1 The day my sister returned to her wealthy biological family, she knelt before our parents with tears in her eyes. She begged them to let me come with her because I was the only family she had left. The Harringtons eventually agreed to take me in as well. When we arrived at the estate, we met Matt. He was the foster son who had been raised as their own for nearly twenty years and was thoroughly spoiled. He immediately singled us out as his favorite targets. At first, Krys was exhausted by his antics. Whenever our new parents told her to go easy on Matt, she would snap back that I was her only brother. But as time passed, she stopped saying those words. Sometimes, when she looked at me, it was clear she was seeing him instead. She would say she wished I were as outgoing as Matt instead of sitting there like a quiet stone. On my birthday, she forgot again. I did not throw a tantrum and simply baked a small cake for myself. The moment I finished icing it, she took it over to Matt. She told him to take this one since the ordered cake had been ruined and he had been crying about it. I was so hurt that I remained silent for the rest of the night. Seeing my silence, her eyes flared with irritation. She asked if I was seriously giving her attitude over a stupid cake and why I did not just say I did not want to share. Matt sneered and said he had told her I was cheap and petty. He honestly did not know why she had brought this stray back with her. This time, Krys did not defend me. It hit me then that even she had started to see me as a burden. I had spent four hours baking that cake. Now, it was a mangled mess of frosting, shredded by a fork. The name “Cole,” which I had carefully spelled out with dried blueberries, was completely gouged out. It was smashed against the creamy, ruined “Happy Birthday” topper. Matt grabbed the whole mess with a paper towel and tossed it into the bin like actual garbage. His mocking voice echoed in my ears: “What is this trash? It tastes disgusting. It doesn’t even come close to what our chef, Mrs. Gable, makes!” “You’re too picky,” Krys teased him, but her eyes were brimming with affection. “If you don’t like it, throw it away. I’ll ask Mrs. Gable to make you another one.” “Deal! But the new one has to say ‘Krys will be Matt’s loyal pup forever’ in icing! Who told you to come back and steal our parents’ love, and always pick fights with me over this stray?” Krys used to despise Matt, and she used to hate nothing more than hearing someone call me a “stray.” But now, she didn’t even flinch. She just smiled, ruffled his hair, and sighed: “Fine, fine. I surrender. It’s all my fault, okay?” They wrapped themselves in a warmth that completely shut me out. It made me look like the ultimate outsider. But then again, I was. Krys was the Harringtons’ long-lost biological daughter. Even though Matt was the child swapped at birth, they had raised him in luxury, and the bond between them was deep and unbreakable. When Krys returned, they couldn’t bear to let Matt go, so they formally adopted him. From start to finish, they were a real family. I was the only spare part. When I woke up this morning and saw her social media posts of her taking Matt to the amusement park, I knew she had forgotten my birthday again. I had already stopped begging her to spend the day with me. So why couldn’t I at least keep my own cake? Tears finally spilled over, heavy drops splashing onto the floorboards. Krys frowned. Out of habit, she reached out to wipe them away, just like she used to: “What are you crying for?” But Matt laughed mockingly: “It’s just a slice of cake. Are you really that dramatic? You’ve been sulking all night! Honestly, I bet your ‘good boy’ act is just for show.” He turned to her: “Krys, you spoil him too much. That’s why he’s so high-maintenance.” Krys’s hand froze in midair, then slowly retreated. The warmth vanished from her face: “This isn’t your old apartment, Cole. You eat their food and live under their roof. It’s just a cake. Don’t make yourself look so cheap.” Seeing the sheer annoyance in her eyes, my heart went cold, piece by piece. The night Krys was recognized by the Harringtons, I hadn’t slept at all. I was thrilled for her, but terrified of being left behind. Sensing my fear, she had held me tight and whispered over and over: “I will never leave you, Cole. Wherever I go, that’s your home too.” But now, she was telling me this wasn’t my old apartment. I didn’t know when it had happened, but in her heart, I had already become nothing but baggage. “I understand,” I mumbled, nodding blindly as my voice trembled. “Krys, I think I’ll move into the school dorms.” 2 Matt rolled his eyes: “Oh, please. As if living in this mansion is some kind of torture. You don’t have the pedigree of a prince, yet you’ve got all the attitude. Stop playing the victim just to get attention.” Krys’s face darkened: “Why are you throwing a fit?” “I’m not throwing a fit,” I said quietly. “I just think staying on campus will make it easier to study.” But her furrowed brow didn’t soften: “Do you think I don’t know you? You didn’t care about boarding before, but now you suddenly want to pack up. You’re still throwing a tantrum over that cake, aren’t you?” “Fine. If you want a cake that badly, I’ll have Mrs. Gable bake you one later.” She brushed me off, turning back to Matt with a smile, gently dabbing a speck of frosting from his lip with a napkin: “Look at you. Still eating like a toddler.” “I’ll always be Mom and Dad’s baby. You got a problem with that?” “Sure, sure. You’re the baby.” I couldn’t bear to stand there a second longer. I turned and walked up the stairs in silence. After filling out the housing request form, I stared at my beautifully decorated bedroom, completely lost in thought. The expensive Marvel pillows on the bed, the rare orchids sitting on the windowsill, the mahogany bookcase loaded with brand-new novels, the soothing nightlight on the nightstand… Every single item had been handpicked by Krys when we first moved in. She had even remodeled the room to match the exact layout of our cramped old bedroom, worried I wouldn’t sleep well in a strange place. She had held my hands back then and said: “This is our home now. We used to be so poor, Cole. I couldn’t even buy you a proper bookshelf. Now that we can afford it, I want to give you the absolute best. You’ll never have to struggle again.” Oh, how happy I had been. We had moved into a magnificent house we could only dream of before. We no longer had to worry about utility bills, or the roof leaking when it rained, or waking up to a flooded floor. Krys didn’t have to work three part-time jobs anymore just to scrape together my tuition. I thought our lives were finally getting better. I never imagined that the price of all this comfort would be losing her entirely. A sudden knock broke the silence. When I opened the door, a beautifully wrapped bakery box was held up right in front of my face. Krys peeked out from behind it, her eyes soft: “Cole, happy birthday!” Seeing my red, puffy eyes, a wave of guilt washed over her expression: “I’m so sorry. I only just realized what day it was.” For a fleeting second, it felt as though the sister who used to cherish me above all else had come back. I clutched the box to my chest like a freezing traveler stumbling upon a sudden, glowing fire. I followed her into the room, my defenses crumbling. But that tiny spark of hope shattered into dust the moment I lifted the lid and saw the cake smothered in sliced mangoes. My lips trembled, and the words barely made it out: “Krys… did you forget? I’m severely allergic to mangoes.” Krys’s forehead creased instantly. For a very long time after that night, I couldn’t erase the look she gave me. It was the look of someone staring at an inconvenient nuisance. 3 Krys clicked her tongue, her tone turning sharp: “Honestly, Cole, if there’s something you can’t eat, you should tell me beforehand. This is just a waste of money.” She grabbed a fork and began picking the mango chunks off one by one, tossing them aside before sliding the mangled cake back toward me: “Matt actually asked Mrs. Gable to make this for you to apologize. He noticed how much you like orchids, so he made sure she designed it with an orchid theme. He thought you’d love it.” “His words can be harsh, but he has a good heart underneath. Just eat a little bit, or you’ll hurt his feelings.” My throat felt tight, suffocating. I didn’t even notice my fingernails digging into my palms until they drew blood: “But I’m allergic to mangoes,” I whispered again. Krys sighed impatiently: “Which is why I just picked them off. Having a tiny bite won’t kill you.” Just then, the door creaked wider, and Matt sauntered in: “Don’t tell me Cole doesn’t like the cake I had Mrs. Gable make. It takes forever just to get him to smile. Talk about high-maintenance.” Before I could speak, Krys interceded: “It’s a gift from your heart, Matt. He has to eat it, whether he likes it or not.” “Great! Now that you’ve patted him on the head, get downstairs. I hated the frosting designs Mrs. Gable made on the other cakes. You have to help me finish them!” Krys laughed, feigning annoyance: “What, am I your personal disposal bin now?” “No way! I just love my favorite sister. Is that so bad?” Krys’s shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then her face lit up: “You only call me that when you want something. I must have owed you in a past life.” She complained, but the sheer joy in her eyes was unmistakable. I realized then: she hadn’t run out of patience. She had just run out of patience for me. If it were Matt, nothing was a waste. Just a simple, sweet nickname from Matt was enough to make her day. Meanwhile, everything I did only seemed to drain her. The next morning, I packed my few belongings in silence and moved into the campus dorms. I practically lived in the library and at my jobs. I slept barely four hours a night, filling every waking second with mock exams and part-time shifts. The exhausting, frantic pace kept my mind perfectly blank. I had no time to feel the ache in my chest. Until the day Krys finally called me. The second I swiped answer, her voice exploded through the speaker: “Cole, why haven’t you come home yet?” “You used to be so responsible. Now you’re staying out all night without even checking in!” “I told you before,” I said quietly. “I moved into the dorms.” “Who gave you permission? Do you think you’re grown up now? Is this some delayed teenage rebellion? Pack your bags and get back here right now!” I stayed silent. When the silence stretched on, she let out a cold, bitter laugh: “Fine. Don’t ever come back then. Let’s see how long you can survive on your own!” For the next few weeks, my life settled into a dull, safe routine. Classes, studying, shifts. As the final college prep exams drew closer, I felt a sense of quiet closure beginning to settle over me. Then, just three days before the exams, Krys called. Her voice was raw, carrying an exhaustion I had never heard from her before: “Cole… I’m at the hospital.” “It’s been so long since you’ve been home. I just… I really need to see you.” My fingers tightened around the plastic shell of my phone. Ever since she had turned her back on me for Matt, this was the very first time she had lowered her guard and reached out to me. I thought about the early admission acceptance letter resting in my desk drawer, and the savings I had scraped together, which were enough to let me start a completely new life far away from here. I hesitated for a long time before finally whispering: “Okay.” This would likely be our very last meeting. I didn’t want to leave with unresolved regrets. I wanted to tell her that I had been accepted into a university up north. That I would never be a burden to her again, and that I was finally stepping out of her life for good. But I was naive. The moment I pushed open the hospital door, a stinging slap caught me squarely across the face. 4 A strange woman flew at me like a wild animal, her nails clawing at my face as she screamed, ripping at my hair: “You sick bastard! You hid sewing needles in my son’s pencil case! He cut his hands wide open because of you!” “The final exams are in two days! If we hadn’t caught it in time, you would have ruined his entire life!” “You’re only eighteen! How can someone your age be so utterly malicious?” “It wasn’t me!” I gasped, struggling to pry her hands off my clothes. “I don’t even know who your son is!” “Stop lying, Cole! I saw you slip those needles into his desk with my own eyes!” Matt stepped out from behind the weeping woman, pointing a finger directly at me, his face a mask of righteous anger. My expression went entirely numb: “Why would I put needles in his desk? You have no proof. How dare you accuse me of this?” “Who says there’s no proof?” The moment Krys’s voice cut through the room, the blood in my veins turned to ice. She stepped forward, holding out her phone to display a video clip. Because of the awkward angle, the footage showed me quietly approaching a student’s desk when the classroom was empty, sliding something into his organizer. It hit me then: I had been helping a teacher deliver a prize, a special fountain pen, to the top-performing student in the neighboring class. It was a pen, not needles. But my explanation was instantly drowned out by the raging parent: “Matt saw you! We have video evidence and an eyewitness, and you’re still denying it!” I turned my gaze slowly to Krys, my jaw clenched so hard it ached: “Did you see me do it too?” Krys looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. After a long, agonizing silence, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper: “Cole… you’ve always been jealous of Matt. You’ve targeted him since day one. But I never thought you’d resort to hurting an innocent classmate. I’m so disappointed in you.” I stared at her, utterly paralyzed. Those words from her mouth sealed my fate. It was a formal condemnation. “The school is going to hear about this! I will make sure everyone knows what a monster you are!” the mother shrieked, slamming the door behind her as she rushed out to find the administration. I looked at Krys, my body shaking uncontrollably: “Why?” She clenched her fists, her eyes swimming with a complicated mix of guilt and resolve: “Cole… Matt didn’t mean for this to happen. He didn’t think a stupid prank would get this out of hand.” “If Mom and Dad find out what he did, they’ll disown him. He’s always been so proud… I’ve never seen him cry like that, he was terrified.” By the end of her sentence, her voice was thick with sympathy for him. I stared at her, each word tasting like ash in my mouth: “So that phone call… the crying, the hospital… it was all a trap to get me here to take the fall for him?” Her breath caught: “I’ve already arranged a way out for you,” she whispered hoarsely. “You won’t go to jail.” The very last thread of hope inside me snapped. I didn’t even remember how I made it back to campus. I only remembered the cold, disgusted stares of my classmates, and the toxic whispers following me down the hallway: “That’s the guy who put needles in the desk. Having someone like that in our dorms is terrifying.” “He should be locked up. What a psycho.” Before I could even reach my locker, I was summoned to the principal’s office. The principal sat behind his desk, sliding a heavy folder toward me: “The victim’s family is threatening a massive lawsuit unless we take immediate action. Your early admission scholarship nomination has been revoked.” “Furthermore, the board has decided to expel you immediately.” I stood frozen, a deep, icy numbness spreading from my chest to my fingertips. I couldn’t comprehend it. I had worked so hard, bled for every grade, just to protect the tiny future I had built for myself. But ever since I had followed Krys into the Harrington mansion, my life had been nothing but a series of losses. I lost Krys. I lost my home. I lost my college spot. And now, I didn’t even have a high school diploma. I had only wanted to leave quietly. Why was even that too much to ask? A notification lit up my screen. It was an email from Krys, containing transfer documents and two airline tickets to London: “The family has deep connections with a boarding school in London. I’ve already cleared your files with their admissions team.” “It’s too late for the exams here, but with your grades, you can repeat your senior year there and easily get into a top university.” “Once the exams here are over, I’ll fly out with you.” She had known. She had anticipated every single consequence, knew exactly how ruined I would be, and still chose to destroy my life just to shield Matt. I clutched the useless papers to my chest, standing outside the school gates in the pouring rain until the security guard told me to move along. When the exams finally ended for the rest of my class, I dragged my single suitcase toward the train station, ready to board a train to a distant, unfamiliar city. Krys’s message flashed on my screen: “I’m waiting at the terminal. Where are you?” I typed out my very last reply: “I’m not going to London. We’re done.” The moment the message sent, her name began flashing frantically on my screen. I didn’t answer. I systematically blocked her number, her social media, and her email. Then I stepped onto the train, leaving everything behind. Krys, goodbye forever.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497726”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was adopted by my parents from Greenwood Children’s Home. They treated me so well that every night before sleep, I would pray to God, begging Him never to let them send me back. Later, when Mom got pregnant, I hid under my blanket and cried all night, quietly packing the tiny suitcase I had brought with me. But they didn’t send me away. Instead, they loved me even more. The day my little brother was born, Mom held my hand and gently stroked my hair: “It was our big sister who brought us our sweet baby boy.” Dad lifted me high above his head, spinning me around with a booming laugh: “Hope is our little lucky charm, our most precious angel!” I finally stopped living in constant fear. I truly believed I had become a permanent part of this family. Until that day, when my brother broke my beloved astronaut model. In a flash of anger, I shoved him away. He stumbled and landed hard on his bottom. After a shocked silence of two seconds, he burst into a loud, wailing cry. Mom panicked instantly. She pushed me aside roughly, scooping my brother into her arms and desperately checking him for any scratches. Dad rushed over, grabbing my shoulders and pinning me hard against the wall, his eyes a terrifying, bloodshot red: “Did we raise you all these years just so you could bully your brother? Believe it or not, I will take you right back to—” “Charles!” Under Mom’s frantic interruption, Dad’s words cut off. But the damage was done. I understood. The kids at Greenwood had been right all along. For kids like us, once a biological sibling arrives, we always end up being sent back. I had been so foolish to think I was special. I bit my lip and stayed silent, watching Mom and Dad coax my crying brother as they headed out the door. The click of the front door closing was quiet, but it fell on my chest like a heavy stone, crushing me. I thought I would cry, but my eyes were bone dry. I stood in the middle of the quiet living room for a long time before retreating to my bedroom and dragging my small, faded suitcase from under the bed. Five years ago, I had arrived at this house with this exact suitcase. I was so small back then, too young to remember the details of the children’s home. I only remembered Mom kneeling in front of me, her beautiful eyes shining as she asked: “Would you like to come home with me, sweetie?” I had nodded, and she smiled. It was the warmest smile I had ever seen. But just now, there hadn’t been a single trace of warmth in her eyes. As she led my brother out, she hadn’t even glanced back at me. Neither had Dad. I knew they were planning to send me back. Instead of waiting for them to say the words, it was better if I just left on my own. At least that way, I wouldn’t lose all my dignity. I could tell the kids at the home, “They didn’t kick me out. I chose to come back.” Even if they probably wouldn’t believe me. I wiped the dust from the suitcase, pulled open the slightly rusted zipper, and began packing. First, I packed a few clothes: my favorite pink dress, the sweater Mom had knitted for me last winter, and the slightly frayed red wool scarf. I folded them neatly and placed them inside. I didn’t dare take too much, terrified they would think I was greedy. Then, my toys. I hesitated for a long time before picking only two: a worn-out gray stuffed rabbit, and a cheap plastic star necklace. Mom had given me the stuffed rabbit on my very first night in this house. She had whispered, “Keep him close, and you won’t be scared anymore.” Its ears were crooked and the stitching was coming apart, but it was my first gift, and I couldn’t leave it behind. The star necklace was a souvenir Dad had brought back from a business trip, with my name carefully engraved on the back. Finally, I took a framed family photo. It was taken shortly after I arrived. In the picture, Mom and Dad were holding me right in the middle, and my smile was so wide my eyes were squinted shut. I wrapped the frame gently in the knitted sweater, burying it in the center of the suitcase. That way, whenever I missed them, I could sneak a look. Once everything was packed, I zipped the suitcase closed. It felt heavier than it had five years ago, but I could still lift it if I tried. Outside, the night had settled in completely. I sat on top of my suitcase, quietly waiting for them. If they returned and told me they were sending me away, I would say, “That’s okay, I’m already packed.” What if they asked me to stay? If they did, I would slide the suitcase back under the bed and pretend none of this had ever happened. Seven o’clock, eight o’clock, nine o’clock. They still weren’t back. Were they intentionally staying away to give me time to pack up and slip away? Maybe I should just be sensible and take the hint. At five past nine, I stood up and took one last look at my bedroom. My half-finished homework was still spread across the desk. My bed was made with the blanket Mom had freshly dried in the sun yesterday, and I could still smell the faint, warm scent of summer in the fabric. On the windowsill sat the small succulent Mom and I had planted together. We had made a pact to watch it bloom. Sadly, I wouldn’t be around to see it. I pulled the door shut behind me, dragged the suitcase across the quiet living room, and stepped out of the apartment. A blast of freezing night wind hit me, making me shiver. I wrapped my red scarf tighter around my neck and dragged my suitcase into the dark street. The neighborhood was mostly empty. Occasionally, a late-night commuter would hurry past, but no one paid any attention to a little girl dragging a suitcase. The yellow glow of the streetlights stretched my shadow and the outline of my suitcase long across the concrete. Truthfully, I had forgotten the exact route to the children’s home. I only had a vague memory that it was somewhere to the west, so I kept walking in that direction. By the time I reached the fourth intersection, my arms were aching so badly I could barely lift them. The crossing was wide. Right in the middle of the road, the wheel of my suitcase got wedged in a deep pothole. I tugged with all my strength, but it wouldn’t budge. I had to kneel down on the asphalt to lift it free. Right then, a blinding flash of high beams illuminated the road from my right, so bright I had to squeeze my eyes shut. I heard the screech of tires on asphalt, followed by a violent impact. It didn’t hurt. Really, it didn’t hurt at all. I just felt myself floating upward, weightless, like a loose feather caught in a breeze. Below me, my suitcase lay split open on the road, my carefully packed treasures scattering across the dark street. I drifted down, my vision turning hazy as a sharp ringing filled my ears. A rush of footsteps approached, and muffled voices started shouting, but they sounded distant, as if I were listening to them from behind a thick sheet of glass. 2 When my awareness returned, I found myself hovering in the chilly air. Looking down, a crowd had gathered on the street below. In the center of the circle lay a small girl wearing a red scarf, surrounded by scattered clothes and toys. Her eyes were closed. She looked very peaceful. When I caught a glimpse of her face, my heart stopped. It was me. The red and blue lights of the ambulance cast a surreal, flashing glow over the onlookers’ faces. The paramedics knelt beside the girl, trying desperately to revive her, but after a moment, they shook their heads solemnly. They pulled out a clean white sheet and gently covered the small body. A corner of the white fabric quickly bloomed with a dark, wet red, like a lone rose opening in the snow. The truth finally settled over me. I was dead. Maybe it was for the best. This way, the kids at the children’s home wouldn’t have the chance to mock me for being sent back. The crowd slowly thinned out. The police arrived, taking photos and stringing yellow tape across the intersection. My split suitcase was gathered up and placed in the trunk of a squad car. But where was I supposed to go now? I had no idea. I only knew that before I left this world, I wanted to see Mom and Dad one last time. The night wind blew, but I didn’t feel cold. I simply drifted along with the current. As I floated back toward the intersection, a familiar black sedan caught my eye. It was Dad’s car, slowly navigating around the flashing emergency vehicles. I chased after it like a drowning person reaching for a branch, passing effortlessly through the glass window to sit in the back seat next to my brother. The cabin was warm, the heater humming softly. “There were so many people gathered back there,” Mom’s voice drifted from the front passenger seat. “Did something happen?” Dad glanced into the rearview mirror: “Looks like a bad accident. The ambulance and police are both there.” My little brother, Toby, sat beside me, completely absorbed in a brand-new toy car. Its colorful lights flashed, casting a bright, cheerful glow over his face. “The amusement park was so much fun!” Toby chirped, looking up with bright, excited eyes. “Mom, can we go back again next weekend?” Mom turned back to give him a warm smile: “Of course, sweetie. We’ll go again soon.” “And I want cotton candy next time!” Toby kicked his legs happily. “We’ll get whatever you want,” Dad chuckled, watching him through the mirror. “Did you have a good day, buddy?” “The best day ever!” The atmosphere inside the car was light and joyful. Mom scrolled through the photos she had taken on her phone, laughing softly at the pictures. Dad hummed along to a soft tune playing on the radio. Toby continued to play with his toy. I watched the three of them, a heavy ache blooming in my chest. It seemed they were perfectly happy without me. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Mom said, reaching into a shopping bag and pulling out a glossy rectangular box. “I need to put this away.” My eyes widened. It was a brand-new astronaut model, identical to the one Toby had shattered. “We had to go to three different toy stores, but I’m so glad we found the very last one,” Mom said, checking the box carefully. “It looks exactly like the one Hope had, right?” Dad glanced over: “It’s a perfect match. She’s going to love it.” “You really shouldn’t have raised your voice at her like that,” Mom chided gently. “She’s just a child. Toby broke her favorite toy; of course she was going to get upset.” “I know, I lost my temper,” Dad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was my fault. I’ll make it up to her.” Mom packed the model back into the bag: “Hope is probably still sulking in her room. When we get home, you take the new toy in and apologize.” “I will,” Dad said softly. “Did you get the strawberry cake?” “Yes, from her favorite bakery down the street.” Mom turned around to look at the back seat, her eyes shining with warmth. “And I got her those star-shaped hairpins she’s been begging for.” Toby held up his toy car: “Does sissy get a present too?” “Of course she does,” Mom laughed. “Everyone gets a treat.” I stared at the pristine astronaut model in the box, then at the anticipation on Mom’s face and the quiet regret in Dad’s eyes. In that instant, I understood everything. They weren’t trying to abandon me. They hadn’t stayed out late to force me out of the house. They had spent hours driving from store to store just to find a replacement for my broken toy. They had bought my favorite strawberry cake and the star hairpins. They had even planned out exactly how they would apologize to me. They really, truly loved me. But it was already too late.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497725”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After being demoted to guarding the company’s warehouse gates for three years, my manager suddenly decided he wanted to reinstate me. When he marched down to find me with a horde of executives in tow, I was right in the middle of a mobile game with my two work buddies. My manager immediately lost his temper, barking at me: “You used to be a decent team lead, and now you’re rolling in the mud with these lowlifes? Get your ass back to your desk. There’s a major contract that needs your signature!” Zack, the supervisor who had stolen my position, looked at my dusty, worn-out clothes and sneered: “It’s your lucky day, Finn. The company books have a tiny hundred-million-dollar leak. If you just sign this confession and admit you took the money, the company promises to take care of you for life.” VP Richard, wearing his usual greasy, friendly mask, chimed in: “What’s the point of wasting your life with these two losers? Take the fall for this, and the moment you get out, I’ll hand you a promotion on a silver platter.” My fingers never stopped tapping the screen, but I was practically shaking with suppressed laughter. Losers? Trash? If only they knew who my two seemingly ordinary gaming buddies actually were. One was Nate, the Chairman’s actual grandson, who was just here to experience how the other half lived. The other was Wilson, our supreme Group President, who had gone undercover to inspect the grassroots level, a man who detested even a single grain of corruption. 1 I had just landed a triple kill when the heavy metal door of the warehouse was kicked open with a deafening bang. Seven or eight people filed into the room. The three men leading the pack stood front and center, flanked by several other managers. They had brought quite an entourage. “Finn, get your ass back to the main office and sign these papers,” Manager Logan said, looking down his nose at me. I didn’t even look up from my screen: “Get ready for the team fight,” I muttered into my headset. Logan’s face flushed with anger at being ignored. He snatched the phone right out of my hands and slammed it onto the metal workbench with a loud crash. Instantly, every worker in the warehouse stopped what they were doing, their eyes turning toward us with a mix of shock and amusement. “Don’t push your luck, Finn!” Logan snarled. “The company is doing you a massive favor by letting you back into your old position. Who do you think you are?” “I kicked you from a director’s office down to this godforsaken hole with a single word, and I can send you packing to starve on the streets just as easily!” VP Richard stood with his arms crossed, his face twisted in contempt: “The kid has zero ambition. We offer him a golden ladder and he doesn’t even have the sense to climb it. Instead, he wastes his time playing video games with a couple of useless drifters.” “We really misjudged you. We thought sending you to the warehouse floor would build your character and teach you some humility. Instead, you’ve turned into an absolute loser.” I finally looked up, my eyes cold: “Weren’t you the one who banished me here, Richard? Three years ago, I was on the fast track to a promotion. You wanted to put one of your own guys in my chair, so you made up a pathetic excuse and threw me to the gates of this warehouse.” Three years ago, I was the Senior Project Director, managing a team of over fifty people and handling multi-million dollar contracts. Overnight, I was treated like garbage and dumped here to guard the Westside Warehouse gates. After throwing me out like trash, they thought a snapped order would bring me crawling back? Logan’s eyes glinted with calculation. He assumed I had no choice. He thought a forgotten gatekeeper would jump at any bone tossed his way. It was a neat little plan. They had a hundred-million-dollar hole in the company books and desperately needed a scapegoat. And I, Finn, the former director who once held the keys, was the perfect candidate. I had the clearance, the access, and the supposed motive. All it would cost was a few years in a cell in exchange for a vague promise of a comfortable retirement fund and a phantom promotion. To them, this crooked deal was a generous act of charity. I stood up slowly, took one last drag from my cigarette, and blew a thick cloud of smoke directly into Logan’s face. He coughed and sputtered, his eyes wide with rage, but Zack, the newly minted supervisor, quickly held him back: “Finn, don’t be stupid,” Zack said, a greasy smile plastered across his face. “We’re trying to help you get your old life back. The new project is huge, and we need an experienced manager. You’re the best fit.” “Besides, we used to be brothers. I’d never set you up.” I let out a dry laugh: “Brothers? I practically raised you in this industry, Zack. I gave you half my clients and taught you everything I knew. And you repaid me by going behind my back, stealing my accounts, and framing me for taking kickbacks. You don’t get to call me your brother.” Zack had started as my intern. I had poured everything into mentoring him, only for him to stab me in the back the moment he got a taste of greed. Exposed, Zack’s face twisted in embarrassment. He sneered, looking down at my dusty, faded blue-collar uniform: “What are you acting so high and mighty for? You think we can’t handle a pathetic gatekeeper? We tried to play nice, but if you want to make this difficult, we have other ways.” He flicked his wrist, and two burly security guards stepped forward, towering over me: “If you won’t sign willingly, we’ll drag you to the office and press your thumb onto the ink ourselves!” Beside me, Nate and Wilson, my two gaming buddies, set their phones down. They stood up, frowning: “What do you think you’re doing? You want to get physical?” 2 Logan’s expression curdled at the interruption: “What do you two warehouse rats know about anything?” he sneered, waving them off like pesky flies. “Get lost. This is a management matter.” “So working in the warehouse means we aren’t part of the company?” Wilson asked, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. He spoke with his usual slow, measured cadence. He was never one to raise his voice; when you occupy the top rung of the ladder, you rarely have to raise your voice to get things done. “There’s a chain of command, and using your corporate authority to threaten and harass an employee is a blatant violation of labor laws.” “Labor laws?” Zack burst out laughing. “Can you illiterate garbage even read the employee handbook? What do you know about the law?” He pointed a thumb at VP Richard: “Do you have any idea who Richard’s backing is? Even the Chairman has to treat him with respect. Labor laws? We could tear this entire warehouse down, and the Chairman wouldn’t dare say a word to us!” “Keep running your mouths, and I’ll fire both of you on the spot!” “The Chairman?” Nate shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “That’s funny. I’ve never heard him mention your names before.” Richard blinked, then erupted into a roaring laugh: “What kind of delusional garbage are you spitting? You know the Chairman?” “You look like a beggar who can’t even get past the lobby doors. Keep dreaming, kid.” Wilson’s gaze turned frosty: “Richard, the Chairman might not know you, but I certainly do. A year ago, you were caught skimming from the employee bonus pool. I thought you had learned your lesson, but it seems you’ve only grown more reckless.” “Did you honestly think you could pull off a stunt like this without anyone noticing?” Richard’s face went from pale to a dark, furious red. Wilson had hit a nerve. They had marched in here assuming the warehouse was filled with uneducated, compliant laborers who would be too intimidated by corporate suits to ask questions. They never expected to run into two workers who knew exactly what they were talking about. Exposed in front of his subordinates, VP Richard exploded: “What the hell did you just say?” Seeing his boss lose his temper, Manager Logan lunged forward, grabbing Wilson by the collar and yanking him out of his chair: “Where did you get these pathetic rumors, you piece of trash? Our VP is a man of absolute integrity! Keep running your mouth, and I’ll personally shut it for you!” He shoved Wilson hard. Wilson stumbled back, crashing into a heavy metal shelf. His glasses flew off his face, shattering on the concrete. “Wilson!” I yelled, rushing forward to help him up. “What is wrong with you? Why are you hands-on?” Wilson was a man of quiet refinement. He had a small army of assistants to handle any unpleasantness in his daily life; he had never dealt with such raw, brutish violence before. “I’m the one you want!” I yelled, shielding them. “Leave them out of this!” Nate pulled out his phone, his face pale with anger: “You guys are dead.” Zack was fast. He snatched the phone right out of Nate’s hand, holding it triumphantly above his head: “Who are you going to call, huh? The police? Go ahead and try. My guys will have you broken in half before they even dispatch a car!” Logan waved his hand dismissively: “Enough talk. Why are we wasting our breath on these minimum-wage losers? You step on them, and they still think your shoes smell nice.” The managers burst into cruel laughter, looking down at us like we were bugs. Even the other warehouse workers began whispering among themselves, pointing fingers: “Management is here, just do what they say. Why make trouble when you’re just trying to earn a paycheck?” “Isn’t it just a few years in prison? If they offered me that kind of money to take the fall, I’d jump at it. Why act so proud?” Even the warehouse supervisor pointed at Wilson, Nate, and me, shouting: “You three ungrateful idiots! How dare you disobey direct orders from the corporate office? I’ll fire all of you by the end of the shift!” Logan nodded with satisfaction, then turned back to me: “Finn, I’ll ask you one last time. Are you signing the papers?” “If you say no, you’re fired right now!” 3 Logan smirked. He had watched me sweat and bleed for that director position three years ago. He knew I had a mortgage to pay and a family to support in the city. He knew that if I got fired at my age, finding another decent job would be nearly impossible. My family would starve. The onlookers chuckled when they heard the threat of termination: “Serves him right! Getting fired over a stupid cake and some pride. Good luck finding another job in this economy.” “Just apologize, sign the damn papers, and keep your job.” Everyone expected me to break. They thought I loved this job too much to lose it. Instead, I shrugged, completely unfazed: “Go ahead and fire me. It’s not like there’s any lower room for demotion anyway.” The entire room went dead silent. Nobody expected me to throw away my livelihood so easily. Zack stepped forward, his eyes narrowing: “Think carefully, Finn. Once you’re out of this company, you’re blacklisted. You’ll never recover.” “You’ve spent too much time rolling in the mud with these losers. You don’t even know what’s good for you anymore.” I laughed: “Do whatever you want. Fire me. You guys have never cared about rules anyway. What can a simple gatekeeper do to stop you?” I sounded defeated, but the truth was, during my three years in this warehouse, I had been quietly keeping records of all the suppliers and the paper trails of Richard’s fraudulent procurement network. Seeing my stubbornness, VP Richard stepped forward, patting Logan on the shoulder. He turned to me with a greasy, paternal smile: “Finn, let’s be reasonable. The company has been very generous to you. For three years, we’ve paid your salary and kept your benefits active. Any other place would have thrown you out onto the street long ago.” “We’re offering you a lifeline out of old friendship. You sign for the hundred million, and you’ll do a few easy years. When you get out, the associate director’s chair is yours, and the company will take care of you for the rest of your life.” “You’re a gatekeeper, Finn. What other future do you have?” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper: “You need to understand something. I can make you or break you with a single phone call. Cooperate, and everyone wins. Refuse… and I’ll make sure no company in this state ever hires you again.” I looked him dead in the eye and smiled: “Richard, there’s always a bigger fish in the sea. Did you really think your crimes would stay buried forever?” Richard’s smile vanished. He nodded to the two burly guards to grab me. But Nate stepped directly in front of me, his chest puffed out: “If you lay one hand on him, I’m telling my grandfather everything!” “Your grandfather?” Zack mocked, bursting into another fit of laughter. “Who the hell is your grandfather? A construction worker or a street sweeper?” Nate ignored him, locking his eyes on VP Richard: “His corporate authority is nothing compared to my grandfather’s. You look down on us for earning minimum wage, but my grandfather makes more in an hour than you’ll see in a lifetime.” The warehouse fell quiet for a fraction of a second before exploding into hysterical laughter: “He makes more in an hour than we see in a lifetime?” Zack laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes. “Who is your grandfather, Bill Gates? Or maybe you’re talking about Monopoly money?” Logan clutched his stomach: “This kid has lost his mind from working too many shifts. He’s hallucinating.” They couldn’t fathom a warehouse worker having any real power. “Enough games,” VP Richard snapped, his patience entirely depleted: “Unless you can miraculously summon the Group President himself to this filthy floor, you are signing those papers today!” 4 I glanced at Wilson, who was staring at VP Richard with a dark, terrifying expression. It was a look I recognized. Last week, when the supervisor was tricked into signing a fraudulent supplier agreement, Wilson had taken one look at it, and the supplier had come crawling back the next morning, begging to tear up the contract. Wilson was a man who detested corruption, and he certainly wasn’t going to let these thugs walk all over us. He spoke, his tone completely flat: “A hundred-million-dollar deficit. And you are certain you want Finn to take the blame for it?” Richard scowled, barely deigning to look at Wilson: “Who asked you, old man? You want to pack your bags too?” Wilson pulled a spare pair of glasses from his breast pocket, slipped them on, and stared at Logan and his cronies: “You said only the President could resolve this. Well, I am here. How do you want to handle it?” He pulled out his phone and pressed speed dial. His voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet warehouse, every word carried like thunder: “This is Wilson Pendelton. Send the internal affairs and audit division to the Westside Warehouse immediately. We have a massive embezzlement case to secure.” Wilson hung up. VP Richard’s face drained of color, his lips trembling slightly: “Wilson Pendelton? The… Group President? What are you doing here?” Zack and Logan stared in disbelief: “The President? Working in a dusty warehouse? That’s impossible. There must be a mistake.” Zack leaned in close to Richard, whispering urgently: “Richard, have you ever actually seen the President in person? He’s bluffing. The corporate office never said anything about Wilson inspecting the warehouse floor.” “Besides, the news yesterday said the Chairman and the President flew to Europe for a merger. There’s no way he’s here.” “Don’t let him get in your head!” Hearing this, Richard’s panic turned back into red-hot fury. His greasy sneer returned: “The Group President on a warehouse floor? You really think I’m that stupid? Everyone knows Wilson Pendelton is in Europe!” “How dare you pretend to be the President to scare me! You warehouse trash really are something else. I’m going to make sure you never walk again!” “Get them! Grab all three of them and beat some sense into them!” The burly guards closed in on Wilson. Seeing that his actual title meant nothing to these thugs, Wilson’s face went completely dark: “How dare you touch the President of this company!” One of the guards laughed, spitting on the floor: “The President? If you’re the President, I’m his father!” They grabbed Nate too. He struggled against their grip, shouting: “I am the Chairman’s grandson! If you touch me, my grandfather will destroy you!” The managers ignored his threats, laughing in his face: “Go ahead and cry to your granddaddy, kid!” The other workers watched, whispering coldly: “What a joke. Trying to pass themselves off as corporate royalty. Look at them now.” “Now you’re getting beaten up because you wouldn’t just keep your head down.” A guard grabbed Wilson by the throat, pinning him against a shelf. Two other men pinned my arms behind my back, holding me fast, while another guard kicked Nate hard in the back of the knee, forcing him to his knees on the concrete: “I’m going to break you pieces of trash!” Suddenly, a roaring, authoritative voice echoed from the warehouse entrance: “Who dares to touch my grandson?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497724”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At our college reunion, Johnny got drunk during Truth or Dare. Laughing carelessly, he announced he had never loved me, only Ava. He raised his glass, eyes bright. “She’s finally divorced. This time, I’m not letting her go.” The room fell silent. Next round, he drew a dare: confess to the one he loved. Without hesitation, he called Ava, voice softening into a murmur I hadn’t heard in years. “Ava, I miss you. Can we start over?” I lowered my head, chest tight. Awkward laughter rippled around the table. Sarah squeezed my shoulder. “Johnny is wasted. Don’t take it personally. Marrying you was his jackpot. Cut him some slack.” Megan nodded. “Every guy has a first love. Turn a blind eye, honey. Don’t ruin the party.” I sat frozen, nails digging into my palms. In three years of marriage, this happened whenever he drank. I always covered for him, the dutiful wife. But tonight, my fingers clutched a positive pregnancy test in my coat pocket. My eyes burned, sorrow suffocating me. Quietly, I stood, walked out, and booked an abortion. A love that would never be mine was one I no longer wanted. … When I got home, I went straight to the study and opened my laptop. A pending notification popped up on the screen: my doctoral acceptance letter from the University of Zurich. I clicked Accept without hesitation. Then, I began to pack. At the very bottom of my dresser drawer, my hand brushed against a thick stack of medical files and ovulation tracking charts. For three long years, I had subjected my body to bitter herbal teas, hormone pills, and countless painful fertility injections just to conceive. But Johnny had only ever looked at me with cold disdain. “Is your only goal in life to pop out a kid, Evelyn?” he would sneer. “It’s pathetic, honestly.” He despised the faint, clinical smell of medicine that clung to me. He despised how the hormone treatments made me bloated, exhausted, and plain. Sitting on the cold hardwood floor with those medical sheets scattered around me, a sudden wave of self-pity turned into absolute clarity. The next morning, I stood outside the operating room. The sterile, metallic clinking of instruments drifted through the door, chilling me to the bone. As the anesthesia began to drip into my veins, a single tear slipped down my temple. I’m sorry, little one, I whispered in my heart. I couldn’t give you a real home. When the procedure was over, I stepped out of the clinic. The early autumn breeze bit harshly at my pale face. My phone was vibrating frantically in my bag, displaying Johnny’s name along with a dozen missed calls. I finally picked up. His voice was sharp with irritation, commanding me as he always did. “Evelyn, where the hell are you? My stomach is killing me. Come home and make me some soup, and bring the medicine bottle on the coffee table over to my office.” At that moment, three years of memories crashed over me like a broken dam. I remembered playing the perfect housewife, ironing his shirts, cooking his favorite meals, and keeping the porch light on until the early hours of the morning, no matter how late he stayed out. And in return, I only got his condescension. “Can’t you do something useful with your life? All you’re good for is playing maid.” “Look at Ava. She came from nothing but built a stunning career. Then look at you, hovering over a stove all day. It’s suffocating.” In the past, I would have apologized, swallowed my pride, and rushed to his side just to keep the peace. But now, the heavy weight that had pressed on my chest for years suddenly vanished. I leaned against the cold brick wall of the hospital and spoke quietly. “I’m not coming, Johnny.” A stunned silence hung on the line for a couple of seconds before his voice returned, dripping with mockery. “What did you just say?” I cut him off, a self-deprecating smile touching my lips. “Exactly what you’ve wanted. Let’s get a divorce.” Johnny sounded almost relieved, his tone suddenly light. “You’re finally being reasonable?” Afraid I might back out, he quickly added, “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up right now so we can sign the papers.” My chest throbbed with a sharp, physical ache that made it hard to breathe. “I’m at Mercy General,” I replied flatly. The moment I hung up, the tears finally spilled over. The bitter wind whipped against my face as I wrapped my thin coat tighter around myself, leaning against the hospital’s exterior wall. A dull, throbbing pain flared in my lower abdomen, making my legs tremble. I waited for two agonizing hours. Finally, a familiar car pulled up, and the window rolled down, letting out a blast of warm air along with lighthearted laughter. For a second, my vision blurred. Sitting in the passenger seat was Ava. Her long, soft curls fell perfectly over her shoulders, her makeup flawless as she smiled warmly at Johnny. Next to her, Johnny wore a charcoal gray cashmere sweater that perfectly matched her off-white knit top. It was a carefully coordinated couple’s look. My heart contracted. I remembered buying a beautiful red coat once and excitedly asking him how I looked. He had barely glanced up, muttering that it looked cheap and tacky. Another time, I had hung one of his shirts next to my dress on the drying rack. He had ripped it down in a fury, yelling, “Evelyn, stop invading my space. People need boundaries. Keep your things away from mine.” It turned out he didn’t hate matching outfits or shared spaces. He just hated them with me. The car door opened, and the lingering smile on Johnny’s face instantly vanished the moment he looked at me. He frowned, his eyes cooling. “Get in.” During the drive, Johnny was unrecognizable. The man who usually treated me with cold, clipped commands was suddenly babbling like a nervous teenager, trying desperately to keep a conversation going. “Ava, do you remember when I was chasing you in college and tripped over those bleachers? You laughed so hard you cried.” He turned to look at her, his expression softening with a tenderness I had never once received in our three years of marriage. Ava giggled, covering her mouth. “Of course I do. You were so clumsy back then.” “Yeah, well, I’ve never been able to think straight around you.” Instead of being annoyed, Johnny smiled, clearly pleased. He even stared at her during red lights, a look of pure devotion on his face. I huddled in the backseat, my body trembling from the residual pain of the surgery. Looking out at the blurry neon lights rushing past, my mind drifted. I used to believe that if I was just patient enough, loving enough, I would eventually earn that kind of warmth. I had learned to cook his favorite dishes, memorized every detail of his routine, and kept silent through the worst of my fertility treatments so I wouldn’t burden him. But now, I finally understood. Some things couldn’t be earned. Just as the moon could never become the sun, I could never become the woman he loved. The car pulled up to the local administrative office. “We’re here,” Johnny said. Once the divorce papers were signed, Ava suddenly spoke up, her voice sweet and hopeful. “Johnny, now that you two are officially done, can we get our license today too?” A sudden spark of joy flared in Johnny’s eyes, and my chest tightened. But then, he slowly shook his head. I froze, a tiny, foolish spark of hope igniting in my chest. He smiled gently at Ava. “No, we can’t.” The smile wiped clean off Ava’s face, replaced by a flash of disbelief. Johnny looked at Ava with burning intensity, his voice thick with emotion. “Ava, how could we do something so rushed? Marrying you will be the absolute highlight of my life. I want to give you the most breathtaking wedding imaginable.” He began to describe his vision in Avaid detail, from a sunset proposal by the ocean to a reception hall overflowing with white roses. He spoke of hiring the best vendors, designing a custom gown, and even shared a list of names he had already picked out for their future children. “I want everyone to know that you are my wife,” he said excitedly, gesturing with his hands. “We’ll go to Iceland to see the northern lights, spend our honeymoon in Paris, I want to give you the world.” I stood in the biting wind, listening quietly. The very dreams I had secretly cherished for years were now spilling from my ex-husband’s lips, meant for another woman. The irony was suffocating. I thought back to our own marriage three years ago. There was no proposal, no sparkling ring, not even a simple ceremony. His family had been pressuring him to settle down, and one night, after drinking heavily, he had dragged me to the courthouse. When we got home with our marriage certificate, I had excitedly bought balloons and decorations to make the apartment feel special. He had pushed me aside with a cold sneer. “Grow up, Evelyn. It’s annoying.” Later, when my parents drove in from out of town to celebrate with us, he had kept a frosty expression the entire evening. He hadn’t spoken a single word at the dinner table and had slammed his study door shut the moment the meal ended, leaving me to make polite excuses to my heartbroken parents. I had spent years convincing myself that he was just emotionally reserved, that he simply didn’t understand romance. But watching him paint this beautiful, meticulously planned future for Ava, the truth finally sank in. He wasn’t incapable of love; he just didn’t love me. Because he didn’t love me, every hope I had was a burden. Every sacrifice I made was an annoyance. His cold detachment was simply because he refused to waste a single drop of energy on me. Ava laughed, a high, musical sound that felt like salt rubbed into an open wound. “Oh, stop it, you’re making me blush,” she teased, though her eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. She glanced over at me, her brow furrowing slightly. Johnny followed her gaze and immediately spoke up. “Don’t pay attention to her, Ava.” “Everything in my past was just settling. What I give you will be brand new, the absolute best.” “I will never make the woman I love settle for secondhand hand-offs,” he said, turning his gaze to me, speaking slowly and deliberately. “And I certainly won’t let you repeat the mistakes of my past. She and I were over a long time ago.” The cruel implication of being secondhand pierced my heart like a needle. I trembled, barely able to keep my balance. Eager to sever all ties, Johnny began dividing our assets right in front of Ava. “The townhouse was bought before our marriage, so that stays with me. Don’t bother asking for the car either; it’s practically a junker anyway, and I’ll get Ava a new one,” he said dismissively. “I’ll leave you twenty percent of our savings. That should be enough to keep you afloat. After all, you’ve spent plenty of my money over the last few years.” Each word fell like a hammer blow. Hearing his cold, calculated division of our lives, my face drained of color. Ava smiled, wrapping her arm triumphantly around his. I took a deep breath, swallowing the bitter taste in my throat, and turned to leave. A sudden silence fell between us. Johnny pursed his lips, a fleeting shadow of guilt crossing his eyes. His gaze dropped to my hand tightly clutching my stomach. “Wait, why were you at the hospital anyway? Feeling sick again?” “My mom’s leftover prescription is in the glove compartment. Go grab it yourself if you need it.” I kept my eyes on the ground and said nothing. My silence seemed to irritate him. His face darkened, and anger crept into his voice. “You’re always doing this, Evelyn. The moment things don’t go your way, you put on this pathetic, tragic act. Can you do anything besides play the victim? It’s exhausting.” He grew more worked up, as if he had finally found an outlet for his frustration. “I despise women like you, clingy, spineless, with no ambition of your own. You don’t even know how to stand up for yourself.” “I admire women like Ava, who have a voice and make things happen. Look at you. You disgust me.” Disgust. The word stung like a poisoned barb. A sharp spasm of pain in my abdomen forced me to double over. Seeing me flinch, Johnny seemed to grow restless, perhaps worried I might actually collapse. He knit his brows, his tone softening a fraction. “Fine. Despite how you’re acting, I’m not completely unreasonable. I’ll let you have half of the savings.” It was the first time he had ever compromised. But to me, it was just a sick, pathetic joke. Before I could even respond, Ava’s face soured. She let out a sharp sigh, pinching Johnny’s arm with a pout. “Johnny, you promised everything in our future would be fresh and new. Are you really struggling to let go of this secondhand past? Why are you giving her half?” Johnny’s body stiffened. He averted his eyes from me and said coldly, “You’re right. Half is too much. Thirty percent, Evelyn. Take it or leave it.” I let out a hollow laugh. As I signed my name on the final line, a searing, tearing pain ripped through my lower abdomen. My vision went black, and I collapsed onto the cold pavement. “Evelyn!” Johnny’s eyes widened. He took an instinctive half-step toward me, reaching out. But right then, Ava shivered, her voice trembling. “Johnny, I’m freezing.” His hand froze mid-air. Without another glance in my direction, he pulled off his warm wool coat, draped it gently over Ava’s shoulders, and ushered her into the warm passenger seat. The engine roared to life, and the car sped away, leaving me behind. The freezing wind swept down my collar. I looked down at my worn, faded down jacket, and then thought of the thick, luxurious coat Johnny had just given Ava. I was the one who had just come out of surgery, yet he was entirely blind to my pain. Despite the physical ache radiating through my body, the fog in my mind finally cleared. I slowly forced myself up, clutching the divorce decree tightly in my hand. The next afternoon, the front door was violently thrown open. Johnny burst into the apartment, drenched in sweat. His hair was a wild mess, and his eyes, usually so calm and cold, were bloodshot and frantic. “We’re going to the hospital,” he rasped, grabbing my wrist with a grip so tight it bruised. I tried to pull away. “What are you doing? Let go of me!” “Ava had an accident!” he yelled, his voice cracking with panic. “She was in a car crash. She’s bleeding out and needs an emergency transfusion. Her blood type is extremely rare, and the hospital’s blood bank is completely out of stock. You’re the only one who can match her!” My heart stopped. My body began to tremble violently. “I can’t…” I whispered, my voice shaking. “I’m begging you, Evelyn!” To my absolute shock, Johnny dropped to his knees, his hands gripping my shoulders as he pleaded desperately. “Please, just save her. If you do this, I’ll make up for everything. I’ll give you whatever you want, money, assets, anything!” “I said no,” I said, turning my face away as a familiar ache bloomed in my chest. “You’re refusing?” Johnny’s expression instantly turned cold, any trace of his desperate pleading vanishing. “Evelyn, it’s just a little blood. Ava is terrified of pain, and she’s running out of time. I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars for a single pint, okay?” “I said no!” I screamed, using every ounce of my remaining strength to push him away. But he didn’t listen. He dragged me out of the apartment and into his car. No matter how much I thrashed and cried, he kept a hand clamped tightly over my mouth, his eyes dark with determination. “Just cooperate! Once this is over, we’re even!” At the hospital, he forced me down into the donor chair. As the thick needle pierced my vein, a cold shudder ran through my entire body. The nurse took one look at my ghostly face and turned to Johnny, concerned. “Sir, she looks extremely weak. I don’t think it’s safe to draw blood from her right now…” “She’s perfectly fine,” Johnny snapped, his gaze menacing. “She always exaggerates when she’s sick. Just do it. Save Ava first.” As the blood slowly drained into the bags, my vision began to blur, and a deep, penetrating cold settled into my bones. “We need more. She’s still unstable. Keep drawing,” Johnny insisted, staring at the monitor, completely ignoring my graying complexion. By the time the third bag was filled, my world went entirely black. In the fading twilight of my consciousness, I heard Johnny’s voice, thick with relief. “Ava is going to make it. Evelyn, you actually did something useful for once.” He rushed out of the room. Behind him, the nurse’s panicked voice echoed down the hall. “Her heart rate is dropping! We need a crash cart, fast!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497723”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was the second week of the silent treatment with my guardian, Alistair, when he announced his engagement to the press. He was so afraid I’d cause a scene that he had ten burly security guards watching my every move. But for once, I was the picture of calm. No tears, no tantrums. Just quiet compliance. After the press conference wrapped up, his call came through. “Have all the sharp objects been put away?” Alistair’s voice was tense on the other end. “Did she make a fuss? Keep a close eye on her. I’ll be home tonight.” The butler, Peterson, shot a nervous glance at me before replying, “Sir, Miss Song is fine. She’s been very quiet.” “She said… she said…” Alistair’s voice was low. “She said what?” “She said that you look much older on television, and that you two really don’t suit each other. She said she finally understands your good intentions and has decided to be your dutiful, obedient niece from now on…” The line went dead. 1 Before Peterson even finished speaking, my phone lit up on the table. Seeing the caller ID, and the color draining from Peterson’s face, I couldn’t help but break into a grin. “It’s just my sister. Don’t worry, I’m not calling in reinforcements.” Peterson let out a long, shaky breath. My smile widened. I pointed to my bedroom, signaling I was going to take the call in private. The bodyguards looked to Peterson, and when he nodded, they parted like the Red Sea to let me pass. I slipped inside and locked the door. My sister’s voice came through, cold and sharp. “Cassie. Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Port Calloway?” I cupped my hand over the phone, whispering, “Tomorrow night.” Seraphina scoffed. “You sure? If you flake on me again, I’m flying to New York to drag you there myself.” “I’m sure!” I promised, my voice filled with conviction. Sera was silent for a moment. Just as I thought she was about to hang up, her voice drifted through the line, softer now. “…You’ve finally given up on him?” “Don’t come back just to throw another fit about going back to that guardian of yours.” I winced. “Don’t worry, Sera. I’m over him. Completely.” The silence on the other end was thick with disbelief. I thumped my chest for emphasis. “Dead and buried!” I’d chased him for eight years and confessed my love more times than I could count, only to watch him announce his wedding on TV. Eight years of pining was a testament to my persistence. But forcing my way into someone else’s relationship? That crossed a line. That was just asking for public humiliation. It wasn’t worth it. This hopeless crush? I was done. 2 When I came out of my room, Peterson followed me like a shadow, clearly terrified I was about to have another meltdown like I did a few years ago. Back then, Alistair had gotten so fed up with my constant advances that he’d avoided me for three solid months. He hadn’t even come home. I’d tried everything—crying, screaming, threatening to run away—but nothing worked. Then, I overheard two of the maids talking. “Why is Miss Song still fighting with Mr. Croft?” one asked. “Well, I heard he’s been getting cozy with that actress lately. He’s probably giving Miss Song the cold shoulder on purpose,” the other replied. I emerged from the corner where I’d been hiding. They froze, their eyes wide with fear. I was holding a half-peeled apple, the paring knife still in my hand. “What actress?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. If the maids were scared, Peterson was about to have a heart attack. His one job was to keep me safe, and here I was, armed and emotional. The thing is, it was a complete accident. The knife was already in my hand. When no one answered me, my anger boiled over. “Which actress? Tell me!” Peterson’s voice was trembling. “Miss Cassie, my dear, please give me the knife. Don’t hurt yourself.” His words only made it worse. My hand shook, and the blade slipped, slicing a thin red line across my arm before I dropped it, the tip landing squarely on my big toe. It was a bloody, dramatic mess. I heard later that Alistair rushed home like a man possessed that night. He saw the bandages on my arm and foot and flew into a rage, firing every maid who had been gossiping on the spot. If Peterson hadn’t been with the family for over a decade, he would have been gone too. I threw myself into his arms, sobbing pathetically. “Alistair! You broke your promise! You said you wouldn’t date anyone until I turned twenty-three!” My tears and snot soaked the front of his expensive shirt. “How could you do this? What would my parents say if they could see you now? How could you betray my undying love for you…” “It’s not real.” My sobs hitched. His thumb, warm and gentle, wiped the tears from my cheek. His expression was even softer than his touch. “You silly girl,” he murmured. “I would never play games with my heart. Don’t listen to a word of that nonsense.” … A soft, tinkling sound pulled me from my memories. A breeze had drifted through the open window, stirring the set of wind chimes hanging there. Peterson’s gaze followed mine. He sighed. “Miss Cassie, do you remember? Mr. Croft made those for you by hand for your thirteenth birthday.” Of course, I remembered. Peterson had been a front-row spectator to every single one of my embarrassing attempts to win Alistair’s heart over the past eight years. He’d seen it all. I smiled and patted his arm. “I know he’s been good to me. Don’t worry, Peterson. I’m not going to do anything stupid anymore.” Because this time, Alistair had broken his promise for real. Tomorrow was my twenty-third birthday. And he chose the day before to announce his wedding. I had to hand it to him. Well played. 3 When Alistair pushed open the door, he stopped dead, a vein throbbing in his temple. The scene before him was chaotic. Peterson and I had divided the ten bodyguards into two teams. He had five, and I had five. And we were in the middle of a loud, rowdy drinking game. “Three of a kind!” I yelled. “Royal flush!” Peterson countered. “Full house!” I slammed my hand on the table. “Two pa—” I cut him off with a triumphant laugh and a wave of my hand. “Drink!” Peterson’s face fell. He reluctantly picked up his glass, but before it reached his lips, his body jerked. The drink sloshed to the floor, and he dropped to the ground as if he’d been shot. The rowdy cheers from the bodyguards died instantly. My smile froze on my face. Oh, crap. I thought Alistair said he was coming home tonight. It was only five in the afternoon! Why was he home so early? My mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. I was so wound up I still had one foot propped on a stool, and Peterson was now cowering at my feet. He risked a peek up, saw the frantic, guilty expression on my face, and let out a choked snort of laughter. A second later, his amusement vanished, his eyes widening in terror. “Sir! Don’t blame Miss Cassie! It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have let her drink!” Peterson scrambled over and clung to Alistair’s left leg like his life depended on it. Meanwhile, Alistair’s right hand had already snagged the back of my collar, hoisting me up like a stray kitten. Tears welled in my eyes. I kicked my legs uselessly. “Alistair! Are you crazy? So what if I had a drink? I’m heartbroken! Devastated! I’m drowning my sorrows! Is that a crime? Is there no justice in this world?” I felt Alistair’s hand tremble. He only held me for a second before setting me gently back on the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. “Turn around and look at me.” I hunched my shoulders, trying to make myself smaller. Then I turned, plastering a bright, cheerful smile on my face. “Oh, you’re talking to me again? Is the silent treatment over?” He smiled back, a warm, pleasant expression that didn’t reach his icy eyes. “Heartbroken?” he repeated, ignoring my question. “Devastated? I must be blind, because I’m not seeing any of that.” Alistair looked down at me, his gaze intense. The room was so quiet that his dark eyes seemed even more bottomless, more dangerous. A knot of complicated feelings twisted in my gut. But I refused to be humiliated any longer. I took a deep breath, about to say something, when his phone rang. And just like that, the words that had been swirling in my mind, the questions I was finally ready to ask, were swallowed whole. What do you really feel for me? Can you just be straight with me for once? Please, stop making me guess. You push me away with your words, but your actions make it seem like you love me. Do you have any idea how confusing that is? The unspoken words lodged in my throat, and my eyes began to burn with unshed tears. Alistair didn’t notice. He stared at the caller ID, his brow furrowing. It took him a few rings to finally answer. I glanced at the screen. The name read: Isabelle Laurent. His fiancée. A woman’s voice, elegant and warm, came through the phone. “Alistair, darling? Have you picked up Cassie yet? The reception is about to start. You two should hurry.” Alistair murmured a few brief replies and hung up. He looked at me again, his frown deepening. “Are you…” he began, his tone questioning. I forced a grin, cutting him off before he could finish. “I’ll go.” He was clearly taken aback. His dark eyes were as turbulent as a stormy sea. But suddenly, I was just… tired. So tired of trying to decipher his thoughts. “Are you sure you want to? If you don’t, I can come home early tonight…” “I’m sure!” I interrupted him again, pointing upstairs. “I’m going to go change into that dress you had made for me! I’ve been waiting for a chance to wear it. Give me five minutes!” “That dress wasn’t for you to wear tonight…” Alistair started, but I was already gone. I couldn’t stand it. I ran up the stairs, my heart pounding. I was so pathetic. If I stayed in that room with him for another minute, I knew I would break down and cry. Get a grip, Cassie, I told myself, clenching my fists. Just one more day. You’re going back to Port Calloway tomorrow. Hold back these stupid tears.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497722”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 While packing up our new house, an old tablet of mine suddenly lit up, displaying a local trending video from three years in the future. The headline was impossibly eye-catching: Devoted Billionaire Buys Entire Island to Bring a Smile to His Beloved Wife. I laughed and passed the tablet to Nathan. “Mr. Bennett, you’re going to be trending in three years? Surely this beloved wife is me?” Nathan walked over, pressing a tender kiss against my forehead. “Who else could it be? You stayed by my side when we had absolutely nothing. I would give my life just to hold you in the palm of my hand.” Lost in a haze of happiness, I looked down and tapped the video. A reporter was asking with sheer envy: “Mrs. Bennett, we heard your husband personally committed his ex-wife to a psychiatric hospital just to appease you?” The woman on screen blinked, her eyes pooling with delicate tears. “Yes. Nathan said that was what she owed me.” The smile on my face instantly froze. The woman addressed as Mrs. Bennett was Sherry. She was my former best friend, the one whom I had once sold my own belongings and taken on crippling debt to save when she was in her darkest hour. And yet, barely an hour later, Nathan would stand in this very room, screaming at me, calling me cold-blooded and selfish, and smashing every single one of our wedding photos, all because of Sherry. Outside the door, Sherry’s muffled, calculated sobs drifted in. “Nathan, it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t come back, you two wouldn’t be fighting. Maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to lose her as a friend.” Then came Nathan’s gentle, comforting murmur. “It’s fine. I broke the photos, not you. Don’t be afraid, I’ll talk to her.” The door pushed open. He looked at the glowing tablet in my hands, showing not a single trace of guilt for his recent outburst. He opened his arms, expecting me to step into them. “Still angry? I lost my temper earlier, but you said some incredibly harsh things. Sherry is your best friend, and she’s already crying from guilt. Was it really necessary to humiliate her in front of the house staff?” My body felt like ice. I stiffened, deliberately stepping back from his reach. In that moment, the ruthless, cold billionaire from the future video and the gentle, brow-furrowed husband standing before me merged perfectly. I stared at him, my fingertips trembling slightly. “Nathan, let me ask you a question.” “What is it?” “If I went crazy one day, would you send me away? To an asylum?” Nathan’s brow furrowed deeper, his tone sharpening with reprimand. “What are you throwing a fit about now? We can retake the photos tomorrow. Sherry has nowhere else to go, she is already miserable enough. You used to sacrifice your own comfort to help her, so why is it that now, as Mrs. Bennett, you’ve become so cold and selfish? Can you really not tolerate your own friend?” My breath caught in my throat. There was no hysterical screaming, no shattered glass, just a heavy, suffocating silence. So, in my husband’s eyes, my past sacrifices to save my friend were simply expected of me, while defending the boundaries of my marriage now made me cold and selfish. The future was already unfolding, piece by piece. The next morning, Sherry didn’t leave. She walked into the living room holding a glass of warm milk, her eyes red as she reached for my hand. “We’re best friends, Evelyn. You used to care about me more than anyone. Please don’t let my presence ruin your marriage, okay?” I coldly pulled my hand back, ignoring her completely. By afternoon, as I approached the study with a glass of water, I heard rustling from inside. Pushing the door open, I found Sherry standing by my desk, holding my external hard drive. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “I only wanted to help tidy up. I remembered how you used to love the coffee I brewed when you were writing your drafts.” Before she finished, her hand suddenly trembled. The drive slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor, and the mug of coffee tipped over, completely drowning the device. My chest tightened, a sharp pain piercing my heart. “Don’t touch that!” I rushed forward, pushing her aside to salvage the drive from the puddle of liquid. Sherry tumbled against the bookshelf, clutching her ankle as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry, I only wanted to make things right. After all our years of friendship, won’t you even give me a chance to explain?” Heavy, rushed footsteps echoed down the hallway. Nathan burst into the room. He didn’t look at me once. He went straight to Sherry, gently lifting her from the floor. When he finally turned to me, his eyes were heavy with disappointment. My voice shook uncontrollably. “Nathan, when she had nothing, I borrowed from everyone I knew to pull her out of the dirt! Is this how she repays me? She destroyed my drive! It has ten years of our lives on it!” Nathan stepped in front of Sherry, shielding her. “Just because you helped her back then doesn’t mean you get to treat her like a criminal now! She was only trying to help you organize.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the drive directly into the trash can. “Nathan!” I gasped, standing up. “It’s just some old photos and outdated files,” he said, his voice entirely dismissive. “If it’s ruined, it’s ruined. I’ll make time to take new photos with you tomorrow. The doctor said Sherry has severe depressive tendencies and can’t handle any stress. Stop using a piece of useless junk to torment her just because she owes you a favor from years ago, will you?” I stood frozen in place. I remembered a night years ago, when a blizzard shut down the city and our basement apartment felt like an icebox. My hands were swollen with painful chilblains, but I kept typing away on my keyboard to finish my manuscript. He had come home from handing out flyers, immediately tucking my freezing hands against his chest to warm them, kissing my reddened fingertips. “From now on, every word you write and every photo we take will be saved on this drive. This is our most precious treasure, and nobody can ever take it from us.” “Okay,” I heard my own voice reply, dry and hollow. Nathan blinked, surprised by how easily I surrendered. He let out a sigh of relief, his voice softening into that patronizing warmth. “I’m glad you’re being reasonable. Sherry scares easily, so keep your history in mind and try to be more accommodating.” I didn’t look at him, nor did I look at Sherry. I turned around and walked out of the study, one quiet step at a time. I didn’t make another scene about the drive. I locked myself in my room. Thinking I had finally learned to behave, Nathan knocked gently on the door. “Sleep early, and don’t overthink things. I’m going to check on Sherry’s ankle.” The footsteps faded, followed by the muffled sound of my husband comforting another woman. Leaning against the door, I listened to the soft, gentle murmurs from the guest room. I knew my marriage had just entered the countdown to that viral video. The next afternoon. To completely shatter my resistance, Sherry was willing to risk her own life. I had just filled a cup of hot water and reached the top of the stairs when I saw Sherry standing near the edge, a few steps down. She glanced at me, and in the next second, she threw herself backward without hesitation. Nathan came charging up from downstairs. Sherry lay at the landing below, her leg visibly fractured, clutching her shin as cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She gripped Nathan’s sleeve, sobbing hysterically. “Nathan, don’t blame Evelyn… I just lost my footing. She was only angry with me, please don’t be mad at her.” Nathan cradled her tightly, snapping his head up to glare at me with pure fury. I pulled out my phone, loaded the high-definition hallway security feed, and tossed it right in front of him. The screen showed the truth with absolute clarity. I was standing yards away from her, not even close enough to brush her clothes. “Look closely,” I said, my voice dead of any emotion. “She threw herself down.” I thought the footage would wake him up, that it would force him to see Sherry’s true colors. But as Nathan watched the screen, his tense shoulders didn’t relax. He handed Sherry over to the family doctor who had just arrived, then stood up and walked over to me. He reached out, gripping my fingers tightly. “I know you didn’t push her,” his voice trembled slightly. “I always believe you.” But then, he spoke the most cruel words imaginable. “But Sherry’s mental state is on the verge of a total collapse. She has severe paranoia. I’m begging you… just apologize to her. Admit you pushed her, alright? Just do it to soothe a sick patient, to give her some security.” I froze, doubting my own ears. “What did you say?” I stared at him in disbelief. “She framed me, and you want me to confess to her crime?” “It’s just to soothe a patient!” Nathan’s eyes turned red, his voice thick with frustration and helplessness. “You’re healthy, Evelyn. You’re strong. You can handle a little unfairness! But if Sherry is pushed any further, she might actually die!” He squeezed my hands tighter. “Can you really not show a little compassion to save a life?” The hallway fell into a deathly silence, echoed only by his self-righteous demands. The deepest despair isn’t when a person doesn’t believe you; it is when he knows the absolute truth, knows you are innocent, and still demands your sacrifice. I looked at the man who claimed to love me. Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my hands from his grip. “Nathan,” I said, looking at his empty hands. “If this is to soothe her, then who is going to soothe me?” He froze, his mouth opening slightly, but no words came out. I didn’t wait for an answer. I already knew his choice. From that day on, I completely cut off all communication with everyone in the house. Having refused to apologize, I simply chose to ignore their existence. I stopped speaking entirely, spending days and nights sitting on my bedroom balcony, staring out into the void. No crying, no arguing. Outside my door, the sound of wheelchair wheels rolling by became a frequent occurrence. Sherry would purposely park herself right outside my room, raising her voice just enough for me to hear as she whimpered to Nathan. “Nathan, does she still hate me? She hasn’t left her room or spoken a word in a week. Yesterday I peeked through the gap in the door, and she was just staring at me with those cold, hollow eyes… I’m so scared.” Nathan’s voice was low, heavy with exhaustion. “Don’t be afraid. She’s just being stubborn, throwing a tantrum.” “But… I read a medical article the other day. People who resort to extreme silent treatment like this often have severe underlying psychological issues. I don’t care about my own comfort, but I’m worried she might hurt herself one day. Or what if she snaps and hurts you?” Inside the room, listening to her pretend to care for my well-being, I couldn’t even muster the energy to smile. I had believed Nathan possessed basic judgment. I believed he would at least respect our ten years together and not be blinded by such clumsy manipulation. Until three days later, in the afternoon. The bedroom door was quietly pushed open. Nathan walked in, followed by a man and a woman in plain clothes. The way they looked at me was not how one looks at a human being. I sat on my balcony chair, watching them coldly. “Get out.” Nathan didn’t get angry. He walked over, gently cupping my cheek. “Sweetheart,” his eyes filled with a terrifyingly deep affection, “you’ve been so suppressed lately. You don’t even seem like yourself anymore.” He pointed to the two strangers behind him. “This is a top-tier psychological care team I personally reached out to. I’ve arranged a room for you at a highly private, luxury sanitarium in the suburbs. The environment is beautiful and quiet, and no one will disturb you. Go stay there for a while, work with the doctors, and heal your paranoia and resentment, okay?” Hearing those words, the trending video from three years in the future began to play on a loop in my mind. I had assumed that scene would only occur after we had completely torn each other apart. I never expected the gears of fate to grind together so soon. I stared at the deeply affectionate man in front of me, my entire body trembling. “You think I’m crazy? You want to lock me up in an asylum?” Nathan’s brow knit together. He grabbed my shaking hands, squeezing them tight, his voice a mixture of gentleness and irritation. “How could you call it locking you up? Why do you always assume the worst of me? I’m doing this for your own good! Look at yourself right now, you look like a ghost! You can’t even communicate normally! Staying here will only torture both you and Sherry, destroying whatever love we have left. Go there to get some peace, be a good girl, and listen to the doctors. Once you’re better and your emotions are stable, I’ll bring you straight back home so we can start over.” He spoke with such absolute conviction, such flawless self-righteousness. The male doctor stepped forward, handing over a thick folder. “Mr. Bennett, since the patient is showing clear signs of resistance and persecutory delusions, we recommend immediate isolation. As her immediate family member, please sign this consent form for involuntary psychological intervention. Our team will handle the transport and closed treatment from here.” “Don’t worry, it’s just a routine procedure. The staff inside will take good care of you,” Nathan murmured, reaching for the pen the doctor offered. “Nathan,” I called his name one last time. His hand paused, and he looked up at me. “If you sign that paper,” I said, looking directly into his eyes without a single tear, “whatever was left between us dies forever.” Nathan’s pupils shrank. His fingers gripped the pen so hard they turned white. But a moment later, he let out a long, heavy sigh. “Look at you, still making these extreme threats. The doctor is right; you can’t control your emotions at all right now, always trying to manipulate me with these dramatic words.” Without another second of hesitation, he leaned down and wrote his name on the consent form. I watched the signature dry, seeing the immediate relief wash over his face. And then, I laughed. It started as a soft curve of my lips, but soon, I threw my head back and let out a full, ringing laugh. The sound seemed to unnerve Nathan, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes. “What are you laughing at?” He frowned, reaching out to hold me. “Nothing,” I said, quietly pulling my hands away, my gaze perfectly still. Seeing this, the two doctors stepped forward to take custody of me. “Mrs. Bennett, please cooperate with us.” “Don’t touch me,” I warned, throwing them a cold glare before turning back to Nathan. “Fine. I’ll go.” Nathan blinked, clearly caught off guard by my sudden compliance. Joy immediately flooded his features, erasing his anxiety. “You finally understand! Good, that’s wonderful! As long as you go get treated, I’ll give you anything you want!” “I want a chestnut tart from the bakery on West End,” I said. “You have to go buy it yourself, don’t send your assistant. When you bring it back, I’ll leave with them quietly.” Nathan breathed a massive sigh of relief. He wrapped his arms around me, kissing my forehead eagerly. “Of course! I’ll go get it right now. Wait for me here, don’t go anywhere!” He stood up, turning to the doctors with a strict warning. “You two wait downstairs. I’ll drive her over myself once I return.” With that, he grabbed his keys and rushed out the door. As the front door clicked shut, the house fell into an absolute, beautiful silence. I didn’t look out the window, nor did I check to see if Sherry was watching. I walked over to the vanity, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out the divorce papers I had printed long ago. I slowly slid the wedding ring off my finger and placed it right in the center of the documents. Having finished, I calmly walked downstairs, bypassed Sherry who was watching television in the living room without a single pause, and stepped out of the villa that had nearly become my tomb. By evening, Nathan returned, excitedly pushing open the front door with a pastry box in his hand. “Sweetheart, I got the tart! It’s still warm, come try some…” The house was eerily quiet, save for the low drone of the television from the living room. “Evelyn?” Nathan called out, pushing open the bedroom door with a smile, only to be met by a cold, empty room. His gaze swept across the space, eventually settling on the vanity. In the next second, the smile on his face froze, and his pupils contracted with sudden terror.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497721”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Returning home tonight, I realized the peephole on my front door was gone. In its place was a hollow, empty socket. My heart plummeted. Because tucked inside that very peephole, I had hidden half of a severed finger. 1 I cast a casual glance down the empty hallway, keeping my movements deliberate and calm. I pulled out my phone and tapped open the security app. The feed showed that exactly three minutes ago, a masked, shadowy figure had bypassed my lock. His technique was old-school. First, he twisted the peephole casing loose from the outside. Then, he slid a long, bent wire through the vacant hole. Navigating by touch, he hooked the interior doorknob, gave it a sharp tug, and the latch clicked open. As for the severed finger I had wedged inside the mechanism, the wire had punched it straight into the apartment. The intruder had slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took two steps before stumbling, his boot catching on something small and soft on the hardwood floor. He knelt, picked it up, and stared at the half-finger in his palm. The feed showed him freezing, entirely paralyzed. Realizing he had stumbled into a predator’s den, the intruder panicked, turning back toward the door to make a run for it. But that was the exact moment I arrived. Right now, only a thin sheet of wood separated us. 2 “Why aren’t we going in, babe?” Grace asked softly beside me. “Just looking for my keys in my bag,” I replied smoothly. Grace had no idea the peephole was missing. She couldn’t see it. She was blind. I kept quiet about it because the last thing I wanted was to worry her. While I pretended to fumble with my keys, I kept my eyes glued to the phone screen. The intruder was in a frenzy, scrambling into the kitchen and squeezing himself into the narrow cabinet beneath the stove. I unlocked the door, guided Grace inside, and locked it behind us, making sure to turn the deadbolt twice. After helping her to the sofa, she mentioned she was thirsty. I offered to get her a glass of water and walked into the kitchen. My eyes immediately darted to the cabinet beneath the counter. The door was slightly ajar. A cold smile touched my mind. This made things much easier. Without making a sound, I closed the kitchen window, shut the door to the hallway, and cut the electricity to the kitchen. Then, I quietly turned the valve on the gas stove. It was a risky move, but it was the quietest way to put a rat to sleep. 3 I stepped back into the living room, sealing the kitchen door behind me. I handed Grace her glass of warm water, then immediately slid open the balcony window to let the fresh air circulate. Outside, a gentle drizzle had started to fall, carrying the crisp, earthy scent of rain on damp ground. “Is it raining?” Grace’s voice drifted over, vibrating with a childlike excitement. “I want to listen to it.” By the time I turned around, she was already navigating her way toward the balcony, her hands lightly sweeping the air. I stepped up and gently caught her arm. At the open window, she reached out, letting her bare forearm catch the cool, falling mist. The icy drops beaded on her skin. She curled her fingers, a soft, ethereal smile warming her face. “It feels so soft,” she whispered. “Yeah, but let’s get you sat down before you catch a cold,” I said, pulling her back gently. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face, but she complied, settling onto the wooden chair on the balcony. I draped a plush blanket over her shoulders, tucking the edges around her neck. My hand drifted into my pocket, tapping the phone screen. The intruder hadn’t moved. Thirty minutes had passed since I opened the gas valve. 4 Judging by the time, the air in the kitchen should be toxic enough. I spoke softly to Grace. “Stay here. I’m going to wash some fruit for you. I bought some sweet apples today.” Suddenly, her cool hand slipped around my forearm, holding me back. “No rush. Just sit with me for a bit. Listen to the rain. Doesn’t it sound just like the old days?” I glanced toward the kitchen door, then sat down beside her. She rested her head on my shoulder, falling silent. Occasionally, her fingers flicked against her lap, tapping out a slow rhythm to the falling rain. I looked down at her. Her unseeing eyes seemed to hold a soft, liquid light, gentler than the rain outside. Another half hour slipped away as the drizzle tapered off. She finally sat up, her fingers grazing my knee. “Go get that apple now. Be careful, though. Don’t cut your finger like last time.” I patted her shoulder, stood up, and picked up the paring knife from the dining table. Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the kitchen. I shut off the gas valve and threw the window wide open. After waiting two minutes for the fumes to clear, I yanked open the cabinet door. The intruder was curled into a tight ball, his head slumped lifelessly against his knees. He was deeply unconscious, the bent lockpicking wire still clutched in his limp hand. The severed finger lay on the wooden floor right beside him. To be absolutely sure, I wrapped the wire tightly around his neck and pulled. Three minutes later, his chest stopped moving entirely. Time to clean up. I washed my hands thoroughly at the sink, grabbed an apple from the basket, peeled it, and brought the clean slices to Grace. “I have to head out for a bit to handle a work emergency,” I told her. “Go to bed when you’re tired. Don’t wait up for me.” She nodded, her voice tender. “Okay. Drive safe, and come back quickly.” I went back to the kitchen, stuffed the limp body into a large duffel bag, and secured the lock. I put the peephole back on the front door, slipping the severed finger back into its secret chamber. After helping Grace with her nightly routine and making sure she was tucked in and asleep, I quietly wheeled my heavy cargo out the door. 5 As an emergency utility technician, middle-of-the-night calls were standard for me. Grace was used to it, so she never questioned my odd hours. Closing the apartment door, I dragged the heavy suitcase toward the stairwell. I always took the stairs. No cameras, no digital footprint, just concrete and shadow. I made my way down to the sub-basement, dodging the sparse security cameras until I reached a dusty utility corridor. Nestled in a dark corner was a sewer maintenance hatch. For me, it was the perfect grave. I pried the heavy iron cover open and pushed the body in. I poured in the concentrated sulfuric acid I had prepared beforehand. When the chemical fizzing subsided, I hauled my empty suitcase back up. It was nearly eleven o’clock when I finally unlocked my front door. 6 The moment I stepped inside, I froze. Grace was standing near the bathroom, her posture unusually rigid. “Why are you still up?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle. “I just got back.” At the sound of my voice, her tense shoulders dropped slightly. “I was asleep, but I woke up to a dripping sound from the bathroom. I wanted to see what it was.” “A dripping sound?” My chest tightened. I followed her gaze into the bathroom. Dark red droplets were seeping through the seams of the ceiling panels, landing on the white tile with a rhythmic splash. It looked exactly like blood. I immediately led Grace back to the living room and sat her on the sofa. “The pipes upstairs must be backed up. I’ll head up and check on things.” “It’s so late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” “It’s fine. I know the guy upstairs. I’ll be right back.” I slipped out, taking the stairs to the apartment directly above ours. The hallway was empty. I quickly unscrewed the peephole on the door, slid a bent wire through, and pulled the handle from the inside. The door clicked open. A suffocating smell of copper and rot hit me instantly. I closed the door and went straight to the bathroom. The floor was flooded with dark, stagnant water. The drain was completely clogged. Without hesitation, I plunged my hand down into the pipe. After feeling around the tight curve, I hauled out a thick, tangled mass of hair. The water immediately began to drain with a loud gurgle. But as I looked at what I was holding, my heart stopped. Tangled in the wet hair was a small, razor-sharp pocketknife and a delicate silver bracelet. The knife’s blade had punctured the PVC pipe, causing the leak. The knife and the bracelet looked terribly familiar. 7 When I returned to our floor thirty minutes later, I unlocked the door to find Grace standing near the entrance, gripping the frame. She took two steps back at the sound of the door opening. “It’s me. I’m back,” I said. She let out a soft breath. “What was going on upstairs?” “Just a clogged drain. I took care of it.” “So fast?” “Well, that’s my job, remember?” I shut the door, stepping inside to take her hand. It was ice-cold. I squeezed her fingers and diverted her attention. “The pipe has a small crack, though. I’ll need to replace the elbow joint tomorrow to stop the dripping entirely.” She nodded. Then, her fingers twitched in mine. “By the way, did you see anyone in the hallway when you came down?” My muscles tensed, but my voice remained perfectly level. “No. Why do you ask?” “Someone knocked on the door while you were gone. At first, I thought you forgot your keys.” “Did you open it?” “No, of course not. The knock was off-beat. I knew right away it wasn’t you.” “Probably just a neighbor at the wrong door.” My eyes swept over the entryway. Resting against the wall just inside the threshold was a fresh corpse. I had brought him in when I opened the door. When I came down from the upstairs apartment, I had spotted a man pressed against our door, looking through the empty peephole. I didn’t make a sound. I crept up behind him, neutralized him, and slipped him inside. To keep Grace from panicking, I kept my voice light and steady while quietly dragging the heavy body into the shadows of the closet. I still had work to do tonight. 8 I guided her to the bed and tucked the blanket around her. “You should get some sleep. I have to go out again.” Her fingers lightly traced the edge of the blanket. “Going out again? Is it really that busy tonight?” “Yeah, probably because of the rain. Pipes are bursting all over town.” I kept my voice casual, turning off the main light and leaving only the dim bedside lamp. “Alright. Be careful. Come back soon.” Her voice softened in the dim room. I waited until her breathing became slow and rhythmic before slipping back to the entryway. The heavy body of the dead intruder was waiting for me. I forced him into a large suitcase. This guy was much broader than the last one, and the zipper snagged halfway. I had to press down hard on his shoulder before the mechanism finally clicked shut. As I locked the door behind me, I took a quick glance through the peephole. The severed finger was back in place, sitting like a quiet, hidden nail. The motion-activated lights in the stairwell flickered weakly. My suitcase rattled against the concrete steps as I hauled it down. At the fourth floor, I stopped. I spun around, looking up into the darkness. The stairwell was deathly silent. But a primal instinct told me that somewhere in the shadow of the landing above, a figure was pressed flat against the wall, quietly tracking my descent. 9 I didn’t call out. Instead, a silent smile crept onto my face as I kept walking. The weight of the suitcase made my wrists ache, each step feeling like a silent tug-of-war with the shadow behind me. Down in the sub-basement, I opened the sewer hatch. The pungent stench of dissolving flesh rose to meet me. I glanced back toward the exit, keeping my movements deliberate. I tipped the heavy bag into the dark void and poured the acid. The dark liquid hissed and bubbled as it dissolved the skin and bone. I watched the thick white steam rise until the sound faded completely, then slid the heavy cover back into place. Heading back up, I intentionally slowed my pace, pausing on each landing. Sure enough, by the time I reached the sixth floor, I heard the faint, hurried rustle of bare feet rushing up the stairs ahead of me. The stalker was trying desperately to get back before I did. I hid in the shadow of the sixth-floor landing and watched as a slender silhouette darted past the stairwell window. The hem of a white nightgown fluttered in the dark, disappearing up toward the eighth floor. When I reached our door, I didn’t open it immediately. I pressed my ear to the wood, listening to the ticking of the living room clock. Only then did I slide my key into the lock, turning it as silently as possible. The apartment was dark except for a sliver of light coming from the bedroom. I crept to the door and peered through the crack. Grace was curled under the covers, her back to me, her long dark hair spread across the pillow. She looked deeply asleep. But I knew better. Her skin would still be cool from the concrete stairs. The person who had followed me into the dark was her.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497720”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’d just boarded an international flight, my body still aching from an abortion hours earlier, when my phone buzzed. A notification from Penn, my billionaire husband. He’d sent fifty-two dollars. “Serena forgot your sister’s surgery fees,” his message read. “This covers it. Your oversight. Next time, clear expenses over two hundred with Serena.” “No reply? Don’t think carrying my child gives you free rein. Tomorrow, state publicly your sister’s crisis wasn’t Serena’s fault. Delaying surgery a few days—what’s the harm?” I stared, hollow, then shut off the screen and leaned against the cold window. Seconds later, my phone erupted—relentless calls and texts. “Where are you? Pick up, or I’ll have your paralytic sister thrown out!” When silence answered, Penn panicked. He raced to the care facility; my sister was the anchor that kept me tethered. Bursting into her room, he found an empty bed. Grabbing a nurse, his voice shook: “Where is she?” The nurse blinked. “You didn’t know? Critical last night. Family couldn’t raise funds in time. She’s dead.” Penn froze, blood draining from his face. Then he remembered: five days ago, my sister crashed. I begged for three hundred thousand. His secretary Serena hid the request. When he chose her over us—and I said I wanted a divorce—I meant every word. … “Stop playing games,” Penn had replied coldly. He hadn’t even looked up from his laptop when he said it. The rows of boring electronic data on his screen seemed infinitely more captivating than the woman standing before him. I kept my eyes lowered, my voice quiet but unyielding. “I am not playing games, Penn. I want a divorce.” He exhaled a heavy, irritated sigh and finally stood up, his face a mask of cold indifference. “You’re screaming for a divorce over a minor misunderstanding?” When I didn’t answer, his brow furrowed deeper. “I was the one who authorized the temporary suspension of your sister’s treatment. It had nothing to do with Serena. She was only following my orders.” “If you hadn’t barged into the office and made a scene a few days ago, I wouldn’t have had to teach you a lesson.” “I’ve already instructed them to resume her treatment. I’m busy, Nora. I don’t have the time or patience for your tantrums.” Without waiting for my reply, he grabbed his coat and walked out, entirely convinced that my demand for a divorce was merely a desperate bid for attention. He was certain that, before long, I would crawl back to him, pleading for his forgiveness. Had Penn picked up my call three days ago with even a shred of humanity, I might still be bowing my head to him, enduring his coldness just to keep my sister alive. I remembered standing in the sterile, fluorescent-lit hospital corridor, my pregnant belly aching, begging him not to hang up. “Penn, please. Just lend me three hundred thousand dollars. This surgery is everything to Hazel. If it succeeds, she’ll be able to walk again.” His response had been nothing but impatience and irritation. “How many times do I have to tell you? If you need money, go through Serena. Why are you bothering me with this?” But getting money from Serena had always been an exercise in humiliation. “Three hundred thousand is a massive sum, Nora,” Serena had said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “You don’t even have an itemized billing statement yet. How can I verify this money is actually going toward a surgery?” I had explained that it was a pre-admission deposit, and the official itemized bill could only be printed after discharge. She had smiled, a small, patronizing curl of her lips. “I’m not doubting you, dear. It’s just that I’ve seen people falsify records before. Penn’s reputation is priceless, and I have to protect his assets.” “Besides, Penn has a strict rule. Any personal expense exceeding two hundred dollars must be reported to him. Go get the hospital’s official seal on those forms first, and then I’ll see about submitting it.” By the time I obtained the necessary paperwork and called her to follow up, she acted as though she had only just remembered. “Oh, Nora, I’ve been so incredibly busy. It completely slipped my mind. You don’t mind, do you?” Because of that “slip of the mind,” Hazel missed her window for a matching kidney donor. The doctor had told me it was her absolute last chance to receive a compatible organ. Because the funds never arrived, my sister’s only hope of survival was snuffed out. At that moment, I knew I was done. Standing at the study door, I called out to Penn one last time. “Tomorrow morning at ten. I’ll see you at the family court.” Penn paused, looking back at me with cold, dismissive eyes. “Nora, before you use divorce to threaten me, you’d better remember who pays for your life.” “Your sister’s ongoing care costs a fortune, and you’re carrying my child. Don’t paint yourself into a corner you can’t climb out of.” Before the words had even left his mouth, his phone rang. He answered it, his voice instantly softening into a tone he had never used with me. “Serena? It’s not your fault. I made the rules. If she wants to blame anyone, she can blame me.” “Don’t cry. I’ll take you out tomorrow. You can buy whatever you want.” Listening to him coax her so tenderly, a sharp, stabbing pain blossomed in my lower abdomen. Over the past few days, I had been so frantic about Hazel that I had completely missed my own prenatal check-up. My phone buzzed. It was an automated text from the clinic: Ms. Nora, you are currently seven weeks pregnant. Please remember to schedule your routine prenatal examination. The next morning, Penn never showed up at the court. I waited until noon before he finally replied to my message. I’m out shopping with Serena. Busy. If you really want a divorce, have your lawyer file the papers. I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I went back to the hospital. Hazel lay on the bed, her fingers barely able to twitch. She was only five years older than me, but the aggressive treatments had left her completely bald and terribly frail. Seeing me enter, she forced a weak, trembling smile. “Nora… let’s stop the treatment.” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “Don’t say that, Hazel.” Our parents had passed away early, and Hazel had raised me on her own. She had been nothing but a child herself, yet she worked multiple jobs to pay for my tuition, shielding me from every storm. The doctor pulled me out into the hallway, his expression grave. “The situation is deteriorating rapidly. We can’t delay any longer. You must secure the remaining treatment fees as soon as possible.” I nodded numbly. I went straight to a pawn shop and sold my wedding ring. The clerk examined the diamond and offered an insultingly low price, but I didn’t care. I needed the cash. Right after receiving the money, I opened social media and saw Serena’s latest post. In the photo, she stood in front of a high-end department store mirror, holding several luxury shopping bags, a sweet, victorious smile plastered on her face. The caption read: Penn said I am the face of his company, so he insisted on buying me these. I stared at the screen for a long time until it went dark. That afternoon, Serena showed up at the hospital room, her smile triumphant. “Nora, Penn sent me to check if there is still any point in continuing your sister’s treatment.” “After all, money should only be spent on those who are worth it. I need to re-evaluate this expense.” Before I could open my mouth, Penn walked down the corridor. He stopped beside Serena, his expression flat. “Serena is only doing her job.” “If you have a problem, you can bring it up directly with me.” I looked him dead in the eye. “She doesn’t need approval to buy luxury bags, but my sister needs your approval to stay alive?” “What I spend on her is my own business,” Penn replied coldly. “What you are asking for is an expenditure under my wife’s name. They are entirely different things.” He slid a thick stack of forms toward me. “If you want the money, fill out the application. Once Serena reviews and approves it, I will authorize the transfer.” I didn’t reach for the paper. His eyes drifted to my stomach, his voice growing even colder. “You’re still pregnant. Stop using the child to throw these dramatic tantrums.” With that, he turned to leave with Serena. But the very next second, the doctor rushed into the room. “Emergency! Your sister’s vitals are crashing. We need to operate immediately!” I waited outside the operating room for three agonizing hours before the surgeon finally emerged with the news that Hazel’s condition had temporarily stabilized. But his face remained tense. “We’ve managed to keep her stable, but her medication cannot be interrupted. Her body cannot survive another shock.” I nodded, my throat aching with a dry, burning thirst. After using the last of my pawned-ring cash to pay for her immediate prescriptions, I walked down to the hospital cafeteria to buy her some broth. And there, sitting by the window, were Penn and Serena. They were sharing a beautifully arranged plate of desserts. Serena saw me first. She immediately rose and walked over, her expression soft and apologetic. “Nora, you’re here too.” “Penn said I worked incredibly hard putting the project files together this week, so he took me out for a quick lunch.” “It’s purely professional, please don’t misunderstand.” I ignored her and looked directly at Penn. “I guess not every single dollar spent requires a formal application process.” Penn’s brow furrowed. “Nora, drop the attitude.” “Serena did an outstanding job this week. As her boss, taking her out for a meal is perfectly normal. Is there a problem?” “No problem,” I said quietly. “After all, she keeps me under your heel so perfectly. She deserves a reward.” His expression darkened, but I didn’t wait around for his response. I turned and walked away. When I returned to the room, Hazel was fast asleep. I sat by her side, my heart breaking as I stared at her hollow cheeks. That evening, as I kept watch by her bed, the sky outside suddenly lit up. A magnificent display of golden fireworks erupted over the city, painting the night sky in brilliant, shimmering hues. Several nurses and patients gathered by the window to watch. “Who spent that kind of money?” “I heard it’s the Sinclair Group. The CEO is putting on a show to reward his secretary.” “How romantic. Imagine having a boss who treats you like that.” I stood by the glass, my fingers turning cold. While they celebrated their sweet, public romance, my sister lay on a sterile bed, fighting for every breath with the help of a machine. I unlocked my phone. Serena’s social media feed had just updated. The photo showed her wearing a dazzling diamond necklace, the glittering stones catching the light of the fireworks. The caption read: Thank you, Penn, for this beautiful necklace. Tonight, the sky burned just for me! I stared at the necklace. It was a design I had admired for months. Last month, when I had lingered in front of the display case at the boutique, Penn had merely glanced at it and said, “A purchase like that requires too much administrative approval. It’s not worth the hassle.” It wasn’t that it wasn’t worth the hassle. It was only a hassle when it was for me. I stared at the post for a long time, then tapped the “like” button. Within a minute, my phone rang. It was Penn. “Now that you’ve liked the post, don’t you dare retract it,” he said without preamble. “People will start rumors about Serena if you do.” “Leave a comment underneath. Praise her for her hard work. Let’s make it look like a joint gesture of appreciation from both of us as a couple.” I quieted my mind, tapped open the comment box, and typed: You’ve worked so hard, Secretary Song. You’re even wearing the things the President’s wife has no right to touch. I locked the phone. A few minutes later, the screen lit up again. I walked out into the quiet corridor to answer it. Serena’s sobbing voice immediately filled the receiver. “Nora, I really didn’t know you liked that necklace too…” “I only accepted it because it was a gift from Penn. If you comment like that, what will everyone think of me?” Then, Penn’s voice broke in, cold and furious. “Nora, do you have any idea how many people in the office are already whispering about her? How is she supposed to face anyone after what you wrote?” “It just proves that not everyone in your office is a fool,” I replied. His breath caught. “When did you become so bitter and toxic? Serena worked incredibly hard to get to where she is. You don’t work, you live entirely on my dime, and yet you feel entitled to humiliate a woman who actually puts in honest labor?” Before I could reply, a shrill, piercing alarm echoed from Hazel’s room. The heart monitor. Panic seized me. I dropped the phone and bolted back into the room. A team of doctors was already crowding around her bed. Hazel’s face was white, her oxygen tube lying discarded on the floor. The doctor looked up at me, his face grim. “She pulled the tube out herself. We’re doing everything we can!” My knees buckled. I threw myself against the side of the bed, sobbing hysterically. “Hazel, please! Why would you do this?” Hazel struggled to open her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Nora… don’t cry. Don’t fight for me anymore. It hurts too much.” “I heard… I heard you on the phone with Penn.” “Don’t spend any more money on me. I won’t let you ruin your life for a dying woman.” I shook my head violently, tears blinding me. “I won’t let you go! Don’t worry about the money, I will save you!” With shaking fingers, I redialed Penn’s number. The line connected, but it was Serena’s voice that answered, laced with a quiet, venomous chuckle. “Asking for money again?” she whispered. “Nora, did you really think you could humiliate me on social media and then beg for a favor? If you want the funds, come to my office right now. Get down on your knees, beg for my forgiveness, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll think about signing off.” Then, Penn’s cold voice echoed in the background. “Serena is right, Nora. This is the respect you owe her.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497719”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Seven days after we buried my husband Adriano, I brought his mother’s illegitimate son home. The main hall is full when we walk in. Capos. Cousins. The family Council. Adriano’s aunt — Lucia Bellandi — perched at the head of the long table like she’s already won. Her son Enzo stands behind her, fourteen years old, chin up, practicing the look of a Don. They were one signature away from making him heir. Donna Cosima Bellandi sits beside her, rosary in her hands, eyes red from a week of crying. My mother-in-law. The matriarch. The only person in this room I had to think twice about. Then Silas steps through the doorway behind me. The room goes silent. Lucia’s smile dies. “No.” Her voice cracks. “No, you’re dead. You’re dead. We buried you.” Cosima rises so fast her chair scrapes the marble. The rosary slips from her fingers. She crosses the hall in five steps and throws her arms around Silas like she’s afraid he’ll dissolve. “My boy. My boy, my boy —” Silas doesn’t move. He lets her hold him. He doesn’t hug back. He doesn’t speak. He stares over her shoulder at the chandelier like he’s never seen a ceiling before. That’s when the room notices. His eyes are blank. Cosima pulls back. Searches his face. “Adriano?” Nothing. “Adriano, baby, it’s Mamma.” Nothing. Lucia recovers first. She always does. She stands. “This is a joke.” Her voice is steel now. “This is an insult. We buried Adriano seven days ago. You” — she points at me — “you bring in some stranger off the street who happens to have his face, and you expect this Council to —” “Who said he was dead?” I cut her clean. The whole room turns. “There was a casket, Rosa.” Her teeth show. “There was a funeral. The whole family —” “There was an empty box.” I keep my voice soft. Almost sorry for her. “No body. No proof. I never believed it. I’ve had men looking for him every day since. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to give Cosima hope and watch her lose him twice.” I turn to Cosima. Soften. “And now he’s home. Aren’t you happy, Lucia?” Lucia’s jaw locks. “Then why doesn’t he know his own mother?” I look at Silas. “Tell them.” He wets his lips. Lowers his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it. “I went into the water. I hit my head on something — I don’t remember what. A fishing family pulled me out downriver. When I woke up, I didn’t know my name.” A long pause. “A few weeks ago I started remembering pieces. A wife. A ring. A house in this city.” He lifts his eyes to Cosima. Holds them there. Lets them shine, just enough. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.” Cosima makes a small, broken sound and grabs his hand with both of hers. The Council shifts. I watch their faces go from suspicion to something softer. Two of the older Capos exchange a look. One of them nods, very slightly. Lucia sees it too. Her seat is gone. Her son’s seat is gone. The thing she’s been circling for seven days, the thing she’s been carving up in her head — gone. “This is not over,” she hisses, and sweeps out with Enzo trailing behind her. The room empties in twos and threes. Cosima exhales like she’s been holding her breath for a week. Then her knees give and she folds toward the floor. “Get the doctor —” We carry her up to her room. The family doctor checks her blood pressure, listens to her heart, and tells me she’s exhausted from grief and shock and she’ll be fine with rest. I show him out. When I turn back, Silas is leaning in the doorway of the hall. Arms crossed. Watching me. Every soft, broken thing on his face is gone. “Mrs. Bellandi.” His eyes crinkle. A slow, lazy smile. “Was my performance… satisfying?”

“You did fine, Mr. Crowe.” I keep walking. He falls into step beside me like a shadow. Like he’s done it for years. “Fine.” He tastes the word. “I keep a Don’s chair warm for his widow, fool an entire Council, make his mother cry on cue — and I get fine.” “You were paid.” “I was saved.” He says it lightly. Almost amused. “Don’t pretend that’s the same thing.” A maid hurries by. Silas’s whole face changes — soft, lost, the gentle son again — until she’s gone. Then it drops. I hate how easy it is for him. We turn into the east corridor. Quiet here. No staff. He slows. “You know, Mrs. Bellandi, I’ll admit something.” I stop. He stops too. “When you came to me with your offer,” he says, “I thought I was replacing some merchant. Some banker. Some soft husband from a soft family.” His head tilts. “Not the Don of the Bellandis.” My pulse ticks once, hard. I keep my face still. “And?” “And nothing.” His mouth curves. “I’m not the kind of man who scares easy. If I were, I’d have crawled to the Riccis a long time ago. I wouldn’t have ended up in a ditch for you to find.” He takes one step closer. Then another. Close enough that I can smell him — clean linen, cold air, something darker underneath. Not Adriano’s scent. Not at all. His hand lifts. I don’t move. He reaches past my cheek and plucks something off the shoulder of my dress. A petal. White. Probably from the funeral wreaths still rotting in the front hall. He holds it up between us. “You had something on you,” he says softly. Then he flicks it away and steps back like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just measure exactly how close he could come before I broke. I draw a breath. “Don’t do that again.” “Do what, Mrs. Bellandi?” His smile is small. Innocent. He gestures vaguely at the air like he has no idea what I mean. I know this man now. He looks like a gentleman. He’s not. A door opens down the hall. Cosima’s maid leans out. “Donna Rosa. She’s asking for you.” … The room smells like beeswax and old prayer. Cosima is propped against the pillows, rosary back in her hands. The color is returning to her face. I sit on the edge of the bed and reach for her hand. “Mamma, the doctor said —” “Rosa.” Her voice is calm. Quiet. That’s how I know I’m in trouble. “You have a lot of nerve.” My stomach drops. “Mamma —” “Did you really think that a mother wouldn’t know her own son?” she doesn’t raise her voice, not once. The room goes very still. “Who is that man you brought into my house?” I slide off the bed and onto my knees beside her. I don’t have to fake it. The marble is cold through my dress. “I wasn’t going to lie to you. Not for long. I swear on Adriano.” “Then start talking.” “His name is Silas Crowe. I found him three weeks ago. He owed me his life — the Riccis had him half dead in a back alley and I pulled him out of it. He looks like Adriano. Exactly like Adriano.” Her fingers tighten on the rosary. “And you thought you’d just — dress him up. Walk him in here.” “I thought,” I say carefully, “that if I didn’t, Lucia would be sitting in Adriano’s chair by the end of the month.” That lands. I see it land. “Mamma.” I shuffle closer on my knees. “The Council was one vote from naming Enzo heir. One. And the second that boy puts on Adriano’s ring, who do you think he answers to? Me? You? Or the woman who raised him?” She doesn’t speak. “Adriano’s body was never found. I don’t believe he’s dead. I have men in three states still looking. But until I bring him home, someone has to sit in that chair, or this family eats itself alive.” I let my voice crack. Just a little. “And if — if Adriano really isn’t coming back — at least this way, the seat is still ours to give. To a cousin. To a real Bellandi child we choose. Not to Lucia’s.” Cosima closes her eyes. The rosary moves through her fingers. A long minute passes. “You should have told me,” she says finally. “I know.” “That man. Crowe.” “Yes, Mamma.” “He’s nothing? No family? No one looking for him?” “No one.” I keep my eyes down. “His father died when he was seven. He never knew his mother.” She is quiet for a long time. Then her hand comes down on the top of my head. Light. Almost a blessing. “All right, Rosa.” “Mamma —” “Double the men looking for my son.” “Yes, Mamma.” I walk to the door. And only when I close it behind me do I let myself breathe. The corridor is empty. But the air at the end of it, near the corner — it shifts. Just slightly. Like someone was standing there a second ago and isn’t anymore. I stare at that empty corner for a long time.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260704AetmLPwMpM 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni836034”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My boyfriend keeps choosing his bitch intern over me. So I cut his place in my future. I stand next to the self-check-in kiosk in Boston South Station and tell my boyfriend, Gavin, we’re done. “Because your seat isn’t next to mine?” He laughs. “Yes.” He’s still laughing. He pulls out his phone and taps record. “Fine. You said it. Don’t take it back.” We’ve known each other since we were seven. Together since eighteen. He thinks I can’t leave him. He doesn’t know this train ticket is just an excuse. I refunded the one he booked for me. I changed my destination. This time, I’m out. In a few hours, we’ll be in two different cities, living two completely different lives. … Gavin holds the phone in front of my face. The recording bar is still moving. I don’t change my expression. “May 23, 2026. Day 2,591. Aria Bennett and Gavin Hayes are broken up.” He freezes for a second. Then shakes his head, almost amused. “Okay. How long is it this time? Three days? Four?” He scrolls back through his phone and taps another recording. “Gavin… I miss you so much… I take it back, please don’t break up with me…” My own voice spills out — drunk, crying, loud enough that people nearby turn to look. “This one’s from three months ago,” he says, smiling. He keeps scrolling. I push the phone away from his face. “I mean it this time.” He looks up. The smile fades. “Just for a seat.” His voice drops. “Really, Aria?” Yes. Really. …… A group of us planned this Cape Cod trip for this weekend. Gavin’s intern, Lily Sutton, insists on tagging along. So he refunded everyone’s original tickets and rebooked the entire group on Amtrak Acela. He and the rest are all in Car 2. I’m in Car 10. Alone. The seat next to him? Saved for Lily. And just to make sure I saw it — he posted the screenshot on Instagram. Who’d drop everything to travel with you on a whim? Two seat numbers, side by side. Like two needles in my chest. …… “Aria, don’t be like this.” He sighs. “I missed you the first time I booked. By the time I noticed, Car 10 was all that was left.” “It’s four hours. You don’t need to be jealous.” He says it like I’m overreacting. Like I’m the unreasonable one. I take a breath. “You don’t get it. I’m not jealous about who sits next to you for four hours.” “Got it, got it.” He cuts in. “Then how about this — I book flights right now, just you and me. Done?” “Gavin! Are you switching to flights? Can I come? I’ve never flown before.” Lily slides up out of nowhere. She hands Gavin an Americano like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then sips her own iced latte through the straw. She notices the tension and adds, sweetly: “Sorry, Aria — I didn’t know what you liked. I’m so used to grabbing his Americano and my latte, I forgot to ask you.” I turn to leave. She grabs my arm. “Aria, please don’t get the wrong idea.” “I’m just an intern. Gavin and I are just friends. My finals are coming up and I’m super stressed. He’s only inviting me out so I can decompress.” “Don’t let stuff like this come between you two.” “Stuff like this?” I laugh, cold. “Asking my boyfriend out to a movie. Alone. That’s stuff like this?” “Sending him photos of you trying on dresses. Stuff like this?” “Forcing yourself onto our trip when no one wants you there. Stuff like this?” “You’re not clueless. You’re just shameless. You know exactly where the line is, and you walk right over it every time.” “You want him so badly? Take him.” Lily’s eyes fill up instantly. She drops her head and bites her lip. “Aria, enough!” Gavin pulls out a tissue and hands it to her. “I get that you’re upset. Take it out on me. Why are you yelling at her?” Her tears roll right on cue. “Gavin… don’t fight. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come.” She turns and walks toward the exit. Gavin sighs and goes after her. The station is loud. Crowded. I can’t breathe. I watch his back disappear into the crowd. Seven years. And I might as well have been no one.

I packed until 5 a.m. last night. My head is splitting. I walk past the Starbucks to grab a coffee and I hear them before I see them — Gavin’s friends, all sitting together near the gate. “Where’s Aria? Why isn’t she with you guys?” “They’re fighting again. She’s threatening to walk out again.” A short laugh. “Before the trip even starts? What is it this time?” “He didn’t save her the seat next to him.” “That’s it?” Someone shrugs. “Honestly, dude. Only you could put up with her.” Gavin pushes his hair back from his forehead. “Yeah, I need a minute. I’ll deal with her once we hit Cape Cod.” Another guy chimes in. “Aria’s only like that because you let her be. You made your bed.” “Honestly? Lily’s a way easier kind of girl. Sweet. Chill. Hey Lily, what’s your type? Could you go for a guy like me?” Lily covers her mouth and laughs. Looks like Gavin already smoothed things over with her. Before she can answer, Gavin kicks the guy’s shin under the table. “Back off.” Then he turns to Lily, softer now. “Stay away from guys like him. He’s burned through more girlfriends than he can count. If he tries to add you on Instagram — don’t accept it.” The whole group erupts. “Damn, Gavin. A little protective?” “You bring her along but won’t let her near any of us? What’s your deal?” “Saving her for yourself?” Lily blushes hard. “Guys, stop. Even if I liked someone like Gavin — he wouldn’t go for me.” Every head turns toward Gavin. He just smiles. Says nothing. Lily laughs at herself. “See? He’s not denying it. So fine, guys — someone set me up, please.” Then Gavin says, slow and easy. “I never said that.” Someone whistles. The whole group cracks up. “Oh — wait. Oh no.” Lily suddenly counts heads on her fingers. Pulls out her phone. Her face changes. “God. I underbooked the rooms.” “I just looked at the headcount when I booked. Four guys, three girls. I only got three rooms…” She scrolls fast. “Everything’s sold out now. What are we gonna do?” She looks up, sees me, and walks straight toward me. “Aria, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.” “The hotel next door still has one room. It’s like a thousand dollars more — but Aria, you’re richer than me, right? Could you grab it?” I look at her flatly. “You messed up. Why am I paying for it?” Her face crumples. “Aria… I’m just an intern. I’m not even out of school. I don’t make much…” I cut her off. “You’re the one who insisted on booking everyone’s rooms. Everyone paid you. If you can’t handle it, don’t volunteer for it.” She drops her head and starts crying. “Enough.” Gavin walks over, voice light. “It’s just a room. Just book another one. Aria, you’re not a kid. Relax.” I smile. “Relax while your intern walks all over me?” Lily looks up at Gavin through her tears. “I swear I didn’t mean it.” Gavin lowers his voice and turns to me. “Aria. Lily’s not playing games. You’re being unfair to her.” “I’ll book you a sea-view room. End of discussion. Drop it.” “I’m the one who needs to drop it?” I laugh again. Louder this time. My phone rings suddenly. I turn to walk away and answer it. Gavin grabs my wrist. Hard. “Aria.” His voice is low now. “We got through seven hard years together. And now you’re throwing a fit over a seat?” My skin goes pale where he’s holding me. I yank my arm free. A red mark blooms across my wrist. I stare down at it. I see it clearly. Seven years. I wasn’t his girlfriend. I was his charity case.

I step outside the station and pick up. “Aria, what time do you land at LaGuardia? I’ll come get you.” My best friend Naomi laughs on the other end. “Two in the afternoon.” “You’re actually moving to New York? Gavin’s letting you?” “I broke up with him.” She pauses. “Fine. But — are you really gonna be okay leaving him?” I think about it for two seconds. “Yeah. I am.” I’m serious. When I was seven, I was in a car accident. It wasn’t bad. But it scared me so much I stopped speaking. For three months, I didn’t say a single word. The boys at school made it a game. They tore up my notebooks. Hid my backpack. Pushed me around. Gavin dragged the worst one into the principal’s office himself. He came out with a bloody nose. Wiped it on his sleeve. Grinned at me. “It’s done. Anyone messes with you, they go through me.” I stared at him for a long time. And then I said my first word in three months. “Thank you.” He froze. Then he took off running down the hallway, yelling to everyone he passed. “She talked! She just talked!” After that, we were inseparable. Sixteen years. He was woven into every part of who I was. Until three months ago. Gavin’s firm hired a new intern — Lily Sutton. That’s when everything changed. He changed his lock screen. He swapped it for a landscape shot. From a team retreat at his company. It used to be us on Cape Cod — a wave crashing in, him hoisting me onto his back, me laughing so hard I’m crying. I didn’t ask why. He didn’t explain. Later, Lily kept causing fights, and they kept leading to breakups. Every time we split, I couldn’t sleep. I had to drink myself into bed. Until last month. I was leaving the office at eleven at night. Just as I was about to head home, I heard footsteps behind me. I walked faster. So did they. I called Gavin. Once. Twice. Thirteen times. He didn’t pick up. I panicked. I missed a step on the curb. My ankle rolled, and I hit the pavement hard. My finger must have hit something — because suddenly, the line was ringing. I just realized that my screen had cracked, but the call screen was still open. It connected in under two seconds. The background on his end was dead quiet. I could hear him stand up. “Aria. Don’t hang up. Keep talking to me. Tell me where you are.” I told him what happen to me. “Give me ten minutes.” He was in front of me in nine. His hair was damp at the temples from the run. He crouched down and lifted my ankle into his hands like it was glass. His thumb pressed lightly against the swelling. “Does this hurt?” I nodded. He didn’t say anything. Just stood up. Turned around. Crouched again with his back to me. “Get on.” Later, Gavin explained why he didn’t hear the call. He said Lily had bought an extra movie ticket. Said it would’ve been rude to waste it, so he went with her. He’d put his phone on silent. I looked at him. I could feel something just shift between us. The big screen in the station cycles to a new ad now. It’s the new Forbes cover. From across the waiting area, one of Gavin’s friends points. “Hey — isn’t that Sebastian Crowe?!” I look up. I look at his face. Then I look toward Gavin. He’s scrolling on his phone. Lily is leaning into his side. He doesn’t move away. My phone buzzes in my pocket. “I’ll be waiting in New York.” A second one comes right after. “Pick you up at LaGuardia.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260704tfSs5DLVh6 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni167172”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix