For the ninety-ninth time, my Alpha mate, Kyle, instinctively veered off patrol—straight toward Seraphina’s den. He turned and looked at me like I was the problem. “Why is your scent so weak? I didn’t even sense you. Anyway, since I’m here, I’ll reinforce the wards on Seraphina’s den.” I stood frozen, a bitter smile on my lips. That phrase again. “Since I’m here.” It started a year ago, after my best friend Seraphina moved to the forest edge. My Alpha, the pack’s leader, kept getting “lost” on his patrols. He promised we’d go to the Moonlight Ritual together. Instead, he knocked on Seraphina’s door, holding the ceremonial Moonpetal Nectar meant for us. Rogue werewolves wounded me and left me burning with a fever. I begged him for healing herbs. He gave them to Seraphina for her “moon-sickness.” Even on my own Coming of Age ceremony, he presented his trophy hunt to her. He laid the kill at her door. “Since I’m here,” he’d said. “Think of it as a gift for your friendship.” Another time, it was: “Seraphina’s aura’s been acting up. Since I’m here, I’ll help her settle it.” I watched him disappear into her den. He never looked back. I turned and walked toward my den. He’d forgotten. Today, my pack oath expired. I decided to leave this territory. Since he loved going there, he could stay there for good. Back at my den, a few young werewolves loyal to me were waiting. “Ella, we’re ready to start moving your things.” I nodded. At that moment, the communication crystal on my wrist buzzed. It was a mental link from Kyle. “Where did you go? Don’t wander off.” I flinched. Our mental link had always been one-sided. I was the only one who cared. For a moment, the message made my fingers tremble. But as I was concentrating, his next thought cut through. “Go to the apothecary in the south. Bring me a moonsilver dagger. Seraphina doesn’t have one here.” I stared at the silent words hanging in my mind. He hadn’t noticed I was gone. He only noticed I was gone when he needed me to run an errand. I looked back through our old messages. Almost every message from him was about Seraphina. “Give Seraphina that vial of Stardust Tears from the Elders. I’ll hunt another prize for you later. Seraphina wants to try the heart of a Fire Drake. We’re hunting one tonight. I’ve already found its trail.” Kyle never asked. He ordered. He had already decided before the words reached me. The last one was during a thunderstorm. I had asked if he could come get me. “I’m already home,” he replied. “You can get back on your own.” A moment later, a new post popped up on Seraphina’s PackFeed. It was a photo of a massive, dark wolf, with her perched safely on its back. The caption read: “Almost drowned in this storm! So lucky my guardian knight came to the rescue.” I knew that wolf’s form. I always told myself to be happy for them. He was my Alpha. She was my best friend. I told myself this was normal. But my patience only ever seemed to encourage him. He pushed the boundaries further and further. This time, I left his message unanswered.

As I packed, another message came from Kyle. “Still not back? Seraphina wanted dinner at Starlight Caverns, so I brought her. Meet us there yourself.” This was nothing new. We would make plans to hunt together. But I’d be delayed by pack duties, or tracking a kill. By the time I arrived, only cold scraps remained. Kyle always brushed me off. “Seraphina is weak, she needed to eat. So the food’s cold, it’s still fine. You’re too sensitive.” Don’t be so fragile. That was his favorite line. Rotting vines once tore through my den and wrecked it. When I asked him for help, he said the same thing. “I don’t have the energy for that. Get some of the younger werewolves. Don’t be so fragile.” So I burned the vines myself and reinforced the wards alone. After that, I stopped relying on him. But with Seraphina, he was different. “You don’t have to be so tough,” he told her. “Let me handle it. Your den is near Ella’s anyway. It’s no extra trouble.” I never understood it. I was his future mate. But when I needed him, I was being “fragile.” When she needed him, it was “no extra trouble.” I swallowed the bitterness and sent my reply. “Enjoy. I’ve got things to do.” His response didn’t come for a long time. “Another tantrum? Ella, you’re not a cub anymore. Grow up.”

I had thrown a tantrum once before. Last winter, an ice-wolf’s claw ripped my side open. Frost poison flooded my veins. I reached out through our link and begged for Fire-bloom. He was at Seraphina’s. Her moon-sickness was flaring up, he said. He was busy brewing her a calming tea. “But I’m uncomfortable,” I sent him. He was silent for two heartbeats. “You can still message me, so how bad can it be? I’ll have a courier send some. Just endure it.” That was my breaking point. He was my Alpha. But I would never be his priority. I told him I wanted to sever our mate bond. No reply came. The mind-link between us slammed shut, cutting me off cold. He knew my love for him was the easiest way to control me. He was sure I would never leave. That was my weakness. I suffered alone for two days. I cried until I had nothing left. Two days later, Seraphina came to “mediate.” And like a fool, I crawled back. I never caused a scene again after that day. But this was different. This wasn’t a tantrum. I was serious.

Young werewolves moved in and out, clearing the den. It hit me. After seven years of our mate bond, my home held almost nothing of Kyle’s. A pair of mud-caked boots, a drinking horn, and nothing else. Even those two items were things I had gotten for him. He’d never given me a real gift. Seraphina got a magical stone for her new den. For her birthday, he bought her favorite Ghost Orchids. But for me, he always had an excuse. “That ceremonial stuff is meaningless, Ella. We’re going to be Alpha and Luna. We have to be practical.” I used to question him, to argue about it. He said, “Getting gifts for your best friend makes you look good to the pack. It’s for you.” I let out a bitter laugh. My communication crystal vibrated. It was my mother calling. “Ella, honey? I was calling about your official bonding ceremony. How are things with Kyle?”

Not long ago, Kyle and I met with our parents. They gave us their blessing, ready to set a date for the ceremony. But Kyle put it on hold. He said the pack was expanding, and bonding could wait. At the time, I was disappointed, but I told myself I understood. The pressure on an Alpha was immense. Now, all I felt was relief. A man who couldn’t even find his way to my den… I would be alone forever with him. “Mom, the bonding ceremony is off. I’m ending things.” Her voice went tight with alarm over the crystal. “Why? Did he do something unforgivable?” “No. It’s just… not the right fit anymore.” There was a long silence on her end. Of course she was shocked. Every werewolf in the territory knew how much I loved Kyle. For seven years, I was devoted to him. My mother knew. Seraphina knew. I had chased after him from the start. To get closer to him, I learned his preferred fighting techniques. I studied the ancient scrolls he was obsessed with. I even secretly joined the same hunting party, just for the chance to fight at his side. When he decided to build his pack in the southern forests, I didn’t hesitate. I gave up a coveted spot at the Central Royal City. I packed up my entire life and followed him here. My own mother refused to speak to me for three days. All I could say was, “Mom, if I let him go, I’ll regret it forever.” Back then, Seraphina angrily scolded me, saying: “Ella, you’re hopelessly whipped.”

Seraphina and I were friends for ten years. She was my family. But now, she was taking all of my mate’s attention without a shred of guilt. She never cared how it made me feel. I saw her new post on PackFeed. It was a romantic dinner. My eyes stung. The picture was taken in the “Starlight Caverns.” I had found it in an old text. Sparkling cave walls, exquisite food, the sound of an elven harp. I begged Kyle to go with me so many times. He always said, “We’re going to be leading this pack, Ella. Think about our resources. A dinner that costs that much? I can put glow-stones on the ceiling for you.” He always sounded so reasonable. Every time, I said nothing. But now, Seraphina mentioned it. He took her to the one place I had always wanted to go. After moving the last box, I collapsed on the furs in my new den. I remembered building my last one. I’d messaged Kyle for help, but he was busy with pack defenses. He told me to handle it myself. To save resources, I did it all alone. I pushed too hard and reopened an old injury. It put me in bed for two days. But when Seraphina built her den, Kyle cleared his entire day. “Building a den is hard work, Ella. Your friend is alone. It’s our duty to help her.” I watched him work for her, sweat dampening his hair. I barely recognized him. It was never that he couldn’t. He just wouldn’t do it for me.

I was packing when the communication crystal started buzzing. It was Kyle. “Ella, open the door! You changed the ward’s incantation. What is this?” I took a breath. “It means nothing, Kyle. We’re over. I’m severing the bond.” He ignored what I said and raised his voice. “Seraphina remembered you wanted food from the Starlight Caverns. She brought some back for you, and you do this? Change the password and ignore us? Ella, stop throwing a tantrum!” I wasn’t sure if he didn’t hear me. Or if he’d labeled my decision as my usual drama. Before I could say it again, he hung up. I let out a hollow laugh. My own fault. My love for Kyle was no secret to anyone in the pack. Even he thought I would never leave. The next day, I was at the pack market, getting supplies for my new den. I turned down an aisle and ran straight into them. Kyle, his arms loaded with bags, and Seraphina at his side. The smiles on their faces vanished when they saw me. “Ella, please, don’t get me wrong. Kyle was only helping me. He was worried I couldn’t carry everything alone.” Seraphina tried to explain, reaching out for my hand. But Kyle yanked her back behind him. “Why are you explaining to her? She still owes you an apology. You baby her too much, Seraphina. That’s why she keeps pulling this crap.”

Seraphina gave me a worried look. She followed Kyle toward the trading post anyway. I watched them leave, my chest tightening. Kyle never went to the market with me. He always said it was too much trouble. “Have a courier bring what you need. Why go through the trouble yourself?” But there he was, carrying all of Seraphina’s bags without complaint. Outside, Kyle stowed all their things. Seraphina was already on his wolf back. She was in the seat only a claimed mate was supposed to take. She looked back and waved at me. “Get on,” Kyle said casually. “I’ll take you both home.” My eyes fell on the saddle pad woven from Moon-Grass. The one that marked the Luna’s seat. His brow furrowed when he saw my expression. “Seraphina is fragile. It’s safer for her up front. You can ride in the back.” He remembered all her little quirks. Her fragility, her irregular moon sickness. But he conveniently forgot about my old battle scars. My eyes stung. I forced the words out. “No, thanks. I’m not going that way.” Seraphina started to dismount. “Ella, don’t do this. You don’t want me sitting here, do you? I can get down.” But Kyle let out a low growl, commanding her to stay put. “If she’s not going our way, fine. We’re leaving.” The wolf lunged forward. Dust hit my face as they rode off. He never had any patience for me.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202607012rJcXPROyB 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni862053”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

“We’re done!” I dumped Julian the second he got back from Geneva. “Just because I didn’t get you that vintage watch?” He scoffed, his handsome face saying he didn’t really care. “Yes.” I didn’t even blink. My fiancé, Julian, took his investment team to Geneva for a business trip last week. When he was back, everyone got a gift. He even brought the receptionist a bottle of expensive champagne. Everyone, except me. He completely forgot about me. It should have been my birthday present. The one I kept talking about for two full months — a vintage Cartier watch. His new assistant, Chloe, posted a selfie on Instagram, bragging about her fancy gift. In the photo, she was wearing a brand-new watch from the exact same brand that I wanted. Her caption below: “Best boss in the world! Tysm! Love you always! #BestBossEver” Below, Julian’s comment was brief: “No big deal.” I stared at that post for a long time, then I deleted the text already typed out: “Can’t wait to have you home”. Julian and I met at age seven. We fell in love at eighteen. Twenty years of my life, wrapped up in this man. Once, he put me above everything else. But later, I became the one he cared about least. Take now for example, I’m seriously talking about breaking up with him, but he’s just looking at his phone. It’s a lunch invitation from Chloe. He smirks, sounding annoyed but trying to play it off: “Alright, Ava, stop it.” “What’s the big deal? It’s just a watch. I promise I’ll get you one next time.” “I’m having lunch with Chloe today. Just take a cab and go home.” He adjusts his suit cuffs, hurrying away. I don’t want to stop him at all. Instead, I reply to the email from that haute couture studio in Paris — an offer they’d sent me seven times. “I accept your offer. Flying out soon. See you in Paris.” After sending the email, I slide the engagement ring off my finger, placing it inside his study drawer. Julian, from now on, we go our separate ways. Take care. … “Ava, did you really break up with him?” The moment I step out of Julian’s company, my best friend Sophie calls. “Yeah, I did.” “You guys have been together for nine years! And all because he forgot a gift for you?” I stand still on the sidewalk, watching the endless flow of New York traffic. “It’s not just about the watch.” Before Julian left for Geneva, I specifically reminded him that it’s the perfect place for vintage watches. He swore he’d look for it. In the end, he got limited-edition cigars for his banking partners, and the latest Cartier for his assistant. Yet for me, he returned with nothing. “Sorry, Ava, the schedule was all packed. It just slipped my mind.” “Next time I’ll definitely make it up to you.” In the three months since our engagement, he has forgotten my requests seventeen times. The first time, I had a high fever from a severe flu. I asked him to bring some Tylenol after work. He said yes. But when he got home, he reeked of booze. “A super important client called for a last-minute meeting. Sorry about your meds. I completely forgot.” I didn’t lose my temper. After tucking him into bed that night, I wrapped myself in a blanket and went down to the pharmacy myself. The second time, my personal design studio just landed a massive order. I was working my ass off, so I asked him to drop off some food at the studio. He said yes. I waited until eleven that night. My stomach was killing me, but he never showed up. When I got home, he was already out of the shower, watching Bloomberg in bed. “Sorry, I forgot. It’s just been a long day.” I looked at him, totally speechless. Then came the third time, the eighth, And finally, the seventeenth…

Again and again, I convinced myself that he was just too busy. I got so used to it, preparing myself for him to “forget” every single time. Until one day, by pure coincidence, Chloe’s account popped up in my Instagram recommendations. Her account was entirely filled with her daily life with Julian: “#BestBossEver” On March 21st: “Literally just told my boss I couldn’t sleep from stress. Walked in today to find a luxury sleep care package waiting at my desk.” “Feeling the lucky girl vibes.” On April 7th, she posted a photo from a Michelin-starred restaurant. “Randomly mentioned to my boss last week that I wanted to try this place… And he actually brought me over today! So happy!” “Such a charming, wealthy boss — who could resist?” April 7th, the exact same day I asked Julian to drop off some food for me at the studio. And then, there was today. Julian finally returned from Geneva. Chloe bragged about the watch from him on IG. “Best boss in the world! Thx! Love you always! #BestBossEver” Below it, Julian’s comment: “No big deal.” That watch was from the exact same brand that I wanted. However, for me, Julian had a schedule that was “all packed.” For her, it was “no big deal.” “Sophie, I’ve already made up my mind about this relationship. Don’t talk me out of it,” I say to her on the other end of the line. She falls silent, letting out a sigh. “So, you didn’t tell him about going to Paris either?” “Not yet,” I say, “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

At night, in my study, I’m having a video conference with my future colleagues in Paris. It’s a haute couture bridal studio located on Avenue Montaigne. For Julian, I declined six offers out of the seven they’ve sent me. Now, the seventh time. I say yes. “Everything at the New York studio is wrapped up. I can get on the plane in two days.” “Wonderful, Ava!” Arthur, the founder of the studio, says in pleasant surprise. “Your talents definitely deserve a much bigger stage. When you get here, I will personally show you around Paris.” “What about Paris?” Julian’s voice suddenly cuts in. I turn around, realizing he is already back at our apartment on the Upper East Side. “Back so early tonight?” It’s only eight o’clock. For the last three months, he usually stayed out much later with Chloe or some clients. Julian is caught off guard by the question. He freezes for a second. “What do you mean by that?” He doesn’t press further, brushing past me in a hurry, rummaging through the drawer for two concert tickets. He explains casually: “Chloe bought me lunch at noon. So tonight, I’m taking her to Carnegie Hall for a concert. Just returning the favor. That’s all.” Right after, he quickly adds, as if I cared: “Don’t overthink it.” I simply nod, my gaze falling on those two tickets. They are dated yesterday. This wasn’t some last-minute whim. They had this planned all along. But I’m not calling him out. After all, I’m about to leave him forever. He can go with whoever he wants. That’s none of my business. It’s just that… my eyes still sting for reasons I refuse to admit. “Julian, do you still remember what day today is?”

He frowns. “What day? Another anniversary? Give me a break, will you?” “I gotta go.” He turns to leave without hesitation. “Julian!” I stop him, forcing a faint smile. “On your way back, get me a piece of cake, okay? Lady M’s matcha crepe.” He pauses, seemingly remembering something, then his expression softens. “Okay.” “When you get back, I have to tell you something. It’s important.” “Got it.” The door clicks shut. I sit back down in front of my laptop. “Sorry about that, let’s continue…” Julian completely forgot — today is my 27th birthday. Two months ago, he asked me what I wanted for present. I only mentioned two of my wishes. First, I wanted him to help me find that vintage watch I’d been dying for. Second, I invited him to a concert. The watch? He didn’t buy it. The concert? He’s taking someone else. In the end, even my birthday is gone in his brain. But it doesn’t matter. After tonight, I’m heading to Paris. We’ll never see each other again.

That night, Julian didn’t come back right after the concert. I fell asleep on the sofa in the study. In my dream, I see the seven-year-old Julian again. He holds a small tree branch in front of me, trembling at a vicious stray dog. Although he’s afraid, he shouts out loud: “Don’t be scared, Ava, “I’ll protect you!” I also see him at eighteen, by the lake in Central Park, his face flushing as he stammers to me: “Ava, will… will you be my girlfriend? I swear I’ll always put you first!” I keep my head down, blushing: “Yes, I believe you.” At twenty-five, he proposed to me. At twenty-seven, we got engaged. And today, three months after the engagement, I waited for him on the sofa to discuss our breakup. He kept me waiting for so long that I fell asleep. In the middle of the night, the vibration of my phone wakes me up. It’s a text message from Julian. “It’s not safe for Chloe to take a cab alone this late, so I’m taking her home first. Don’t wait up for me, just go to sleep.” I reply. “What about my cake? You forgot again?” My finger hovers over the “send” button for a long time. In the end, I delete it, letter by letter. I reply with one simple word. “OK.” Then I lock my screen, roll over, and go back to sleep. That night, I cry so much my arm gets soaked and goes completely numb. The next morning, I find myself waking up in the bedroom. After a brief moment of confusion, I walk out. There’s a smell of coffee in the air. Julian is in the kitchen. On the dining table sits an exquisite cake box. “Awake now, sleepyhead?” He glances at me sideways, continuing to make the coffee. “Fell asleep on the sofa last night? I had to carry you into the bedroom. You really need to lose some weight, you know?” He complains, but a smile plays on his lips, as if nothing bad ever happened between us, as if we are still that inseparable couple. For a second, I’m in a daze. I walk to the table to open the cake box, my voice softening unconsciously: “I just fell asleep waiting for you. Is this cake from last night? Why isn’t it in the fridge…” “Don’t touch it!”

Julian snaps, slapping my hand away so hard the back of it instantly turns red. “Hey, that’s for Chloe. She said she wanted some cake last night, so I went to that trendy bakery first thing this morning and waited in line for this.” He points to the fridge. “Your breakfast is inside.” I open the fridge. A single bottle of strawberry milk sits alone on the shelf. Strawberry milk? When I was eighteen, Julian gave me a bottle of expired strawberry milk. I got severe food poisoning, vomiting and diarrhea non-stop. I could only lie in the hospital bed for three days. Since then, strawberry milk has been sort of my trauma. Julian was terrified back then. In the hospital, he held my hands tightly, crying his eyes out. He swore he’d never let anything strawberry-flavored near me again. Now, he even forgets about that too. I grip the fridge door, spacing out for a moment. I shut it. Julian stands to the side, frowning. “You don’t want it? Chloe recommended that brand. Said it’s amazing.” “I’m allergic to strawberry, don’t you remember?” “Since when?” “Eighteen. Because of you.” Julian’s brows knit for a second, then loosen up as if it’s nothing. “I forgot.” “I know.”

The tension in the room instantly drops to freezing. Julian opens his mouth to say something, but his eyes suddenly drop to my bare finger. His face darkens at once. “Where’s your ring? Why aren’t you wearing our engagement ring?” He fires off the questions, his tone demanding. I raise my hand, about to answer, when his phone rings. Chloe’s bubbly voice comes through the speaker: “Julian, did you get my cake?” “It better be my favorite salted caramel chocolate!” “I’m almost at the office! It better be there, or I’m gonna be so mad at you!” The stern look on Julian’s face instantly melts into a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget.” He grabs the cake off the table, drops a quick “We’ll talk tonight,” and hurries out the door. The whole thing takes less than ten seconds. If he had stayed for just ten more seconds, I would have told him. I’m leaving. My flight is tonight. I let out a bitter smile, pull my hair up, and start packing my bags. Halfway through, Julian sends a text. [Wait for me at home tonight. We seriously need to talk.] [When?] I ask. [Around eight. I’ll drop Chloe off first.] My fingertips hover over the screen for a moment, then I type a single word. [Okay.]

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202607012KUnbSjLRL 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni068244”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

In my past life, as the rightful legitimate daughter of the clan, I was framed by an impostor, left homeless and died miserably on the streets. Reborn, I returned to the day my biological parents came to take me home. This time, I will bind the Truth System to that fake daughter. The rain was cold. My blood was colder. I was Elara, the true daughter of the Vance Pack. In my first life, I was framed by an impostor. My parents kicked me out. I was a weak human in a world of wolves. I starved to death on the dark streets. In the Afterlife, the Arbiter looked at me. He was a giant wolf with fur like white smoke. His eyes were gold. “They did not believe your truth,” he growled. “I will give you a second chance. I will give you a Truth System.” A flash of light hit me. I was back. I stood in the Vance mansion. It smelled like expensive pine and rain. Jessica, the girl who took my place, walked through the door. She looked like a sweet, perfect wolf. “Sister,” she purred. “I have been looking forward to meeting you.” Suddenly, a glowing screen popped up over her head. **[System Notification: She is planning to rip your throat out. She wants to see you rot in the dirt.]** Jessica’s mouth twisted. Her voice changed. “Dammit! They found this trash. I need to make Mom and Dad kick her out into the street tonight!” Jessica slapped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were wide with terror. The room went silent. Every wolf in the room stared at her. I smiled. Let the game begin. 1. My parents, Alpha Richard and Luna Martha, stared at her. “Jessica!” Richard growled. His voice was deep. It made the floor shake. “What is this foul language? We raised you to be a Lady Alpha!” “We taught you etiquette! How can you curse like a rogue?” My chest tightened. They only cared about her manners. They didn’t care that she called me trash. Jessica started to cry. She looked like a wounded pup. “I… I don’t know what happened… Those weren’t my thoughts…” She looked at me. Her eyes turned a dark, venomous red. “Daddy, Mommy… the moment Elara walked in, I felt a dark energy. She is cursed! She brought a demon into our house!” My parents turned to me. Their gazes were like ice. “Elara!” Martha hissed. “What kind of dark magic did you learn in that backwater town? How dare you use it on your sister?” “Listen to me. You are a Vance now. Leave that low-class garbage behind!” “We brought you back because we had to. Don’t embarrass us!” My brother, Tyler, sniffed the air. His muscles tensed. “Jessica is right. She smells like rot. We need a cleansing. I won’t feel safe sleeping under the same roof.” I shook my head. “I didn’t bring anything! She spoke her mind!” They ignored me. Richard called Brother Thomas. He was a rogue shaman who took bribes. Thomas looked at Jessica and winked. “Miss Elara has a dark attachment,” Thomas lied. “It requires physical expulsion. Jessica must be the one to do it. She must strike Elara eighty-one times with a silver-tipped whip.” The guards tied me up. The silver in the whip burned my skin. Jessica picked up the whip. Her eyes gleamed. **[System Notification: Her wolf is begging to see your bone. She wants to lick your blood off the floor.]** “I’m so sorry, Elara,” she whispered. But her mouth said: “Look at this! Mom and Dad always take my side. In this pack, you are nothing but a dog to me!” Hearing this, my parents only frowned. “Jessica, hit harder! Beat the demon out of her!” The leather sliced my skin. The silver bit into my flesh. Eighty-one times. When it was over, I collapsed. I smelled like iron and pain. “The storage closet is best,” Thomas said. “A dark space will keep the demon away.” They threw me into a damp, windowless room on the first floor. No bed. No light. 2. I curled up in the corner of the closet. My body was trembling. The door creaked open. Jessica walked in. She looked down at me like I was a cockroach. “You did something, didn’t you? You made me speak.” “You are so naive, Elara. Even if I say the truth, so what? Mom and Dad will always choose me. You are a loser from the boonies.” “Do yourself a favor and go back to the dirt you came from.” Footsteps approached. Jessica’s face shifted to terror instantly. “Sister, what are you doing? Please, don’t hurt me!” She grabbed a silver letter opener. She jammed it violently into her own arm. Hearing her scream, my parents burst in. “Elara! What did you do to Jessica?!” I looked at them coldly. “I didn’t do anything. I just watched her perform a show.” “You think we’d believe she stabbed herself? Are you insane?” Jessica gasped weakly. “I just… I just asked if she was scared… and she… she stabbed me…” Richard and Tyler glared at me with pure hatred. Their eyes turned yellow. “How can you be so vicious? How did our blood produce something so heartless?” Richard raised his hand to slap me. But Jessica’s voice rang out again. **[System Notification: She is proud of her trick. She wants to see you dead.]** “I came in here to trigger this bitch! I told her she has no place here, and then I stabbed myself to frame her!” She slapped her hands over her mouth. Richard’s hand froze. “Did you hear that?” I asked. “That is the truth.” Tyler scoffed. “Clearly the cleansing wasn’t enough. The demon is making her say crazy things to frame herself.” They took Jessica to get bandaged. They didn’t even look at me. “Why?” I asked their retreating backs. “You know she is telling the truth. Why do you still side with her?” Martha turned. Her lip curled. “Elara, love takes time. Jessica has been our daughter for eighteen years.” “Even if she is a liar—look at her. She is elegant. She is a strong wolf. That is what a Vance looks like.” “You? You are a farm girl. You are unpresentable.” “Then why bring me back at all?” “The police made a scene! We couldn’t leave our blood out there without the media tearing us apart.” “The Vance Pack won’t let you starve, but don’t you dare think you can replace Jessica.” They walked away. My heart finally turned to stone. 3. I went to find Silas Powell. He was the Alpha of the Shadow Pack. He was the strongest, most dangerous wolf in the city. He was supposed to marry Jessica. I walked into his office. He looked at me with boredom. “What? Is the Vance family swapping brides now?” He stood up. He was huge. He smelled like a storm and rain. He walked toward me. He looked like he wanted to break my bones. “Get out of my sight!” he growled. **[System Notification: Heart rate 180. He is desperate to claim you as his Mate. His wolf is howling for you.]** I did not move. “I’m here to make a deal.” Silas stepped closer. His skin was burning hot. He leaned down and sniffed my neck. **[System Notification: His wolf is begging to lick your skin. He wants to bite you.]** “What kind of deal, little wolf?” “I know you don’t want to marry into my family. If Vance Enterprises goes bankrupt, your parents will cancel the wedding.” “I have a way to tank their stock. I help you destroy them. In return, you give me ten million dollars and the Vance estate.” Silas laughed. It was a dark, cynical sound. “You want to destroy your own pack? You are a dangerous female.” “Do we have a deal, Alpha Silas?” “If your family goes under, you go down too. You want to lose everything?” “I told you, this is a trade.” Silas nodded. “Ten million. It’s a gamble. But nobody is stupid enough to scam me.” He handed the slip of paper to his secretary. Five minutes later, the funds cleared. “Next week is the Grand Gala,” I said. “I need you to add a segment to the program.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “480767”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I took the fall for my ex-husband’s mistress and spent eight years behind bars. The day I was released, my ex-husband, Julian Vance, showed up at a pharmacy with a swarm of reporters, kneeling before me to beg for a second chance. His eyes were red-rimmed as he held out a bouquet of vibrant roses. “Amara… I’ve waited eight years for you.” The reporters shoved their microphones in my face, urging me to kneel and thank him for his “devotion.” As Julian wrapped me in what looked like an affectionate embrace, he leaned close and whispered in a voice as cold as a venomous snake, “If you dare reject me, your father’s ventilator will be unplugged tomorrow.” I clenched my crippled right hand, ready to explode. Just then, an eight-year-old boy rushed over and threw his arms around Julian’s leg. “Daddy!” A heavily pregnant Chloe Mille suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face. “The child is innocent…” Every camera instantly turned toward my bloodstained face. Then my own parents charged over. My mother slapped me so hard I crashed onto the floor. “You curse! Chloe is our real daughter!” I lay on the freezing tile, watching them surround the woman who had destroyed my life as they escorted her away like a hero. The pharmacy owner kicked me in the side. “Murderer. Get out!” As the rain poured down, I finally understood the truth. They hadn’t just wanted me to take the blame. They wanted me dead.

I spent eight long years in prison, taking the fall for my ex-husband’s mistress. The day I was released, he cornered me in a local pharmacy with a swarm of media cameras behind him. His eyes were red, and he dropped to his knees right in front of the flashing lenses, looking deeply devoted. “Amara, I have waited eight years for you. Let’s get remarried.” Dozens of blinding camera flashes went off in my face, nearly blinding me. Reporters aggressively shoved microphones right into my face. “Miss Sterling. Dr. Julian Vance has remained single for eight years just for you. He even wore your wedding ring to the International Medical Summit. You have been dodging him. Doesn’t your conscience hurt?” “As the felon who killed a patient back then, shouldn’t you be on your knees thanking Dr. Vance for his deep devotion now that you are out?” I stared at the man in front of me, dressed in his expensive, custom-tailored suit. My stomach churned with pure disgust. Eight years ago, I was the youngest chief trauma surgeon in New York. But just three days before Julian and I were supposed to register our marriage. His little assistant, Chloe Miller, made a fatal mistake during an operation. She accidentally severed a major artery, causing a VIP patient to bleed to death on the table. To protect Chloe, who was already pregnant with his child, Julian personally fabricated the surgical logs. He used my sick parents’ lives to blackmail me into taking the plea deal. Then, he played the righteous hero in court. Tears in his eyes, he personally testified against me and sent me to a maximum-security prison. He climbed to the top over my shattered bones. Now, he was the powerful Chief of Medicine at New York Grace Hospital. Meanwhile, my right hand had been brutally broken in prison by inmates he hired. The nerves were completely ruined. Now, my hand shook so badly I couldn’t even hold a medicine bottle steady. Julian remained on one knee on the dirty, muddy tile floor, holding a bouquet of bright red roses. The roses were dripping wet, their deep red color looking exactly like the blood that wouldn’t stop gushing from the patient’s artery on the operating table eight years ago. “Amara, come home with me. Whenever you’re ready, you can always come back to the hospital.” His voice cracked, his eyes brimming with tears. But as he leaned forward under the pretense of handing me the flowers. He whispered in my ear, his voice dropping to a freezing, ruthless murmur that only I could hear. “Amara, the hospital is up for the national prestigious ranking this week. If you dare reject me in front of these cameras, believe me, I’ll pull the plug on your father’s ventilator tomorrow.” My body went completely numb. Staring at this monster, my teeth rattled with pure rage. This was his so-called “deep devotion.” The reporters were still swooning over his greatness, some even tearing up at the scene. I clenched my crippled right hand, preparing to tear his hypocritical mask off even if it cost me my life. But a sudden cry broke the silence.

“Daddy! Mommy and I finally found you!” An eight-year-old boy pushed through the crowd and threw himself right into Julian’s arms. Chloe walked in elegantly, wearing a flowing dress that draped over her slightly swollen belly, flanked by two burly bodyguards. She still had that innocent, helpless look that made men want to protect her. She looked at me, a brief flash of smugness and contempt crossing her eyes. Then, turning to the reporters, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor right in front of me. “Amara, it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been young and stupid back then, I wouldn’t have caused you to make that mistake during the surgery…” She wept beautifully, her tears like tiny daggers stabbing right into my chest. “Julian has waited for you for eight years, and I’ve lived with guilt for eight years. But I beg you, the children are innocent. Leo needs a father, and the baby in my belly is about to be born…” The cameras instantly whipped around to capture Chloe’s tear-stained face. Gasps filled the room. “Oh my God, Chloe has carried this guilt for eight years? She’s too kind!” “Amara Sterling, Chloe is pregnant! You’re a convicted felon, how can you be shameless enough to try to tear their family apart?” I stared at the shouting little boy. I had been in prison for exactly eight years. Which meant Chloe had given birth to this child the exact year I was locked up. While I was taking the fall for her, absorbing the curses of the public, they were already celebrating their new baby. While my right hand was being systematically broken in that dark cell, Julian and Chloe were playing happy family. Before I could speak, a harsh roar cut through the crowd from the entrance. “Amara! You shameless bitch! Are you trying to ruin our family the second you get out of prison?” My biological parents pushed through the crowd, panting heavily. The moment my mother reached me, she didn’t hesitate. She swung her hand and slapped me hard across my right cheek! Slap. The sharp crack echoed through the pharmacy. The force of her blow sent me crashing to the floor. My forehead slammed against the sharp corner of a metal medicine rack. Hot blood immediately trickled down, blurring my vision. My mother trembled with rage, pointing a finger at my face. “You curse! You spent eight years in prison and dragged our family’s name through the mud! If Chloe hadn’t sent us money and medicine every single day, your father would have died of his stroke last month!” My father, leaning heavily on a cane, limped over. He cast a disgusted look at me, then obsequiously helped Chloe up. “Sweetheart, please don’t get upset. This ungrateful brat is just jealous of you. We don’t have a daughter like her! You are our real daughter!” Lying on the freezing floor, looking through a veil of my own blood, I watched my biological parents fuss over the woman who had ruined my life. They despised me. They hated me. They wished I had died in prison so they could comfortably enjoy the wealth Julian and Chloe threw at them. Julian hugged Chloe protectively. Before leaving, he looked down at me with pity. “Amara, your parents are just emotional right now. I still owe you for what happened back then. Here is ten thousand dollars and my business card. Take it.” He pulled a thick stack of bills from his bespoke suit pocket and threw them in my bloody face like he was tossing scraps to a stray dog. The green bills fluttered down through the air, hitting my swollen face. It stung. The happy family of three, flanked by my parents and escorted by the admiring press, marched out of the store. Tom, the pharmacy owner, walked over with a dark face. He snatched the mop from my hands and spat on the floor. “Amara, don’t bother coming in tomorrow. My shop is a small business. I can’t afford to keep an ungrateful felon around! Pack your trash and get out!”

Tom’s words struck like a thunderbolt, ringing in my ears. I looked at my right hand, covered in dirt and blood. The knuckles were severely swollen from rheumatoid arthritis, and my fingers trembled uncontrollably from the permanent nerve damage. Eight years ago, these hands performed high-precision brain surgeries. Now, I couldn’t even grip a broom. “Tom, please, don’t fire me.” I bent my back, discarding every ounce of my dignity, and grabbed the hem of Tom’s shirt. “I don’t need wages. Just give me some scraps and let me sleep in the back storage room. Please…” Tom violently shook me off, throwing me back onto the damp, cold floor. “Amara, I saw the news. You killed someone, and Julian and Chloe have been incredibly generous to you. Instead of being grateful, you humiliated them in public!” “My pharmacy is in a tight-knit community. If the neighbors find out I hired a killer, who will buy medicine from me? Get out! Now!” He tossed my battered backpack out into the street like garbage. The zipper had broken back in prison. My few old clothes spilled into the muddy puddles, instantly stained black by the dirty water splashed by passing cars. The storm finally broke, rain pouring down in sheets. I clutched my soaked backpack, limping down the streets of the small town. As I passed the corner convenience store, the young clerk who usually smiled and called me “Dr. Sterling” while asking for advice on cold meds was now pointing his phone at me, whispering to his coworker. “See her? That’s the ungrateful felon ex-wife from the news. She looks decent, but her heart is black. She actually tried to bully a pregnant woman.” “Stay away from her. People like her are bad luck. Absolutely disgusting.” He spat on the pavement, just inches from my foot. I lowered my head, letting my wet hair cover my face, and ran into the rain. I tried to find work elsewhere in town. Clinics, pharmacies, even small diners. But the moment I walked in, they would see my deformed hand. Then they would look at the viral video playing on their phones, and their faces would instantly turn sour. “Sorry, we don’t hire murderers.” “Get lost. Don’t ruin our business. You’re bad luck!” By midnight, the rain had stopped. I had nowhere to go. I huddled under the rusted metal roof of a bus stop, shivering from the cold. I pulled my right hand out of my sleeve, trying to touch it with my left. Between my thumb and index finger, there was a jagged, hideous scar that looked like a centipede. It happened on my first night in prison eight years ago. Several female inmates used rusty nails to pierce and shred my hand nerves, inch by inch. That night, I fainted from the pain three times on the cold concrete floor. I thought it was a random prison assault back then. But looking back now… Who else but Julian and Chloe would be so terrified of my surgical hands? They didn’t just want me to take the fall. They wanted to permanently cripple me, ensuring I could never return to an operating table, never use my skills to clear my name! I bit my lip so hard it bled, my nails digging deep into my palms. Julian. Chloe. You say you owe me, but you clearly want me dead!

At 5:00 AM, my cheap phone vibrated loudly, breaking the silence of the bus stop. I stared at the caller ID, a number burned into my very soul. Laughing dryly, I swiped to answer. “Amara, I heard you got fired from the pharmacy. You don’t even have a place to stay now?” Julian’s voice was as gentle and caring as ever. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. “Did you put a tracker on me, Julian? Or are those reporters just your personal bloodhounds, watching me twenty-four hours a day so you can enjoy the show?” A soft chuckle came through the receiver, carrying the casual amusement of a predator playing with its prey. “Amara, you’re still as prickly as ever. I’m just looking out for you. In this world, who else actually gives a damn if you live or die?” “You’re thirty-two, you’ve spent eight years in prison, and your right hand is ruined. Do you honestly think any company in this country would hire you without my permission?” My breathing turned heavy, my eyes burning with absolute hatred. “You did this to me. Julian, you know exactly who altered those medical records, and you know exactly who hired those inmates to shred my nerves.” Julian’s voice suddenly turned freezing cold, carrying a sharp warning. “Watch your words, Amara. That case was closed years ago. If you start babbling about conspiracies now, people will just think you had a psychotic break in prison. Be a good girl. Come back to New York.” “I have already set everything up for you. There is an opening for a file clerk in the archives department at Grace Hospital. The pay isn’t high, but it’s enough to get you off the streets. And… Chloe is now the deputy chief of surgery. Since you’re so experienced, you can work as her personal technical advisor. Guide her a bit.” “You want me to assist the murderer who ruined my life? Guide her?” I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes, each word squeezed through my gritted teeth. “In your dreams, Julian! Even if I starve to death on this street, I will never go back to beg for your scraps or be your sick PR prop!” “Is that so?” Julian’s voice remained calm, almost pitying. “Amara, you’re always so stubborn. Do you really think you have a choice?” Before I could reply, loud, chaotic screaming erupted on his end of the line. Suddenly, my mother’s shrill, hysterical voice cut in. “Amara! You curse! Who did you offend out there?!” “The nursing home just threw your father and me out on the street with all our luggage! Your father still has his feeding tube in! They said our account is delinquent and pushed his wheelchair right onto the pavement!” “Julian said we could live here for free forever! Why did he change his mind? Did you offend him again, you ungrateful bitch? I swear, if your father dies on the street today, I will jump off the roof of this building! I’ll write a suicide note in blood blaming you!” My mother’s shrieking voice pierced through the speaker like a red-hot wire, wrapping tightly around my neck, making it impossible to breathe. I knew my parents too well. They were incompetent, selfish, and ignorant. When I got arrested, they didn’t hire a single lawyer for me. Instead, they forced me to confess quickly so I wouldn’t ruin my younger brother’s college prospects. Later, when Julian put them in a luxury nursing home. They immediately treated him and Chloe like their savior and viewed me as embarrassing garbage. If my father really died because his treatment was cut off, my mother would absolutely keep her word. She would commit suicide in front of the media to completely destroy whatever little reputation I had left. Julian took the phone back. His voice was smooth as silk again. “Amara, your parents are old. They can’t handle this kind of stress. If you get on the morning bus back to New York right now, the nursing home’s account will be funded in five minutes.” “You’re a smart girl. You know what to do. I’ll expect your employment paperwork in my office in three days.” The line went dead. The dial tone echoed in the empty bus stop, sounding like a chorus of mockery. I slowly bent over, burying my face in my knees, and finally let the tears pour out. Eight years ago, they stole my innocence, my career, and my hand. Eight years later, they were dragging me back to that hell, wanting to leash me like a dog at their feet just to show the world how “forgiving” they were. I squeezed the dirty, wet business card I had picked up from the puddle. Julian. Chloe. Since you refuse to let me go, since you are forcing me back to New York. Then I will see you in hell.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “432170”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I am a child psychologist and school evaluator. Today, I was temporarily assigned to a prestigious private preschool to conduct admission evaluations. During the parent-child activity, a little girl clung to her mother, refusing to let go. She sobbed, saying her daddy had promised he would make it today. The woman knelt, wiping the tears from her daughter’s face. She whispered that her father was an antique conservator, currently working out of town on a high-security restoration project for a rare collection. My pen froze on the evaluation sheet. My husband is also an art conservator. Recently, he told me he was locked in an off-site, high-security project with strict NDAs, saying it wasn’t even convenient for him to take a FaceTime call. Before the activity started, the woman’s phone rang. She answered it and sighed. “Julian, Mary won’t stop crying. If you don’t show up soon, I won’t be able to handle her.” A low chuckle came from the other end of the line. My fingers clamped tightly around the clipboard. “I’m almost there. Even if the museum’s priceless artifacts shatter today, I’m putting you guys first.” Julian. That was my husband. The one who was supposed to be “locked in a high-security lab.” Ten minutes later, Julian ran onto the playground, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. He knelt, scooped the little girl into his arms, and leaned in to kiss the woman’s forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late.” Standing under the canopy with my evaluation sheet, I watched them. He looked up and saw me. His steps halted. The smile on his face froze. His arm tightened around the child. So, this was his exclusive, high-security project. He wasn’t restoring antiques. He was busy playing husband and father here.

Clara Miller looked at me, then turned her eyes to Julian. “Julian, do you know Ms. Carter?” Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. I stared at him, waiting for him to speak. Instead, he held Mary tighter and muttered, “Yes. She’s the evaluator here today for the preschool admission.” My fingers clenched the pen so hard the tip almost ripped through the evaluation form. Mary rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes red as she asked, “Daddy, who is Ms. Carter?” Julian avoided my gaze, stroking the child’s hair. “She’s the teacher who’s going to help evaluate you today.” Clara took Mary’s hand and spoke gently. “Mary, say hello to Ms. Carter.” Mary whispered, “Hi, Ms. Carter.” I looked at the little girl. The child was innocent. I lowered my gaze and wrote on the form: Severe separation anxiety. High level of dependency on primary caregiver. My pen lingered on the words “primary caregiver.” The teacher clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Our first parent-child activity is starting! Parents, please guide your little ones across the balance beam.” Mary immediately grabbed Julian’s sleeve. “Daddy, you promised you’d walk with me.” Julian glanced at me, then quickly looked away. Clara took half a step back. “It’s okay, Mary. Julian might be busy today. I can walk with you.” But Mary burst into tears. “No! Daddy promised yesterday he wouldn’t lie to me again!” Julian’s face shifted. He grabbed Mary’s hand and gently pulled Clara to his other side. “I’ll walk with you.” Standing under the canopy, I crumpled the corner of my evaluation sheet. I remembered my first follow-up appointment after my miscarriage. He had promised he would be there. But when the nurse called my name for the third time, I only received a text from him: An emergency came up at the project site. Back then, I replied: Work comes first. So, it wasn’t that he couldn’t make it. He just chose who was worth making time for. After the activity, Mary clung to Julian’s leg. The teacher praised her for being brave. She looked up at Julian, beaming. “Daddy, was I good?” Julian leaned down and kissed her head. “Very good.” I turned to leave, but Julian chased after me, pulling me into the corner of the hallway. He lowered his voice. “Chloe, don’t make a scene in front of the kid. You’re going to scare her looking like this.” I yanked my hand back. “Am I making a scene?” “How else should I look?” I demanded, staring into his eyes. “Should I smile while taking notes on my husband playing daddy to someone else’s child?” Julian looked away. “It’s not what you think.” “Mary’s situation is complicated. I’m just helping out.” “Does ‘helping out’ require Clara to call you her husband?” His face went pale, and he avoided my eyes. “Mary’s therapist said she needs to feel her parents are a united front to build a sense of security.” “On the phone, I was just playing along to calm Mary down. It was purely for her therapy.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “Then what about earlier? Taking Clara’s bag and telling her she’s been working hard?” He whispered defensively, “She’s a single mother. It’s not easy for her. I was just—” “Just what?” I pressed. He let out an impatient sigh. “Chloe, you work in child psychology. You of all people should understand. We can’t break her sense of security.” I dug my nails into my palms. He was using my own profession to demand that I swallow his betrayal. He was entirely confident that I would endure this for the rest of the day. At the end of the hall, Mary ran out and threw herself into Julian’s arms, crying. “Daddy, is Ms. Carter going to take you away?” Julian knelt and held her close. “No. No one is taking me away.” I stood frozen in the hallway. He didn’t even look back.

Once Mary calmed down, Clara led her over and gave me a apologetic nod. “Ms. Carter, I’m so sorry. Mary was startled.” “She doesn’t have a father. Julian has helped us a lot, so sometimes she gets confused.” I stared at her. “Did you know Julian is married?” Clara lowered her eyes. “Yes. That’s why I’ve never asked anything of him on my own.” I gripped my clipboard. Before I could speak, Julian frowned and scolded me. “Chloe, don’t be so harsh.” I looked straight at him. “Am I the one being harsh here?” He went speechless. Clara spoke up softly. “Julian, stop. Ms. Carter has every right to be angry.” She shrank back, and Julian instinctively stepped in front of her, shielding her. I reached down, tapped the pause button on my phone’s voice recorder app, and sent a message to Adrian, my clinical director: Conflict of interest. Requesting immediate withdrawal from this on-site evaluation. But until my replacement arrived, the record could not be interrupted. The preschool director smiled and walked over. “Next is the family photo session. Ms. Carter, please continue recording Mary’s family interaction stability.” My hand holding the pen tensed. The observation had already begun. A sudden change in evaluators would ruin the assessment. I couldn’t just throw my clipboard down and storm out in front of the children. Julian glanced at me, remaining silent. A photo booth was set up in the center of the lawn. The teacher called out, “Mary’s mommy and daddy, come over! Mary, stand in the middle.” Mary ran over, holding Julian’s hand on one side and Clara’s on the other. Julian looked at me. Clara whispered, “Maybe we shouldn’t. Let’s not make things difficult for Ms. Carter.” Mary immediately panicked. “Daddy, are you leaving again?” Julian sighed and walked over to them. The photographer smiled. “Dad, lean closer to Mom. Perfect. Mary, smile for the camera!” Julian leaned closer to Clara. Clara didn’t move away. The sunlight fell beautifully over them. I looked down at the evaluation sheet. I remembered our wedding photo shoot. Julian had promised me that in every photo, he would always stand by my side. After the photos were printed, Mary ran to me with a small copy. “Ms. Carter, look! This is my mommy and daddy.” I looked at Julian in the photo. His lips were pressed in a tight line, but he didn’t say a word to deny it. I flipped to Mary’s enrollment application form. Under the “Family Guardian” section, it read: Julian. Relationship: Father. The signature was Julian’s. The date was three months ago. That day was our wedding anniversary. No wonder the preschool staff kept calling him Mary’s dad. I shut the folder and wrote the first line in the evaluation recommendation box: Highly recommend verifying the authenticity of the family relationships to prevent the child from internalizing false parental identities. Julian walked over, saw the words, and his face drained of color. He lowered his voice. “Chloe, don’t do this.” “You know she’s just a child.” “So?” I countered. “Because she’s a child, I’m supposed to help you write a better script for this play?” His brow furrowed deep. “That’s not what I meant.” Clara stood nearby, whispering, “Ms. Carter, I can explain.” “She really is dependent on Julian.” “I know it’s not the child’s fault,” I said, looking straight at Julian. “The adults are the ones to blame.” Julian didn’t argue, nor did he admit it. Mary tugged at his hand. “Daddy, does Ms. Carter not like me?” Julian knelt to soothe her. “No, Mary. You’re great.” “Then why isn’t she smiling?” Mary asked. Julian paused. “She’s just tired today.” I gripped my pen. He wouldn’t even admit that he was the reason I was tired.

Lunch was held in the classroom. The teacher reminded us to observe the children’s self-feeding abilities. Mary sat between Julian and Clara. She picked out the cilantro with her spoon. “Daddy doesn’t eat cilantro either.” Clara pulled a thermos out of her bag and handed it to Julian. “Your stomach has been acting up. Don’t drink ice water.” Julian took it and took a sip. He saw me, and his hand froze in mid-air. Last night at ten, I texted him to remind him to eat and take his medicine. He still hadn’t replied. I turned off my phone screen. Mary pulled out a hand-braided leather bracelet and held it up to me. “Ms. Carter, look! Daddy made this for me.” She pointed to Clara’s wrist. “Mommy has one too.” Clara was indeed wearing the exact same bracelet. Julian cleared his throat. “Mary, eat your lunch.” Mary kept talking. “Daddy said this bracelet won’t break. It means our family will never be separated.” I stared at Julian. He bit his lip, offering no explanation. For our tenth anniversary, I asked if we should upgrade my ring. He said he was too busy with his projects. So, he did have time. Just not for me. The classroom speakers began playing the pre-recorded video introductions of the kids. Mary’s voice echoed through the room. “My name is Mary.” “My mommy is Clara, and my daddy is Julian.” The classroom fell dead silent. Julian’s lips trembled. I watched him, waiting for him to speak. But he said nothing. Clara kept her head down, pressing a napkin to her lap, looking at neither of us. I wrote in the observation log: Role designations have become fixed. The child has fully internalized this father identity. Julian leaned in, whispering, “Can you please not write it so harshly?” I put down my pen. “How would you prefer I write it?” “She’s still young. If the report is too severe, the preschool will mandate psychological intervention.” I let out a soft laugh. “Oh, so you do know this will affect her?” Julian looked miserable. “Chloe, I know you’re hurting right now. But Mary has had it hard enough.” “And what about me?” I asked directly. He lowered his voice further. “Just let it slide for today. Bear with it for my sake.” Hearing those words, I gripped the back of my chair. When I was signing the paperwork alone in the hospital during my miscarriage, he had told me the exact same thing: Just bear with it for now. It turned out I was always the one expected to suffer in silence. I picked up my pen and looked at him. “Julian, do you expect me to fake an official psychological evaluation for you too?” His face stiffened. Clara chimed in. “Ms. Carter, just write whatever is professional.” “Julian is just worried about Mary.” I turned to her. “Clara, have you always been this understanding?” She clenched her napkin. “I just know I have no right to demand anything.” “But you’ve also never rejected anything, have you?” She fell silent. My phone vibrated. It was Adrian calling on WhatsApp. “Chloe, the preschool director just notified me that you have a personal relationship with the accompanying parent.” “You don’t have to force yourself to stay. Hand over the case and leave immediately. Whatever trouble comes up, I’ll handle it.” His voice carried a clear tone of protectiveness. I glanced at Julian, whose finger was being held by Mary, and replied coldly, “Okay. I’ll submit the conflict of interest form.” Julian stood up.

In the director’s office, the director said, “Ms. Carter, your records will be sealed.” “Since you have a personal relationship with Julian, you cannot continue with this evaluation.” Julian rushed in, blocking the desk. “Chloe, don’t let this ruin Mary’s enrollment.” I looked at him. “Even now, she’s the first person you think of.” He frowned. “She’s just a child.” “Then what am I?” I pressed, stepping closer. Silence filled the office. Julian didn’t answer. Outside the door, Mary’s cries broke out. “Daddy! Daddy, come out!” Clara’s voice was soft as she tried to comfort her. “Mary, don’t cry. Julian has his own home.” Mary cried harder. “But Daddy said I am his home too!” I turned back to Julian. “You said that?” Julian opened his mouth. “She was in a terrible state back then. I was only—” “Only comforting a child?” I interrupted. He went quiet. I clenched the hem of my coat. I had been waiting for him to admit his mistake, waiting for him to explain. After a long silence, he dropped a sentence: “Chloe, just don’t make things difficult for me today.” He truly believed I was the one who should always compromise. Clara’s voice came from outside. “Julian, you should stay with Chloe. I’ll comfort Mary, though it might take a while.” Every word she spoke was designed to push him out the door. Mary sobbed, “Daddy, don’t go. You promised you’d stay with me and Mommy today.” Julian lowered his head, turned around, and walked out of the office to kneel in front of Mary. I stood inside, watching his back. He said, “I’m not leaving.” Mary sniffled. “Really?” Julian wiped her tears. “Really. I’ll stay with you and Mommy today.” I let go of my clenched fists. I slid my wedding ring off my finger and set it on the desk. I pushed the spare house keys right next to the ring. Julian turned, saw this, and instantly rushed back in. “Chloe, what are you doing?” I said, “Julian, you don’t have to come home to explain anymore.” He reached out to grab my wrist. “Don’t be like this. I’ll come back later tonight and explain everything.” I stepped aside, dodging his hand. “You already have a home to go to.” “I’m done waiting.” His hand froze in mid-air. I ignored him and turned to the director. “Please give me the withdrawal form.” The director handed me the paper. I took the pen and wrote my name: Chloe Carter. Reason for withdrawal: Personal relationship with the primary caregiver, Julian, which compromises evaluation neutrality. Julian stared at the words “primary caregiver.” His knuckles turned white. I handed the form back to the director. “From this moment on, I am officially off this case.” Julian wanted to chase after me, but Mary’s crying voice stopped him. I grabbed my bag, walked right past him, and closed the office door behind me. Ten minutes later, Adrian received my full written statement. Julian probably didn’t realize that the “home” he had so carefully built for someone else was about to be torn down, piece by piece.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “432169”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I’m a first-year OB-GYN resident, and I have a secret: I can hear unborn babies talk. Today, a pregnant woman came in. Her amniotic fluid index was running dangerously low. Suddenly, a tiny voice echoed in my head. “Doctor, my dad has drugged my mom three times already. Save me!” The ultrasound probe in my hand trembled. I looked up. The man standing next to the pregnant woman was staring at his phone, laughing at some screen. I took a deep breath, carefully choosing my words. “There’s a slight issue with this report. I highly recommend a follow-up scan.” Immediately, their entire family stood up. A dozen eyes glared at me. “Doctor, are you saying there’s something wrong with our baby?” Right at that moment, the baby spoke again. “Doctor, the killer is standing right in front of you.” Hearing the commotion, the Attending Physician, Dr. Ronald Carter, walked over with a frown. He snatched the report and glanced at it. “The levels are within the normal range. Paige, stop talking nonsense.” I nodded slowly. Fine. Believe whatever you want.

“Are interns these days just desperate for commission?” Victor Vance snatched the ultrasound report from Dr. Carter’s hands and pointed a finger directly at my nose. “It says right here in black and white: ‘No obvious abnormalities.’” “You open your mouth and demand a re-scan. You just want to scam us into paying for more tests, don’t you?” His spit flew onto my mask. I looked at him, my gaze cold. “The amniotic fluid is low. While it’s technically at the borderline, the fetal heart rate is showing abnormal fluctuations.” “For the mother’s safety, a follow-up is the safest option.” “Bullshit!” Victor’s mother, Eleanor, shoved me aside and stepped in front of her son. “My son is a high-level executive who graduated from an Ivy League school! You think he can’t read a simple report?” “You put on a white coat and think you can curse my grandson?” “Keep this up, and I will report you to the medical board and get your license revoked!” Ignoring her screaming, I turned to look at Chloe Lindemann, who was lying on the examination table. She was an heiress to a massive family fortune, and Victor’s wife. Right now, she was gently holding Victor’s hand, her voice soft and submissive. “Honey, don’t be mad. It’s not worth ruining your day over.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with disapproval. “Dr. Sterling, I know you residents have performance targets to meet.” “But my husband wakes up in the middle of the night just to brew organic herbal pre-natal tea for me.” “He even tests the temperature of my drinking water himself.” “How could he ever harm me?” Chloe caressed her swollen belly, her face practically glowing with happiness. “Your unprofessional scare tactics are honestly disgusting.” I stared at her. In my ears, the baby’s crying was growing louder. “Doctor! It’s poison!” “It’s so bitter! It hurts!” “He’s been poisoning me since I was tiny! And these past few days, he added an even stronger drug!” “Doctor, please look at me!” I gripped the medical clipboard tightly. “Mrs. Vance, some damages are irreversible.” “If there’s really nothing wrong with your diet, why has the baby’s growth stalled compared to last month?” “Shut up!” Victor suddenly snapped, shoving me hard. My lower back slammed against the metal equipment cabinet. I gasped from the sharp pain. “Ronald!” Victor turned and yelled at Dr. Carter. “Is this how you train your staff?” “This isn’t over. I’m taking this straight to the hospital administration!” Dr. Carter’s face turned pale. He glared at me, then immediately put on a fake smile for Victor. “Mr. Vance, please calm down.” “Paige is new and doesn’t know the rules. I will handle this strictly.” Victor let out a cold snort and helped Chloe up. “Let’s go, babe. We’re not staying in this trash hospital.” Chloe’s best friend, Amber Davis, rushed forward to hand over her designer bag. “Exactly, Chloe. Let’s go to a private clinic. No need to waste time with this cheap doctor.” As Amber passed by me, she rolled her eyes. They walked out. The baby’s crying slowly faded into the distance. By the afternoon, a hospital-wide warning was issued against me. Dr. Carter called me into his office and screamed at me for half an hour. “Paige Sterling, have you lost your mind?” “Chloe Lindemann is the heiress of the Lindemann Group, and Victor Vance is the vice president!” “You offended them! Do you want our department to lose our annual funding?” I stood straight. “Dr. Carter, the fetal heart rate was indeed abnormal. I was only doing my job.” Dr. Carter slammed his hand on the desk. “Your job? Your job is to follow my orders!” “Starting tomorrow, you are out of the ultrasound room. Go to the inpatient ward and do grunt work.” “If you cause any more trouble, I won’t sign off on your residency certificate.” I said nothing, turned around, and walked out of the office.

By the time I finished my shift, it was pouring rain outside. I walked down to the parking garage, ready to drive home. Just as I turned the corner by a concrete pillar, I froze. Under the dim yellow lights, a car was parked in the far corner, its door half-open. Victor had a woman pinned against the car door, kissing her passionately. The woman’s arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Victor, babe… when is that ugly brat in that bitch’s stomach finally going to die?” Victor was breathing heavily, his hands wandering under her skirt. “Soon, Amber.” “I increased the dosage of the drug. In two weeks at most, it’ll be a stillborn.” “When that happens, all the shares of the Lindemann Group will be ours.” Amber giggled. “Then you’d better reward me really, really well.” Standing in the shadows, I pulled out my phone and pressed the record button. The faint glow of the screen lit up my face. You can’t save someone who is bent on self-destruction. But I would never let that innocent baby die without a fight. The next day, Chloe was admitted to the hospital. Because of some light spotting the night before, Victor had rushed her to my ward for preventive bed rest. The entire department now knew she was a billionaire heiress. The head nurse had specially arranged the best private suite for her. When I walked in with the Doppler fetal monitor and blood pressure cuff for routine checks, the room was packed. Several relatives were crowding around Victor, showering him with praise. “Oh, Victor is truly the perfect husband.” “Right? He even washes her feet himself. You can’t find a man like this nowadays even if you search with a flashlight.” Victor was indeed kneeling by the bed, holding a towel, meticulously wiping Chloe’s feet. He looked up and gave a warm, gentle smile. “Chloe is carrying my child and going through so much pain. Doing this is the least I can do.” Chloe leaned against the pillows, her eyes red with emotion. “Honey, you’re so good to me.” I walked to the bedside to check her chart. “Chloe Lindemann, I need to take your blood pressure and check the baby’s heart rate.” Seeing me, Chloe’s face instantly hardened. She pulled her feet out of the water basin, frowning. “Why is it you again?” “Is this hospital short-staffed? Why are they letting someone who was disciplined touch my belly?” Ignoring her attitude, I quickly pulled the privacy curtains and squeezed the ultrasound gel onto her skin. “Lift your shirt, please.” Victor stood up, dried his hands, and blocked my path. “Dr. Sterling, I haven’t settled yesterday’s account with you yet.” “You’d better keep your hands gentle. Don’t press that probe too hard. If you hurt my wife, I’ll make sure you regret it.” I let out a faint smirk. “Don’t worry, Mr. Vance. I only treat patients. I don’t watch dramas.” After recording the vitals, I wiped her belly with a paper towel. Just as I was about to leave, the door was pushed open. Amber walked in with a designer thermos, a massive fake smile plastered on her face. “Chloe, Victor! I brought you some soup!” She placed the thermos on the nightstand, her eyes locked onto Victor’s with a subtle, electric tension. “Victor spent half the night brewing this organic chicken herbal broth. He said it’s the best thing for the baby.” “I went to his house this morning specifically to grab it. It’s still hot.” Chloe took Amber’s hand, deeply moved. “Amber, thank you so much for going through all the trouble.” Amber teased, “Oh, come on. We’re practically sisters. Your baby is my godson.” Victor unscrewed the thermos and poured a bowl of the hot, rich soup. He blew on it gently and brought it to Chloe’s lips. “Drink up, sweetie. It’s hot. Drink it for our healthy baby.” In that exact split second, a terrified shriek exploded in my head. “No!” “Doctor, save me!” “It’s poison! He added two whole packets of it last night!” “My stomach hurts! It hurts so much!” Hearing the baby’s desperate cries, I stared at the bowl of soup. Chloe opened her mouth, ready to take a sip. “Don’t drink that!”

Before my brain could even process the thought, my body reacted. With a loud crash, I slapped the bowl right out of Victor’s hand. The boiling hot soup splashed all over the floor, and the ceramic bowl shattered into pieces. The room fell into a dead silence. Victor’s hand was scalded red. He flew into a blinding rage. “Are you fucking insane?!” Amber immediately started screaming. “Paige Sterling! What are you doing? Are you trying to murder Chloe’s baby?!” She frantically pulled out tissues to wipe Victor’s hand, her eyes filled with genuine panic and heartbreak. Chloe was frozen in shock. “Paige Sterling!” She threw off her blanket, not even bothering to put on shoes, and lunged out of bed. “Slap!” A stinging slap landed squarely across my face. “You miserable, jealous psycho!” Chloe pointed at my face, her entire body shaking. “You’re just jealous because my husband treats me like a queen!” “Yesterday you cursed my baby, and today you ruin the soup my husband stayed up all night to make!” “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Other patients and nurses outside gathered around the open door. Amber stood to the side, wiping fake tears to fan the flames. “Everyone, look at this! This doctor held a grudge because we reported her, and now she’s taking it out on a pregnant woman!” “Victor poured his heart into making that soup!” The onlookers started whispering and pointing at me. “That doctor is so malicious.” “Yeah, she just can’t stand seeing other people happy.” Holding my stinging cheek, I slowly turned my head. I looked at Chloe’s furious face, and then at Victor’s smug smirk. The baby’s voice in my head was now so weak it was barely a whisper. “Doctor… why did mommy hit you?” “It hurts…” I spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and smiled. “Chloe.” I stared into her eyes, pronouncing every word clearly. “There was a bug in the soup. I was just trying to help.” “But since you love his ‘hard work’ so much…” “By all means, drink up next time.” I pushed through the crowd and walked out of the room without looking back. You can’t wake up someone who is pretending to be asleep. But I could make sure she woke up screaming when the reality hit her. After getting slapped, I became a total outcast in the department. Dr. Carter didn’t even let me do basic ward rounds anymore. He assigned me to hand out flyers and organize dusty, archived medical files. Everyone avoided me like the plague, terrified of getting on the bad side of the Lindemann Group. I, however, enjoyed the peace. During lunch break, I sneaked back into Chloe’s room. While they were out at a fancy restaurant, I used a syringe to collect the residue of the soup trapped in the cracks of the floor tiles. In the afternoon, I found Ethan, a close colleague of mine in the pathology lab, and asked him to run an expedited chemical analysis. When I got the results, my hands were shaking. The report clearly showed a high concentration of Mifepristone, along with an unidentified neurotoxic compound. Mifepristone was a powerful abortion pill. And Ethan had left a warning note at the bottom: “The neurotoxin shows signs of chronic accumulation. This suggests the patient has been microdosing this poison since early pregnancy.” This would 100% lead to severe fetal skeletal malformations and facial deformities. Victor never wanted this child to be born alive. He wanted a deformed baby to completely destroy Chloe’s mental state. I took a deep breath and folded the report. I didn’t give it to Chloe directly. She hated me right now. Victor could easily lie his way out of it, and she would believe him. So, during a shift change, I slipped the report into Chloe’s medical chart hanging at the foot of her bed. As long as she opened it, she would see the truth. However, I underestimated how cautious and evil these people could be.

By evening, just as I changed out of my white coat to go home, Dr. Carter stormed into the locker room, furious. “Paige Sterling! Get your ass out here!” He crumpled a few torn pieces of paper and threw them at my face. “Are you sick in the head?” “You forged a lab report and slipped it into a patient’s chart? What are you trying to pull?” I looked at the shredded paper on the floor. I could make out the words “Mifepristone.” Victor’s mother, Eleanor, was standing behind Dr. Carter, her hands on her hips. “Dr. Carter, is this how you train your residents?” “Using fake reports to terrify my daughter-in-law! You’re trying to kill us!” “If you don’t fire her today, I will sue this entire hospital!” Dr. Carter pointed a trembling finger at my face. “Paige, you’ve deeply disappointed me.” “To get revenge on a patient, you resort to such disgusting, underhanded tricks.” “You are suspended. Effective immediately.” “And I will make sure your residency certificate is never signed. You will never practice medicine in this lifetime!” I looked at them coldly. “Dr. Carter, if you want to know if that report is forged, you can easily verify it with the pathology lab.” Dr. Carter’s expression shifted, his eyes darting away guiltily. “Verify what? Haven’t you embarrassed us enough?” “Pack your things and get the hell out of my department!” I understood then. Dr. Carter didn’t care about the truth. He only cared about the Lindemann Group’s donations and his end-of-year bonus. I took off my white coat and tossed it into the trash can. “Fine.” I looked at the smug Eleanor, a cold smile playing on my lips. “I hope your family gets exactly what you deserve.” Carrying my box of belongings, I walked out of the hospital doors. The night air was freezing. I touched the voice recorder in my pocket. It held the audio and video of Victor and Amber from the parking garage. Now was not the time to flip the table. I had to wait for the most brutal consequence to run its course. Three days after I was suspended, late at night. I was in my rented apartment, putting together clues about Victor buying illegal drugs on the black market. Suddenly, my phone vibrated violently. It was the landline from the OB-GYN ward. I picked up, and Nurse Mia’s panicked, crying voice came through. “Dr. Sterling, you need to come back right now!” “Chloe’s water broke! She’s hemorrhaging!” “Dr. Carter is out of town for a conference, and we only have two junior residents on duty tonight. They can’t handle this!” I stood up instantly. “Where is Victor?” “Mr. Vance signed the consent form to save the mother.” “But Chloe is refusing! She’s screaming to save the baby at all costs!” I grabbed my jacket and rushed out the door. In my ears, that weak, tiny baby voice echoed. “Auntie…” “I’m so cold.” At 2:00 AM, the delivery room smelled heavily of iron and blood. I threw on sterile scrubs and burst in. Chloe’s blood pressure had plummeted to sixty. The heart monitor was letting out sharp, warning beeps. “Dr. Sterling! Thank God you’re here!” Mia’s hands were covered in blood, sweat pouring down her face. “Her contractions are too weak, and the baby’s heart rate is disappearing!” I quickly moved to the operating table. Chloe was deathly pale, her sweaty hair plastered to her forehead. When she saw me, a desperate surge of survival instinct flared in her hollow eyes. She grabbed my sleeve tightly. “Paige… save my baby.” “Victor said to save me, but I won’t let him. I want my baby.” Looking at the pool of blood beneath her, my expression remained cold. “Save your energy, Chloe. Push.” I pressed the Doppler probe onto her abdomen. The voice from inside was barely a whisper. “Auntie…” “I don’t want to die.” “But my hands and feet feel so weird…” “I can’t get out.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “432168”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Right before the drop tower launched, my best friend gave my boyfriend a quick look. In perfect sync, he unbuckled his safety harness and ran off with her. I was left sitting on the ride, completely frozen. My boyfriend stood in the safe zone, smiling. “Serena said you’re too chicken. She said the only way to cure your phobia is to face it head-on, so have fun riding it alone!” The ride shot up. As Serena watched my terrified, ridiculous expression, she burst into hysterical laughter, snapping photos of me with her phone. My boyfriend said something to her, a helpless smile on his face, before picking her up and hoisting her onto his shoulders so she could get a better angle for her photos. I couldn’t hear his words over the wind, but I could easily guess what he was saying. “Alright, once you’ve had your laugh, don’t tease her anymore. Chloe is sensitive, she’s pathetic enough as it is.” I have always been a coward. We grew up together for twenty years, and this was always their way of “helping me build courage.” When we were kids, Serena purposely threw rocks to attract a stray dog. Ethan carried Serena on his back and climbed up a wall, leaving me to be chased around the yard, sobbing in terror. In high school, Serena locked me in a room with two creepy older guys who started groping me. She and Ethan stood outside the door, giggling. … Every time I shook with fear, it was just entertainment for Serena. And Ethan would always stand behind her, lazily saying, “Don’t do it again next time.” But his “next time” was always just a green light for Serena to find a new way to torment me. As the drop tower climbed sixty feet into the air, the stomach-churning weightlessness hit me. But suddenly, I realized I wasn’t scared anymore. When the ride finally hit the ground, two pairs of hands reached out to help me up. I pushed them both away. “From now on, I don’t need either of you to help me build courage.”

Ethan laughed, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Did you freeze up, Chloe? Your courage didn’t grow, but you look even dumber now.” Serena chimed in, banter rolling off her tongue smoothly. “Hey, I’m willing to take my time to help her get better.” I pressed my lips together, staring at the two of them putting on their little show. “This isn’t helping me. This is bullying.” Serena’s smile froze on her face. “Chloe, that’s actually so hurtful. I spend my free time trying to help you, and you call it bullying?” “Fine! How about I go ride the roller coaster? The one thing I’m absolutely terrified of. Would that make us even?” She turned and started walking toward the roller coaster. Ethan frowned, glared at me, and grabbed her arm. “Don’t force yourself. You cried last time. I’ll go with you.” I just stood there. Yet, just minutes ago, before we got on the drop tower, Ethan had looked at me and said: “You can’t be this childish, Chloe. It’s just an amusement park ride. You don’t need someone to hold your hand.” When the roller coaster came to a stop, Serena was buzzing with excitement. “Having someone ride with you is actually so fun! See, Chloe? It’s not even that scary!” But nobody was riding with me. Ethan looked at my expressionless face. “If you’re still mad, how about we ride the drop tower with you one more time?” But this time, they chose the double-seater drop tower—the “Lovers’ Express.” It was designed so that the riders had to face each other and hug tightly, or the seats would tilt during the drop. Engraved on the ride was the slogan: “Give your deepest trust to the one closest to you.” When the operator mentioned they only had room for two, Ethan glanced at me. “Chloe was pretty freaked out just now. Let’s not push her. Serena and I will go.” They laughed and strapped themselves in, facing each other. It was so strange. When they wanted a good laugh, I wasn’t allowed to be scared. But now, suddenly, my fear was convenient for them? I stared at them as they buckled their safety harnesses. “Ethan, the engagement ceremony in five days? Let’s call it off.” Ethan’s playful expression vanished, replaced by sudden panic. “Chloe, stop throwing a tantrum! We’ll talk when I get down!” Once the ride ended, they chased me all the way to the entrance of my neighborhood. My mom was sitting outside, chatting with the neighbors. Seeing me, she frowned. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad time?” Serena suddenly walked up, looking incredibly hurt, and wrapped her arm around my mom’s. “Mrs. Miller, we were just trying to help Chloe with her anxiety like you asked. But she said I was bullying her, and now she wants to break up with Ethan.” Ethan caught up, adding, “You can’t just throw the word ‘breakup’ around so easily, Chloe.” My mom’s face darkened instantly. She grabbed my ear, pinching it hard. “Calling off the wedding just like that? Who do you think you are?!” The neighbors started whispering. My mom’s voice grew louder and harsher. “This girl is a coward. Ethan and Serena were nice enough to help her, and she’s being an ungrateful brat!” “Do you want to stay a useless loser hiding in this house for the rest of your life?!” As the neighbors stared and gossiped, my face burned as if I had been slapped. Ethan stepped in front of me, shielding me slightly. “It’s okay, Mrs. Miller. It doesn’t matter if Chloe is like this. I’ll protect her.” Hearing this, my mom got even angrier. She dragged me upstairs by my arm. The moment the front door slammed shut, my tears finally spilled onto the floor. “Mom, why am I your daughter, but you always believe other people over me?” My mom let out a cold sneer. “I gave birth to you. You think I don’t know what kind of pathetic creature you are?” “Ever since you were a kid, you’ve been terrified of everything. You’re nothing like Serena. You can’t do anything right… you’re just like your spineless father!” Her words carved into my bones like a knife. But I wanted to be brave too. When I was little, money was tight. My mom had high expectations, and she viewed my dad’s gentle nature as cowardice. She used to scream at him, saying his weakness was the reason we were poor. So, she tried to “toughen me up” since I was a toddler. When I was three and afraid of the dark, she locked me in the dark closet. I cried until I lost my voice. When she finally let me out, she beat me anyway. When I was afraid of water, she shoved my face into a basin. If I couldn’t hold my breath, another beating followed. She called it “desensitization.” But it only made me more terrified. Because making a mistake meant punishment, and punishment proved I was useless. Then, when I was eight, my dad decided he would rather lose custody of me than stay with my mom. He divorced her and left. From that day on, I didn’t dare to do anything wrong. I was terrified that if I messed up, my mom would abandon me too. Meanwhile, Serena, who grew up next door, was outgoing, charming, and always knew exactly what to say to please adults. My mom would always say wistfully, “I wish Serena were my daughter.” My mom pointed toward my bedroom, her voice dripping with disgust. “Go to your room and think about what you did.” “If you leave Ethan, who else is going to do charity work by marrying you?” She then dialed Serena and Ethan’s numbers. Her voice instantly softened, sweet and warm. “Serena, sweetie, I’ll make Chloe apologize to you guys. Come over for dinner tonight, okay?” I leaned against my bedroom door, wiped my tears, and called my friend. “Lucy, you’re leading that volunteer teaching program to the remote mountain school in five days, right? Do you still have an opening?” “Are you sure, Chloe? That place is totally off-grid. No signal, no Wi-Fi, and there are snakes. Aren’t you terrified of snakes?” “I’m not scared.” “But what about your engagement? How are you going to explain this to your mom? She’ll skin you alive!” I gripped my phone tightly. “Lucy, I want to run away. Just this once, I want to be brave for myself.”

Serena and Ethan arrived early, carrying heavy grocery bags. Ethan came to me first to apologize. “Chloe, we bought all your favorite foods. Don’t be mad anymore, okay?” I didn’t answer. When dinner was served, the table was covered in Serena’s favorites: mashed potatoes with sausage, ratatouille, and red wine braised beef. Serena gasped. “Oh my gosh, these are all my favorites! Thank you, Ethan, for driving all the way to get them, and thank you, Mrs. Miller, for cooking them!” But in front of me sat only a single ceramic pot. I lifted the lid. Inside was a bowl of live, crawling garden snails. I almost knocked the bowl off the table. Back in elementary school, some boys had stuffed snails into my backpack. When I reached in to grab my books, my fingers brushed against that slimy, wriggling texture. I had screamed and cried, and from that day on, they gave me a nickname: “Snail Girl.” Since then, I had been utterly terrified of them. But when my mom found out, she started forcing me to eat them. “It’s because you haven’t had them enough. Eat more, and you won’t be scared anymore.” Once, she forced me to swallow one. I vomited so hard I ended up in the ER with acute gastroenteritis. Back then, Ethan had snuck into my hospital room, gently stuffing a chicken leg into my hand. “Chloe, move in with me in the future. I promise I will never force you to eat anything you’re afraid of.” “It’s okay to be a little cowardly.” The sincerity in his eyes back then was the exact reason I fell in love with him. But now, he picked up one of the crawling snails with his fork and dropped it into my bowl. “They look scary, but they’re actually super nutritious. You can even eat them raw.” I stared at the crawling snail in my bowl, picked it up, and dropped it into Serena’s bowl. “Then she should eat it.” Ethan immediately grabbed it back and put it in my bowl. “How can you do that? Serena thinks they’re disgusting. Just looking at them gives her goosebumps.” My mom slapped the back of my head. “Just eat it and stop dragging your feet. Who are you pulling that miserable face for?” I stared at the bowl for a long time. Then, I picked up the snail and put it in my mouth. I felt like throwing up. But I forced myself to swallow. It turned out… it wasn’t actually that scary. They watched me, their faces filled with satisfaction, like scientists looking at a successful experiment. The dinner continued to be lively. Ethan picked the bones out of the fish for Serena, and my mom scooped soup for her. I sat there like an unwanted piece of furniture. Halfway through the meal, Ethan suddenly spoke up. “Oh, by the way, Chloe. For your team’s project presentation tomorrow at the office… why don’t you let Serena do it?” “You get so nervous in front of crowds. You’ll probably stutter.” For once in my life, I caught on instantly. I knew exactly what Ethan was doing. He pretended to care about my anxiety, but he also knew this project was a huge deal. He wanted to hand the spotlight to Serena. But I had stayed up for three consecutive nights to finish that deck. I didn’t care about showing off, but I wanted to try. Just once, I wanted to stand at the front. “I want to present it myself.” The table fell dead silent for a second. Ethan frowned. “Are you sure? There will be a lot of people tomorrow. Don’t freeze up on stage.” My mom gave me another disappointed look. “You can’t even speak clearly in front of your own relatives. Why bother?” “It’s fine if you embarrass yourself, but don’t embarrass Ethan.” I looked at them seriously. “Haven’t you guys always wanted me to be braver?” Serena tried to smooth things over. “I think it’s amazing that Chloe is taking this step. I support you!” That night, I stayed up until 2:00 AM practicing with the slides. But I never expected that when I stepped onto the stage the next day, several key data slides would be completely blank. I froze on stage. Ethan sat in the front row, watching me calmly for a few seconds. Then he stood up and spoke to the room. “Having the courage to stand on stage is the first step. But professional capability is about mastering your data and improvising under pressure.” At the same time, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was a Snapchat message from Serena: “Ethan and I deleted those two slides on purpose! In the real world, clients throw curveballs at you all the time. You need to learn how to improvise without panicking!” Dozens of eyes stared at me. My hands shook uncontrollably. No slides. No data. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I stumbled through it. I tripped over my words three times. It wasn’t a masterpiece, but I finished it. When I was done, Ethan and Serena looked visibly stunned. Stepping off the stage, I received a text from Lucy: “We’re leaving for the mountains the day after tomorrow. Have you made up your mind?” I replied: “Yes. I already bought my ticket.”

At the after-work happy hour, Serena had a few drinks and immediately started sharing embarrassing stories from my childhood. “You guys have no idea how much of a coward Chloe is.” “Back in middle school, some kids locked her in the gym equipment locker overnight. She just cried until her voice went hoarse. She didn’t even dare to knock on the door to ask for help!” A coworker wiped a tear from laughing. “Chloe, you’re literally a tragic pushover.” Serena nudged Ethan with her elbow. “Ethan, tell them. Am I lying?” Ethan looked at my humiliated face, hesitating for a moment. But Serena tugged at his sleeve, and he finally opened his mouth. “Yeah. When the teacher finally found her and asked what happened, she was so scared she just hid behind me and wouldn’t lift her head.” The entire table roared with laughter. My nails dug deep into my palms. I gathered every ounce of my courage. “Can you stop? I don’t like being laughed at.” The table went dead silent. A coworker leaned in and whispered to me, “Don’t pick a fight with Serena. Her family has connections. Even the boss told everyone to look out for her.” She paused, realizing something. “Wait, if you and Serena grew up together, you must know the boss too? Why are you…” I froze. I remembered how badly I wanted to be close to Ethan. I had worked myself to the bone to pass the interviews for this company. But when we ran into each other in the lobby on my first day, he didn’t even say hi. Later, he told me, “I don’t want people giving you special treatment just because of me, Chloe. You need to grow on your own.” I forced a tight smile at my coworker. “We just went to the same school. We aren’t close.” Later in the night, someone suggested going to an escape room. An asylum-themed escape room with a five-star horror rating. Clearly, it was targeted at me. When we were splitting into groups, everyone actively avoided me. One coworker joked, “We don’t want to get dragged down by you, Chloe.” In the end, only Ethan, Serena, and I were left. Ethan looked at me with conflict in his eyes, but ultimately stepped over to Serena’s side. “Chloe, this is a great chance to build your courage. Try doing it alone.” Everyone went in, paired up. Except me. I felt like I was eight years old again. My mom didn’t love me, and the neighborhood kids didn’t want to play with me. Whenever we played games, nobody ever picked me. I had wanted to go home back then, but my mom had dragged me back to the group. “You always shrink back like a sewer rat! If you acted more like Serena, people would actually want to play with you!” I had stood alone under a tree. Then, Ethan had walked over. “I’ll be in your group.” But the moment Serena’s partner left, Ethan immediately abandoned me to go to her. Twenty years later, I was still the one left behind. I used to think Ethan was the savior who would pull me out of my insecurity. But in reality, he had always held Serena’s hand, watching me drown in deep water. The staff member at the door asked me, “Ma’am, are you going in alone?” I clenched my fists. “Yes. Just me.” The heavy door pushed open, and everything went pitch black. The smell of bleach, flashing red lights, and mannequins draped in white sheets surrounded me. At a corner, Serena suddenly jumped out to jump-scare me. My foot slipped, and I fell hard, my forehead slamming against the sharp metal frame of a prop bed. The lights in the room flashed on instantly, followed by a chorus of laughter. “Oh my god, Chloe! You’re so easy to scare!” My knee was bleeding, and a huge bump was already forming on my forehead. I brushed the dust off my clothes, turned around, and walked straight out of the building. Ethan chased after me. “Are you mad? Serena only did that for your own good.” I swallowed the pain and shook my head. “I’m not mad.” He reached out, patted my bruised forehead, and smiled. “That’s my good girl.” The group dispersed. Ethan was going to drive Serena home. “Her apartment is in a sketchy neighborhood. It’s too dark for her to go alone.” “You can just Uber back, okay?” I looked into his eyes. “Why is it that when it comes to Serena, you never think she needs to ‘toughen up’?” His mouth opened, but no words came out. Suddenly, I had no desire to hear his excuse. “Forget it. Just go.” When I got home, my mom was sitting on the couch eating grapes. “Did Ethan drive you home?” “He went to drop off Serena.” My mom tossed a grape skin into the trash. “Look at how useless you are.” “Ethan has a great family, a great career. Serena fits him so much better. He must have been blind to choose you, and yet you’re still not satisfied.” I looked at my mom, really looked at her. “Mom, you’re right. Serena suits Ethan way better than I do.” “And she suits being your daughter way better, too.”

My mom snapped, standing up instantly. “You dare talk back to me? Who do you think wants you anyway?” “You’re just like your spineless father! You’ll never be half the girl Serena is!” I shut my bedroom door. She spent half the night screaming curses outside. I put on my headphones and began packing my bags. The next morning, I went out to buy supplies for the mountains. Snake repellent, bug spray, a first-aid kit… When I returned, the front door was slightly ajar. I heard laughter coming from the living room. First, it was Serena’s voice. “During the engagement party, when Chloe walks onto the stage, we should trigger a little prank to scare her. It’ll be great for her anxiety.” “Should we throw a fake snake or a dead rat?” Ethan went silent for a long time. Serena sounded annoyed. “Why are you making that face? If you’re going to take her side, then just ignore me!” He finally sighed. “Fine… but this is really the last time. I don’t want Chloe getting too traumatized.” He claimed he cared, yet he agreed to it anyway. My mom laughed along. “A little scare is good for her. She’s been talking back lately. This will teach her a lesson.” The afternoon sun was blazing hot, but I felt freezing cold. My own engagement party was going to be turned into a public humiliation prank. But it was fine. It really didn’t matter anymore. The room inside went quiet. I pushed the door open. Ethan immediately stood up, looking nervous, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “We were just planning the perfect engagement party for you, Chloe.” “Okay,” I murmured. Serena leaned in. “Hey Chloe, I’m taking Ethan out for a bachelor night tonight. You don’t mind, right?” “I don’t mind.” But at 2:00 AM, my phone rang. I had to drive to a bar to pick up the two of them, completely drunk. Serena’s makeup was smudged with tears as she clutched Ethan’s sleeve. “If you hadn’t refused to go to the same college as me… if you had just confessed to me back then, I wouldn’t have lied and said I didn’t like you.” Ethan covered his eyes with his hand, his voice thick and raspy. “I regret it too… I shouldn’t have gotten drunk and kissed Chloe just to make you jealous. I shouldn’t have stayed with her.” “But she looked so pathetic when she smiled…” I leaned against the doorframe of the bar, my knees going weak. On the night of our high school graduation, we had all gotten drunk. Ethan, completely wasted, had pulled me into an alley, kissed me, and whispered, “I love you so much.” That was the first time anyone had ever told me they loved me. I had felt like the luckiest girl in the world, my head spinning with joy. He had fallen asleep on my shoulder, and I hadn’t dared to move an inch, my heart racing all night long. Ten years. It was all a mistake. I let out a mocking laugh at myself. Of course. Why would anyone ever love a girl like me? I hauled both of them into the car and took them home. The next morning, Ethan and Serena came to pick up my mom, saying they were going to the venue early to set up. I knew they were going to set up their “surprise.” Ethan stood at the door, smiling. “Take your time getting ready, Chloe. No rush.” I nodded, watching their car drive away. Lucy was waiting for me at the train station. When I arrived, Ethan Snapchat-messaged me: “Take your time, we aren’t fully ready yet.” In the background of his voice note, I could hear Serena shrieking with laughter. “No, this fake rat doesn’t look real enough! Find another one!” So that was their surprise. I didn’t reply. My mom sent a voice note in the family WhatsApp group: “Chloe is always so slow and can’t handle big crowds. We’re delaying the start of the ceremony to let her prepare.” I smiled, muted my phone, and stepped onto the bus with Lucy. Right before my phone lost signal in the mountains, I received one last voice note from Ethan. “Where are you? You can come now. We’re ready.” In the background, Serena laughed, “Hurry up, Chloe! Your surprise is waiting!” I turned off my phone and never looked back. Meanwhile, at the hotel banquet hall. Ethan and the others waited. The double doors were suddenly pushed open. Serena screamed and threw the prop rat. But the only person standing at the door was the hotel manager. “Miss Miller asked me to deliver a message. She won’t be attending her engagement party. She hopes you all have a wonderful evening.” Ethan’s smile shattered. My mom froze in utter disbelief.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “432167”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My sister, Chloe, got sick. Since then, she slapped my fiancé, Ethan, every single day. “Ethan Carter! You thought my family was biased toward me, didn’t you? You wanted to avenge my little sister, right?” “Hit me back! Why don’t you hit me back?!” “Why do you look down on me? Why do you call me a drama queen? You hate the whole world, but you only love Scarlett, don’t you?” Slowly, Chloe’s screaming turned into sobbing. “Why? Why does everyone else love me, but you don’t?” That night, Ethan didn’t come home. Later, on my birthday, the night of my surgery, and the night I almost died, he never came back either. When I finally saw him again, he tricked me onto the operating table under the guise of a marriage proposal, just to drain my bone marrow for Chloe. At their wedding, to protect Chloe’s reputation, Ethan publicly accused me of being the one who seduced him. So, I left the city. I walked away from that sole, fake, and fleeting bit of love. 1. Five years later, Ethan found me at a funeral home. I was doing reconstructive makeup on a corpse that had been completely disfigured in a car accident. Ethan’s lips trembled. “After leaving me, you ended up living like this?” “Thanks to you and your wife, being a mortician is the only makeup artist job I could find.” Ethan’s eyes turned red. He said anxiously, “Scarlett, I only wanted to teach you a lesson. I didn’t want you running around screaming to everyone that Chloe was a homewrecker… I never thought you’d rather vanish than apologize to me.” I shoved him away. “State your business and get out. If you don’t have any, just crawl back to where you came from.” His lips moved, and he said, “Chloe’s cancer relapsed. We need you to donate bone marrow again.” I burst into laughter. “Ethan, did you forget? You told the world I was a homewrecker. Why would a dirty little homewrecker be sweet enough to donate bone marrow to her rival?” Hearing my response, Ethan’s eyes widened in shock. His face turned cold, and he reached out to grab my arm. “Scarlett, stop talking like that out of spite.” “You just packed up and ran away all these years. Chloe was the one staying by your parents’ side, taking care of them. Plus, she’s your sister.” “How can you just watch her die?” I took a step back. My voice wasn’t as hysterical or angry as I thought it would be. “I just rebuilt the face of a dead person.” “I earn my own living with my own hands. I don’t find it creepy or cursed at all.” “At least dead people don’t team up with my fiancé to steal my bone marrow.” I picked up my makeup kit and brushed off some non-existent dust from my apron. “So don’t talk to me about sisterhood. If you don’t have anything else to say, stop bothering me. My new client today was in a horrific car crash, and the facial reconstruction is going to take a lot of work. I don’t have time to waste on you.” Something I said must have triggered him. His face darkened. Just as he was about to point his finger at my face and lecture me like he used to, his phone rang. I saw the caller ID. It was Chloe. He turned his back to me and picked up. “Chloe? Yes, I found Scarlett.” “Oh, she’s doing just fine. She’s too heartless to actually suffer. Don’t worry, she’s thrilled to hear we’re letting her come home.” “Yes, she’ll agree to the donation.” I stood there, listening to him twist the truth so effortlessly. I was completely speechless. When he hung up and turned back to me, that smug, confident look was back on his face. He acted as if my rejection just now was nothing but a cheap negotiation tactic. Sure enough, Ethan started offering me terms. “You know Chloe has been fragile since we were kids. We can’t let her know about certain things. It’ll stress her out.” “If you’re still bitter about the past, you don’t have to move back into the family house. I’ll buy you a separate condo and wire you a huge sum of cash. But we can only visit you twice a week at most. You know how Chloe gets…” I cut him off. “Save it.” Ethan froze. His endless babbling stopped instantly. The look on his face was pure shock. After all, the old Scarlett would never have interrupted him. Back then, just to have him stay with me a little longer, I would listen to him ramble and scold me like a submissive puppy. “I have work to do, and I can afford my own meals. You should save your charity for the homeless, Mr. Carter.” Ethan was choked by my words. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “Scarlett, do you really have to talk to me like this?” How else should I talk to him? I didn’t think there was anything left to say between us. “Scarlett, you weren’t like this before. You’ve changed. You know I had no choice back then. It didn’t mean I didn’t love you. Why can’t you just understand me?” “Didn’t I use to be the most important thing in your life?” Of course I knew I wasn’t like this before. But when you get tripped up and fall flat on your face enough times, you naturally learn to grow thorns to protect yourself. I looked up and stared coldly into his eyes. The sheer chill in my gaze made him flinch for a second. Suddenly, I smiled. It felt as if a heavy chain around my heart had finally snapped. “Yes, because back then, my world was too small, and I was starving for love.” “So I foolishly believed you were my rock, the lover who would protect me.” “But now I realize, Ethan, you’re really nothing special.” The color instantly drained from Ethan’s face. I gave him a mocking smirk. “What? Are you going to get my boss to fire me again?” “Get lost. If you stay here any longer, your wife might find out I won’t save her. She’ll get so stressed she might have another panic attack.” Ethan followed me all the way to the morgue doors before finally stopping. He stood there, hesitating, a flicker of conflict in his eyes. After a moment, he turned and left. Another reconstructive mortician nudged me with her elbow. “Who was that hot guy?” “I heard he put up a million-dollar bounty just to find you.” My chest tightened. A million dollars. When my parents threw me out of the house, he wouldn’t even give me a hundred bucks. But for another woman, he didn’t hesitate to throw around a million. He loved her so much, yet he still came to me acting like a heartbroken, tragic hero. I didn’t hesitate to tell my colleague, “Just a piece of trash from my past.” She laughed nervously. “Alright, you don’t have to say if you don’t want to. No need to be so harsh.” Without looking up, I said, “If someone tricked you into being a homewrecker, stole your bone marrow, and now comes back demanding more, what would you call him?” She fell silent. After a while, she whispered, “An enemy. Someone I’d pray ends up on my prep table so I can mess up their embalming.” I didn’t hate him that much. Love and hate both take energy, and I didn’t want to waste a single drop of mine on worthless people. To be fair, Ethan never technically tricked me into being a homewrecker. He just waited until my bone marrow was inside Chloe, and then immediately released a joint statement with her family announcing that the bride-to-be had been switched to Chloe. And when I screamed at him in front of the reporters, he looked at me and said, “Scarlett, I never said I was going to marry you. It was all in your head.” Chloe, who had just recovered from her illness, sobbed on camera. “Scarlett, I don’t know why you’re doing this. Since we were kids, you’ve always wanted to steal everything from me. I let you have everything else.” “But Ethan is the love of my life. I can’t let you have him.” The flashing camera lights turned my face pale. I looked past the crowd at our parents. They stood quietly behind Chloe. When my dad met my eyes, he turned his head away. My mom had pity in her eyes, but her mouth opened to spit out: “Scarlett, how can you be so shameless? Seducing Ethan, your own sister’s fiancé?” 2. I wasn’t always the outcast in this family. They used to love me. I used to be an important part of the household. On our living room wall, there were two height-tracking charts. The higher one was Chloe’s, and the lower one was mine. Every time we measured our heights, Mom would hug me and say, “Look at that! My baby is growing so fast!” No matter how busy they were, they would always take us on vacations around the world every summer and winter. We watched penguins in Antarctica and lions in the African savanna. Once, we saw a flock of flamingos gathered by a drying riverbank. With a few loud cries, they took flight, looking like a massive, flying red cloud. “Wow!” Back then, Chloe and I held hands, completely amazed by the sight. But when I looked down at the riverbank, I heard a sad cry. We looked closer. It was a flamingo with a broken wing, running fruitlessly after the flock. I thought it was so sad and asked Mom and Dad to save it. But Chloe was the opposite. She was always the cold, rational one. She looked at me and said, “That’s just nature, Scarlett. Survival of the fittest. You shouldn’t try to change fate.” The moment she finished speaking, blood started gushing from her nose. Mom said the African heat was too dry for her. So, we flew back home immediately. Our parents took Chloe to the hospital for a check-up. When they came back, their faces were pale. With red eyes, Mom stroked my head. “Scarlett, Chloe is very sick. You have to let her have her way from now on, okay?” Dad nodded beside her. “Chloe won’t be able to play with you for a long time. You need to learn to take care of yourself, and take care of her.” After saying that, he turned around and wiped his tears. Being so young, I only understood one thing. Something bad had happened to my family. So, I nodded solemnly. “I will.” I thought this was just me being a mature, understanding daughter. But slowly, my entire existence was erased, piece by piece. Because Chloe needed more sunlight, my bedroom was turned into her playroom. Because Chloe suffered from severe migraines during her treatments and needed absolute quiet, my piano lessons were canceled. Later, on my birthday, Chloe handed me a gift. My usually elegant sister leaned in close and whispered, “Scarlett, why couldn’t the sick one be you? You’re so useless anyway.” I gasped and stumbled backward. The gift dropped and shattered on the floor. But Chloe burst into tears before I could even process what happened. “Scarlett, I know Mom and Dad have been ignoring you because of my sickness.” “But you don’t have to take it out on the gift I bought you. If I could choose, I wouldn’t want to be sick either. Do you know how jealous I am watching you celebrate your birthday?” “Every year, you get to look forward to a new age. But for me, it’s just terror. I don’t even know if I’ll survive to see the next one.” Our parents’ hearts broke. They wrapped her in their arms, their faces filled with pain and pity. When they looked at me, their eyes were full of disgust. My mom, who used to praise me for being so easygoing, said coldly, “Throwing a tantrum over nothing! You are so selfish and greedy. Why can’t you be more mature?!” From that day on, I never had another birthday party, because it made Chloe sad. Hearing this, Mia, my colleague, gasped. “Your sister said that to you, and you didn’t tell your parents?” I smiled faintly. “When people are biased, the truth sounds like a lie anyway. What was the point of talking?” At first, I did try to tell them about Chloe’s cruelty toward me. But they just sat in silence for a long time. Then, the woman who gave birth to both of us said with a sigh of disapproval, “Chloe is sick, Scarlett. Why do you have to be so petty with her?” “Can’t you just let her win for once?” Eventually, even when I said absolutely nothing, Mom would lean against the hospital wall, exhausted, and stare at me with cold, hollow eyes. “Scarlett, your sister was right.” “Why couldn’t the sick one be you?” Mia’s eyes welled up with tears. She looked at me, trying to blink them away. Then she said, “Screw them. We don’t need them.” “From now on, we’ll celebrate every single birthday with you.” I smiled warmly at her. “Thanks, I appreciate it. But after some things happened, I stopped celebrating birthdays altogether.” She wanted to ask why, but hesitated. I said casually, “The day I was tricked into donating bone marrow, and the day I found out the truth…” “That was my birthday.” “When I was lying on that operating table, Ethan told me he had a birthday surprise for me.” “When I woke up, I saw him putting a ring on Chloe’s finger, telling her they’d pick out the prettiest bridesmaid dress for me.” 3. Honestly, they didn’t even have to trick me. I wouldn’t have refused to donate my bone marrow to Chloe. They were just paranoid because of their own guilt. Because they knew how much they owed me. My SAT scores were great, which made Chloe cry. So, to keep the peace, I chose a major they hated: Mortuary Science. The day my college acceptance letter arrived, my mother actually looked a bit guilty. “We have enough money to support you for the rest of your life.” “It’s just a college major, don’t be so dramatic. Why don’t you drop out and come work at the family company?” I ignored her. Mom frowned, clearly annoyed. That night, when I went downstairs to get some water, I heard her talking to Dad. “Scarlett is too cold-hearted.” “She always acts like we owe her something. If she wasn’t my own flesh and blood, I wouldn’t even look at her.” Dad replied, “Then don’t.” With just those few words, my college fund was cut off. I didn’t receive a single dime for living expenses. I had to work multiple part-time jobs. Using my skills in cosmetics, I occasionally got hired to do makeup for freelance models. That was how I met Ethan, who had also been cut off by his family and was working as a part-time model. He was incredibly handsome, and everything he wore looked like custom designer clothing. He was constantly booked for gigs. Naturally, we got close. When he found out about my family, his eyes were full of sympathy. At that time, we hadn’t made things official yet. There was just that sweet, innocent tension between us. One day, Ethan suddenly told me he was going home to call off an arranged engagement. I thought he was joking and laughed. “I didn’t know you were some rich heir. Who even does arranged marriages these days?” But Ethan’s face was deadly serious. He looked straight into my eyes. “I’m serious, Scarlett.” “I have someone I love now. So I am calling off that wedding, no matter what.” A few days later, my parents, who hadn’t called me in months, suddenly phoned. They stared at me as if they were evaluating a piece of cheap merchandise. After a long silence, they sighed with disappointment. “Studying dead people really brings bad luck.” “No wonder he wants to call off the wedding.” “Yeah, if only Chloe weren’t sick.” They dragged me to a luxury hotel without explaining anything. When they pushed the door open, a wealthy middle-aged couple was sitting inside. Next to them was Ethan. The engagement cancellation was never mentioned again. When Ethan realized that I was the younger daughter of the Miller family, his eyes lit up like stars. He told me, “Scarlett, we are meant to be.” “Don’t worry. I’m here now. I will protect you and never let you suffer again.” “I will love you forever.” What a beautiful promise. And back then, I actually believed him. I believed he would love me forever. My heart was so full of happiness that I forgot to refuse my parents’ demand for me to move back home. When we arrived, Chloe was sitting at the dining table, slowly sipping an expensive organic green juice. Seeing me, a smirk spread across her face. “What happened? You look so happy.” Instinctively, I hid my ring finger behind my back. Her smile vanished instantly. She said flatly, “Scarlett is a big girl now. She has secrets.” That very night, Chloe went missing. Our family searched for her all day. My parents were losing their minds. I walked up to Mom to comfort her. “Don’t worry, Mom. Let’s call the police first. We’ll find her.” Suddenly, her hand flew up and slapped me hard across the face. My ears rang from the impact. “This is all your fault!” “You have someone who loves you! You think you’re so special! If Chloe weren’t sick, you wouldn’t even be standing here gloating!” “You ungrateful brat! Chloe left a note. She said you were rubbing your wedding in her face because you hate her! Now she’s sick, her immune system is weak, and she’s been gone for twenty-four hours. Are you happy now?!” Dad watched the whole thing with cold eyes. Nobody bothered to ask if I had even spoken a single word to Chloe since I got home. Eventually, Chloe was found in the public library. She looked at the red slap mark on my cheek, and her lips curled up. She turned to Mom and said, “Mom, Scarlett really crossed the line this time.” “We should teach her a lesson, right?” Seeing our parents nod, my heart turned to ice. At that moment, I wanted to see Ethan so badly. So, even though they locked me in the basement, I managed to break the small window and crawl out. The broken glass sliced my arms and legs, leaving me covered in blood. I dragged myself all the way to Ethan’s apartment. He wanted to hold me but was terrified of hurting my wounds. His eyes were filled with tears of pure rage and heartbreak. “How could they do this to you?! What right do they have?!” After my wounds were bandaged at the hospital, Ethan wanted to go demand justice from my family, despite my protests. I held him back. Ethan was more furious than I was. He asked hoarsely, “Are we just going to let them get away with this?” I shook my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t want justice; it was just impossible. If a stranger hurts you, you call the cops. But with family, the law just calls it a “domestic dispute.” “You can’t choose your bloodline, and you can’t easily cut off your family.” Ethan gently held my hands, treating them like fragile glass. “It’s okay, Scarlett. You can choose your partner.” “From now on, as long as I’m here, I will never let anyone hurt you again.” Ethan used to be my entire world. 4. The memories faded from my mind. I guess Ethan’s sudden appearance had dragged up all those old, painful thoughts. Not long after Ethan found me, my deputy director, Robert, called me into his office. He poured me a cup of tea and started talking about family, his own struggles, and his past conflicts with his parents. Then, he said in a warm, fatherly tone, “Scarlett, I know how hard it was when you first started here. As a parent myself, hearing about your past breaks my heart.” “But blood is thicker than water. When you get to my age, you realize that regretting not making peace with your parents before it’s too late is a pain you can’t cure. You’re still young. Don’t let your past become a permanent regret.” I knew someone had pulled some strings. Whether it was my parents or Ethan, I didn’t care. The old Scarlett believed family was an unbreakable bond. The current Scarlett believed that some bonds were meant to be burned. I looked calmly at Robert. “Whether they are family or strangers, donating bone marrow is a personal choice.” “I know what you’re trying to do, but I already donated once.” “I don’t owe them anything. So, my answer is still no.” Robert sighed. “But she’s your sister.” “Have you thought about what happens if you refuse? She will die.” “If you let your own sister die, how will people look at you? It’ll ruin your reputation here at the funeral home.” I didn’t get it. I worked at a crematorium. My daily “clients” couldn’t talk. Why would I care about my reputation? I looked up at the man who had been a good boss to me. The door to his private lounge was slightly ajar. I didn’t even need to guess who was hiding inside. “I understand, but I still refuse.” “To them, I’ve always been invisible. Since I’m just an extra, we should keep out of each other’s lives. They throw me away when they don’t need me, and drag me back with guilt trips when they do.” “I despise people like that.” “Bam!” The lounge door was kicked open. My father rushed out and slapped me hard across the face. He glared at me, his eyes bloodshot with rage. “We raised you! We fed you, clothed you! How dare you talk about cutting us off?! You ungrateful bitch!” Robert jumped up instantly and pulled me behind him. “Keep your hands to yourself! Why are you hitting her?!” “Do you want to solve this or not?!” My cheek felt numb. I knew it was already swelling up. I looked at my furious, weeping parents. Then I looked at Ethan, who was standing behind them with a slight frown, and I just laughed. I turned to Robert. “Robert, you said the old director brought me here when I was a complete mess.” “You gave me a job, and I appreciate that. Usually, I wouldn’t say no to you.” “But did you know? The day the old director found me, I was actually trying to hang myself.” “But I was so broke, I couldn’t even buy a decent rope. It snapped.” The angry expressions on my parents’ and Ethan’s faces turned white instantly. Guilt and panic flashed across their faces. Honestly, The time I spent with Ethan after escaping my family was the happiest of my life. No Chloe, no toxic parents. We did everything I had always wanted to do but couldn’t because of Chloe. We ate foods I was never allowed to touch. Then, Ethan was scouted by a talent agent. He starred in a few low-budget web series and became an overnight sensation. Dozens of agencies wanted to sign him. Ethan’s only condition for signing any contract was that I had to be his personal makeup artist. When his first movie premiered, his agency threw a massive party. My parents and Chloe showed up. Ethan held my hand tightly under the table and whispered, “Scarlett, my manager invited them. If you’re uncomfortable, we can leave early.” “No need.” This was his big night. I didn’t want to ruin it for him. Chloe walked over, smiling as she swirled a glass of juice. “Scarlett, you ran away for so long without a word. Mom and Dad were worried sick. Turns out you were just busy chasing a boyfriend.” I raised my glass of champagne, drank it in one gulp, and walked away without saying a word to her. When I turned back, Chloe was still standing there, smiling. My mother was whispering insults next to her. I knew she was calling me ungrateful. A few days later, Ethan suddenly said to me, “Scarlett…” “I think your sister is actually pretty pitiable.” “She’s so young and has this awful disease. She can’t eat anything fun, can’t travel, and her family doesn’t even understand her.” I didn’t get it back then. My parents practically worshipped the ground she walked on. How did Ethan come to the conclusion that Chloe was unloved? It wasn’t until I woke up on that cold operating table that I finally understood. The “ununderstanding family member” he was talking about… was me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “432166”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The day Lily was supposed to move into her dorm, my phone lit up with two notifications. The first was Ethan’s Instagram post. In the photo, he stood between Vanessa and Mia in the lobby of The Peninsula, champagne flutes raised, captioned: “Three days of celebration for our girl. Proud of you, sweetheart.” The second was an email from Morrison & Sons Funeral Home, asking me to select an urn. On Orientation Day, six men dragged my daughter into a restroom on the east side of campus. They found her face-down in a flooded urinal. Not a single inch of her left unmarked. Three days. I identified the body, hunted down every last one of those animals, and watched them get hauled away in handcuffs. I arranged the cremation. I signed the paperwork. I did it all alone. Ethan was nowhere. I called him over a thousand times. Not one picked up. Just a single automated text he’d set for when he was busy: “In a meeting. Don’t disturb.” The morning they slid Lily into the cremation chamber, I tried one final time. The phone rang three times before someone declined the call. I stood there in that sterile white room, clutching my dead daughter’s belongings in a plastic bag, and I remembered something she’d said last year. It was her birthday—another one he missed. She’d blown out the candles alone, then turned to me with those old, tired eyes no seventeen-year-old should have. “Mom, if I die someday and Dad still isn’t in home—don’t tell him. Don’t let him come to my funeral, okay?” Okay, baby. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, booked a one-way flight, and printed the divorce papers. We don’t need his absence anymore. …… The funeral home was cold. The woman behind the counter kept glancing at the door behind me as she handed over the urn. “Just you? Where’s her father? It’s the girl’s last journey—it’s cruel if he doesn’t show.” I looked at my phone. The lock screen showed my messages. Clean. Empty. No reply in three days. Only subscription alerts from apps I never opened. I tucked the phone away. “I don’t know where he is.” “Maybe busy.” “Too busy for his own child’s—” She caught herself, softened. “I’m sorry, honey. You shouldn’t be doing this alone.” I’d seen that look dozens of times in the past seventy-two hours. Pity. From the detective. From the hospital staff. From the school counselor who called me ma’am in that careful, gentle voice people use around the freshly destroyed. I had no tears left. I took the urn—warm from the kiln, impossibly light for everything it held—and walked out. Behind me, their voices carried across the parking lot. “God, that poor woman. Her daughter was supposed to start college that day—” “Full scholarship too. Top of the whole state on her practice exams.” “And the mother tracked those boys down herself. Didn’t sleep for three days.” “The husband never showed. Not once. Maybe she’s widowed?” …… The house was dark when I got home. Past midnight. No lights on, no dinner left out, no sign anyone lived here who might have worried. Twenty years of marriage, and I was used to this. If Ethan wasn’t at the firm, he was with Vanessa. With Mia. Driving them somewhere, fixing something, buying something. Present for them in all the ways he’d never been for us. Our share of his time? There was none. For eighteen years, Lily and I split one portion of undercooked affection between us, and pretended it was enough. Now Lily was gone. And a marriage built on perpetual absence meant nothing to me anymore. I set the urn on her desk and began packing her things. Every object I touched—her hairbrush, her SAT prep books, the stuffed rabbit she’d had since she was four—cut into me like dull glass, slow and ragged. Her phone buzzed. I froze. Then picked it up. A message from Mia. A photo: an amusement park. The one Lily had begged Ethan to take her to ninety-nine times. He’d promised ninety-nine times. Showed up zero. The hundredth time, Lily held my hand beneath the Ferris wheel and waited until dark. Across the river, fireworks went up—Ethan throwing Mia a birthday party. He’d forgotten it was Lily’s birthday too. After that night, Lily never asked again. The photo was slightly blurred, a candid shot, but clear enough to gut me. Ethan—my husband, who recoiled if a stranger brushed his sleeve—carrying Vanessa on his back in the rain. One hand holding her heels, the other gripping Mia’s hand. The three of them laughing, soaked, a portrait of something warm and whole. Something Lily and I never had. Beneath it, two voice messages. Mia’s voice, sweet and breathy: “Uncle Ethan, you said if I got into a good school, you’d grant me one wish. So here’s my wish—will you be my dad?” A long pause. Then Ethan’s voice, low and fond: “Alright.” “Then I’m calling you Dad from now on! Dad, you’re the best!” Giggles. Silver-bell laughter. And Ethan, amused, indulgent: “Settle down, I’m still carrying your mother here.” I stared at the screen until it went black. Then I opened my own phone. Typed nothing. Deleted nothing. Just stared at his empty chat for a long, long time. The booking confirmation chimed. Day three. Departure at dawn.

I didn’t know when Ethan came home. When I opened my eyes, daylight was already filling the bedroom. He sat at the kitchen table eating toast, scrolling through his phone like any other morning. “When did you get back?” My voice came out wrecked—sandpaper over gravel. My forehead burned. Carrying Lily’s urn through the rain without an umbrella had done its work. “An hour ago. Vanessa got caught in the rain yesterday, her cycle’s about to start—I stayed to make sure she was alright.” Stayed. All night. Same rain. Same city. Same hours I spent shaking with fever, alone with an urn still warm from the fire. I said nothing. My eyes drifted to his wrist. A braided band, red and gold. “Is that a blessing bracelet from St. Clement’s?” “Mm. Vanessa’s daughter had her move-in this week, so I stopped by the cathedral to pick one up. Seems to have worked—Mia’s feeling good about her placement.” Stopped by. St. Clement’s was forty minutes uphill on a single-lane road. No parking within a mile. “Then why’d you bring it back?” “Lily’s not starting until next year, right? Vanessa thought we could save the luck for her.” Next year. Lily was starting this year. She would never start at all. He didn’t remember. But he remembered Vanessa’s cycle down to the day. I managed a small smile. Said nothing. Waited for him to finish. Then: “Are you free this afternoon? I need you to take a case for me.” He looked up, surprised. “What kind of case? Important?” My throat locked. It took everything I had to push the words out, flat and steady. “Important. A friend’s daughter was dragged into a bathroom during move-in week and—I need those men to get the maximum sentence.” Ethan nodded. Didn’t refuse. “Sure. What time? Vanessa mentioned Mia left a pen at the registration office—it was her father’s, sentimental value. Let me grab that first, then I’ll head straight to you.” “Two o’clock. The hearing’s today. If you go now, there’s barely enough time.” “Can’t the case wait one—” “It can’t. Please. This means everything to me. I’ll buy Mia a new pen.” Ethan sighed. Patient. Gentle. Immovable. “It’s not about the pen, Claire. That’s the only thing Mia has left from her father. They’ve been through so much, those two. It’s a small thing—let me do this for them.” “It won’t take long.” I watched him leave. Thirty-five miles round trip, for a pen. Three hours passed. Then four. Then the final boarding call for the courtroom came and went. Ethan didn’t come. I wasn’t surprised. But I called anyway. Third attempt, he picked up. “Where are you?” My voice was so calm it frightened me. “I’m sorry—Mia’s classmates, some boys, they’ve been falsely accused of assault. It’s urgent, Claire, these kids could lose everything. Your friend’s daughter can appeal—let me handle this first.” I begged him to fight for his own daughter. He told me Mia’s friends mattered more. “Forget it,” I said. “There won’t be a next time.” I hung up. Called another attorney. Paid triple the retainer for an emergency appearance. He arrived with minutes to spare. But when I stepped into the courtroom, I froze. Ethan was already there. Sitting on the other side of the aisle. Suit pressed, files open, perfectly composed. My husband—representing the men who killed our daughter.

“Claire? You’re the plaintiff? Your friend’s daughter is the one making accusations?” Ethan’s brow creased the instant he saw me across the courtroom. So that’s what it was. The men who murdered my daughter—those were the innocent boys he was defending. And Lily, my dead child, was the liar. The accuser. I laughed. It came out sharp and ugly. “Do you believe her, or do you believe me?” Ethan hesitated. Just a beat. “Maybe your friend misled you. These things aren’t always what they seem.” He said everything by saying nothing. The case went exactly as I expected. Ethan Whitmore—the Ethan Whitmore, the defense attorney every prosecutor in the state feared. I knew better than anyone what he could do in a courtroom. There wasn’t a case he couldn’t win. The lawyer I’d hired at triple rate didn’t survive a single round of cross-examination. Every piece of evidence I’d spent three sleepless days collecting, Ethan dismantled with surgical precision, calling it circumstantial, insufficient, unreliable. He hadn’t read the victim’s file. Hadn’t looked at the name on the report. He’d taken Mia’s word—just Mia’s word—and built his entire defense around it. And he won. Not guilty. All six released. The men who held my daughter’s head underwater walked out of that courtroom free. I drove home in silence. Went straight to Lily’s room—half-packed boxes everywhere—and lay on her bed. The smell of her shampoo still clung to the pillow. Lavender and vanilla. The dam broke. I don’t know how long I cried before the overhead light snapped on. Ethan. Home already. Holding a pink box. “Why are you sleeping in Lily’s room?” He barely glanced around. Didn’t notice the half-empty shelves. “After court, Vanessa wanted to thank me for helping Mia—took me to dinner. She thought you might be upset about losing, so she sent this.” He held up the box. “Strawberry cake. Her and Mia’s favorite. They insisted.” He pushed it toward me. I didn’t take it. When Lily was five, she ate strawberries laced with residual pesticide. Went into anaphylactic shock. Nearly died on the way to the hospital. After that, strawberry was banned from this house. I’d told him a hundred times. He remembered every one of Vanessa’s preferences. Never once remembered ours. When I didn’t move, Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Still upset about the trial? Look—Mia explained everything. Those boys were innocent. The girl was—she had a reputation. Slept around. Probably negotiated a price and things went sideways—” The slap cracked through the room before I knew my hand had moved. He stumbled. Touched his cheek. Stared at me. “Do you have any idea,” my voice shook so badly the words barely held together, “that the girl you just called a slut is—” “Enough.” His tone was still level. Still reasonable. Still that calm, authoritative voice he used to shut down arguments. “Fine. I cost you the case. I’ll take responsibility for that. But don’t—” I looked at him and felt every drop of fury drain out of me at once, replaced by something vast and empty. “You’re right. You think what you want. I need to go out—move aside.” Lily’s school still had her belongings. I needed them back. Ethan shifted, then paused. Scanned the room for the first time. Something flickered across his face. “Where’s Lily? Haven’t seen her in a few days.” Three days. It took him three days to notice his daughter was missing. Three days during which he’d argued in court that she deserved what happened to her. “She’s out.” “Hm.” He didn’t ask where. I didn’t offer. I was reaching for my shoes when he spoke again. “Oh—Claire, Vanessa and Mia are coming over tonight. Pick up some lobster on your way back, would you? She loves it.” She loves it. I’m allergic to shellfish. “Sure.” Twenty-seven hours until my flight. I was done fighting.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260701mziCZ7Mibg 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni415716”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Every Trial Day, Christopher and his childhood packmate, Emma, played the same old “I dare you” game they’d run since they were kids. “Remember the eighth grade?” Christopher leaned back in his chair with a grin. “I dared you to skip class, and you dragged me into the bathroom looking for a thrill. Then you flashed me that twenty-centimeter cock of yours.” He laughed louder. “That’s nothing. In college, I dared you to date the strongest male on campus, and you ended up snatching Grace’s boyfriend instead. You even showed me the sex tape afterward.” I stood in the doorway, my fingers curled tight around the gestation report. Five years bonded as mates, countless trips to the clinic, and today the runes on the test strip had finally bloomed gold. Emma’s eyes flicked over and caught me. She tipped her chin and said to Christopher, one word at a time, “Let’s make this year’s dare bite a little harder. Christopher, I bet you don’t have the fangs to announce our bond-pledge tonight, right here, in front of every guest.” The room burst into howls and whistles, the pack pounding on the tabletops. Christopher turned his amber eyes on me and laughed. “Why not? Wait for me.” He stood, locked his hand around my arm, and pulled me into the hallway. “Grace, the whole pack’s watching. Don’t sour the air.” His tone was easy, as if this were already some trivial little arrangement. “It’s just a Trial Day dare. Sign this contract dissolution tonight, and I’ll shred it by morning. I can’t back down in front of Emma.” I stared at the wolf in front of me. Five years. Five years of folding myself smaller, swallowing every “little game” he played with his childhood packmate. This time, I hid the report behind my back and gripped it tight. “But I’m pregnant.” “Grace, you’re unbelievable.” Christopher blinked, then threw back his head and laughed. “You’d actually make up a pregnancy just to keep me from winning? Fine. You win. That’s impressive.” Emma drew her words out, mocking. “Grace, it’s only a game. If you can’t bear losing, just say it. Using a baby as a shield is a little low, don’t you think?” “Exactly.” Christopher tightened his grip on my wrist. “Come on. The party downstairs is about to start. If we’re late, the press won’t have time to file the story.” He dragged me toward the elevator without a second of hesitation. Five years. Off the novels I’d written from inside our apartment, he’d built his media house from a single cracked desk into a publicly listed conglomerate. And every Trial Day, I’d swallowed the humiliations he staged for Emma. The ballroom downstairs was packed wall to wall. Christopher took a pre-drafted bond-dissolution from his lawyer and pressed it into my hands. “Sign. Before I declare for Emma, the press needs something to photograph.” I picked up the pen and looked at the signature line he’d already prepared. “Fine. I’ll give you what you want.” I signed it without a flicker. Five years of bonding ended like the punchline of a bad joke. The moment the ink dried, Christopher stripped off his jacket and slid into a tailored tuxedo. Emma pinned a white lace veil into the silver of her hair, the slim fox-ears at the crown of her head twitching in time with her smile. They’d even kept a full styling team on standby. I sat in the shadows and watched the two of them under the ring lights, brushes sweeping across their flushed, eager faces. Five years ago, on the day Christopher and I bonded, he wore a T-shirt and ripped jeans, his wolf-tail tucked roughly through a slit in the waistband. When I asked him to change, he said a true bond needed no ornament, that sincerity was the only ritual that mattered. Now, sheathed in a perfectly cut suit, he locked an arm around Emma’s waist and gave the cameras his brightest smile. The shutter clicked, freezing their grinning faces in light. A few minutes later, Christopher walked over to me, holding two diamond rings. “Baby, see that? I won again. Tomorrow morning we’ll get ‘rebonded.’ Don’t be angry. It’s just for the drama.” The nausea was so bad my legs barely held me. “Take me home,” I said, forcing the acid back down my throat. “I need to pack.” I reached for the passenger door. Before I could climb in, Emma slid past me. “Grace, just play along. Tonight Christopher and I are the ‘bond-pledged pair,’ so this seat belongs to me.” She yanked the door open and dropped into the seat. One sweep of her arm sent my cushion and my plush fox-doll tumbling onto the floor mat. Standing by the hood, Christopher gave me an apologetic shrug. I turned and started walking toward the curb to flag a taxi. Christopher jogged after me, threw the rear door open, and pushed me inside. “Stop sulking. Cabs don’t run this stretch. Sit down.” A cheesy bond-ceremony pop song poured from the speakers. Emma hummed along, and when the chorus hit she grabbed Christopher’s sleeve and swayed, the white tip of her fox-tail flicking against the leather seat. “I’m binding to you tonight…” Christopher sang the next line. They looked at each other and laughed. She uncapped a bottle of water, took a sip, then lifted it to his mouth. Like a freshly bonded mate, he drank from the bottle in her hand. “Your collar’s crooked.” Emma leaned closer to fix his tie, her fingers brushing the soft hair at his throat. Half her body pressed against him. Christopher didn’t move away. One hand stayed on the wheel; the other curled around her back. “Stop messing around. I’m driving.” The words said one thing. His tone said the opposite. I leaned back against the rear window. The nausea surged again. I closed my eyes and laid a hand over my stomach.

The moment we crossed the threshold, Christopher’s mother, Victoria, swept straight past me toward Emma. She caught Emma’s hand, opened a lacquered jewelry box, and slid the family heirloom onto her wrist — the silver wolf-tooth bracelet carved with their bloodline runes. It was something I had never been given in five years of bonding. I’d always told myself it was because i was a rabbit, i cannot to wear it. Now I understood. They had simply never accepted me into the pack. “Christopher told me everything. The whole thing is absolutely ridiculous,” Victoria said, her voice thick with indulgence. “Emma, darling, I always knew the two of you were marked for each other. If it weren’t for what happened back then—” I bent down to slip off my shoes, and our eyes met. She changed course mid-breath. “You were always meant to be his.” Christopher stepped between them. “Mom, it’s a prank. A Trial Day dare.” His mother gently patted Emma’s hand. “Well, personally, I hope this performance lasts forever.” Without a word, I walked straight to the bedroom and pulled out my suitcase. I’d barely folded two outfits before Christopher followed me in. “Grace, the whole pack is here. Don’t throw a fit now.” He dropped his voice. “Stay for dinner. Think of it as a warm-up celebration.” I shook off his hand and kept packing. “Tomorrow is the release for the final book in your Nightwalker trilogy. The whole team is coming. If you vanish tonight, the launch falls apart.” I paused. That trilogy had eaten three years of my life — countless sleepless nights tearing drafts apart and starting over from the first line. Before the script-rights transfer was fully sealed, a public split now would burn down everything I’d built. I closed the suitcase. “Fine. One meal.” Christopher brightened at once and walked into the living room to make his calls. I told myself this would just be a farewell dinner with the team. Not long after, Emma drifted to the kitchen doorway, leaning elegantly against the frame, swirling a glass of red wine. The tip of her white fox-tail curled lazily around her ankle. “Grace, since you’ve already signed the dissolution, the least you can do is play hostess one last time before you leave.” “Christopher runs himself ragged keeping the company afloat. You spend your days at home, scribbling away. The least you can do is help entertain the guests.” Christopher sat on the couch sipping his tea, silent. More than half of Apex Global Media’s core holdings — including the script concepts the major film studios fought to acquire — had been written line by line by me, inside this very apartment. And now, in her mouth, I had become dead weight who merely “scribbled away” at home. Victoria added her own voice. “The housekeeper has the day off. Darling, lend a hand. The guests will be at the door soon.” I didn’t want the team’s last memory of me to be a snarling match, so I rolled up my sleeves and walked into the kitchen. My stomach was still churning, and a dull ache twisted through my lower belly. I prepped the ingredients, watching the flame carefully before pouring oil into the pan. Emma hovered the whole time like a kitchen overseer. “Don’t use too much wine. Christopher can’t handle heavy tannins. Use the baby carrots for the side. Don’t make it look like some hill-country doe’s stew.” The editors began trickling in. Jamie, one of the junior editors, finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He pushed up his sleeves and started rinsing the greens, his retriever-ears flat with irritation against the back of his head. Emma stopped him with a polite, sharp little smile. “Sorry, Jamie. Touching things at someone else’s private party isn’t exactly proper etiquette for an editor. Are you trying to embarrass me in front of the guests?” The tips of Jamie’s ears flushed red, and he retreated to the living room. I set the final dessert delicately at the center of the long dining table. The doorbell rang just as I untied my apron. Emma ran for the door, and several delivery men hauled in massive insulated crates. “I figured Grace’s home cooking might not be refined enough for everyone’s taste,” Emma said, directing them to unpack. “So I went ahead and used Christopher’s card to order Michelin-star foie gras with black truffle, and caviar tarts.” The table filled quickly with extravagance. Without changing expression, Emma picked up the bowl of beef noodles I had just finished and dumped it into the trash to make room for her starred dishes. Christopher didn’t even look up. He handed her a wet wipe to clean her hands. “You’re always so thoughtful.” I took a step forward, and someone caught my sleeve. Jamie pushed his phone into my hand, his voice barely above a whisper. “Grace… look at this.” It was a cover proof sent to Jamie for review. Above my name, “Grace Quinn,” a second name had been added. “Emma Hart.”

I snatched the phone and held it up in front of Christopher. “Explain this. What is this?” Still smiling, Christopher came over, his tone so easy it was almost cruel. “Grace, my mistake. I forgot to mention it.” “I want you to share the byline with her. I already gave her my word. You love me, don’t you? You’ll grant such a small request, won’t you?” “That’s three years of my work. Why should I hand half of it to her?” My voice shook before I could lock it down. “You think you did all this alone?” Christopher raised his voice, though his tone still aimed for sincerity. “This was the whole team’s effort. Besides, Emma is a gifted writer I’ve been grooming for a long time. I’ve already poured massive resources into her. She just needs one successful book to rise overnight.” “So you’re using my work as her stepping stone?” Christopher finally lost patience. “Grace, stop being ungrateful. Every one of your books became a bestseller because I spent money pushing them to the top of every list. Without me, you’d be nothing in this industry. All I’m asking is for you to mentor a newcomer. What’s the big deal?” I stood up and looked him full in the face. “The copyright belongs to me. You have no right to put her name on it.” Emma walked over and wound herself around Christopher’s arm, her voice silk. “Darling, the food’s getting cold. Everyone’s waiting.” Christopher patted her hand, then looked at me. “Let’s eat first. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” I ignored everyone at the table, grabbed my keys, and walked out. By the time I reached the company tower, massive banners had already been hung the length of the lobby. Eighty percent of every display featured Emma — glamour portraits, a polished biography, juicy gossip about her and Christopher. My name had been pushed into a tiny corner. Marcus, the creative director and one of Christopher’s old running mates, lounged in his chair smoking, his lynx-ears half-flattened in boredom. “Grace, nothing I can do. Christopher called personally, had us working through the night. Besides, you’re all the same pack anyway. Does it really matter whose name is on top?” A chill ran the full length of my spine. Christopher’s “we’ll deal with it tomorrow” had been a stalling tactic, nothing more. I drove back to the apartment. The dinner guests had gone. Christopher and Emma sat on the couch watching television. “You had no right.” I stormed across the room. “That belongs to me.” Christopher didn’t even turn his head. “I’ll say this one more time. We’re only borrowing your name for a while. Once Emma is established, we’ll switch it back in the next edition.” Emma’s eyes reddened on cue. “Grace, this is all my fault. I won’t write anymore. Give the book back. I only wanted to help Christopher. He works so hard…” “This has nothing to do with you.” Christopher pulled her against him, protective. He looked up at me. “Promoting Emma is the company’s strategy. I hope you can be mature about it and stop treating it like a personal slight.” “I’ll say it again. The copyright is mine.” “Since you want to talk about rights so badly, Emma is my bonded mate now.” He pointed at the door. “If you can’t learn to muzzle yourself, maybe you should leave.” I yanked the dissolution out of my bag and threw it at his face. “I was already leaving tonight. There’s nothing left to sort out.” The papers caught him squarely across the nose. “So you do have a spine after all.” He covered his nose, fuming. “Since you’re so eager to walk out with nothing, I’ll freeze every joint account and credit card under your name. Right now.” He called building security. Two guards appeared at the door, clearly uneasy, their bear-ears pinned back with discomfort. Christopher pointed at me. “My contract with this woman is already dissolved. She came here to harass my mate and me. Get her out.” They locked their hands around my arms and dragged me toward the exit. “Grace, without me, you won’t last a week.” Christopher’s voice chased me down the hall. “I’ll wait for you to come crawling back tomorrow, begging me to rebond. As for the book — consider it your bonding gift to Emma.” The door slammed behind me. I stumbled on the curb and fell hard into a puddle of muddy water, my palms and knees sinking in. I pushed myself up, one hand braced over my stomach, and started walking toward the road. A van swung around the corner at full speed. Brakes shrieked through the night. Out of control, it came hurtling straight at me.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260701LYJs0hVKKd 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni664657”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix