A golden-brown blur launched itself through the sliding glass doors of the ER. With a wet, heavy thud, a six-foot-long, dark brown snake was dropped onto the sterile white tiles. A ragged, battle-scarred tabby cat sat down next to it and casually started licking its paw. “Meow.” [I’m exhausted. It took me forever to find out which hospital the kid was at. Better not be too late.] The second Adam’s eyes locked onto the mangled corpse of the King Cobra on the floor, his face drained of every single drop of blood.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “507049”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Christopher Reed was an internationally renowned, award-winning photographer. But in his entire career, he had never once shot a human portrait. I had begged him countless times, practically wearing myself out trying to convince him to do a photoshoot for me, but he politely declined every single time. He was always so gentle, yet so distant. “You know I never shoot portraits. It’s just not what I’m good at.” Until the day I accidentally pushed open a hidden door in the back of his latest gallery exhibition. When I flicked on the light switch, my fingers began to tremble uncontrollably. The hidden room was plastered with hundreds of portrait photographs. And from the very first frame to the last, the subject was the exact same girl. I walked along the wall, looking at them one by one. In some, her eyes were crinkled in a bright, beautiful smile. In others, her gaze was lowered in quiet contemplation. The lighting, the composition, the use of shadow—every single element was breathtakingly tender. It was impossible to hide the absolute devotion and sheer favoritism of the man behind the lens. At the bottom of one of the photographs, a single line of handwritten text made my eyes burn with tears. I told you, in this lifetime, my lens will only ever focus on you. Stella. It turned out he wasn’t bad at shooting portraits. It was just that the exclusive muse of his lens was never meant to be me. … I stumbled out of the hidden room, my face as pale as a ghost. “Chloe, where did you run off to? You know how chaotic opening day is for the exhibition.” Christopher had walked up to me out of nowhere. He didn’t even notice my bloodless face; he just looked annoyed as he shoved a stack of documents into my hands. “You’re going to have to handle the wrap-up and post-exhibition press. I just got a sudden burst of inspiration, and I need to fly to Aspen immediately to shoot a snow series.” My entire body went rigid. My mind instantly flashed to a social media post I had just seen when I searched Stella’s name five minutes ago. Next stop, Aspen! Wait for the gorgeous snow shots, guys! Stella was a travel influencer. She spent the entire year jet-setting across the globe. I had scrolled through the travel photos on her feed. Every single one of them had the exact same photographic signature. It was Christopher. Which meant, for the ten years Stella had been a travel influencer, Christopher had been traveling right alongside her. And for the six years I had been married to him, I was completely kept in the dark. Every time he packed his bags, I thought he was going on an intense, grueling work trip. I had no idea he was just flying out to be Stella’s personal photographer. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. It hurt to swallow. I forced the words out. “But the exhibition just opened. You’re the featured artist, you can’t just leave. Can’t the photos wait until next…” “Aren’t you usually great at handling these things?” he cut me off, clearly losing patience. “Besides, an artist’s inspiration is the most important thing. I have the vision now, so I have to shoot now. If the inspiration fades, what’s the point?” “I already booked the flight. You handle things here.” Without giving a single damn about what I thought or felt, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit, rushing to meet another woman. Watching his anxious, hurried back disappear into the crowd, a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. For years, I had managed the house, managed his finances, and handled every tedious, exhausting detail of his gallery shows. I wasn’t his wife. I was his live-in assistant. His maid. Just then, his junior assistant came jogging up to me, looking panicked. “Mrs. Reed! I just saw Mr. Reed leave… but he has a very important networking dinner tonight with Mr. Sterling. Mr. Sterling just bought four massive prints today. He’s a VIP client.” “Are you… going to cover for Mr. Reed again tonight?” The assistant looked incredibly stressed. “If Mr. Reed blows him off completely, Mr. Sterling is going to be furious…” Christopher had always despised networking. He felt rubbing elbows with corporate executives ruined his “artistic aura.” So, for the last few years, I was the one who handled all the schmoozing. I used to be a complete lightweight, but after years of corporate dinners, I had developed a liver of steel. I looked at my reflection in a nearby glass pane. I looked exhausted. My eyes were dull, completely worn down by the stress of corporate pleasantries and business deals. And then I thought of Christopher. Thirty years old, but still looking like a pristine, untouched bohemian artist who had never worried about a single practical thing in his life. I suddenly felt like a stranger in my own body. I used to hate networking too. When did I slowly morph into someone I didn’t even recognize? Seeing that I wasn’t speaking, the assistant nervously tried again. “Mrs. Reed… maybe you should call Mr. Reed and talk to him?” I snapped out of it and looked at the assistant. “Call Mr. Sterling. Tell him Christopher had a sudden burst of inspiration, flew to Aspen, and won’t be able to make the dinner.” If Christopher didn’t care about his own career, if he was willing to throw away his VIP clients to go play in the snow with Stella, why the hell should I keep wiping his ass for him? But in the end, I still went. I had been the one to personally invite Mr. Sterling to the gallery. It was my responsibility to see it through. When Mr. Sterling walked into the private dining room and saw I was alone, his face darkened, and his tone turned sharp and mocking. “Mrs. Reed. Let me guess. Is Christopher physically sick today, or is he mentally sick today?” “Or is he just too much of a visionary to stoop to having dinner with a lowly businessman like me?” In the past, whenever Mr. Sterling insulted Christopher like this, I would instantly jump to defend my husband, even if it meant offending the client. This time, I just smiled. I poured myself three shots of whiskey, downed them back-to-back, and then gave Mr. Sterling a deep, formal bow. “Christopher said he had a burst of inspiration and flew to Aspen. That is why he cannot be here tonight.” “But I am not here tonight as Christopher’s representative. I am here as Chloe, to personally thank you for supporting my work in organizing the exhibition.” Mr. Sterling looked genuinely surprised. He clearly hadn’t expected me to stop making excuses for Christopher. “You’re a hell of a lot more professional than he is,” Mr. Sterling grunted. “But three shots aren’t going to put out this fire.” I gave him a bright, practiced smile. “I understand perfectly.” I proceeded to kill an entire bottle of top-shelf whiskey on my own. Mr. Sterling finally nodded in approval. “Alright. You’ve earned my respect, Chloe. We don’t need to mention your husband again tonight.” After Mr. Sterling left, my body finally gave out. I collapsed right there in the private room. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. A perforated ulcer. “You need emergency surgery right now. Get a family member here to sign the consent forms,” the doctor said, holding a clipboard. I took the clipboard from his hand and signed my own name. “My husband is dead.” The doctor blinked in shock, but wisely chose not to say another word. After the surgery, I packed up all my work files, along with one specific manila envelope, and handed them over to Christopher’s assistant. “From now on, anything regarding the gallery exhibitions has absolutely nothing to do with me. If there’s an issue, call Christopher.” “And make sure he signs the papers inside that envelope.” While I was recovering in my hospital bed, I opened Stella’s social media. She had just uploaded a new album. She was wearing a stunning red dress, standing against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains. The caption read: I told him I wanted to shoot a snow series, and he dropped everything at work to fly out with me. After all these years, he hasn’t changed a bit. The comment section was a flood of envy. “Omg, is the photographer your husband? He’s so talented!” “These are breathtaking! I want a shoot like this! Can I rent your photographer? I’ll pay top dollar!” Stella actually replied to that last comment. He promised me that in this lifetime, I would be his only human subject. So, sorry, no can do! [wink emoji] The replies under that were just endless screaming about how romantic it was. I closed the comment section and started packing my things in my hospital room. When I finally got back to our house, I dug through the bottom of the closet and found a stack of portrait photography textbooks. Seeing them pulled me into a painful memory. Back then, the only reason I agreed to go on a blind date with Christopher was because I loved photography. I thought that when we traveled, he could take beautiful pictures of me. But after we got married, we never traveled together. And he never took a single picture of me. I used to beg him. He would just say he wasn’t good at shooting people. When I badgered him too much, he promised that once he “practiced enough,” he would finally take my picture. So I bought him all these expensive portrait photography textbooks, hoping that one day he would pick up his camera and point it at me. But in six years of marriage, he never took a single photo of me. Not one. I remembered one specific day. I needed a standard passport-style headshot for an electronic visa application. I was in a massive rush, so I asked him to just snap a quick picture of me with his iPhone against a white wall. “It doesn’t require any artistic skill,” I pleaded. “Just take a quick picture, I really need it right now.” His face went completely cold, and he rejected me flat out. “I am a professional photographer. The word ‘quick’ does not exist in my vocabulary.” “Forcing me to shoot a portrait when it’s not my specialty is a direct insult to my profession. Ask someone else.” He slammed the door and left the house. In the end, I had to knock on my neighbor’s door and beg them to take the picture for me. After that fight, I actually had to write him an apology letter, promising I would never ask him to take my picture again, before he reluctantly agreed to come home. Looking back on it now, I was so incredibly pathetic it was almost funny. I picked up the textbooks and threw them straight into the trash can. I wouldn’t be needing them anymore. “What are you doing?” Christopher had just walked through the front door, dragging his suitcase. He pointed at the trash can. “Didn’t you buy those books for me? Why are you throwing them away?” I didn’t even look at him. “They’re taking up space. It’s not like you’re ever going to read them.” He frowned, clearly annoyed. “What’s with the passive-aggressive attitude? You know how busy I am. When would I have time to read those?” “I already told you I’m not good at portraits. You’re the one who tried to force me to do something I’m not comfortable with, and now you’re throwing a tantrum about it. You’re crossing a line, Chloe.” I opened my mouth, a split second away from screaming at him about the hidden room full of Stella’s portraits. But I swallowed it down. “I won’t force you anymore.” I turned my back to him and went back to packing my own suitcase. “Aren’t you going to unpack my luggage?” he demanded. In the past, every time he came back from a trip, if I was home, I unpacked his suitcase. I took out his dirty clothes, washed them, ironed them, and hung them up. I meticulously cleaned and maintained his camera lenses. All he had to do was point and shoot. Looking back, I was basically the unpaid logistics coordinator for his romantic getaways with his ex. “I’m tired. Unpack it yourself.” Christopher opened his mouth to argue, but his phone suddenly rang. “Boss,” his assistant’s voice came through the speaker. “Mr. Sterling just pulled all his funding for the next exhibition. You need to handle this right now, or the next gallery opening is going to be a disaster.” Christopher grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising and furious. “Chloe! I left the exhibition in your hands, and this is how you handle my business?! Why the hell is Mr. Sterling pulling his funding?!” Faced with his explosive anger, I was completely numb. “Because you blew off his private dinner. He was pissed, so he pulled the money.” He scoffed. “Don’t give me that excuse. This isn’t the first time I’ve skipped one of his dinners, and you always smoothed it over. Why is he so furious this time?” “Is there something wrong with your competence?” I laughed bitterly on the inside. My competence. My competence was smiling until my face hurt, drinking myself into a stupor, and acting like a subservient dog until I literally drank a hole through my stomach. While he was out in the snow, taking pictures of Stella. I forced down the suffocating ache in my chest, my voice raspy. “You’re right. There is something wrong with my competence. That’s why I quit.” “You can handle it yourself from now on.” He froze, staring at me in pure disbelief. “The gallery is your life’s work. You can’t just quit.” Oh. So he did know how much blood, sweat, and tears I poured into it. “I’m incompetent, remember? I wouldn’t want to hold back the great Christopher Reed.” I ripped my wrist out of his grip, threw my last sweater into my suitcase, and zipped it shut in one fluid motion. “Where do you think you’re going?” I didn’t answer his question. I just threw out a casual observation. “The snow in Aspen looked beautiful. The model looked beautiful too.” Christopher went rigid as a board. A flash of intense, defensive panic washed over his face. “You’ve been spying on me?” Watching him react like this just filled me with a deep, hollow exhaustion. He had been caught in a massive lie, and his very first instinct wasn’t to apologize or explain. It was to interrogate me. I let out a dry laugh, my tone completely devoid of emotion. “Stella’s social media is public. Your comments are public too.” Under her post, Christopher had commented using his burner account: You are the only muse my lens will ever know. His burner account wasn’t exactly a secret CIA operation. The profile picture was a lighting test shot he took in our home office. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “Look, there’s a reason for all of this. If you really want me to take your picture that badly, I can talk to Stella and see if she’s okay with me shooting a portrait series of you.” I actually laughed out loud. The sheer absurdity of it was staggering. My own husband had to ask another woman for permission to take my picture. “Don’t bother. I already booked a professional photographer. I wouldn’t want you to break your sacred vow to Stella.” He paused, clearly remembering the wish I had been nagging him about for months. I wanted to take a gorgeous, professional photoshoot before I turned thirty, to capture my youth while I still had it. And my thirtieth birthday was in exactly two days. I didn’t look at him again. I grabbed my suitcase handle and walked toward the door. But he aggressively blocked my path, grabbing my arm again. “Chloe, listen to me! Stella is my ex-girlfriend. But because of some things that happened in the past, I failed her.” “So we made a pact. In this lifetime, I will only ever shoot portraits of her. It’s my way of making up for what I did to her.” “I gave you my hand in marriage. Can’t you just be generous about this?” His ex-girlfriend. I had already guessed as much. But looking at the hundreds of photos in that hidden room, every single frame was dripping with a photographer’s desperate, all-consuming love. That wasn’t just “making up for the past.” He was still deeply in love with Stella. He failed her. He needed to make it up to her. But why was I the one paying the price? He married me, but his heart was permanently chained to Stella. I looked up at him, my voice dead. “So tell me, Christopher. What exactly did I do wrong?” “What?” Christopher looked genuinely confused for a second. I stepped around him, but he grabbed my luggage handle, a flash of genuine panic in his eyes. “I’ll text Stella right now. I’ll tell her I’m making an exception for you. I promise, I’ll shoot a birthday series for you, and it will be perfect.” “I said don’t bother.” But he ignored me, physically dragging my suitcase out the door and forcing me into the passenger seat of his car. I didn’t expect him to drive us straight to the coast. “The sunset is gorgeous right now. We’ll do the shoot right here on the beach.” I looked down at myself. I was wearing baggy sweatpants, zero makeup, and my face was gaunt and exhausted from the hospital stay. I looked like an absolute wreck against the stunning ocean backdrop. “Do you honestly think I look like I’m ready for a photoshoot right now?” He froze, holding his Leica camera. “Let’s just take a few test shots. If you don’t like them, we can always schedule a proper shoot later.” I sneered. “I thought you were only allowed to make one exception for me? If we do it again, aren’t you terrified Stella will be furious? After all, you promised her you’d only ever shoot her.” He looked incredibly conflicted, and then, seeing the open disgust in my eyes, his face flushed dark red with anger. “Are you intentionally trying to humiliate me?” I shook my head. “I’m just stating facts.” He stiffened, his voice losing its arrogant edge. “Stella isn’t a petty person.” So I am? “The light is perfect. Let’s just start.” He ignored me, adjusting his camera settings and framing the shot. Right as his finger rested on the shutter button, his phone started ringing. I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end said, but Christopher’s expression instantly morphed into sheer panic. He looked at me, a brief flash of guilt in his eyes. “I have an emergency. We’ll do the photos next time.” He didn’t even wait for me to reply. He sprinted back to his car, threw it in drive, and sped off. He completely forgot I was even there. This specific stretch of the beach was popular with photographers, but it was miles away from the main road. I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. I had to walk for three hours before I finally found a spot with enough cell service to call a cab. When I got back to the empty house, I grabbed my suitcase and headed straight for the airport. While I was waiting at my gate, I checked Stella’s social media. She had posted a picture of two first-class plane tickets. You could see the side of a man’s face in the frame, and the distinct red mole on his ear. It was Christopher. The caption read: Taking off for New Zealand with my personal photographer! So his massive “emergency” was that he needed to escort Stella to New Zealand. I turned off my phone and boarded my flight. I never needed to see Christopher Reed ever again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “507047”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 When I was rushed to the ER with a severe allergic reaction, my husband of five years was nowhere to be found to sign the consent forms. I called him twenty-eight times. He ignored every single one, sending back a generic text instead: Don’t worry, I’m almost there. On the twenty-ninth attempt, he finally picked up. His voice was thick with irritation. “Emma, what is your problem? Why do you have to be so dramatic?” “Every other day it’s either a headache or some stupid allergy. Do you honestly think you’re made of glass?” “Instead of blowing up my phone, why don’t you learn from Sienna? She literally broke her leg and the first thing she did was tell me not to worry.” I stared at the glowing screen, my vision blurring as blood began to seep backward into the IV line on the back of my hand. Before I could speak, another text popped up, accompanied by a heart emoji. Sorry, I’m out at dinner with the guys. You calling like crazy makes me look bad. Don’t take my tone to heart, just remember not to call next time. I forced a weak, bitter smile. There wouldn’t be a next time. If twenty-nine phone calls couldn’t bring him to my side when I was suffocating, what was the point of holding on? … I spent three agonizing hours in the resuscitation room. It was only when the epinephrine surged through my veins that the terrifying, clawing sensation in my throat slowly began to ease. As the nurse gently pulled the needle from my hand, she glanced at my phone screen, which was still lit up with a wall of unanswered calls. Her voice was quiet, laced with pity. “Is your emergency contact still not here?” I shook my head. There was no need for him to come anymore. When I actually needed his signature to save my life, he was too busy worrying about his pride at a dinner table. Later, the doctor handed me the critical care notice and the treatment logs, asking me to sign them myself. With a trembling hand, I wrote my name, Emma King, stroke by stroke. When I finished, the doctor warned me that I had to carry an EpiPen at all times and avoid any form of stress or physical triggers. I nodded, my throat too raw and swollen to produce a sound. Yet, as I walked out, I didn’t feel fear. I felt a strange, cold relief. At least from this day forward, I would never look to Hank Cole to save me again. Twenty-nine calls were more than enough to wash away five years of delusion. The sky was turning a pale, bruising gray when I stepped out of the hospital. Sitting in the back of the cab, my mind drifted back to our first year of marriage. I had caught a simple cold back then, and Hank had stayed by my bedside all night, clumsily trying to read an old glass thermometer. I honestly believed we would be like that forever. But then his childhood sweetheart, Sienna, returned from abroad. From that moment on, my illnesses became “attention-seeking stunts,” and my cries for help became “nuisances.” When I let myself into the house, the living room lights were blazing. Hank was sitting on the sofa, the sharp smell of whiskey clinging to his clothes. His phone screen was active, displaying an article titled Post-Fracture Care and Rehabilitation. Hearing the door, he looked up. His first words weren’t a question about how I was. “So you finally decided to come home?” I froze, my hand still resting on the shoe rack. He knitted his brows, looking as though he had been nursing a grudge all night. “Emma, I had to take your calls in front of all my business partners last night. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?” I set the hospital bag on the coffee table. “I almost suffocated, Hank.” He cast a fleeting glance at the medical files but didn’t bother to pick them up. “Hospitals always exaggerate minor things just to scare patients into paying more. You should know how they operate.” It felt as though a heavy blunt object had slammed directly into my chest. I stared at him, my voice barely a whisper. “So, to you, twenty-nine phone calls were just me putting on a show?” Hank went quiet for a second. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly softer, but the underlying impatience remained. “I’m not saying you’re acting, Emma. I’m asking you to grow up.” “Sienna broke her leg and her first instinct was to make sure I didn’t worry. You had a simple allergic reaction, and you had to keep calling me over and over to force me to run to you.” A simple allergic reaction. Hearing those words, the physical pain in my throat suddenly vanished, replaced by a profound, deadening numbness. I picked up the medical report and held it directly in front of his face. “The doctor said if I had arrived ten minutes later, I would have died.” For a fleeting second, Hank’s eyes flickered with something resembling shock. I thought, perhaps, he might finally ask if I was okay. But then his phone rang. He looked down at the screen, and his expression instantly transformed. He answered it, his voice softening into a gentle, protective register I hadn’t heard in years. “Sienna? What’s wrong? Is the leg hurting again?” He listened to the muffled voice on the other end, his posture tense with worry. Within seconds, he was on his feet, grabbing his coat. “Don’t cry. I’m coming right now.” As he brushed past me, he paused for a brief moment. “Stop making a scene. Remember to take your medicine.” He was in such a rush that his coat snagged the edge of the coffee table. The hospital bag fell, sending my prescription slips, invoices, and emergency medication scattering across the hardwood floor. He glanced back at the mess, his tone indifferent. “Clean that up. Don’t let Sienna see it when she comes over tomorrow. She’s incredibly sensitive, and she’ll blame herself to death if she thinks she caused a rift between us.” The heavy front door clicked shut. I knelt on the floor, picking up the papers one by one. Nestled among the medical bills was a separate, pristine document. It was a divorce agreement. My brother, Justin, had instructed the family lawyers to draft it the day I got married, just in case. Hank had laughed when he saw it back then, swearing we would never need it. Emma, the only way we part is in a pine box, he had said. I used to think the document was an unnecessary precaution. Now, I realized it was a lifeline. Hank didn’t return that night. The following afternoon, his personal driver delivered a designer shopping bag to the house. I assumed it was some sort of peace offering, but when I opened it, I found Sienna’s soiled trench coat and a pair of mud-caked designer heels. The driver looked incredibly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. “Mr. Cole said that since Miss Sienna’s leg makes it hard for her to move, he wanted Mrs. Cole to help clean these.” I stared at the mud on the expensive leather, a sudden laugh escaping my dry throat. I had just escaped the ICU, and his only concern was ensuring his childhood friend’s shoes were spotless. He couldn’t spare a single text to ask if I was still breathing, but he could arrange a courier for dirty laundry. I set the bag by the front door and left it there. By evening, Hank returned, pushing Sienna in a wheelchair. She had a soft wool blanket draped over her lap, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with red. “Emma, I am so incredibly sorry,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I just wanted to come by and check on you.” Her eyes drifted to the boxes of emergency medicine resting on the coffee table, and she flinched, shrinking back into the wheelchair as if terrified. “Those medicines… are they because of me? If I hadn’t fallen last night, Hank would have been at the hospital with you.” Hank’s face instantly darkened as he glared at me. “Emma, why did you leave those boxes out? Who are you trying to guilt-trip?” I stared at him, incredulous. “The doctor told me to keep my rescue meds within arm’s reach. Leaving them on my own table in my own home is a crime now?” Sienna’s eyes welled with tears. “Please don’t fight because of me. It’s just… seeing those medical boxes makes me panic. My mother passed away in an ICU bed, and whenever I see hospital supplies, I feel like I can’t breathe.” Without letting me explain, Hank stepped forward and swept every single box off the table, throwing them into a sideboard drawer and locking it. “Since they trigger her, keep them out of sight.” I rushed forward to stop him. “Those are my emergency meds!” He held the drawer shut, his voice freezing over. “What difference does it make where they’re kept? Do you really have to flaunt them in front of her just to cause panic?” In that exact moment, I realized the utter futility of trying to reason with him. His scale of justice was permanently broken, and the balance would never tip in my favor. That night, Sienna complained of phantom pains in her leg. Hank carried her into the guest room upstairs. That room had belonged to my late mother. After she passed, I had preserved every piece of furniture, every frame, and every book exactly as she left them. Now, Sienna was buried beneath my mother’s favorite cashmere throw, whimpering about the draft. Hank walked to the wardrobe, pulled out my mother’s hand-woven silk shawl, and draped it over Sienna’s shoulders. I stood in the doorway, my fingers turning ice-cold. “That belongs to my mother.” Hank didn’t even look back. “It’s just a piece of fabric, Emma. Sienna is sick. Don’t be so incredibly petty.” In the dead of night, I woke up with a terrifying itch in the back of my throat. At first, it was just a slight tightness, but within seconds, it mutated into a suffocating pressure. I reached blindly for the nightstand, only to remember that my rescue medication was locked in the study drawer downstairs. I dialed Hank’s number. It rang for an eternity before he finally answered, his voice hushed and harsh. “What is it now?” I clutched my throat, my breathing shallow and wheezing. “The medicine… give me… the key.” There was a brief pause on the line, followed by an exasperated sigh. “Sienna just fell asleep. Stop trying to get attention, Emma. I’ll give it to you in the morning.” He hung up. I dragged myself down the hall and pounded on the study door, but the lock was firmly engaged. With no other choice, I threw a coat over my pajamas and stumbled out into the freezing night. It was two in the morning, and a torrential downpour was turning the streets into slick black mirrors. By the time I reached the nearest 24-hour pharmacy, my slippers were soaked through, and my hands were shaking so violently I could barely present my ID. The pharmacist took one look at my blue-tinged lips, rushed to pour me a cup of water, and helped me administer the rescue dose. I sat on a metal chair near the entrance for a long time, waiting for my lungs to expand again. My phone buzzed. It was a notification. Sienna had just posted on her social media feed. It was a photo of Hank sitting on the edge of her bed, holding a steaming mug of tea. The caption read: Nothing beats the feeling of knowing someone is watching over you in the dark. I turned the screen off. The rain outside mingled with the hot tears slipping down my face. I wasn’t crying because I loved him. I was crying because I had finally accepted the brutal truth: I had spent five years of my life loving a ghost. The next morning, I woke up with a roaring fever. The doctor insisted I return for a follow-up scan to check the swelling in my airway. As I approached the clinic entrance, I spotted Hank’s sleek black sedan parked directly outside the orthopedic wing. He was leaning down, adjusting the blanket over Sienna’s lap with an tenderness so agonizingly gentle it looked as though he were handling a piece of priceless porcelain. Sienna looked up, her smile faltering as she spotted me. “Emma? Are you here for the hospital too?” I didn’t answer. Hank straightened up, his brow furrowing instantly. “Are you tracking my car now, Emma?” The sheer absurdity of it made me want to laugh. “I have a follow-up appointment.” He glanced at the hospital slip in my hand, his tone remaining dismissive. “A follow-up for a simple allergy requires you to shadow us to the orthopedic wing?” Sienna quickly tugged at his sleeve. “Hank, don’t be like that. I’m sure Emma was just worried about my leg.” The coldness in Hank’s eyes softened as he looked at her, then hardened again when he turned back to me. “It’s fine. Since you’re here, you’re coming to the company gala tonight.” “You terrified Sienna last night with your tantrum. The least you can do is apologize and make things right.” My throat was still incredibly raspy. “Why on earth would I apologize to her?” Hank’s face hardened. “Emma, do not humiliate me in public tonight.” I went to the gala. But I didn’t go to apologize. I went to deliver the paperwork. As soon as I stepped into the VIP banquet room, the sound of laughter drifted over the clinking of champagne glasses. “Hey, Hank, is it true your missus called you twenty-nine times the other night? Talk about a leash.” Another voice chimed in. “No wonder you blocked her. I’d lose my mind if my lady was that suffocating.” Hank sat at the head of the table, Sienna right beside him. He made no effort to correct them, merely swirling his whiskey. “She’s always been like that,” he said smoothly. “Ever since she started chasing me in college, she’s loved making a mountain out of a molehill just to get attention.” A ripple of amused chuckles went around the table. Standing in the doorway, I felt the last drop of warmth drain from my body. My desperate cry for survival had been reduced to a cheap joke to entertain his business associates. Someone noticed me standing there, and the laughter died instantly. Hank looked up, seemingly surprised that I had actually shown up. “You’re here. Sit down.” I walked over, bypassed the empty chair, and laid the divorce agreement directly over his plate. “Sign it.” Hank’s eyes fell on the bold letters at the top of the page, and his face instantly turned an ugly, livid red. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum here?” “You’re the one who demanded I show up.” He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Emma, have you completely forgotten who you are? Who was the one who waited outside my office until three in the morning just to see me? Who was the one crying every birthday, begging me to remember?” “Who was the one who swore she’d endure anything just to marry me?” Every word felt like a physical blow to my face. The absolute devotion I had given him was being stripped bare and displayed to the room as a pathetic, desperate joke. Sienna lowered her head, her eyes sparkling with tears. “Hank, please stop. It’s all my fault. Emma is only doing this because she loves you too much.” Hank reached over, squeezing her hand tightly. “You have nothing to apologize for, Sienna. This isn’t your fault.” He slid a glass of amber liquid across the table, stopping it inches from my hand. “If you want me to sign those papers, fine. Drink this glass of whiskey and apologize to Sienna for your behavior last night.” I didn’t move. He leaned back in his chair, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Because of your twenty-nine calls, she spent the entire night crying, thinking she had somehow disrupted your recovery. You owe her an apology.” A dry laugh escaped my lips. “I was in the ICU fighting for my life while she was crying in your arms, and I owe her an apology?” Hank’s patience snapped. He grabbed the divorce papers and ripped them clean in half, throwing the pieces at my feet. “I’ll tell you this once, Emma. As long as I don’t agree, you are never getting out of this marriage.” Sienna gently touched his arm, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Let it go, Hank. Emma has hated me for a long time anyway.” Hank stood up, snatched the glass of whiskey, and forced it into my hand. “If you don’t apologize, I’m liquidating your mother’s art studio tomorrow. The lease is under my company’s holding group, and I will have it demolished.” My mother’s studio was my absolute breaking point. It held her unfinished canvases, her paints, and the letters she wrote to me during her final days in hospice. Her last words to me had been: Emma, whenever the world gets too heavy, go to the studio. I’ll be waiting for you there. My grip on the glass tightened until my knuckles turned white. “If I drink this, you won’t touch the studio?” Hank’s face was a mask of cold authority. “Drink it, apologize, and the studio stays.” Sienna shook her head, her voice trembling. “Hank, don’t. Emma’s health is delicate. If something happens, she’ll just blame me again…” “If she actually cared about her health, she wouldn’t use it as a weapon to control me,” Hank snapped. Someone at the table whispered, “It’s just a single drink. She’s really dragging out the drama.” The doctors had been very clear: no alcohol, no stress. But I couldn’t let them touch my mother’s legacy. I closed my eyes and drank. The burning liquid scorched my raw throat like liquid fire. I immediately collapsed forward, coughing violently as my airway began to spasm and close. I reached frantically into my purse for my EpiPen, but before I could pull it out, Sienna shrieked, throwing herself backward. “Emma, please don’t hit me!” Without hesitation, Hank lunged forward to shield her, grabbing my wrist with a crushing grip and wrenching my hand away from my bag. The purse flew from my grip, and the plastic medicine container spilled onto the carpet. “The medicine…” I wheezed, my throat closing rapidly. “Get… the medicine…” Hank looked down at the white pills scattered on the floor, his eyes filled with nothing but disgust. “Enough, Emma. Cut the act.” He raised his foot and kicked the container away. The remaining pills rolled into the dark corners of the room. I fell to my knees, clawing at the carpet, my vision beginning to tunnel into blackness. Sienna sobbed loudly behind him. “Hank, I’m so scared. Is she really doing this to punish us?” Hank turned to the security guards standing near the door. “Take her outside. Let her sober up in the rain.” As the heavy hands of the security team hauled me out of the room, I couldn’t even draw enough air to scream. One of the guests murmured, “Hey, she looks really gray. Are we sure she’s okay?” But Hank didn’t look back. “She’s an actress. She’ll stop when the audience leaves.” It was a hotel waiter who secretly called the ambulance. When I woke up, I was back in the emergency ward. The doctor was standing over me, his expression grave. “Your airway closed completely. If you had arrived five minutes later, we would be preparing you for the morgue. Where is your family?” I stared at the clear fluids dripping into my vein, my heart hollowed out. “I don’t have any family.” The next morning, I pulled the IV out myself and took a cab straight to my mother’s art studio. But when I reached the door, the lock had already been replaced. The building manager avoided my gaze, looking guilty. “Mr. Cole gave strict orders. The space is being cleared out to serve as Miss Sienna’s private rehabilitation art therapy room.” A loud ringing filled my ears. Through the cracked door, I heard Sienna’s light, airy laughter. “Let’s just throw all these old paintings away. The colors are so depressing, they’re bad for my recovery anyway.” I shoved the door open. The floor was littered with muddy footprints and torn canvases. My mother’s masterpiece, Spring Mountain, had been sliced in half with a utility knife. I threw myself toward the ruined canvas, but Hank stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Emma, what are you doing here?” I looked up at him, tears finally spilling over. “You promised you wouldn’t touch this place.” He frowned, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It’s just a temporary adjustment. Art therapy is crucial for Sienna’s recovery right now.” Sienna peeked out from behind him, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Emma, I am so sorry. I had no idea these old things meant so much to you.” She said she was sorry, but her foot was planted firmly on one of my mother’s handwritten letters. In that moment, a strange, absolute calm washed over me. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and dialed my brother’s international number. “Justin,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “Is the renewal for Cole Group’s overseas medical distribution license scheduled for today?” Justin’s voice came through the speaker, deep and sharp. “Yes. The family trust fund we invested in his company is also up for review. One word from you, and his entire empire collapses by tomorrow morning.” Hank sneered, assuming I was playing another game. “Are you seriously running to your brother again, Emma? Don’t you get tired of this?” I looked at the sliced canvas of Spring Mountain, then at the dirt on my mother’s letter. “Don’t renew the license,” I told my brother. “Withdraw the entire trust fund. Shut down every single distribution channel we own.” “And Justin? Call the best litigation firm in the country. I want Hank Cole on his knees when he signs the papers.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “507045”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel