1 After my brother-in-law died in a tragic car accident, my twin sister lost her mind. In her grief and confusion, she mistook my boyfriend for her late husband. My boyfriend, Simon, a leading trauma specialist, explained that she was experiencing a severe case of post-traumatic emotional transference. To help her heal as quickly as possible, he agreed to play the role of her fiancé. I, on the other hand, was pushed into the shadows, forced to become his secret, hidden girlfriend. At family dinners, no matter how intimate they behaved, I had to look away and pretend it didn’t hurt. My parents constantly reassured me: “Simon is the best trauma therapist in the state. He’s only doing this for her professional treatment. Don’t let your mind wander, Phoebe.” My older brother, Owen, would pull me away again and again. “The experts say that during these sessions, the fewer family members around, the better.” Until the day I went to Simon’s clinic to drop off some files. I happened to catch sight of my sister’s psychological evaluation report on the desk: Patient’s mental state and memory have fully recovered. No further treatment required. The date on the document was from three months ago. Clutching the paper with trembling hands, I turned to ask Simon about it, only to hear Hailey’s voice coming from inside his office. “Is it really fair for us to treat Phoebe this way?” My hand froze on the doorknob. Then came Simon’s casual, indifferent reply: “Even her parents are helping us hide it. She’ll never find out.” “Besides, she is too dependent on me. I won’t bring up a breakup. Keeping her around is my way of compensating her.” So the treatment was nothing but a grand lie, a collective excuse cooked up by my own family to keep me quiet and compliant. If that was the case, this shadow of a relationship, which would never see the light of day, was no longer worth waiting for. I walked back to the reception desk and handed the files to Sarah, the receptionist. Just as I turned to leave, the office door clicked open. Hailey emerged, her arm looped through Simon’s. Simon looked down at her and murmured something incredibly tender. Hailey giggled, blushing as she stood on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his cheek. I froze in the hallway. Simon had never allowed me to show any affection at his clinic. Even before Hailey’s accident, PDA was strictly forbidden. I had argued with him about it once, but he had dismissed my feelings entirely. “I’m a specialist, Phoebe, not a clerk. My patients are dealing with severe trauma and are constantly on the verge of collapsing. If they see me fooling around with my girlfriend in the office, they will question my professionalism.” Fearing I would jeopardize his career, I had never brought it up again. When Simon noticed me, his expression hardened for a fraction of a second before quickly returning to a neutral mask. “Phoebe? What are you doing here?” I remained silent. Sensing the tension, Sarah quickly intervened to clear the air. “Phoebe was just dropping off some paperwork, Doctor.” Simon nodded curtly. He guided Hailey past me, without offering me so much as a second glance. At the curb, a car was already waiting. Simon slipped his coat over Hailey’s shoulders, opened the door, and carefully shielded her head as she climbed into the passenger seat. “It’s chilly outside. I ordered you some warm ginger tea, make sure to drink it when you get home.” Hailey nodded obediently, her face flushed as she cast a cautious, fleeting glance in my direction. “Is Phoebe in a bad mood?” she whispered. Simon didn’t bother turning back to look at me. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just being difficult.” He leaned closer to whisper something in her ear. From my angle, they looked as though they were locked in a deep kiss. Just last week, I had been shivering with a 104-degree fever. When I called him, he had snapped at me over the phone. “Hailey is having a panic attack, I can’t leave her. You’re an adult, Phoebe, go to the hospital yourself. Stop causing drama when I’m trying to work.” He couldn’t care less about my burning fever, yet he knew Hailey’s cycle down to the exact day. As the car pulled away, Hailey waved through the window. “Bye, Simon!” Simon stood on the pavement, watching the car until it disappeared from view. When he finally turned around and saw me still standing there, his brow furrowed with irritation. “Why are you still standing here? Don’t you have work today?” “Simon,” I said, my voice quiet. “I need to ask you something.” He brushed past me, heading straight toward two waiting patients. “I’m not as free as you are. We’ll talk later, I have patients to see.” I had heard that exact phrase more times than I could count. “Oh, by the way,” he added, pausing at the door. “I’ll be taking Hailey to Key West for the next few days for a meditation retreat.” I stared at him, stunned. We had been together for five years, and we had never taken a single vacation. On our last anniversary, I had booked flights and a hotel, hoping to rekindle the romance between us. But he had looked at me with a cold, disgusted expression. “Your sister is suffering, and all you can think about is having fun?” he had sneered. “You love to boast so much, there’s no way you wouldn’t post about it on social media. If Hailey sees it and relapses, can you take responsibility for that?” I wanted to tell him that I had never been one to boast. I only wanted to hold my boyfriend’s hand in public, to feel like a normal couple. But even that had become a luxury. I looked at Simon, a tiny, foolish shred of hope still lingering in my chest. “I’ve never been to Key West. I want to come with you guys.” He looked at me, his gaze freezing cold. “Why would you come and mess things up? Do you want to trigger your sister? I am going there to work, Phoebe, not for a vacation.” With that, he ushered his patients into his office, leaving me alone in the lobby under the curious stares of the reception staff. I walked over to Sarah and asked to see the itinerary for the trip. On the list of travelers, my parents’ and Owen’s names were clearly written. Everyone was going except me. Tears finally spilled over, washing away the very last of my hope. After leaving the clinic, I called an old college classmate. “Lauren, is that international project of yours still looking for people?” When I arrived at my parents’ house, my mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Seeing me walk in, she gestured for me to come over. “Taste this, Phoebe.” I took a small sip of the broth and forced a smile. “It’s perfect, Mom.” My mother immediately took the spoon back and covered the pot. “Good. Don’t drink any more of it, I made this specifically for your sister.” I looked around the kitchen. The counters were covered in premium supplements and gourmet ingredients, but none of them were for me. My only welcome was a half-empty glass of cold water on the dining table. My mother kept bustling around, murmuring to herself. “Hailey is doing so much better lately, all thanks to Simon. He’s taking her on a trip to clear her mind. He really is such a responsible man.” I didn’t say a word. His sense of responsibility was reserved entirely for Hailey. Owen came downstairs, and seeing the printed itinerary in my hand, he snatched it away. “How did you get this?” I looked at him calmly. “How long were you planning on keeping this from me? Were you going to tell me right before you boarded the flight tomorrow?” Owen looked slightly uncomfortable. “It’s Hailey’s first long trip. She needs the whole family there to feel safe.” “Am I not part of this family?” Hearing the noise, my father stepped out of his study, his face dark with disapproval. “What kind of attitude is that? We are all family here. Your sister has suffered so much, it’s only natural that we give her extra care. Can’t you be a little more mature, Phoebe?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Does my happiness not matter at all?” My mother slammed her spoon down, the ceramic clattering sharply against the counter. “You are healthy, you have a good job, and you have a boyfriend as devoted as Simon. What more do you want? Your sister’s life is hanging by a thread, and her recovery depends entirely on Simon. Are you only going to be satisfied when she is driven to suicide?” I opened my mouth, but I found I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. That evening, Hailey posted a photo on her social media, tagging a high-end restaurant. She was surrounded by gifts, with our parents and Simon crowding around her, making her look like a beloved princess. Her caption read: “Another birthday, and you’re still by my side. When you’re with the one you love, every day is a holiday.” No one seemed to remember that Hailey and I were twins. Today was my birthday, too. When Simon and I first started dating, he would plan elaborate dates for every special occasion. But since I was forced into the shadows, I hadn’t celebrated a single birthday. Simon always told me: “Your sister needs to feel like she is uniquely cherished right now. If you celebrate with her, her happiness will be diminished, and it will hinder her recovery.” I had believed that lie for years. Under her post, the comments were filled with warmth. My mother wrote: “Your happiness is my greatest joy, Hailey!” My father added: “We are so lucky to have Simon. The perfect son-in-law!” Staring at the words perfect son-in-law, I bit my lip until I tasted copper, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to ask them why Hailey was still playing sick when she had already recovered. I wanted to ask Simon if his professional act had become his reality. I wanted to ask what my five years of silent misery had meant to them. But I already knew the answers. I wiped my tears and checked my phone. Lauren’s reply had come through. “Phoebe, I am so glad you’re on board. There’s a mandatory training session before we head out.” I looked at the flight ticket she had booked for me. The training session was in Key West. Outside the entrance of a luxury hotel in Key West, Simon had just opened the car door for Hailey when he spotted me standing in the lobby. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, marching over. “We didn’t invite you. Are you really so desperate that you followed us?” I ignored his hostility, dragging my suitcase toward the reception desk. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for a work conference.” Simon let out a mocking laugh. “What kind of work could you possibly have here? If you wanted to follow us, just admit it.” By then, my parents and Owen had gotten out of the car. Seeing me, their faces instantly fell. “Didn’t we tell you not to come? Do you have to ruin every family gathering?” “Book a flight back immediately. Don’t stay here and trigger your sister.” I pulled out my corporate badge and showed it to them. “My training is on a completely different floor, and my room is nowhere near yours. I have no intention of crossing paths with any of you.” I grabbed my luggage and turned to walk away. Suddenly, Hailey, who had been standing quietly in the background, swayed on her feet. She clutched her head, her face turning pale. “Simon, you promised me it would just be us,” she whimpered. “Seeing her makes me feel so unsafe. My head hurts so bad!” Before Simon could even speak, she spun around and ran frantically toward the beach. Owen and Simon immediately chased after her. Out on the jagged rocks of the shoreline, Hailey’s fragile figure stood against the crashing waves. One more step, and she would fall into the ocean. My mother rushed up to me, raising her hand and delivering a stinging slap across my right cheek. “Are you happy now, Phoebe? Do you really want to see your sister dead?” Holding my burning cheek, I watched the dramatic scene unfold on the rocks. I felt a cold amusement. “Stop acting, Hailey,” I called out, my voice carrying over the wind. “The ocean breeze is freezing. If you catch a cold, Simon will be worried sick.” Hailey’s eyes widened in sudden panic. She stumbled, her foot slipping on the wet stone. Before she could fall, Simon lunged forward, catching her in his arms and pulling her back to safety. Hailey clung to him, trembling and weeping against his chest. “Simon, it’s my fault… I’m so sorry…” Simon held her close, stroking her hair with gentle, soothing motions. “It’s not your fault, Hailey. You aren’t the one who needs to apologize.” He turned to glare at me, his eyes stripped of any warmth. “Phoebe, how many times do I have to tell you that she is fragile? You knew about the accident, and yet you deliberately tried to trigger her. She is your twin sister!” “Are you really so consumed by jealousy that you’ve lost your humanity?” My mother was shaking with rage. “How did I raise such a heartless, ungrateful child?” Simon lifted Hailey into his arms. As he brushed past me, he left me with one final command. “If you have any decency left, stay away from Hailey.” They walked away, a tight-knit family shielding their precious daughter, none of them offering a single look back at me. The ocean wind stung against my bruised cheek, but the pain was nothing compared to the quiet ache in my heart. I wiped my face, unlocked my phone, and typed out a message. “Simon, let’s break up.” Simon didn’t read it. He had always insisted on keeping our relationship completely hidden, which meant my notifications were muted so Hailey would never catch a glimpse of my name on his screen. My messages were always left unanswered; sometimes for a day, sometimes for weeks. Even when he did reply, it was never more than a few words. Only Hailey’s messages were pinned to the top of his chat. Only her texts received instant replies. Even during the rare moments we spent alone, if Hailey messaged him claiming she was having a panic attack, he would abandon me on a freezing street corner, driving off to rescue her. When my afternoon training session ended, I walked down to the hotel restaurant and saw Simon. He was sitting with my parents, all of them hovering attentively over Hailey. Seeing me approach, Simon immediately stood up, stepping protectively in front of Hailey. I looked at him, finding the display utterly pathetic. “Is she really so delicate that a single glance from me will drive her to jump into the ocean?” Simon’s expression darkened, and he hissed under his breath. “Phoebe! You’re crossing the line! What is wrong with you lately? You used to be so compliant.” “Can’t you just show some grace to your sister? Hasn’t she suffered enough?” I smiled. “I’ve shown her grace for five years.” “But what you’re asking is for me to remain your secret, hidden shadow of a girlfriend forever, just in case she never gets better.” “Enough!” Simon interrupted sharply, grabbing my wrist and dragging me toward Hailey. “Apologize to your sister right now!” My mother chimed in, her voice shrill. “Your sister is in this state, and you still want to pick fights?” “Apologize to her and we’ll let this go.” My father joined in, his face set in a stern, cold mask. “This is entirely your fault, Phoebe. You know how fragile she is, yet you keep tearing open her wounds. Is saying sorry really that hard for you?” I looked at them. Though they were standing right in front of me, it felt as though an impassable chasm had opened up between us. The other hotel guests were starting to stare. I looked directly into Hailey’s eyes, catching the faint glint of triumph hidden in her gaze. “Stop playing the victim,” I said, my voice clear and deliberate. “I saw your medical file at the reception desk. You recovered months ago.” The smugness on Hailey’s face shattered instantly, replaced by sheer panic. Simon went entirely still, staring at me in shock. Before he could demand an explanation, Hailey suddenly clutched her stomach and let out a sharp cry. “Simon! I’m scared! I’m scared she’s going to hurt the baby!” A cold shock ran through me. “She’s pregnant?” Simon’s expression crumbled into guilt. He avoided my gaze, his voice dropping to a defensive whisper. “She begged me to stay with her that night… I only did it because of her psychological state…” Before he could finish his pathetic excuse, Hailey burst into tears and ran out of the restaurant. The hesitation on Simon’s face vanished, replaced by sudden fury. “A storm is rolling in, and the shoreline is dangerous! If anything happens to her, it’s on you!” “We will deal with this later. Right now, you are going to go out there and find her, or we are finished!” Even now, he thought threatening me with a breakup was the ultimate punishment, believing I could never survive without him. He pushed me out of the warm lobby and into the pouring rain. The storm had rolled in, turning the shoreline pitch black. The heavy rain soaked me to the bone, but I had finally stopped waiting for a warmth that would never come. I walked away from the hotel, threw my SIM card into the black ocean, and booked a flight to London.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618638”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I had barely stepped into the courtyard of my apartment complex when a hand cut through the air, delivering a stinging slap right across my face. “You! It was you!” shrieked Mrs. Roberts, her face contorted with rage as she lunged at me. “You walked your dog without a leash last night, and that rabid beast of yours mauled my husband!” “He’s clinging to life in the hospital right now, and you are going to pay for this today!” I clutched my burning cheek, my blood boiling instantly. “Are you out of your mind? I don’t even own a dog! How could my dog have bitten your husband?” Without missing a beat, Mrs. Roberts whipped out her phone and began wailing to the gathering crowd, playing the victim. “Look at her, everyone! My husband is in the emergency room, and this dog owner is already trying to squirm out of it!” The surrounding neighbors erupted instantly. “How can she deny it after her dog mauled someone? What a monster!” “Call the cops! Don’t let this sociopath get away with it!” “Walking a dog without a leash and hurting people, she needs to be locked up!” Listening to the barrage of insults, I trembled with sheer fury. Me? Keep a dog? I was keeping a college student! A sweet, innocent little puppy of a boyfriend! … Suppressing my anger, I tried to reason with the crowd. “Listen to me, everyone. I don’t own a dog, so there is absolutely no way my non-existent pet bit anyone!” “I don’t even know this woman. She has clearly mistaken me for someone else!” Hearing this, Mrs. Roberts raised her voice by an octave, her screech piercing the air. “Bullshit! How could I mistake you for anyone else?” “I heard you with my own ears on the phone, telling someone how obedient and sweet your little puppy is!” “And then, that very night, my husband got attacked in the courtyard garden!” “You’re the only one in this entire building who talks about having a puppy! Who else could it be?” To back up her claim, she aggressively tapped her screen and played an audio recording. “Seriously, girl, that little puppy of mine is incredible! So sweet, but he’s got so much energy. And when he gets wild at night, like a total wolf, I couldn’t be happier!” Hearing my own voice blasting from her speakers, I nearly burst out laughing. To anyone with a shred of modern vocabulary, the slang was painfully obvious. “Hear that? She said it herself! It’s right there in the recording! She owns a puppy!” “Exactly! And she even called it a wolf! That must be a vicious, dangerous beast!” “Good heavens, how can someone be so shameless?” The absurdity of the neighbors’ reactions left me completely dumbfounded. “Wait, are you all living under a rock? Do none of you use the internet?” “When I said puppy and wolf, I didn’t mean actual…” Before I could finish, Mrs. Roberts lunged at me like a wild animal. I stepped aside just in time, and she went flying, hitting the pavement face-first. “Ow! Oh, the cruelty! What did I do to deserve this?” Seizing the opportunity, Mrs. Roberts sat right there on the concrete and began wailing at the top of her lungs, wiping away imaginary tears. “My poor husband! First he gets mauled by a dog, and now the owner is pushing me around! Where is the justice in this world?” The crowd, seeing her pathetic display, looked at me with renewed hatred. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Roberts, we’ve got your back!” “That’s right! Keeping a dangerous dog off-leash is a crime, especially when it attacks someone!” “Let’s call the police right now! Make sure she and her mutt get locked up!” “Absolutely! We can’t let her get away with this!” The neighbors chimed in, feeding off each other’s outrage. But the moment Mrs. Roberts heard the word police, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “No! Don’t call the police!” she cried out. “By the time the cops get here, my husband might be dead! I don’t care about the law right now, I just want her to pay for his medical bills! As long as she covers the hospital costs, that’s all I ask!” Watching her perform with plenty of noise but not a single tear, I cold-eyed her. “Mrs. Roberts, everything requires proof. You know better than anyone whether your husband was actually bitten by a dog.” Her face stiffened, her shifty eyes darting around. In the next second, she scrambled to her feet, only to drop straight to her knees right in front of me, sobbing hysterically. “Audrey, I beg of you, have some mercy! Save my husband!” “I won’t press charges for your dog attacking him. I just need a hundred thousand dollars for his surgery! Please, just give me the money to save his life!” She began banging her forehead against the ground, and within seconds, a trickle of blood appeared on her brow. The onlookers went completely wild at the sight. Several neighbors rushed to pull her up, turning to glare at me with venomous eyes. “Are you even human? Letting an elderly woman kneel and beg like this?” “You and your dog are cut from the same cloth, absolute garbage!” “Our community doesn’t want people like you! Get the hell out!” As the crowd’s anger reached a boiling point, a smug gleam flashed in Mrs. Roberts’s eyes. “Please, everyone, don’t say that. If we make her angry, my husband’s medical bills…” She made a show of trying to kneel again. I was speechless. I had never seen anyone so shamelessly desperate to scam someone. To prevent her from escalating this theater further, I spoke up, raising my voice to cut through the noise. “Everyone, look at the facts! The truth is not what you think!” “I do not own a dog. I can guarantee that to all of you!” “And as for Mrs. Roberts’s claims about a dog attack…” I paused, my gaze locking onto her cold and sharp. “Ma’am, I can let the fact that you slapped me slide for now. But if you utter another word of slander about my non-existent dog biting your husband, I will call the police and sue you for defamation immediately.” The sheer coldness in my voice finally silenced the crowd. Even Mrs. Roberts seemed startled, taking a half-step back. I honestly thought that would be the end of it. But that evening, Mrs. Roberts returned, this time leading a hostile mob of tenants to my front door. The man at the front pointed a finger right at my nose, shouting, “Audrey, you are going to pay Mrs. Roberts for her losses right now, and then you are going to take your dog and get the hell out of our building!” “Exactly! A beast like that should be put down!” “The owner is just as bad as the dog!” The accusations flew, their spit practically flying in my face. “Everyone, calm down and listen to me,” I said, raising my voice to command attention. “Since Mrs. Roberts is so absolutely sure my dog bit her husband, let me ask you this: where is the dog?” I swung my front door wide open. “Take a look for yourselves!” “She keeps claiming I have a dog in here. Look around. Is there a single trace of an animal in my home?” A few nosy neighbors leaned forward, peeking into my apartment. The place was spotless. The hardwood floors were immaculate, without a single stray hair, and the air was fresh, completely devoid of any pet odors. It looked entirely untouched by any animal. Whispers broke out among the crowd. “It really doesn’t look like she has a dog.” “Yeah, there’s no smell at all.” “Could Mrs. Roberts be making this up to get money?” “No way! Mrs. Roberts is always so sweet. She would never pull a stunt like that!” Sensing the shift in the air, Mrs. Roberts panicked. “Don’t let her trick you! She must have hidden the dog somewhere else!” “But I have proof! I have security footage right here on my phone!” She thrust her screen in front of everyone’s faces. In the grainy video, her husband was walking through the building’s garden when two dark shapes suddenly lunged at him, pinning him to the ground. A figure resembling me stood a few yards away, watching coldly. “Look! It’s her and her beasts! Who else could it be?” “That is complete garbage!” I snapped. “The person in that video isn’t me!” If you had even a basic understanding of modern technology, you would know how ridiculous this is! But my defense only provoked the neighbors further. “The proof is right there, and you’re still lying!” “How shameless can you be?” “You and your vicious pets are a menace!” I opened my mouth to explain that my puppy was actually my sweet, innocent college boyfriend, but I hesitated. The internet could be a toxic place, and dragging an innocent college student into a neighborhood dispute felt unfair to him. I forced myself to swallow the words. Taking my silence as a confession of guilt, Mrs. Roberts grew bolder. “See, everyone? The moment I show the footage, Audrey has nothing to say!” “It’s plain as day that her dog did this, yet she refuses to take responsibility!” Then, her tone shifted, wrapping herself in a cloak of false generosity. “But I’m not a cruel woman. Audrey, I’ll give you a chance to make things right.” “Just admit your dog bit my husband, cover all the medical expenses, and pay us five hundred thousand dollars for emotional distress, and we can put this behind us.” “I’ll even tell the neighbors it was all a big misunderstanding so you can keep living here in peace.” Looking at her smug, extortionate face, I trembled with fury. “Don’t think of me as harsh, dear. You only have your vicious dog to blame…” “Forget it!” I cut her off. “You won’t get a single penny from me!” “If you think you can blackmail me, you’re delusional!” With that, I slammed the door shut, locking them all out in the hallway. Muffled curses and insults still drifted through the door, but I didn’t care. I immediately called the property manager to lodge a formal complaint. Before long, the security guards managed to disperse the crowd. I spent the next hour organizing the audio recordings from earlier, ready to hand them over to my lawyer first thing in the morning. Yet, the next morning, a post titled “Spoiled Heiress’s Unleashed Dogs Maul Elderly Man, Owner Refuses to Pay” went viral online. In the video, Mrs. Roberts was weeping hysterically to the camera. “Please, everyone, help us…” “There’s a girl in our building named Audrey who keeps two wild, vicious dogs.” “She never uses a leash, and last night her beasts brutally attacked my husband!” “Now, she refuses to take accountability and even threatened to ruin our lives!” “My poor husband is fighting for his life in the ICU, waiting for a critical surgery. I beg of you, help us get justice…” She displayed photos of her husband in the hospital bed, interspersed with heavily edited clips of her kneeling before me while I coldly shut my door on her. The heart-wrenching sight of an elderly woman pleading for help instantly ignited the internet’s fury. “What an absolute monster! Is she even human?” “Walking dangerous dogs off-leash and acting like she owns the place?” “Lock her up and put those dogs down!” “Someone call the authorities immediately, she cannot get away with this!” Riding the wave of online outrage, Mrs. Roberts pushed her narrative even further in the comments. “To tell you the truth, my sweet children, I don’t even dare to report this to the police. Her family is incredibly wealthy and powerful, ordinary folks like us don’t stand a chance.” “I don’t want trouble. I just want her to cover the one hundred thousand dollars for his ICU bills. That’s all.” The internet took the bait hook, line, and sinker. Within hours, I was branded a cold-blooded attempted murderer, a spoiled brat abusing her privilege. Before long, internet vigilantes doxed my personal information. My phone buzzed incessantly with friend requests and hateful messages, each one more toxic than the last. Worse, someone leaked my exact apartment address. By afternoon, trash and red paint had been splattered across my front door. Then, my assistant called, her voice trembling. “Audrey, we have a massive crisis! The company’s public image is tanking, and several major partners have already sent termination notices for our upcoming projects!” That was the final straw. My blood ran boiling hot. In a single night, my home, my company, and my reputation had been completely dragged through the mud by a malicious, scheming old woman. I picked up my phone and dialed Toby, a close friend who worked at the city’s hospital. “Toby, I need a massive favor.” “Of course, Audrey. Name it.” “Can you look up the admission records and medical files for a patient who came in last night, an elderly man admitted by a Mrs. Roberts?” “On it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find something.” No sooner had I hung up than my boyfriend’s name flashed on my screen. “Audrey! Are you okay? I saw the videos online. I’m so worried about you.” His youthful voice was laced with panic. Hearing his genuine concern, a warmth bloomed in my chest, melting some of the icy anger. “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t worry. Just focus on your lectures today.” “No way! How can I focus when people are attacking you? I’m coming over right now!” His protective tone had a childish, clingy edge to it, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Alright. Just give me a call before you arrive.” As I hung up, a plan began to take shape in my mind. Since Mrs. Roberts was so incredibly convinced that I kept a couple of wild beasts, I might as well let her meet the actual beast himself. I hoped she was ready for him. By the time I walked down, the entrance of our building was swarming with reporters, internet live-streamers, and a small mob of self-righteous protesters holding up banners. “Justice for the Elderly! Put Down the Vicious Dogs!” Staring at the bold red letters, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Hello, I’d like to report a case of malicious harassment, defamation, and blackmail.” Within ten minutes, the wail of sirens echoed from down the street. Armed with the evidence I had compiled, I stepped past the lobby doors. The moment the crowd caught sight of me, they surged forward like a wave, thrusting cameras, microphones, and smartphones directly into my face. “Ms. Audrey, the internet says you let your unleashed dogs maul an elderly man and refuse to pay for his medical treatment. Is that true?” “Ms. Audrey, did you deliberately walk dangerous dogs off-leash in a public area?” “Are you avoiding responsibility because you think an elderly victim has no voice?” Their questions were sharp, designed to paint me as a heartless villain. I kept my expression calm, walking right past them. “Everyone, I have already contacted the authorities, and officers are on their way. I believe the police will uncover the truth and clear my name.” Right on cue, two police officers walked through the crowd. “Who called the police? What’s going on here?” “I did, Officer,” I said, stepping forward. “This woman, Mrs. Roberts, has falsely accused me of keeping dogs that allegedly bit her husband. She has fabricated stories online, leading to massive harassment against me.” “Her actions have severely disrupted my personal life and damaged my business reputation. I want to file charges for extortion and defamation.” “Officer, don’t believe a single word she says!” Mrs. Roberts shrieked, elbowing her way to the front. “Her rabid beasts mauled my poor husband! Now she’s trying to flip the script and call me a liar!” The officer raised a hand to calm Mrs. Roberts down before turning back to me. “Ms. Audrey, you claim she is extorting and defaming you. Do you have any proof?” “I do,” I replied, holding my ground. “Clear, indisputable proof.” Mrs. Roberts scoffed, though a hint of panic flickered in her eyes. “What proof could you possibly have?” The surrounding neighbors started chiming in again. “Officer, don’t let her talk her way out of this!” “We all heard her talk about those dogs!” “Arrest her and put those vicious animals down!” Just then, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced at the screen and then looked at the officers. “Officer, my key witness and evidence just arrived.” I swiped to answer. “Hey, babe, just walk right up to the front gate. I’m right here.” After hanging up, I addressed the crowd. “Mrs. Roberts has been insisting to everyone that my little puppy and wild wolf are the vicious animals that attacked her husband.” “Well, my sweet puppy just got here.” Hearing this, Mrs. Roberts looked as if she had been injected with adrenaline. “Officers, did you hear that? She just admitted it! Those rabid beasts are coming!” “Get your tasers out! Kill those monsters before they hurt anyone else!” But as the words puppy and wolf echoed in the air, the younger bystanders in the crowd exchanged bewildered, knowing looks. “Wait, puppy? Wolf? Is she using those terms the way I think she is?” “Oh, absolutely…” “No way…” Several reporters and internet hosts turned to stare at Mrs. Roberts with rising amusement. One female reporter couldn’t help but ask, “Ma’am, are you absolutely sure she keeps two actual dogs, and not… two human partners?” The police officers’ expressions turned thoroughly unimpressed. But Mrs. Roberts was completely oblivious to the slang, raising her chin triumphantly. “Of course I’m sure!” “She keeps two of them!” “One little puppy!” “One wild wolf!” “I heard her call them that myself!” She threw a smug, challenging look in my direction. An awkward, heavy silence settled over the crowd. A few reporters quietly lowered their microphones, exchanging embarrassed glances. Two minutes later, a tall, striking figure emerged from the edge of the street. I raised my hand and waved. “Right there!” “That’s my little puppy and my wild wolf!” Every eye in the crowd followed the line of my finger. In the next second, a collective, audible gasp rippled through the courtyard.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618637”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 When I caught my detective husband with his first love, I didn’t cry. I dragged his partner Marcus into my car and made the chassis rock till dawn. My husband kicked the door open, punched Marcus, and dragged me out by my hair. “She’s my wife! You’re my brother’s girl!” Marcus laughed wildly. “I like taking what’s yours.” They brawled across the precinct courtyard, blood painting the concrete. Their brotherhood shattered. One went south, the other north. I divorced my husband and married Marcus. For three years, he spoiled me rotten, guarding me like a rabid dog. Until I found out I was pregnant. Rushing to surprise him at the precinct, I caught his voice drifting from the stairwell. “Marc, ten months and you haven’t filed for divorce. Don’t tell me you actually fell for her?” Through the fire door crack, I saw Marcus leaning against the wall. “A piece of used, dirty laundry? Fall for that? Alice’s pregnant. She can’t take drama right now.” Detectives laughed. “Lillian has no clue. You played the doting husband for two years because Alice wanted her ex back and Lillian wouldn’t sign. You put on a whole show just to trick her into a divorce!” “All that jealous acting was just to keep her from crawling back to her ex and making Alice uncomfortable!” Marcus flicked his ash through the smoke, voice low and calm. “I already had a fake paternity test drawn up. Once her belly shows, I’ll shove it in her face, call it a bastard, and kick her straight to the curb.” … The rest of their words faded into a high-pitched ring. By the time my mind cleared, I was already standing outside the precinct gates, shivered by the biting wind. The pregnancy report that should have brought me tears of joy felt like a death warrant. My hands shook so violently the paper fluttered in the breeze. My phone screen lit up with a notification from him. Hey babe, the briefing wrapped up early. What do you want for dinner? I will cook. A hollow laugh escaped my lips, but my tears splattered hot against the glass screen. My chest felt as if a rusted blade had been driven straight through my heart and twisted. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, the warmth was gone, replaced by cold ash. I opened my contacts and sent a message to the State Bureau. Captain Garrett, is that transfer slot to the State Homicide Division still open? I want to apply. Then, I dialed the city hospital. “I need to schedule an abortion. The earliest slot you have.” Looking down, my lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. This time, I was going to vanish without leaving a single trace. 2 I do not even remember how I walked back to the precinct quarters. When I pushed the door open, Marcus was sitting on the living room sofa. The moment he saw me, he stood up, his face softening into that familiar, bone-deep tenderness. “You are back? I made pork rib soup. Have some while it is hot.” I didn’t refuse. I sat down and forced down a couple of spoonfuls. Suddenly, his phone screen lit up. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the preview, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. Marc, that soup is too greasy. I don’t want it. Take it back and feed it to your wife. It had been sent twenty-one minutes ago. The soup in my bowl instantly tasted like slop. I dropped the spoon, bolted to the bathroom, and collapsed over the toilet, dry-heaving violently. Marcus hurried in after me, gently rubbing my back. “What is wrong, babe? Feeling sick?” I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me. You are sleeping on the couch tonight.” By the time the sun came up the next morning, Marcus was already gone. I walked to the hospital alone for my scheduled appointment. The doctor looked over my file, checking twice. “Lillian, your uterine lining is extremely thin. If you go through with this, conceiving again will be nearly impossible. Are you absolutely sure?” I nodded, my voice completely flat. “I am sure. Do it.” The procedure was quick. Clutching my prescription, I turned to leave the ward when I collided with someone. The impact wasn’t hard, but my body was weak and hollow from the surgery. My knees gave out, and I slammed hard onto the floor. My forehead struck the sharp edge of a marble step, sending flashes of black across my vision. I forced myself to look up and saw the woman standing in front of me: Alice. She was clutching her stomach, sinking to the floor, her face as pale as a sheet. “Alice!” Two figures charged forward at almost the exact same second. Dominic reached her first, throwing his arms around her shoulders, his voice tight with panic. Close behind him was Marcus. He held a prenatal checkup file in one hand and a bag of fresh fruit in the other, filled with Alice’s favorites. “Dominic… my stomach hurts so much…” Alice sobbed, burying her face in Dominic’s chest. Without a word, Dominic scooped her up in his arms and sprinted toward the ER. Marcus stood half a step behind them, his outstretched hand freezing in midair. A sharp, stabbing cramp ripped through my lower abdomen, breaking me out in a cold sweat. As I tried to push myself up off the floor, a heavy black canvas bag was slammed down over my head, plunging me into absolute darkness. Before I could even scream, a brutal kick caught me square in the stomach. The agonizing pain choked the sound right back down my throat. I curled into a tight ball, catching Marcus’s voice drifting through the heavy fabric. It was cold enough to freeze blood. “Drag this blind bitch to the back alley. Teach her some manners. She needs to learn who she is allowed to bump into.” A few rookie officers grabbed the bag and dragged me down the damp concrete alleyway. Because I was wearing a hood and a surgical mask post-surgery, he hadn’t recognized me. I thrashed wildly, but a heavy boot pinned my back to the ground, and the hard thud of tactical batons began raining down on my ribs. The officers chatted casually as they swung. “Man, Chief Marcus really has a thing for Alice. She gets bumped, and he loses his mind. I don’t think his actual wife ever got this kind of treatment.” “No kidding. Did you know that when Lillian took those fifty disciplinary lashes years ago, it was Chief Marcus who personally requested them from Internal Affairs?” “He even specifically told them to use the rubber-wrapped steel batons. Said it was a little punishment for dragging her feet on the divorce and upsetting Alice.” A violent ringing erupted in my head, like a flashbang exploding in my skull. Those fifty blows that had nearly ended my life years ago, the ones that made me view him as my savior, had been ordered by Marcus himself? The very last spark of light in my soul died right there in the dirt. 3 When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a sterile hospital room. Through the glass panel of the door, a row of officers was lined up, heads bowed. “A bunch of useless idiots! You couldn’t even recognize your chief’s wife?” The door pushed open. Marcus walked in, the residual fury still lingering in his eyes. Seeing me awake, he hurried to my bedside, his voice dropping into that soft, gentle tone. “Lily, you are awake? I have already suspended those idiots. Are you still in pain?” He reached out to brush the stray hair from my forehead, but I jerked my head away. His hand froze in the air. He let out a soft sigh. “It is my fault. Everything was a mess, and I didn’t recognize you. I am so sorry you had to go through that. Hey, didn’t you always want to recuperate in Savannah? I cleared my schedule for the next two weeks. I will go with you, okay?” I stared at him, my throat raw and dry. “No need. If you are so worried about Alice, why aren’t you with her?” Marcus stiffened. “I know you don’t like her, Lily. But her father is the State Deputy Director, and our joint task force is in the middle of a massive operation. If anything happens to her, the whole case falls apart. Besides, she is pregnant now. What happened in the past is ancient history. You are not still keeping score over her and Dominic, are you? You have to look at the bigger picture.” A wave of fury burned in my chest, but before I could speak, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was the State Bureau’s personnel department. “Lillian, your transfer to the State Homicide Division has been approved. You report for duty next week.” Marcus’s sharp ears caught the word “transfer.” His brow furrowed instantly. “What transfer?” “Nothing,” I muttered into the receiver, telling the caller I understood before hanging up. “Just some staff scheduling.” After a few days in the ward, I was discharged. The day of the City Homicide Conference finally arrived, and I had stayed up all night polishing my case analysis report. The auditorium was packed with detectives from various precincts, with cameras lined up in the front row. I took a deep breath, preparing to step up to the podium. Suddenly, the double doors of the conference room were kicked open. Marcus marched in, his face masked in a terrifying blend of cold anger. Striding onto the stage, he grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. “Lillian, how many times do I have to tell you to let the past go? You married me. Why the hell are you still stalking Dominic?” “Let go of me!” Wincing at the pain, I struggled. “Stalking? I don’t have a clue what you are talking about!” Before I could finish, a stinging slap landed across my face. Alice appeared on the stage out of nowhere, her beautiful face twisted in a mixture of disgust and triumph. “Still playing innocent? Fine! Let us show everyone what a desperate, pathetic bitch you really are!” A few technicians hurried to the control panel. Within seconds, my case report was wiped from the projector screen, replaced by screenshots of intimate messages. Dominic, I still love you. I don’t care about Marcus. Please take me back. What does that bitch Alice have that I don’t? She is just a homewrecker. Once you are bored of her, you will realize I am the only one who belongs with you. The texts were vulgar and humiliating. Scattered between them were several explicit, face-cropped photos of a woman whose body looked identical to mine. The entire room erupted into whispers and gasps. I yanked my hand out of Marcus’s grip. “This isn’t me! I am calling Internal Affairs right now!” As I pulled out my phone, Alice suddenly gasped, clutching her stomach as her face drained of color, her body listing backward. Marcus caught her before she hit the floor. Leaning weakly against him, Alice gasped for air, then suddenly pointed a trembling finger at the screen. “Wait. Look at the photo. That woman has a crescent-shaped scar on her chest. Lillian, if you claim it is not you, strip. Let us see.” A couple of junior officers stepped forward, forcing me down to my knees on the stage. I looked up, my eyes burning red as I stared directly at Marcus. “You are my husband, Marcus. Do I have a scar like that on my chest?” Marcus frowned, his voice cold and logical. “Lily, Alice is pregnant. She cannot handle this kind of stress. What is the harm in letting her check? Besides, if rumors spread that you are stalking your ex, your reputation is ruined anyway. Checking right now settles it for everyone.” He gave a slight nod to the officers. The officers pinned me, tearing open my shirt. I fought with everything I had, but my weak, post-op body was no match for them. When they ripped the fabric away, my chest was exposed to the entire room. My skin was smooth, pale, and entirely devoid of any crescent scar. Camera shutters clicked like rapid gunfire, the flashing lights blinding me. Every gaze in the room sliced into me like a knife. What was supposed to be my professional triumph had been turned into a public execution. Alice whimpered and collapsed into a feigned faint. Marcus didn’t spare me another look. He scooped her up in his arms, threw a cold command to the officers to escort me back, and sprinted out of the auditorium without looking back. 4 I was dragged back to the quarters. The official notice arrived shortly after: immediate suspension pending investigation. Overnight, my reputation was in tatters. I had nothing left. Shaking, I dragged myself to the nightstand, grabbed the bottle of prescription sleeping pills, and dumped a handful into my palm. I was raising them to my mouth when the door flew open. Marcus stormed in, ripping the bottle from my hand. “Are you out of your mind? You trying to kill yourself?” I let out a jagged laugh, tears streaming down my face. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” During my years with Dominic, insomnia had nearly driven me mad, and these pills had been my only escape. It was Marcus who had pulled me out of that dark hole, staying up with me night after night until I was finally clean. And now, he was the one shoving me back down, deeper than before. Marcus scoffed, tossing the bottle onto the table. “Cut the drama, Lily. The misunderstanding was cleared up, wasn’t it? Save these cheap suicide threats for Dominic. They don’t work on me.” Unable to hold back, I swung my arm and slapped him across the face. The sharp crack echoed through the quiet room. His head jetted back, a dark red mark rising on his cheek. Anger flared in his eyes, but looking at my tear-stained face, he suppressed it. Just then, his phone rang. He listened for a brief moment, and his expression turned grim. “Get in here! Pin her down!” Two officers burst through the door, pinning my arms and forcing me onto the sofa. A cold dread crept up my spine. Marcus’s face was pale. “Alice collapsed again. She is unconscious, and the baby is in critical condition. The doctor says she has severe anemia.” He glared at me. “You are going to give her a transfusion.” “No!” I screamed, thrashing wildly, but the officers held me down like a vice. I was dragged to the clinic. My arm was bound with a rubber tourniquet, and a thick needle was jammed roughly into my vein. Dark red blood surged through the clear plastic tubing, filling bag after bag. My vision began to blur. Cold sweat coated my skin, and my lips turned a ghostly white. “Please… stop… I cannot take any more,” I whimpered. The nurse on duty frowned, looking at Marcus. “Chief, we have exceeded the safe limit. Any more and she will go into shock.” Marcus didn’t even blink. His voice was as cold as a scalpel. “Keep drawing.” My movements grew sluggish, and the darkness closed in. By the time they finally pulled the needle out, they had taken five bags of my blood. I collapsed onto the cold tile floor, my breathing shallow and weak. Marcus stood over me, looking down at my broken form. After a long silence, he sighed. “Lily, Alice is carrying a child. Just bear with it. I will arrange for you to stay at a retreat in Savannah for a while. Once she delivers, I will bring you back. You always wanted a family, right? When this is over, we will have our own.” He paused, adjusting his collar. “Rest up. I am going to check on her.” He turned and walked away toward Alice’s room without a single backward glance. As the door clicked shut, the very last trace of warmth in my heart died. Like a discarded doll, I let the nurse lift me into a wheelchair and wheel me out of the clinic. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a message from the State Bureau. Lillian, I heard about what happened today. Don’t worry, I have got your back. Get ready to move out. Tears dripped onto the screen, blurring the text. With trembling fingers, I typed out a single word: Yes. An hour later, I stood in the airport departure lounge. My face was pale as death, a cotton ball taped over the fresh puncture wound in the crook of my elbow. My phone rang. It was Marcus’s partner. “Lillian, the ticket to Savannah is booked. Should I have a cruiser pick you up?” “No need,” I said softly, looking out at the overcast sky. “Do me a favor and give the small metal box in my dresser to Marcus. And please… don’t call me that anymore.” I hung up and walked toward security. It was finally over. The curtain had fallen on Marcus’s grand play, and I was going to reclaim my life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618636”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Alex walked in as I finished my diary entry: He wants pork chops. Remember to buy some tomorrow. At the door, he knelt to place slippers at his lab assistant Vivian’s feet. They nodded at me, passing by to discuss data I couldn’t follow. Feeling like a stranger in my own home, I retreated to the kitchen, slicing fruit. When I returned, Vivian was flipping through my journal. “Isla, I had no idea you were such a devoted housewife. You actually kept a daily journal just for Alex.” Mock pity dripped from her tone as she ripped it in half. “Let me help you find your independence.” Panic seized me. I lunged, but Alex shoved between us, batting my hands away. “What is wrong with you? It is just a stupid notebook!” He scoffed. “Vivian is right. Why waste time on useless garbage?” Vivian giggled. “It says here you actually sobbed and begged a doctor when she got sick.” Alex’s face flushed crimson. “Why record every private detail? Scribbling nonsense all day, no wonder you haven’t found a job!” Terrified she’d dig up more, he snatched the remaining half, tore it to shreds, and tossed it in the trash. I watched him usher her out, tears streaming. He had no idea. Without that journal, by tomorrow, I would completely forget who he was. 1 I do not know when the illness began. At first, it was just a random morning. I woke up, looked at Alex heating up a mug of milk, and asked in confusion, “Alex, aren’t we going to that popular brunch spot we booked weeks ago? Why are you making breakfast?” Alex paused and glanced at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Isla, are you still half-asleep? We went to that bistro yesterday. You complained that the eggs were overcooked and swore you would never go back.” It was only when he saw the sheer blankness in my eyes that panic set in. He wrapped a coat around my shoulders and dragged me straight to the emergency room. When the doctor asked questions and realized my entire memory of the previous day was completely gone, Alex lost his mind. Terrified that I was dying of some incurable disease, he grabbed the doctor’s hand, tears spilling over. “Please, doctor, you have to save her. I will give my own life if I have to!” But after a battery of scans and blood tests, the hospital found absolutely nothing. They eventually chalked it up to stress, calling it a case of temporary, psychogenic amnesia. Alex was terrified. For a week, he refused to leave my side, taking a leave of absence from his university lab just to monitor me. It was only after seven incident-free days that I finally managed to coax him back to his research. But the peace didn’t last. Shortly after he returned to school, the strange fog rolled back into my brain. This time, a whole week of my life was completely erased. I could not bring myself to tell him. Instead, I went back to the clinic alone. Again, the tests came up clear. Dr. Bennett was baffled, only able to prescribe some mild sedatives and advise regular checkups. Back at the apartment, I stared at the front door, paralyzed. I knew Alex. If he found out I was getting worse, he would drop his thesis and spend every waking hour hovering over me. But I could not let my broken mind derail his dreams. I could not let my fading memories ruin his future. To protect him and save myself, I started keeping a journal. Starting from the day we met, I meticulously transcribed every detail of our life together, anchoring my soul to those pages. But my condition only accelerated. At first, the gaps were small and random. Then, the blackouts became more frequent, swallowing larger chunks of my past. Eventually, I woke up one morning to find my mind frozen at eighteen, before I had ever met Alex. It was only through that battered journal that I was able to piece myself back together. Job hunting became impossible. I claimed I was freelancing, hiding in the safety of our apartment, caught in an endless loop of forgetting and relearning my own life. I tried to reason with myself. Our fight was just a misunderstanding. Alex didn’t know about my disease, so he thought I was just acting crazy. Once I told him the truth, he would understand why the journal mattered, and we would make up. I ran out of the bedroom, catching him at the front door. He was holding their coats, murmuring gentle reassurances to Vivian. Seeing them about to leave, I called out, “Wait! Alex, please, I need to tell you something. I kept that journal because… because I am sick.” 2 Hearing my words, Alex froze. When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were instantly flooded with worry. “Isla, when did you get sick? Why didn’t you tell me? Is it serious? What did the doctor say?” Seeing his panic, a small weight lifted from my chest. I knew it. He had only snapped because his pride was wounded in front of his junior colleague. But before I could speak, Vivian rolled her eyes, her sigh dripping with irritation. “Isla, please don’t tell me you are going to claim you have depression. I stopped using that excuse back in high school. True clinical depression is agonizing. People fight for their lives every day against their own minds. They don’t just use it as a convenient excuse whenever things don’t go their way.” Hearing her words, Alex’s expression hardened again. He scanned me from head to toe, his brow furrowing. “Isla, if you are actually sick, show me your medical records. I will go to the clinic with you.” But there were no medical records. The doctors couldn’t find a cause, so they had never given me an official diagnosis. Seeing me freeze, Alex assumed Vivian had caught me in a lie. Anger flared in his eyes. “Isla, you are seriously fabricating an illness just to make me feel guilty? You sit at home all day doing absolutely nothing, how could you possibly be depressed? I only told you to get a job so you would stop wasting your life, and this is how you manipulate me?” “No, Alex, listen to me…” I reached out, desperate to explain. But his mind was made up. He saw me as a liar playing the victim. Casting one last disappointed look at me, he opened the door and walked out with Vivian. I stood there staring at the closed door, my legs trembling. Finally, I dragged myself back to the bedroom and fell to my knees by the trash can, picking out the shredded scraps of my journal. I smoothed them out, trying to piece the puzzle of my life back together, but many fragments were torn too finely to salvage. Clutching the salvaged pages, I sat on the living room sofa to wait. I knew he would come home. No matter how vicious our arguments had been over the years, he never stayed out overnight because he knew I would worry. Once he returned and we were alone, he would listen to me. It was past midnight when the key finally turned in the lock. Alex walked in, exhaustion written across his face. He didn’t even glance at me sitting on the sofa, walking straight toward the guest bedroom. I sprang up and grabbed his wrist. “Alex, please. I wasn’t lying. I am really sick.” He paused, but when he realized I was still clinging to the same excuse instead of apologizing, his frustration boiled over. He whipped around to glare at me. “Fine, Isla. You want to play this game? Tomorrow we are going to the hospital, and we will let the doctors run every test until we find out exactly what is wrong with you!” He violently shook off my grip. “I am exhausted. I am going to bed.” Panic surged through me as I watched him walk away. Tomorrow would be too late. But Alex had already shut the door of the guest room, and a sharp click told me he had locked it from the inside to keep me out. I knew I should let him rest. He was tired, and arguing would solve nothing. But I had no time. The remaining scraps of my journal weren’t enough. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to piece together the twenty-four-year-old woman who loved Alex. The realization that I might wake up tomorrow with no memory of him brought a sharp, physical pain to my chest. Clutching my heart, I slumped against the locked door, tears blurring my vision. “Alex, please, just talk to me. I know you are angry, but I swear I am not lying to you.” Silence greeted me from the other side. No shouts, no complaints, just a heavy, suffocating quietness that seemed to press down on my shoulders. I sobbed silently, the tears choking my throat. Finally, the door swung open. But Alex’s face held no warmth, only a cold irritation that made him look like a total stranger. “Isla, when is this going to end? I have told you a thousand times that I am tired. I have to be in the lab early tomorrow. Can’t you show a single shred of consideration for my work? Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow!” He practically roared the last sentence in my face. I stared at the man standing before me, my heart aching. This wasn’t the Alex from my journal. The man I knew would never treat me with such hostility. Recalling how he had shielded Vivian earlier, the question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Alex, do you still love me?” 3 Alex’s brow furrowed so deeply a vein began to throb at his temple. “If I didn’t love you, would I still be standing here listening to this nonsense? Would I tolerate you humiliating me in front of my colleague? I don’t get you, Isla. When did you become so exhausting?” His cold, critical gaze forced me back a step. Exhausting? He blamed me for changing, but what about him? “Alex, you once promised that you would always believe me, no matter what. Was that a lie? Did you forget the vow you made three years ago when we almost broke up? You swore we would always sit down, listen to each other, and never let misunderstandings tear us apart.” He had even recorded those words on his phone, calling it the foundation of our relationship. I clung to those memories from my journal, but Alex merely scoffed. “Isla, you kept me awake just to bring up some ancient history? I have been working seventy hours a week at the lab. I deleted those useless files ages ago.” I looked up, meeting his impatient eyes, and a shudder ran through my body. Useless. Our promises were useless to him now. What was the point of me clinging to these memories, reviewing them night after night like a desperate student? “Then what actually matters to you, Alex? If our promises don’t matter, does Vivian?” Alex answered without a second thought. “Vivian is brilliant, hard-working, and ambitious. Look at yourself, Isla. You sit around all day doing nothing. How can you even compare yourself to her?” The moment the words left his mouth, a flash of regret crossed his eyes. Seeing me stand there in silence, he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Isla, I didn’t mean to snap. I am just under a lot of pressure at the lab. If you are done, go to bed.” Without waiting for a response, he quietly closed the door. His muffled voice came through the thick wood. “Goodnight, Isla. We will talk tomorrow.” I turned away, my vision blurring. Alex, there is no tomorrow for us. Clutching the half-assembled journal, a bitter doubt took root in my mind. Was this diary just a collection of lies I told myself? Was his love for me merely a delusion I had fabricated? Why did the real Alex feel so entirely different from the man in these pages? On my way to the bedroom, I noticed a sticky note affixed to the refrigerator door. Vivian often skips breakfast and gets dizzy. Remember to bring her some food. I stared at it. My journal used to contain notes just like that, written in his precise handwriting, but every single one of them had been addressed to Isla. Alex had deleted our voice recordings, discarded our history, and now, even his sweet gestures belonged to someone else. I no longer had a place in his life. Maybe it was time to stop lying to myself with this journal. I took the reconstructed journal back to my desk, ripped it into tiny shreds, and tossed them back into the wastebasket. If Alex no longer loved me, then I had no reason to force myself to become the twenty-four-year-old woman who adored him. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes, letting sleep pull me under. I stood back and let the memories drift away, watching the image of Alex fade until he vanished entirely from my life. When the morning sun filtered through my eyelids, I stirred awake. My hand instinctively reached toward the nightstand, feeling as if something important should be there, but finding only empty wood. Shaking off the brief moment of confusion, I stretched, threw open my bedroom door, and called out, “Mom! Dad! What is for breakfast?” But there was only a strange man sitting on the living room sofa. At the sound of my voice, his expression darkened. “Isla, are you seriously acting like a child? We had a small fight, and now you are calling your parents?” Terror seized me. I took several steps back toward my bedroom, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618635”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Reborn. I willingly gave up my coveted spot to accompany my diplomat-in-training wife on her overseas fellowship to Geneva. I packed my entire life into a single duffel bag and headed back to my rust-belt hometown, putting as much distance between us as humanly possible. Because in my previous life, she spent a drunken, blurry night with her junior colleague, and the coward refused to take responsibility. I stepped out of the crowd, took the blame, and married her to save her reputation. She put my ring on her finger, but she froze me out for the rest of my miserable life. I spent agonizing nights bleeding over foreign language textbooks just to keep up with her world, only for her to rip the pages right out of my hands. “You could study for a century and never have Preston’s natural talent.” Our mandated once-a-month time in bed was a masterclass in numb endurance. “Read a book for once. Preston would never be a slave to base biological urges.” Even when she was arranging her final affairs, she explicitly forbade me from sharing her cemetery plot. I stood in the freezing rain and looked at her headstone. It read: “Beloved Wife of Preston.” That was the moment the gut-punch landed. I finally realized I was nothing but a pathetic, disposable prop in her grand love story. Given a second chance at life, I opened my eyes on the exact morning after she and Preston shared their little night of passion. This time, I did not step up to be her knight in shining armor. I rode the wave of chaos and dumped her on the spot. 1 “Victoria, isn’t Jason your boyfriend? What the hell are you doing tangled up with Preston!” “Getting caught in the act like this is a damn disgrace. Get out of bed and march down to city hall before you ruin the company’s image!” A crowd of coworkers clustered outside the company housing units, their whispers buzzing like a hive of angry hornets. Victoria clutched a cheap polyester sheet to her chest. Her face was entirely flushed, her vocal cords paralyzed by sheer humiliation. Preston, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to scrub his own skin off just to avoid being linked to her. He frantically yanked up his slacks, shooting her a look of pure, unadulterated panic. “Victoria, you know I signed a five-year morality and non-compete clause with the firm! If corporate HR escalates this, my career is dead in the water!” In my past life, I had walked into this exact scene while bringing Victoria her morning coffee. My heart had shattered into a million jagged pieces. Like a fool, I had rushed into the room, covered up her dirty laundry, and offered her a wedding ring to kill the rumors. If getting blindly drunk was just an accident, then how could anyone explain the sickeningly sweet, flushed look Victoria was giving Preston as she silently begged him to claim her? I had braved the hurricane of office gossip to make her my wife, only to be rewarded with half a lifetime of glacial indifference. This time around, my feet stayed firmly planted in the hallway. I crossed my arms and watched the fire burn. The whispers grew into loud jeers. The crowd of spectators thickened by the second. Preston was pacing like a caged rat. The second his panicked eyes locked onto me in the doorway, he jutted a trembling finger in my direction. “I have perfect self-control! Someone must have slipped something in my drink!” “Yesterday, Jason brought Victoria a bottle of water. Right after we drank it, we completely lost our minds.” “Jason, you sick bastard! You wanted to trap Victoria into a shotgun wedding, but you ended up destroying both of our reputations instead!” In a heartbeat, the crowd’s judging, disgusted glares pivoted away from the bed and zeroed in on me. Victoria, fueled by shame and a desperate need for a scapegoat, unleashed her venom in my direction. “Why are you just standing there humiliating yourself!” “Get your ass to the director’s office right now and confess to what you did!” “Are you trying to get me and Preston fired because of your toxic jealousy?!” She knew damn well what really happened last night. But over the years, tossing Preston’s messes onto my shoulders had become her favorite reflex. When Preston lost classified client files on a bender, she filed an anonymous tip claiming I was the office thief. When Preston trashed an expensive piece of lab equipment, she screamed at me until my ears rang, forcing me to take the write-up. The endless river of false accusations had eroded my soul. But playing the sacrificial lamb for Preston was a script I was ripping to shreds today. I calmly pulled my stamped timecard from my jacket pocket and held it up to the light. “I was pulling an overnight shift at the manufacturing plant until six this morning. Tell me exactly when I managed to sneak in here and hand you a water bottle.” “The truth is, you two locked yourselves in a room together in the dead of night. Whatever happened is on you.” My words flipped the script. The crowd’s murmurs instantly changed their tune. “What kind of decent woman spends the whole night in a bachelor’s apartment? And this isn’t even Victoria’s first time!” “Honestly, Jason is the real victim here. These two have been playing him for an absolute fool.” Seeing the jury of public opinion swing my way, Preston immediately turned on the waterworks. “Jason, man, it is so messed up that you orchestrated this whole crowd just to frame my relationship with Victoria!” “Forget about my reputation, but Victoria is your girl! Don’t you even care about dragging your own lady through the mud?” What a toxic, silver-tongued snake. I had been standing there for less than three minutes, yet he was already painting me as the mastermind who rallied a mob to sabotage his golden career. They were caught sweating in the same bed, and he still had the audacity to say I was framing them. It was genuinely laughable. Victoria cared about his corporate ladder more than her own pulse. Terrified that this scandal would cost him his job, she went into full panic mode. She reached out, gripping his hand tightly to soothe him. “Preston! None of this is your fault. Don’t worry, the person truly responsible will face the consequences!” Then, her eyes turned to dead winter as she glared at me. She bared her teeth. “Are you happy now?! Get out of my sight and start scraping together a dowry to marry me!” “If this little stunt of yours leaves a single scratch on Preston’s career, you can kiss any chance of being my husband goodbye!” Just as I suspected. To her, I was nothing more than a pathetic backup plan. A safety net made of garbage. I let out a low, mocking laugh. “Preston won’t even touch you in the daylight. What makes you think I want his leftovers?” “We are done, Victoria. Have a nice life.” 2 The scandalous details of Victoria and Preston’s wild night spread through the corporate campus like wildfire. The executive directors dragged them both into a closed-door meeting. Word on the floor was that upper management gave them an ultimatum. One of them had to pack their desk and leave. I headed straight to the HR department, handed in my resignation, and walked back to my apartment. Victoria was already waiting in my living room. She shot me a venomous glare, her voice dripping with entitlement. “Preston is getting fired. I hope you are proud of yourself.” “If you had just been a man and admitted you spiked the drinks, none of this nightmare would be happening!” In the past, I had always shrunk myself down to make her feel huge. She was entirely used to looking down on me from her imaginary pedestal. The old Jason would have been on his knees begging for forgiveness by now. But today, the only thought echoing in my skull was, “Why the hell should I?” “I didn’t drug anyone, so why would I confess to a felony?” “Preston is getting fired because he lacks basic professional morals. That is not my problem. Besides, we are officially broken up. Get the hell out of my apartment.” Victoria froze. A flicker of genuine shock shattered her cold facade. But the moment her eyes caught the stamped resignation papers on my coffee table, her arrogant smirk returned. “Oh, I see. You quit your job to give your position to Preston just to win me back. You can drop the tough guy act now, it is getting pathetic.” Assuming Preston’s career was saved, her mood shifted. Her tone lost a fraction of its icy edge. “Fine. I will forgive you for publicly disrespecting me yesterday.” “Have five thousand dollars ready in cash, plus some decent jewelry, and I will let you marry me.” I let out a harsh laugh, picking up the paperwork and shoving it directly in her face. “Read the fine print, Victoria. I am quitting. I am not transferring my role to Preston.” “And I would rather drink glass than marry you.” She snatched the papers from my hand, her eyes going wide as she scanned the official stamps. She slammed the documents down on the table. “Jason! You are taking this way too far!” “Preston was right about you! You saw me hit a rough patch, and now you are abandoning the woman who stood by you to go chase some cheap thrill!” “Yesterday was just an accident! People make mistakes! What kind of blood sacrifice do you want from me before you let this go!” There it was again. Preston said this. Preston said that. In my previous life, I merely said a polite hello to a new female intern. Preston immediately whispered in Victoria’s ear, claiming I was flirting and sleeping around behind her back. She didn’t even give me a chance to speak. She swallowed his poison instantly. She stormed into the regional manager’s office, screaming that I was a serial cheater. She even filed a formal complaint with the ethics board. I was almost dragged out by security and blacklisted from the entire industry. I was supposed to be her partner, but my words held less weight than dirt. Now, she had literally hopped into bed with another man, and she expected me to brush it off as a minor clerical error. Whatever Preston spat out was the absolute gospel. Whatever I said was just white noise. “Save your breath. I already told you. We are done.” Victoria’s chest heaved violently. She let out a chilling sneer. “Okay, fine! We are done! But you are going to give back every single gift I have ever bought you over the years!” Watching her try to play the extortion game, I just scoffed. I walked over to a cardboard box in the corner, dug around, and tossed two pairs of plain cotton socks and a single, mismatched winter glove onto the table. She looked at the pathetic pile in absolute disbelief. “Where is the rest of it?! Don’t try to hide my things from me!” “That is all of it. You threw these two pairs of socks at me because they came free when you bought Preston’s winter coat. And this glove is the one Preston decided he didn’t like.” My eyes locked onto hers, filled with razor-sharp irony. “Six years, Victoria. Six years, and this is the grand total of your generosity.” Her face burned scarlet. The undeniable proof of her selfishness sat right there on the wood, stripping away her pride. Having absolutely zero evidence to fight back with, she puffed up her chest, trying to mask her burning guilt with sheer volume. “You are lying! I know there is more!” “What about that vintage heirloom bracelet your mother promised me! She said it was mine, which means I keep it even if we break up!” “That antique is worth a fortune. I am going to pawn it so I can fund Preston’s fellowship application for Geneva!” So that was it. The real reason she graced my apartment with her presence today was to squeeze me dry to save Preston’s overseas dreams. The talk about marriage, the dowry, the gifts. It was all a cheap manipulation tactic. A heavy, suffocating disappointment settled in my chest. I pointed a rigid finger at the front door and roared. “You are never touching my mother’s bracelet! Get the hell out of my house, right now!” “You will regret this, Jason. Just wait!” 3 The factory director told me that as soon as I returned the five thousand dollars in corporate petty cash, my resignation would be finalized. It was leftover money from a mechanical parts order, and I had kept it locked securely in my apartment for safekeeping. But when I pried open the floorboard and unlocked the heavy wooden lockbox… It was empty. The thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, and the velvet box holding my mother’s heirloom bracelet. My entire life savings. Vanished. There were only two people on earth who knew where that key was hidden. I felt the blood roaring in my ears. I tore out of the apartment and went hunting for Victoria. After asking around the neighborhood, I found out she had rented out a private lounge to celebrate Preston’s birthday. I kicked the double doors open. Preston was standing in the center of the room, dripping in luxury. A tailored designer suit, a ridiculously expensive imported watch on his wrist, and leather shoes polished to a mirror shine. He smirked as I walked in. “Jason, buddy! Glad you could make it. Victoria is throwing me a little bash.” “Thanks for sponsoring the event, by the way.” Victoria had bought him a mountain of high-end garments. Fabrics that cost a month’s salary per yard. A massive, multi-tiered gourmet cake dominated the center of a table groaning under the weight of expensive champagne and imported steaks. Victoria’s pathetic entry-level salary couldn’t even cover the appetizer menu in a place like this. She had bled my lockbox dry to fund this circus. My vision swam with red. I marched up to the table and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Did you break into my box, steal the company cash, and pawn my mother’s bracelet?!” Victoria didn’t even flinch. She sipped her champagne, completely unfazed by my boiling rage. “Preston lost his job because of your little temper tantrum. He has been so depressed he hasn’t eaten for days.” “I took some initiative and used your funds to compensate him. You shouldn’t have a problem with that.” Six years together. I had never once tasted a birthday cake. I hadn’t bought a new suit in a decade. She stole my money to play sugar mama to Preston, and she said it with the casual arrogance of someone ordering a coffee. The volcano inside my chest finally erupted. I grabbed the edge of the heavy banquet table and violently flipped it over. Shattered glass, ruined cake, and expensive champagne exploded across the polished hardwood. “Victoria! That was corporate petty cash! If I don’t hand that money back to the director by tomorrow, I am going to federal prison!” “Whatever is left, you are giving it back to me right now!” The table crashed to the floor. Preston let out a high-pitched shriek and threw himself dramatically in the direction the table was falling. “Jason! I was just about to put in a good word for you! Why would you intentionally smash my hand!” “I need these fingers to type up summit reports at the Geneva headquarters! If my nerves are damaged, my career is over!” It was a blatant, pathetic lie. His hand had barely grazed the edge of the wood, leaving a faint pink mark at best. But Victoria’s face twisted into a mask of demonic fury. She lunged forward, grabbed two fistfuls of my jacket collar, and violently slammed my forehead into the jagged edge of a nearby counter. She smashed my head down over and over. By the time she let go, warm blood was pouring down into my eyes. “Get on your knees and apologize to Preston!” Agony radiated through my skull, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the burning hatred in my chest. I clutched my bleeding forehead and glared at her. “Why the hell should I?! I didn’t touch him! He threw himself at the table!” Caught in his terrible acting, Preston started wailing louder. “Victoria, he is lying! How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into a violent psycho?” “My special day is ruined, my job is gone, I can’t take this anymore!” Victoria rushed over and wrapped her arms around him, cooing soft words into his ear. When she turned her gaze back to me, her eyes were bottomless pits of ice. “I am giving you three seconds to get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness.” “If you don’t, I will personally draft an email to the executive board right now. I will tell them you embezzled the five thousand dollars to fund a gambling habit. Have fun rotting in a concrete cell!” My pupils dilated in sheer terror. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped. She had spent the money, yes. But my name was on the ledger. I was the one responsible for that cash. If corporate pressed charges for high-level embezzlement, I would be looking at fifteen years behind bars. My entire life would be turned to ash. Hot, bitter tears of utter defeat burned my eyes. The adrenaline drained from my legs, and my knees hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” “Please… just give me the money back!” Victoria let out a victorious sneer. She reached into her designer purse, pulled out a single copper penny, and threw it directly at my bleeding face. “There. That is all that is left. Every other cent went into securing Preston’s VIP spot for the Geneva fellowship.” “To me, you are not even worth the dirt on my shoes.” My hands shook violently as I picked up the cold penny from the floor. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. “Five thousand dollars… plus a vintage heirloom bracelet. And you are telling me this is all you have left?” “Exactly. That is all there is.” Preston looked down at me with a sickening, triumphant grin. Then, he intentionally let his tongue slip. “Oh, wait, Victoria. Don’t you still have about eight grand sitting in your savings account? Why don’t you float him a loan so he doesn’t go to jail?” “Ah, my mistake! I forgot, you told me yesterday that money is strictly reserved for our luxury shopping trips in Europe. Untouchable!” Blood dripped from my chin onto my shirt. I stared at the two of them with dead, hollow eyes. “So this is how it ends? You really are going to leave me to take the fall?” Victoria’s emotionless silence gave me all the answers I needed. The very next morning, the corporate bulletin board proudly displayed the approved names for the Geneva Summit: Victoria and Preston. Preston was walking through the lobby shaking hands, soaking up the praise, and rolling his designer luggage toward the airport shuttle. I kicked the glass doors of the lobby open, holding my ID badge high in the air, and screamed. “Victoria and Preston are guilty of grand larceny and corporate embezzlement exceeding five thousand dollars! Their ethical violations completely disqualify them from any overseas company representation!” “The local authorities are on their way right now! I am officially whistleblowing on their fraudulent fellowship applications! I demand that HR revoke their travel clearances immediately!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618634”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At our graduation dinner, Aaron and his debate partner Judith traded insults through me, one chair apart. Judith was moving to Atlanta. Aaron sneered she wouldn’t last three months. She told him to mind his own business. He smirked, dropping a peeled shrimp in my bowl. “As if she’s ever won once.” As dinner ended, Aaron slid a manila envelope to me. “Give this to Judith tomorrow.” Inside was a complete Atlanta relocation guide I’d compiled for him: rental checklists, red-flag warnings, hospital addresses, transit routes. He frowned defensively. “Don’t overthink it. She’s idiotically naive. If she gets scammed, she’ll just cry to me.” Last month, when I told him I’d accepted a job in New York, he’d casually said I should take care of myself. Pinching my cheek, he’d said, “You’re different. Wherever you go, I never have to worry about you.” I used to think that was trust. Only later did I realize he never worried about me leaving because he never planned on following me. Meanwhile, for the girl he mocked as useless, he’d mapped out an entire city before she even boarded the plane. … Dinner wasn’t even over when Judith sent a text to our group chat: Tell a certain someone to take his trash guide back. I don’t need it. Aaron glanced at his phone, then pushed another freshly peeled shrimp toward me. “Tell her she can take it or leave it. But if some sketchy landlord rips her off, she better not call me crying in the middle of the night.” I didn’t pick up my fork. That guide was something he had asked me to make two weeks ago. He had dumped seven or eight apartment listings into my inbox, saying Judith was moving to Atlanta alone and lacked the brains to figure it out, so I should look into them for her. I spent hours checking subway lines, hospital proximity, building management reviews, and commute times. I even called the landlords to confirm which way the windows faced. Aaron had replied with a single kissing emoji. My Nora is the most reliable. A second later, another text followed: She has a terrible morning temper. Is a forty-minute commute too long for her? That night, my own defense thesis was still waiting to be revised. Now that Judith refused to take it, he wanted me to hand-deliver it to her. Aaron tapped his knuckles against the table. “What are you daydreaming about?” “Do you remember what time my train leaves the day after tomorrow?” I asked. He blinked, caught off guard. “The afternoon?” “Seven-forty in the morning.” “That early?” He frowned, his tone laced with subtle blame, as if I had failed to inform him. Yet a month ago, I had sent him a screenshot of my ticket. Three days ago, I asked him if he could walk me to the station. He had merely replied: We’ll see. Judith is leaving that day too. Just make sure your times don’t clash. He remembered Judith’s train to Atlanta was at ten-twenty, but he couldn’t remember that mine was more than two hours earlier. Across the table, Judith swirled her glass of wine. “Nora, tell him not to think a stupid spreadsheet is going to touch my heart. The first thing I’m doing when I hit Atlanta is blocking every single one of his contacts.” Aaron scoffed. “Tell her to hide her office address well, too. Otherwise, when she gets fired, she’ll still need me to ship her luggage back.” And just like that, they were off again. Back in our sophomore year before the state debate tournament, I was doubled over with crippling stomach pain, yet I still ran back and forth four times to manage their logistics. When they won, Aaron hung the gold medal around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug. “Our Nora is the real MVP. Without you, the two of us would have fallen apart ages ago.” I used to think being “important” meant being cherished. Looking back now, I was more like a wooden shim wedged under a wobbly table leg. Unnoticed when things were stable, but the moment I was pulled away, the whole table would collapse. Aaron peeled another shrimp and held it to my lips. “Still pouting?” I turned my face away. He didn’t get angry. Instead, he draped his arm casually over the back of my chair, leaning in close with a dropped voice. “Alright, my bad. How long do you want me to coax you today? Is half an hour enough? If not, I’ll extend the timer.” The others at the table chuckled, teasing that Aaron always knew how to handle me. His thumb brushed lightly over my earlobe. “It’s just New York. Once you get settled, I’ll come visit you.” For a fraction of a second, I almost let myself be swayed again. The next moment, he pushed the thick envelope back into my arms. “Give this to Judith before you leave. Just don’t let her know I was the one who forced it on her.” I placed the envelope firmly back in front of him. “Give it to her yourself.” He raised an eyebrow. “Jealous again?” “No.” “Then what’s with the attitude? She and I have known each other for four years. Busting each other’s strategist balls is just how we talk. If I actually had feelings for her, would you even be sitting here?” He spoke with such breezy confidence, making it seem as though I were the one with the filthy mind. I didn’t bother arguing. “Aaron, let’s break up.” The smile on his face froze for a fraction of a second before he leaned back into his chair with a lazy smirk. “Using a breakup to scare me on graduation night? You really know how to pick your timing.” “I’m not trying to scare you.” “Right, sure you’re not.” He picked up my water glass, took a sip, and set it down. “I’ll give you three days to cool off. Three days later, I’ll come to New York to pick you up. Just don’t end up crying that I didn’t come running.” Judith let out a dramatic gag from across the table. “Could you two flex your romance somewhere else?” Aaron casually crumpled a napkin and tossed it at her. When I stood up, he merely raised his eyes, covering the untouched shrimp in my bowl and sliding it aside. He looked completely certain that after taking a walk to cool my head, I would come crawling right back. I grabbed my bag and walked out of the restaurant. Behind me, the laughter didn’t miss a single beat. The following afternoon, the debate team assembled at the main auditorium for their final graduation yearbook photo shoot. The advisor had called me, reminding me that since I had organized every piece of debate material over the last three years, the final page of the book couldn’t be complete without me. When I arrived, Aaron and Judith were on stage recording a video segment titled “Partners Ten Years Later.” The host asked if they would ever stand on the same debate stage again after graduation. Judith rolled her eyes. “Only if the organizer pays me double my appearance fee.” Aaron leaned against the podium, chuckling. “If she doesn’t get fired after moving to Atlanta, I might generously grant her one chance.” Not a single kind word left his mouth, yet the commemorative album in his hands was crammed with dense handwriting. Atlanta. New York. Miami. Seattle. He had marked years next to five different cities, declaring they would meet once a year to see who had turned out more successful. Judith snatched the notebook away, complaining about his ugly handwriting, and added a line at the bottom: Whoever flakes first is a coward. The crowd cheered, calling them the ultimate power duo, destined to bicker for another decade even after college. Aaron turned, spotted me in the aisle, and gestured with his chin. “You came just in time. Take a picture for us.” Through the camera viewfinder, Judith held the trophy while Aaron stood close beside her. They pretended to look disgusted with each other, yet both instinctively leaned an inch closer toward one another. After the shot, he walked over and handed me the album. My message section was completely blank. “You didn’t write anything?” I asked softly. “We’re not breaking up, so why write a goodbye?” He adjusted my graduation cap, his smile warm and close. “You’re not like her. She’s the type to vanish into thin air. If I don’t keep her on a leash, she’ll pretend she doesn’t know me by next year. But you’re my girlfriend. We have all the time in the world.” “Do you remember what day my job orientation starts?” I asked. Aaron’s hand froze on my shoulder. “Next week?” “The day after tomorrow.” A flicker of awkwardness crossed his eyes, but he quickly smoothed it over with a light laugh. “What’s the difference between two days earlier or later? Just send me your address when you arrive, and I’ll ship your things to you.” “I’m leaving tomorrow.” “I know.” He glanced back toward Judith. “Her train is at ten-twenty. Once I see her off, I’ll head straight over to find you.” I didn’t bother reminding him that my train was at seven-forty. Three years ago, he had also told me that we had all the time in the world. So my birthday could always be celebrated another day. Our couple photos could be taken next time. The things I wanted to say could wait until he finished his work. Only Judith’s matches, Judith’s arguments, and Judith’s departures required his immediate, undivided attention. The photographer called out, urging everyone to line up. Just as I stepped in front of the backdrop, Judith shouted from the stage, “Aaron, we need to re-record the last line. You said New York instead of Atlanta just now.” The photographer checked his watch. “If we don’t shoot now, the hall lights are going off.” “Just five minutes!” Aaron called back. He squeezed my hand gently. “Wait for me.” He hurried back onto the stage. Judith complained that his voice sounded like he was reading a eulogy. He retorted that her pronunciation sounded like she was still learning English. They argued over lines, then over stage placement. By the time they finished recording, half the ceiling lights in the hall had already been turned off. The photographer packed up his camera, giving me an apologetic look. “Looks like the couple shots will have to wait for another day.” Only then did Aaron walk over. “We can just shoot at the train station tomorrow.” I looked at him. “Aren’t you seeing Judith off?” “Then the three of us will take it together,” he said, taking it for granted. It turned out that even our graduation photos needed to reserve a spot for her. Aaron reached out to wrap an arm around my waist, but I stepped back, dodging his touch. The smile faded from his face. “Still not over it?” “We broke up.” “Nora.” His voice dropped into a warning register. “I’m giving you an exit ramp, so take it. Don’t actually throw away three years of a relationship over a temper tantrums.” I gave no answer. I simply handed the camera back to the advisor. In the very last photo stored on the memory card, Aaron and Judith stood together beside the album filled with plans for the future. I was completely outside the frame. On the night before departure, the debate team hosted a farewell livestream. The advisor mentioned it was our final official activity and asked if I could manage the control desk one last time. I agreed, wanting to put a clean, proper end to my four years here. Less than ten minutes into the stream, Judith abruptly changed her core argument mid-debate. Sitting on stage, Aaron countered with a smirk, but under the table, his fingers tapped twice against the wood. That was his old signal for me to patch through to his earpiece and soften his harsh words before they hit the live audience. This time, I didn’t switch on the mic. He tapped three times, his gaze darting toward the control desk. Judith looked in my direction as well, mouthing the words, “What is he saying?” I pulled off one side of my headphones, keeping my eyes glued to the broadcast timer. Without me smoothing over their sharp edges, the two of them were forced to confront each other directly in front of the camera. “Why did you change the script without telling me?” “Because your third point is completely flawed.” “Then why didn’t you mention it earlier?” “I sent it to you three times last night. You were too busy texting goodnight to whoever you were talking to.” Suppressed laughter broke out from the crew in the studio. Aaron’s face stiffened, but he had no choice but to push through. They bickered back and forth for two full minutes, yet somehow, they managed to carry the debate to its finish. It turned out they were perfectly capable of communicating directly. They had simply gotten used to having someone else do the heavy lifting for them. The final segment was titled “A Note to Your Partner Five Years From Now.” Aaron received his card. He muttered that there was nothing special to write, yet his pen moved rapidly across the paper. When you get to Atlanta, try to argue less with people. Take medicine when your stomach hurts, and don’t take unlicensed cabs after ten at night. If you can’t make it, tell me in advance so I can set aside time to laugh at you. Judith rolled her eyes, but the rims of her eyes turned red. Her note to Aaron contained a single sentence: Don’t turn into a slick, arrogant corporate jerk in five years, or I’ll call you out every single time I see you. The host chuckled, calling it the unique romance of a champion debate duo. When it came to partner messages, the microphone was passed to me. “Nora, why don’t you leave a note for Aaron too?” Aaron sat under the bright studio lights, looking at me with an amused arch of his brow. He probably expected me to say what I always said, that I would forever stand right behind him. I stayed silent for a moment. “Happy graduation.” The studio fell dead silent for a second. Aaron quickly laughed it off, smoothing over the awkwardness. “She’s shy. She’ll tell me the rest when we get home.” After the stream ended, team members exchanged parting gifts. Aaron pulled out a refurbished fountain pen and tossed it to Judith. “The one you broke during the finals. Take it, so you don’t look like you’re borrowing a pen every time you sign a document at your new job.” Judith caught it, her mouth as stubborn as ever. “As if I care.” I recognized that pen. To find the rare replacement nib for that discontinued model, Aaron had scoured the old city district for days, skipping dinner with me for a week straight. His gift to me was a travel neck pillow bought from the train station convenience store. The price tag was still hanging from the side. “New York is far. Use it to sleep on the way.” He clipped the neck pillow around my neck, leaning down to gently smooth my hair. “Don’t go saying I don’t care about you.” His eyes were incredibly gentle. I recalled the very first time I gave a presentation on stage. He had sat in the very last row, silently mouthing the words Look at me to steady my nerves. Those moments of genuine warmth were real, which was why I had found it so hard to walk away, time after time. A second later, he pressed a blister pack of stomach medicine into my palm. “Give this to Judith on your way out. She definitely forgot to pack any.” I unclipped the neck pillow, placing it back into his hands along with the medication. “She’s right outside the door. Hand it to her yourself.” Aaron frowned. “Nora, if you’re jealous, I can comfort you. But don’t throw a fit over practical matters.” “I’m not throwing a fit.” “Then what exactly do you want lately?” “A breakup.” He stared at me, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his eyes. “Do you really have to ruin everyone’s mood right when we’re graduating?” Judith’s voice called out from the hallway, urging him to hurry. Aaron closed his eyes briefly, shoving the neck pillow back into my arms. “Go back home first. Tomorrow morning, after I see her off, I’ll come straight to your place.” His tone softened into a placating plea. “You can punish me however you want then, alright?” I didn’t tell him that my train was leaving two hours earlier than Judith’s. The next morning at dawn, I wheeled my suitcase into the train station. With twenty minutes left before boarding, I spotted Aaron kneeling on the floor, helping Judith repack a suitcase jammed full of books. “Carrying this much scrap paper to Atlanta? Planning to wallpaper your apartment?” Judith nudged him with her shoe. “What do you know?” He looked up and saw me, immediately waving me over. “You came just in time. Tell her to ship these books instead.” Neither of them asked why I was pulling a suitcase of my own. The station intercom chimed, announcing that boarding had begun for the train to New York. I walked straight past them toward the gate. Aaron reached out and grabbed the handle of my luggage rod. “You’re leaving today?” “I told you multiple times.” He glanced up at the departure board, his forehead finally creasing. A moment later, he let out a short sigh. “Fine, go ahead first. Send me your address when you arrive, and tonight we’ll settle this breakup nonsense properly.” I pried his fingers off my luggage rod, taking out the keys to our rented apartment and placing them on top of the printed Atlanta guide. “The lease expires today. Go pick up your remaining things this afternoon.” Behind him, Judith called out, “Aaron! The zipper is stuck again!” He turned his head to shout back an insult, then looked at me. “Go through the gate first. Once I handle this, I’ll call you.” Believing I had finally stopped making a scene, he turned back to press down on Judith’s suitcase lid. As the automatic turnstile snapped shut behind me, the last thing I saw was the bend of his back as he leaned over her luggage. Half an hour later, Judith flipped through the guide pages and asked, “Where did Nora go?” The overhead station broadcast chimed at that exact moment. The train bound for New York had officially departed the station. Aaron stared up at the giant LED screen, the remaining composure on his face draining away inch by inch. He finally remembered that the screenshot of my ticket had been sitting in our chat history all along. The apartment keys resting on the guide slipped off and hit the floor with a sharp metallic clink. He bent down to pick them up as Judith asked him another question. Aaron didn’t hear a single word.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618633”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After I slapped Genevieve’s boytoy, she had my entire family committed to a psychiatric hospital. I never dared cross her again. I cooked porridge for Landon’s stomach aches, waited on Genevieve hand and foot after she gave birth. When their child turned one month old, I finally begged her to release my family. Genevieve let out a mocking laugh. “Patrick, do you know how I met Landon?” My breath hitched. “Your sister and mother handed him to my bed. Patrick, he’s your maternal half-brother.” She slid her unlocked phone across the table. “They were never in an asylum. For three years, they’ve been right by Landon’s side.” On the screen, my mother and sister surrounded Landon and the newborn, radiant with joy I’d never seen before. My eyes burned crimson. My heart felt shredded by a rusty blade. Genevieve’s voice was cool. “You’ve been obedient these three years. Tell me what compensation you want.” She smirked. “Though you probably wouldn’t want it.” I wiped my tears, forced a smile. “Then compensate me with a hundred million dollars.” A wife like this, and relatives like them, I didn’t want any of them anymore. … Genevieve’s face froze in momentary shock. “What did you say?” I looked straight into her eyes, my voice trembling slightly. “Since you want to make it up to me, give me cash. I want a hundred million dollars. Not a single penny less.” The warmth in Genevieve’s eyes vanished, replaced by an icy glare. She suddenly scoffed, speaking directly toward the phone on the table. “Landon, looks like neither of us guessed right.” I hadn’t noticed that the screen had already been switched to a live video call. Landon appeared on camera with a smirk, looking at me with pure disdain. “Patrick, we made a bet on what kind of compensation you’d demand after finding out the truth.” “I bet you’d refuse the money and smash up the office in a violent rage. Genevieve bet you’d use this to threaten her into never divorcing you.” “As for Mom and Ann, one guessed you’d demand Genevieve ship me off to another country, while the other guessed you’d cut yourself to force her into submission.” He turned the camera to the side. My mother was cradling Genevieve’s baby, her face beaming with joy. But the moment her eyes met mine through the screen, every trace of warmth vanished from her features. “Patrick, I truly never expected you to open your mouth and demand money from Genevieve!” “Has the Sinclair family ever starved you or left you without clothes over the years? How did you become so vulgar and money-grubbing? You’re no different from those cheap male escorts selling themselves on the street!” My sister, Ann, gently stroked Landon’s hair, her eyes filled with fond affection. Yet when she turned toward the camera, her expression turned entirely cold. “Patrick, I know you’re upset.” “If you’re strapped for cash, I can transfer some to you. But you shouldn’t demand it from Genevieve.” “Landon and Genevieve are genuinely in love. They don’t owe you anything.” “Is that so?” I interrupted her, my eyes burning red. “Stealing my wife, taking away my mother and sister, destroying my marriage and my family. Toying with me for three years, tricking me into acting as their domestic servant… and you claim you don’t owe me anything?” Ann frowned in distaste. “Patrick, watch your mouth.” “We didn’t mean to trick you. You’ve always been stubborn and hot-tempered. If we hadn’t done this, how could you have ever accepted Landon?” “Genevieve has been in low spirits since giving birth. We were worried about postpartum depression, so we came up with this little game to cheer her up. Don’t take it to heart.” I pulled at the corners of my mouth, letting out a hollow laugh. “In that case, just give me the money. Mom gives me fifty million, you give me thirty million. I can keep acting for you guys and stay on as Landon’s nanny. How does that sound?” Ann’s face turned ash-grey. “Patrick, how much longer are you going to throw this embarrassing tantrum?” I sneered coldly. “It’s just a little pocket change. Surely the wealthy Guilford and Sinclair families can afford a tiny sum like that?” “Enough.” Genevieve swept a cold glance over me and pulled a set of documents from her desk drawer. “Landon has officially returned to the family fold. My child cannot be a bastard. Sign these divorce papers, and a hundred million dollars will be wired to your account immediately.” I looked at those few thin sheets of paper. Without a second of hesitation, I grabbed a pen and slashed my signature across the bottom. The way Genevieve looked at me instantly grew complex. “Do you really care about money that much? You never used to be like this…” Suppressing the excruciating, blade-like agony in my chest, I forced a careless, unbothered smile. “If I don’t take the money, what else could you possibly give me?” She stared at me intensely, her dark pupils unreadable. “Maybe you could beg me not to go through with the divorce.” “Patrick, if you just open your mouth and beg me, I’ll rip this agreement to pieces right now.” Beg her? I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper, memories of the months right after I discovered her affair with Landon rushing back. I had begged her countless times. I had even slit my wrists to force her to come home. Yet as my blood pooled across the floor, all I got in return was a single, disgusted line from her: Don’t do that next time. Landon faints at the sight of blood. “And then what?” I looked at her calmly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “And then you’ll tell me this was just another one of your little bets, designed specifically to turn me into a laughingstock?” I let out a miserable laugh, my throat aching. “Genevieve, stop playing games with me.” “Haven’t you made enough of a fool out of me over the last three years?” A cold drop slid down my cheek. The tears I had fought so hard to hold back finally broke free. Genevieve instinctively reached out to wipe them away. For a fleeting second, a flash of genuine guilt flickered in the depths of her eyes. She let out a heavy sigh. “He’s still young and a bit willful. As his older brother, you should yield to him a little.” “Don’t worry. The position of Mrs. Guilford will always be saved for you. Marrying Landon is just a temporary measure so the baby can have a proper legal name.” She paused, adding with a touch of unease, “I’ll still give you the hundred million. Take the money, go travel for a while, and once I clean up this mess, we’ll remarry.” “That should satisfy you, shouldn’t it?” I lifted my face, forced a soft smile, and gave a faint nod. “Then book me a flight to Switzerland. We promised we’d visit the Alpine lakes together, didn’t we?” She visibly relaxed, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Alright. You go ahead first. Once everything is handled, I’ll fly over to join you.” “Patrick, wait for me.” I rested my head against her shoulder and didn’t utter another word. Deep down, I knew with absolute certainty that I would never wait for her again. Seeing that I had surrendered, Genevieve finally spoke again. “Hand over the keys to the main estate and move out for a while.” “Landon wants to move in. You know how sensitive he is. Pack your things thoroughly and leave nothing behind so it doesn’t ruin his mood.” “Besides, that house is old anyway after all these years. Don’t hold a grudge against him.” She cleared her throat, pulling a set of keys and a deed from her drawer. “I bought a new villa for you on the south side of town. Move your belongings over there first.” I remained silent, but my mind drifted back to the day we bought the main estate. We had designed the layout together, selected the curtain fabrics, picked out the artwork for the foyer, and agreed to keep two nursery rooms, one pink and one blue. She called it our love nest, hand-carving a wooden plaque to hang above the front gate that read Pine Crest Villa. Yet later on, she spent her nights intertwined with Landon in her office until dawn, leaving me alone in that hollow, echoing mansion. I pulled a faint smile and placed my set of keys into her palm. “It’s fine. New things are better anyway.” From now on, everything I owned would be brand new. Not just the house. After leaving the Guilford Building, I drove to the psychiatric facility alone. Over the past three years, I had pushed open those hospital doors dozens of times, watching my mother and sister play-act as mental patients on their beds while I sobbed until I nearly passed out. What they never knew was that I had met someone else in this place. I pushed open the door to a private room. Sunlight streamed through the window frames, illuminating a young girl sitting on the sill, staring into the distance. Her facial features were sharp and striking, exuding an air of cold, rebellious detachment. Strands of hair hung over her forehead, gilded in a soft golden glow by the afternoon light. If a local reporter were here, they might have recognized her as the youngest daughter of the Kingsley Shipping Empire, committed to the asylum years ago. I spoke softly. “I have the money now. I’m taking you out.” Genevieve had no idea that my true destination wasn’t Switzerland. It was Los Angeles. When I returned to the main estate to pack my bags, the house staff looked at me with strange, hesitant expressions. I stepped into the living room and immediately understood why. My personal belongings had been ripped out of the closets and dumped onto the floor in a chaotic pile. Landon was stepping down the grand staircase, dressed in a pristine, snow-white custom wedding tuxedo. I bit my lip, staring dead at him. He gathered the hem of his jacket and offered a smirk. “Brother, this is the custom wedding tux Genevieve designed for you years ago, right?” “Well, Genevieve gave it to me.” “She said your figure has completely gone to waste anyway and you can’t fit into it anymore. Letting me wear it is the best stroke of luck this suit could ever have.” He did a slow pirouette in the center of the room. “Look at me, brother. Does your suit fit me well? Do I look handsome?” The pure white fabric shimmered under the crystal chandelier like a dream. Landon’s face was flushed with triumph, arrogant and dripping with smug satisfaction. Years ago, Genevieve had pulled several all-nighters just to finish the design sketches for that suit. When I tried it on for the first time, she had wrapped her arms around me and whispered: Patrick, this is a one-of-a-kind piece, crafted for the one-of-a-kind man in my life. The words still echoed in my ears, but the person who spoke them had long since rotted. Landon didn’t realize that since I had thrown away Genevieve herself, I couldn’t care less about a meaningless piece of clothing. I let out a calm smile, slowly relaxing my clenched fists. “Landon, did nobody ever teach you that taking other people’s property requires payment?” “That tailored suit cost thirty million dollars. I expect the funds transferred to my bank account shortly.” Landon’s expression turned nasty in an instant. “You absolute parasite! You hogged Genevieve and stole my family for years, how dare you open your mouth to demand money!” Screaming, he raised his palm and lunged forward to strike me. I simply sidestepped half a pace. Landon tripped over his own long trousers and crashed heavily onto the marble floor. My mother and sister came hurtling down the stairs. “Landon! What happened?” Ann glared at me with fierce hatred. “Patrick! Did you lay a hand on Landon again?!” Before I could speak, a heavy, stinging slap cracked across my face. A burning, sharp pain spread across my left cheek. I looked at my mother in utter disbelief. Her face was flushed red with rage as she barked coldly, “I knew you were bitter and never truly accepted Landon, but how could you physically attack him?!” Landon whimpered, putting on a pitiful, tear-streaked face. “Mom, don’t be mad at Patrick. It’s not his fault. He said this suit costs thirty million, and if I don’t pay him, I have no right to wear it. But I don’t have that kind of money… He didn’t mean to push me…” He lifted his face with heartbreaking vulnerability. “It’s all my fault for being poor. Mom, Ann, if we give him the money, will he stop being angry with me?” My mother let out a furious snort, her rage boiling over. “Landon, you’re far too kind! Give this leech money? In his dreams! I should have known long ago that he’s just like his father, a greedy, shameless bastard who only cares about cash!” A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest. I cupped my burning cheek and stared at her. Her face was contorted with venomous hostility as she spat insult after insult. The loving mother facade she had maintained for decades shattered into dust right before my eyes. Ann stepped in, catching her by the arm. “Mom, don’t.” A faint, pathetic ember of hope flickered in the depths of my heart. Yet a second later, Ann spoke in a tone of absolute coldness. “If you push him too far, he might turn up to ruin Landon’s wedding.” “Since he craves money so badly, just throw it at him. Consider it a donation to a homeless beggar.” She pulled a metallic black card from her designer bag and tossed it casually at my feet, her voice laced with deep disgust. “There’s over thirty million in that account. Is that enough for you?” “Take the money and get out. Don’t ever show your face in front of Landon again.” I stared down at the black card belonging to the Sinclair family. The very last shred of attachment in my heart burned to ash. I slowly bent down, picked up the card, and let out a careless, unbothered smile. Looking at the ruined pile of my belongings scattered across the living room floor, I didn’t bother packing anymore. “Since Miss Sinclair is offering such a generous price, I’ll sell the whole lot to you.” I looked at her with venomous sarcasm. “Now that Miss Sinclair has formally claimed a new brother and a new stepmother, I certainly won’t stay around to eyesore you.” “From this day forward, I have zero relation to the Sinclair family!” I dug through the pile, pulled out my passport and legal IDs, and turned to walk toward the entrance. “Wait a minute!” Landon called out, his voice sharp and demanding. I paused, glancing back. “What now?” He sneered coldly. “Since you claims everything here is sold to me for thirty million, shouldn’t you leave one specific item behind?” I frowned, genuinely confused. He let out a nasty laugh. “You’re divorced from Genevieve now, aren’t you? Is it really appropriate for you to still be wearing that wedding band?” I looked down at the simple gold band wrapped around my ring finger, sudden realization hitting me. This ring was a gift Genevieve had given me when we first started dating. She had forged the matching pair herself, etching our names into the interior band. She used to say that gold was the most stable element in the physical world. Just like our love. Yet we both forgot that gold was also the softest metal. Given a little external pressure, it distorts beyond recognition. After ten years of entanglement with Genevieve, the ring had practically grown into my flesh, refusing to slide off. I tugged at it twice, but my knuckle was swollen. Reaching over to the console table, I grabbed a heavy pair of craft scissors and jammed the blade right under the gold band. Just as the metal snapped with a sharp click, a furious shout echoed from the front door. “Patrick! What the hell are you doing?!” The heavy scissors were ripped from my grip. Genevieve pulled me fiercely into her arms. “Are you trying to hurt yourself again?!” Her gaze dropped to the severed gold ring in my palm, and her voice cut off instantly. Her eyes filled with sheer disbelief. “You… you actually cut this ring? Why?!” “Genevieve, I’m the one who wanted that ring,” Landon cut in from the side. Genevieve finally registered Landon standing nearby. Landon’s face was sour, his fingers clutching his jacket hem tight. “Patrick sold everything to me for thirty million anyway. Genevieve, you made that ring with your own hands. I want to take it back. You don’t mind, do you?” Genevieve quickly released me, offering Landon a gentle, doting smile. “Landon, that style is outdated. If you like gold, I’ll forge a brand new pair for you.” Tears welled up in Landon’s eyes. “No, I want you to melt this specific ring down and craft a new one for me.” “You promised me that once our baby was born, you’d give me anything I asked for.” Genevieve fell silent for a few long seconds before nodding helplessly. “Alright.” A sarcastic smirk tugged at my lips. I pulled the broken gold band off my finger, tossed it onto the floor, and turned to leave. Landon called out yet again. “Patrick, you said you’re severing all ties with the Sinclair family. In that case, there’s one more thing you need to surrender.” He turned his tear-filled eyes toward the three women. “Mom, Ann, Genevieve… I’m a son of the Sinclair family now. I want to legally change my name and reclaim my place.” My mother nodded repeatedly. “Yes, returning to the family is a joyous occasion! I’ll consult a name master immediately to pick the luckiest name for you…” Landon cut her off. “Mom, I’ve already decided on my future name.” A cruel smile stretched across his lips. “I want to be named Patrick.” “So, brother, do me a favor and change your name to something else.” “Genevieve, this is my final request. You’ll make it happen for me, won’t you?” Patrick… was the name my late father gave me. It meant fair warrior. Genevieve knew the story behind my name. Yet after a brief moment of internal struggle, she opened her mouth anyway. “Patrick… just change your name to something else. I’ll pay you extra compensation for the trouble.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth and gave a calm nod. “Sure. As long as the cash hits my account.” Genevieve let out a massive sigh of relief. “I’ll have my assistant wire you another fifty million right away.” An hour later, Genevieve’s legal team escorted me to the city registry office to execute the legal name change. Standing outside on the sidewalk, I held my brand-new identification card up to the sky, letting out a soft smile. My name, my old identity, my past love… I had thrown all of it away. From this moment on, I belonged only to true freedom. At the airport terminal, Genevieve called my phone. “Patrick… once you finish with the registry, head over to the south-side villa first. I’ve had the movers drop off some new furniture.” “Landon was just throwing a childish tantrum. Once things settle down, I’ll make him change his name back. Don’t hold it against him.” I gave a faint, agreeable hum and hung up the phone. A text from a real estate agent popped up on my screen: Mr. Holloway, the south-side villa has been sold according to your instructions. The buyer was thrilled with the below-market price and wired the full cash amount immediately. Please verify the receipt. I replied with a quick confirmation, checked the astronomical balance in my bank account, popped out the SIM card, and dropped it into a terminal trash bin. Turning around, I smiled gently at the young girl beside me. “Let me know when you’re ready. Our flight is boarding.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618632”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I listed my custom leather wedding shoes online at a steep discount. The buyer asked why, since the soles still had their protective film. I stared at the glossy black calfskin and let out a dry laugh. “Because someone else wore them for an Instagram post.” Yesterday, the shoemaker called saying my wedding shoes were ready. Running a fever, I rushed over, only to hear familiar laughter from the fitting area. Amelia was kneeling, tying the laces for Seth. Stamped in gold foil on the inner soles were my name and our wedding date, shoes I’d worked three months of overtime to afford. Seth stood there in my shoes, eyes red. “Nathan, please don’t blame Amelia. I begged her.” Amelia stepped in front of him. “Seth just went through a breakup. He’s emotionally fragile. They’re just shoes, Nathan. Don’t make things difficult.” My phone buzzed. A mutual friend had commented on Seth’s post: Whoa, thought you two were getting married! Those shop shoes are one of a kind. Seth hadn’t corrected them, just replied with a blushing emoji. Staring at that, I suddenly didn’t want the shoes anymore. Or the wedding. In front of the shop assistant, I swiped my card to settle the balance and listed the shoes online. I was done playing my part in a one-man show called a wedding. … The lights in the boutique were blindingly bright. Standing near the entrance of the fitting zone, my forehead was burning, yet I recognized those shoes instantly. The curvature of the shoe last was something I had modified three times. The material was black Italian calfskin I personally selected. Even the small line of gold lettering inside the sole was something I double-checked myself. Nathan & Amelia. June 16th. Now, they were wrapped around Seth’s feet. Amelia was half-kneeling in front of him, holding the laces, her voice soft and soothing. “Don’t bend over so much, your back isn’t fully healed yet.” Her tone was so tender. So tender that it reminded me of the text I sent her this morning, telling her I had a fever and asking if she could pick me up. She had replied: Busy today, let us talk later. It turned out her “later” meant accompanying another man to try on my wedding shoes. The clerk spotted me first, her face turning pale. “Mr. Nathan…” Amelia finally turned around. She was still holding my shoehorn, a flicker of panic darting across her eyes. “Nathan? Why are you here early?” I leaned against the doorframe, my throat dry and aching. “Am I not allowed to be here?” Seth immediately tried to bend down and tear the shoes off, his eyes turning watery. “Nathan, please don’t misunderstand. It’s all my fault.” “I saw how gorgeous these shoes were and just wanted to try them on. Amelia said no at first, but I insisted…” Amelia frowned and cut him off. “Don’t rush, sit still.” She turned back to me, lowering her voice. “Seth has been in a terrible place mentally these past few days. Don’t embarrass him in front of everyone.” I looked at her. I hadn’t said a single word yet. And yet, she had already framed me as the aggressor. I walked over and ran my finger lightly across the leather. A subtle crease had formed near the toe cap. There was a faint scent of woody cologne on them, a scent that didn’t belong to me. The clerk tried to break the awkward silence. “Mr. Nathan, Miss Amelia came with you before, so we assumed she could confirm the fit on your behalf.” “Plus, she mentioned you had a fever and couldn’t make it, but wanted to check the final effect first, so we…” I looked up. “She said that?” Amelia avoided my gaze. “I just thought Seth’s shoe size was close to yours, so seeing them on him would give us a good reference.” A reference. My wedding shoes, my wedding, and I hadn’t even tried them on yet, but another man was already serving as my reference. Seth whispered, “Nathan, I’m truly sorry. Let me take them off right now.” He reached down, but suddenly grabbed the back of the chair, his face going pale. Ever since that company gala accident three years ago, Amelia had carried a deep sense of guilt toward him. Amelia instantly reached out to support him. “Take it easy.” Her movement was so natural, as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times. My phone buzzed again. I looked down to see a screenshot sent by a mutual friend. Seth had just posted on Instagram. In the photo, only the lower half of his trousers and the wedding shoes were visible, alongside a woman’s hand resting near the laces. The caption read: Turns out when you put on wedding shoes, you really don’t want to wake up. Comments were already rolling in: Seth, you and Amelia? I thought you were the groom! You guys look so perfect together. Seth replied: Don’t guess around, guys. Someone will get upset. I held the phone in front of Amelia. Her face darkened, but her first instinct was not to apologize. “Nathan, who sent you this screenshot? People are just joking around.” “Do you find it funny?” She choked on her words. Tears streamed down Seth’s face. “I will delete it right now. I really didn’t mean anything by it.” “I was just so envious that you have a wedding coming up, that you have Amelia, and that you have a home.” He cried so softly, so helplessly. Amelia’s brow furrowed tightly. “Nathan, he already apologized!” I suddenly laughed. “He wears my wedding shoes, posts online to let everyone misunderstand, and somehow I am the one being unreasonable?” Amelia parted her lips. “That is not what I meant.” Yet the look in her eyes said otherwise. She thought I ought to be sensible, that I should just swallow this bitter pill. The clerk asked tentatively, “Mr. Nathan, should we still do the final fitting for you today?” I said, “No need.” Amelia breathed a sigh of relief, assuming I was finally letting it go. “Let us head home first. You look awful.” I pulled out my credit card. “I will settle the balance. I am taking the shoes.” She froze. “Are you out of your mind? We have our wedding photoshoot scheduled for the day after tomorrow.” I offered no response. When the card reader chimed to confirm payment, a strange hollowness filled my chest. It wasn’t reluctance. It was the complete erasure of my very last shred of hope. That evening after returning home, I placed the shoes on the bed and snapped a photo. The listing title on Poshmark was brief: Brand-new custom wedding shoes, tried on once, selling cheap. A buyer messaged me almost instantly. They look stunning, why are you selling them? I stared at the chat box for a long time before replying: They don’t fit me. Right after, I canceled the booking for the wedding photos and the styling appointments. Amelia pushed open the door and walked in. She was carrying fever medication and a cup of warm milk tea. “Still mad?” She set the items on the coffee table, sat beside me, and reached out to touch my forehead. I leaned away. Her hand froze in midair. “Nathan, Seth already deleted the post.” “He just went through a breakup, and his back injury flared up from that old accident. I just wanted to cheer him up a bit.” I looked up at her. “Did you know I had a fever today?” Amelia stunned. She probably finally remembered the message I sent her in the morning. Amelia wasn’t like this in the beginning. When we first started dating, she remembered that I hated onions, she picked me up from work, and whenever my stomach issues flared up, she made sure I had warm water. Later, after Seth’s accident, her memory seemed to be reallocated, gradually squeezing out every detail that belonged to me. She stayed silent for a few seconds before lowering her voice. “Haven’t I brought you medicine now?” I looked at the milk tea. “I don’t drink milk tea when I have a fever.” Her face went pale. She used to know that. Now, her memory was occupied entirely by Seth, whether his back could handle standing, whether he was exposed to cold winds, or whether he was getting overly emotional. Her phone lit up. Seth sent a voice message. She instinctively tapped it open. “Amelia, my back hurts a little. Did I stand too long earlier? Please don’t tell Nathan, he seemed really upset.” Amelia panicked and cut off the audio. Silence fell over the room. I looked down at my screen and lowered the price of the shoes by another three hundred dollars. Amelia finally noticed the app on my screen. “You are selling the wedding shoes?” “Yes.” “Nathan, stop throwing a tantrum.” I met her eyes. “Amelia, I am not throwing a tantrum.” “These shoes are dirty.” The next morning, my fever subsided a little. I heard Amelia talking on the phone in the living room. “He is fine, just making a mountain out of a molehill.” “The wedding is still on. Don’t tell my mom, I don’t want her worrying.” I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end said, but her voice softened. “Seth, don’t cry. You didn’t do it on purpose yesterday. Nathan is usually very easygoing.” Standing by the bedroom door, I felt an urge to laugh. Easygoing. So that was my greatest virtue all these years. I didn’t step outside. Instead, I turned around, opened the closet, and began pulling out every wedding-related document one by one. The venue contract, vendor quotes, photographer deposit receipts, gift sample invoices, and the guest list. Every single paper bore my handwriting. Amelia used to say, “You make the calls on these things, I trust you.” Back then, I thought that was trust. Only now did I realize it was simply convenience. At the dining table, she pushed a bowl of porridge toward me. “Eat a bit. I need to take Seth for his follow-up checkup this morning. I will come back this afternoon to look over the invitations with you.” The porridge was sprinkled with chopped scallions. I couldn’t stand the smell of scallions when recovering from a fever. She used to know. I didn’t pick up the spoon. “Isn’t today the day we confirm the complete wedding timeline?” Amelia checked her phone. “The timeline can be confirmed anytime, but his medical checkup cannot be delayed.” Cannot be delayed, yet again. Our wedding could be delayed. My wedding shoes could be worn by someone else. My fever could wait until later. Only Seth’s matters were always placed at the very front of the line. I asked her, “Amelia, how many times have you actually participated in planning our wedding?” She frowned. “Do you really have to bring up old scores right now?” “Are these old scores?” She set her phone face down on the table, her tone carrying a hint of exhaustion. “Nathan, Seth’s back injury happened because of me.” “Three years ago, when the backdrop collapsed at the annual gala, he pushed me out of the way and ruined his back.” “Is there something wrong with me taking care of him a little?” I knew about that incident. Three years ago, Seth shielded her from an accident. Ever since then, every time his back hurt, she rushed to his side. Every time he felt insecure, she stayed with him. In the beginning, I felt sorry for him too. I accompanied him to the hospital, helped him get specialist appointments, and even bought him lumbar supports and heating pads. Only later did I realize that the debts of gratitude Amelia owed him were ultimately deducted from my account. Before leaving, Amelia poured a glass of water for me. “Stop overthinking things. The wedding will happen as planned, I won’t miss it.” Once the door clicked shut, I tapped open my phone calendar. The note for today read: 10:00 AM. Confirm final wedding timeline. I tapped delete. Then I opened a spreadsheet. Shoe balance, venue deposit, wedding planner prepayments, photography deposit, invitation design fee, gift sample costs. I entered every single amount. Most of this money had come out of my pocket. Amelia had mentioned her project bonuses were delayed and asked me to cover the costs first. At the time, I believed we were about to become husband and wife, so there was no need to keep strict accounts. Now I understood that by not keeping score, I ended up losing myself without even realizing it. Around noon, a message popped up in the family group chat. Amelia’s mother shared a health article. Seth has a bad back, make sure his seat at the wedding isn’t directly under the air conditioner. She quickly added another line: Nathan is so capable, you should take care of these small details. Nobody asked how my body was doing. Nobody knew I had a fever yesterday. I stared at the words Nathan is so capable, feeling a cold chill in my heart. I opened the wedding seating arrangement. The notes for Seth’s table were meticulous: Avoid air vents, close to the exit, soft cushion for chair back, low spice menu. Beside my own name, there were only two words: The Groom. Seth was fragile, so everyone felt compelled to protect him. I was sensible, so I was expected to be the carpet everyone walked on. That night, I sent a message to the wedding planner. Let us meet tomorrow. The wedding might be called off. The planner responded immediately. Mr. Nathan, does Miss Amelia know about this? I replied: My name is the only one on the contract. There is no need to notify her. This wedding was planned by me alone from start to finish. Now, it was only fitting that I cancel it alone. On the third day, Amelia agreed to accompany me to the hotel for the menu tasting. This time, I didn’t send her a reminder. At five in the afternoon, her text arrived right on cue. Seth has a sudden back flare-up, I am driving him home first. Can you handle the menu tasting yourself? I looked at the line of text and replied with a simple ok. Then, I went to the hotel by myself. The banquet manager looked embarrassed when he saw me walking in alone. “Is Miss Amelia not coming?” “She is busy.” The manager didn’t push further and handed me the menu. Twelve dishes, every single one picked by me to suit both sets of parents’ preferences. Amelia’s mother didn’t eat cilantro. Her father had high blood sugar, so desserts needed to be low-sugar. Amelia had a sensitive stomach, so warm soup was necessary. Even for Seth, I had made notes regarding his dietary restrictions. The manager flipped through the notes and smiled. “Mr. Nathan is truly attentive, even making special notes for Mr. Seth’s back condition and meals.” Staring at those words, I suddenly felt a surge of absurdity. I had taken care of a person who had no place in this wedding. Yet the other protagonist of this wedding couldn’t even manage to accompany me for a menu tasting. Halfway through the tasting, familiar voices echoed from outside the private room. I looked up and saw Amelia supporting Seth as they walked in, accompanied by a few mutual friends. Someone noticed me and waved cheerfully. “Nathan is here too? Perfect, let us eat together!” Amelia froze for a second. “Why are you here?” I set my chopsticks down. “Menu tasting.” A flash of embarrassment crossed her face. The manager added, “Miss Amelia booked a private room downstairs earlier, I thought she was confirming details with you.” Seth lowered his head first. “I am so sorry, Nathan. I suddenly craved the food here, so Amelia brought me along. I had no idea you had an appointment today.” A friend tried to smooth things over. “We are all friends, no need to make it tense. Seth isn’t feeling well, Nathan won’t mind, right?” I offered a slight smile. “I don’t mind.” I had minded for so many years and no one ever cared. Of course I wouldn’t start now. Amelia sat down right next to Seth. When the waiter served a plate of sweet lotus root, Seth barely wrinkled his nose before she immediately asked, “Is it too sweet?” He nodded. Amelia instantly instructed the server to replace it with a low-sugar version. I coughed three times during the meal, and she didn’t look up once. A friend brought up the wedding schedule. Amelia said, “Nathan handled everything, I don’t really know much about the details.” Someone remarked with envy, “You are so lucky to marry such a capable husband.” Amelia smiled gently. “He is indeed very capable.” I lowered my head and drank my water. Sometimes, the word capable doesn’t sound like praise. It sounds like a sentence. As the meal neared its end, the manager walked in holding a final script for the itinerary. “Mr. Nathan, shall we confirm this final flow as well?” I took it. The first few items were standard: welcoming guests, grand entrance, vows, ring exchange, tea ceremony. Until item number seven, where my eyes locked. Special Tribute Segment: Seth presents flowers on stage, escorted personally by the bride, Amelia. A note was attached below: Due to Mr. Seth’s back injury, position him close to the bride. Omit from the groom’s version of the document, arrange spontaneously on site. I stared at the words Omit from the groom’s version for a long time. Amelia’s expression shifted instantly. She reached out, trying to grab the sheet. “Nathan, that is not what you think.” I pulled the paper back. “Then what is it?” Seth stammered in panic, “It’s not like that! Your mom said she wanted me to present flowers that day to express gratitude for saving Amelia back then. I was afraid you would overthink it, so I suggested keeping it quiet for now.” A short laugh escaped my throat. My wedding. His flower presentation, her hand supporting him, her mother’s gratitude. And I, the groom, turned out to be the very last person to know. Our friends fell quiet. Amelia lowered her voice. “It is just a tiny segment, it won’t affect the wedding.” I looked at her. “What would affect the wedding, then?” Her throat worked, but no sound came out. I laid the itinerary back onto the table. “Manager, cancel the banquet.” The manager was stunned. “Mr. Nathan, are you certain? If you cancel now, the deposit is non-refundable, and there will be a cancellation fee.” I nodded. “Deduct it.” Amelia stood up abruptly. “Nathan, don’t act on impulse!” I picked up my coat, my voice perfectly level. “Amelia, I am not acting on impulse.” “I have simply realized who this wedding was actually planned for.” Leaving the hotel, I drove straight to the wedding planner’s office. The coordinator seemed to have caught wind of something already, standing up nervously as I walked in. “Mr. Nathan, regarding the script, it was a miscommunication on our end…” I cut her off. “Bring out all the display materials.” On the main poster, Amelia and I stood against a backdrop of white flowers. She smiled softly, and I was smiling too. That photo was taken on the day of our engagement. Less than half an hour after the shot was taken, Seth complained of a stomachache, and she left early. I was left sitting alone at the restaurant, waiting for the staff to box up our engagement cake. The coordinator hesitantly handed over a video proposal script. “This is a pre-ceremony warm-up video Miss Amelia asked us to insert.” I took it. There was a line of text inside: Special thanks to Mr. Seth, who stepped forward during Miss Amelia’s moment of danger. On the next page were notes for editing materials: Include footage of Mr. Seth trying on the wedding shoes to enhance the emotional atmosphere. I looked up. “Footage of him trying on the shoes?” The coordinator’s face turned pale. “Miss Amelia said the camera would only capture the lower legs and shoes from behind without revealing his face, purely as atmospheric footage.” My fingers tightened on the paper. So it wasn’t just wearing them. It wasn’t just the social media post. She was actually planning to play a clip of Seth wearing my wedding shoes during our wedding warm-up video. I closed the script. “Shut everything down.” The coordinator asked cautiously, “What about Miss Amelia’s side…” “My name is the only one on the contract.” She fell silent immediately. I swiped my card to pay off the cancellation penalty. The balance in my bank account dropped significantly. Yet I felt no regret. Money spent could be earned back. Six years squandered on the wrong person were gone forever. On my way home, someone bought the shoes on Poshmark. The buyer was an out-of-town girl who said she was getting married next month on a tight budget. She wanted to buy a decent pair of shoes for her fiancé and asked if I could cover shipping. I agreed. She asked again: Have these really only been tried on once? Staring at the screen, I paused for a moment before replying: Yes. They just don’t belong to me anymore. When I arrived home, Amelia wasn’t back yet. I retrieved the shoes from their dust bag. They sat quietly inside the box, looking impeccably handsome. I used to imagine countless times walking toward Amelia while wearing them. Looking back now, that path was never a red carpet. It was a set of stairs I laid down all by myself. The doorbell rang. I opened it to find Seth standing there. He held a box of cooling fever patches, an apologetic expression plastered across his face. “Nathan, I came to apologize.” I didn’t invite him in. He stood in the doorway, his eyes reddening. “I really didn’t do it on purpose. Regarding that segment in the script, I planned to explain it to you after the wedding.” I stared at him. “After the wedding?” His face stiffened. “I was just worried you would misunderstand. Amelia’s mother said everyone knows about what happened back then, so expressing thanks at the wedding would make Amelia look graceful and loyal.” Graceful and loyal, what a lovely phrase. Using my wedding to showcase her grace and loyalty. I asked, “What about the Instagram post?” He bit his lip. “I was just so jealous of you. You have the wedding shoes, you have the wedding, you have Amelia. I have nothing.” A cold chuckle escaped me. “So you wore my wedding shoes and posted it online for everyone to guess?” Tears fell from his eyes. “I didn’t want to steal anything from you, I am just used to her taking care of me.” That phrase overlapped perfectly with countless excuses Amelia had made in the past. Used to it. Turns out the scariest thing isn’t malice. It’s when everyone gets used to expecting me to step back. I pushed the fever patches back into his hand. “You came to the wrong person.” Seth froze. “What do you mean?” “Her taking care of you is between the two of you. Whether you want to express gratitude, carry guilt, or fulfill each other’s lives, that is all your business.” I looked him dead in the eye, pronouncing every word clearly: “Do not use my wedding as a monument for your bond.” Seth’s face went completely pale. Though he kept offering apologies, his eyes drifted past me to the shoe box resting inside the room. “Nathan, you aren’t actually giving up on the wedding, are you? Amelia will be devastated if she finds out.” I said, “Then let her be devastated for once.” I had been devastated so many times, and nobody ever died from it. After shutting the door, I boxed up the shoes. Just as the courier arrived to pick up the package, Amelia walked through the door. Her eyes landed on the parcel, and her face shifted dramatically. “What is that?” “The wedding shoes.” She lunged forward, pressing her hands against the box. “You actually sold them?” “Yes.” “Nathan, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” I looked up at her. “Amelia, the wedding banquet is canceled, and the planners have been dismissed.” The anger on her face froze instantly. “What did you say?” I placed a stack of cancellation receipts onto the coffee table. “I paid the penalty fees. I will calculate our shared expenses properly, and your portion will be returned to you in full.” Amelia stared at me, panic finally breaking through her eyes. “Nathan, we are supposed to get married.” I said, “Not anymore.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618631”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Reborn back to the day of my wedding, the officiant stood at the altar, asking if I would take Frank Montgomery as my lawful husband. I glanced down at Cassie, sitting in the third row in a knock-off replica of my wedding gown, tears streaming dramatically down her face. I offered a faint smile, took a step back, and spoke clearly into the microphone. “I do not.” Frank’s face darkened instantly. He grabbed my arm and hissed under his breath, warning me not to throw a pathetic scene on today of all days. In my past life, I endured everyone’s ridicule and forced my way into marrying him. What did it get me? Ten years of emotional abuse, cold shoulders, and him staying out night after night while I was pregnant. When I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, rolling in unbearable agony on my hospital bed without even a sip of water, he cut off my medical funds just to buy Cassie a limited-edition designer handbag. As I drew my final breath, he stood beside my bed, looking down at me with pure disgust. “If you had been generous enough at our wedding to step aside, Cassie wouldn’t have succumbed to severe depression, and you wouldn’t be facing this divine retribution.” 1 “Haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum?” Frank’s fingers clamped down hard around my wrist. He lowered his voice, delivering his warning through gritted teeth so only the two of us could hear. “My entire family is sitting right down there watching us. Do you really have to embarrass me in front of everyone?” I lowered my eyes, staring at the very hand that had ruthlessly pulled out my IV tube in my past life. With a sharp jerk, I yanked my arm free and unpinned the flashy corsage from my dress. “I said, the wedding is canceled.” A chorus of shocked whispers rippled through the venue. Cassie stood up from her seat in the third row. The dress she wore was almost an exact replica of my main bridal gown in lace pattern and cut, lacking only the long, sweeping train. “Ivy, it is all my fault,” Cassie sobbed, covering her mouth as tears spilled over her cheeks. Her fragile shoulders trembled violently, making her look like the victim of a grave injustice. “I shouldn’t have come to your wedding. I just wanted to see Frank one last time, I really didn’t mean anything else.” The moment the words left her mouth, she spun around and bolted recklessly toward a thick marble pillar in the hall. “Cassie!” Frank dropped me without a second thought and sprinted down the altar steps. A split second before she slammed into the pillar, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly into his chest. The entire crowd of Montgomery relatives swarmed them in an instant. Someone handed her tissues, someone patted her back, and others offered soft, soothing words of comfort. I stood completely alone on the stage. Behind me, the massive LED screen continued to play a loop of our seaside wedding photos. In those pictures, Frank smiled with gentle affection, yet in reality, he was cradling another woman in his arms, his eyes overflowing with heartbreak. Frank’s mother shoved her way through the crowd and stormed up the altar steps. “Ivy! How can you be so utterly malicious? Cassie suffers from severe depression, and you can’t even show a shred of tolerance for a sick person?” I looked at her with cold indifference. “If she is sick, she should be in a hospital. What is she doing throwing a dramatic episode at my wedding?” Enraged by my defiance, Frank’s mother trembled, slapping her palm heavily onto the champagne tower table next to us. “Let me tell you something! You are getting married today whether you like it or not! The invitations were sent, the banquet is paid for, and you think you can just walk away? Where do you think the Montgomery family puts its dignity?” She gritted her teeth, dropping her voice to deliver a threat. “If you dare step off this stage today, I will go to your parents’ workplace tomorrow and make sure every single one of their colleagues sees what kind of daughter they raised!” The harsh scrape of chairs echoed from the bride’s side of the room. My parents walked up the steps with grim expressions, positioning themselves to shield me from both sides. My mother’s eyes were bloodshot as she grasped my hand with all her strength. “Our family was never worthy of yours anyway. We are not going through with this marriage. Ivy, come home with Mom.” She turned to lead me off the stage. However, several senior relatives from Frank’s side moved swiftly to block the center of the red carpet aisle. They crossed their arms, looking down at us with arrogant sneers. “Now hold on a second. We paid the dowry, and our family covered the banquet costs. You think you can just turn around and leave? Do you take the Montgomery family for a charity?” At that moment, Cassie raised her head from Frank’s chest. Her eyes were red, and her voice sounded agonizingly delicate. “Frank, please don’t blame Ivy. As long as she agrees to marry you, I promise I will never see you again.” Heartbroken, Frank gently wiped her tears away. He turned his head toward me, his gaze brimming with irritation. “Ivy, Cassie has already compromised this much. Apologize to her right now, and we can still finish this ceremony.” I looked at his self-righteous face, raised my hand, and ripped the heavy, diamond-encrusted veil straight off my head. The veil pulled away a few strands of hair, and without a moment’s hesitation, I tossed it right at Frank’s feet. “Whoever wants to marry trash can have him. I am out.” 2 “Ivy, do you really have to push things to the absolute limit?” Inside the bridal suite, my bridesmaid, Hannah, was helping me unpin the complicated hair accessories from my head. Outside the door, the muffled voices of Frank’s aunts drifted in. “That girl is far too dramatic. It’s just a dress that looks a bit similar, was it really worth making such a scene?” “Exactly, so utterly sensible-free. Cassie is much better, sweet and thoughtful, unlike her aggressive behavior.” “If it weren’t for her birth chart matching Frank’s so well for fortune, who would tolerate such a terrible temper?” Hannah was so furious she wanted to open the door and confront them, but I placed a hand over hers to stop her. Suddenly, the dressing room door was pushed open from the outside. Frank strode in, reaching back to click the lock shut behind him. He loosened his tie with a scowl. “Haven’t you made enough of an embarrassment out of us outside? Get out there right now and finish the rest of the schedule.” He commanded me as if I were nothing more than a subordinate throwing an irrational fit. “Cassie is emotionally fragile, and the doctor said she cannot handle stress. As a normal person, why do you insist on picking a fight with someone who is sick?” Looking at his entitled reflection in the vanity mirror, I found it absurdly laughable. “If you care about her so much and can’t bear to see her suffer, why don’t you just marry her yourself?” Frank froze, seemingly caught off guard by my direct question. He fell silent for a moment. “Ivy, marriage is not a joke. The Montgomery family needs a dignified, emotionally stable daughter-in-law who can represent us properly, not a woman who breaks down at any given moment.” He took a step closer, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “All I can offer her is care, but the position of Mrs. Montgomery has always been reserved for you.” Disgusted, I dodged his hand and picked up my phone from the vanity table to make a call. Quick on his feet, Frank snatched the phone out of my hand, powered it off instantly, and shoved it deep into his suit pocket. “Are you insane? Who are you calling?” “After today, once we are back home, you can throw whatever fit you want and smash whatever you like. But right now, you will give the Montgomery family the respect it deserves.” A soft, muffled sob drifted from outside the door. Cassie’s trembling voice came through the thin wood panel. “Ivy, please don’t be mad at Frank. I really didn’t mean to ruin your wedding.” She sniffled, her tone painfully submissive. “I will go change into a bridesmaid dress right now, and I will stand in the dimmest corner to bless you two, alright?” Frank’s expression shifted instantly. Without a second thought, he let go of me, unlocked the door, and rushed outside. His soft, comforting murmurs to Cassie echoed down the hallway. I let out a cold laugh, reached into my spare handbag, and pulled out a secondary phone I usually reserved for work calls. Opening messaging, I dropped a location pin to my brother, Tyler, and attached three words. Come pick me up. Hannah helped me strip out of the suffocating bridal gown and put on a lightweight, casual outfit. When I pushed open the dressing room door and stepped out, the scene in the main hall was even more absurd. Cassie was already sitting comfortably at the head table. Frank’s mother had personally wrapped a bright red cashmere shawl around Cassie’s shoulders. The surrounding relatives hovered near, showering her with praises. “Cassie is so sensible. Taking on such a huge grievance yet still keeping the bigger picture in mind.” “Poor child, it breaks my heart just looking at her.” I ignored their little performance and walked straight toward the exit doors of the banquet hall. Before I could take three steps, Frank’s mother slammed a porcelain teacup onto the table with a loud crash. “Stop right there!” “Since you are out, you can start by serving the respect tea to your new mother-in-law. If you don’t drink this tea today, nobody steps out of this room.” 3 “In-laws, it’s just a small couple’s spat, why are you all fueling the fire?” Frank’s father stood up from the main table, holding a red gift list in his hand. On the stage, the officiant was sweating profusely while trying to smooth things over, announcing that the ceremony was temporarily paused for thirty minutes due to unexpected circumstances. The two massive exit doors of the banquet hall were already guarded firmly by several young male relatives from Frank’s side. My father was shaking with rage, pulling out his phone to dial the police. Seeing this, Frank’s father walked over without any rush and slapped the red gift list onto the table right in front of my father. “Calling the cops? Go right ahead. Let the officers see that we paid for the banquet, transferred the dowry money into your account, and put gold jewelry on your daughter. If this gets out of hand, who ends up looking bad?” “Your family holds a decent reputation in this city. Don’t ruin your own dignity over a young girl’s fleeting temper.” Frank pulled my phone out of his pocket and handed it back to me. His tone softened slightly, carrying a condescending grace. “Ivy, stop throwing a scene. If you swallow your pride and complete the ceremony today, I will make it up to you after the wedding. I promise to keep my distance from Cassie from now on.” While claiming he would keep his distance, his eyes drifted uncontrollably toward the head table. Cassie was holding a freshly poured cup of hot tea, walking gracefully toward me. She stopped right in front of me, her eyes filled with tears once again. “Ivy, I apologize to you on Frank’s behalf. Consider this cup of tea my humble offer to you, please forgive him.” She held the teacup out with both hands. As I stared at her with icy eyes, showing zero intention of reaching out to take it, Cassie’s wrist suddenly twitched in an unnatural manner. The entire cup of scalding tea splashed directly across the skirt of my clothes and over my bare feet. “Ah!” Cassie let out a dramatic shriek. The Montgomery relatives exploded instantly, hurling accusations at me from every direction. “Ivy, what is wrong with you? She came to offer you tea out of goodwill, and you intentionally scared her?” “Cassie already suffers from depression, are you trying to drive her to her death?” Frank rushed forward like an arrow, shielding Cassie behind him. He stared at the wet stains on my skirt, his brow pulled into a tight scowl, his voice dripping with blame. “Ivy! You knew she was emotionally unstable, why did you have to provoke her on purpose?” A searing, painful burn radiated from the skin on my feet. I didn’t scream or defend myself hysterically like I did in my past life. Instead, I calmly turned my head toward Hannah. “Take photos for me. The stains on my skirt and the red burn marks on my feet, capture them clearly.” Hannah immediately raised her phone, taking several close-up shots of my feet. I turned around and shook my head at my parents, who were pale with anger. “Dad, Mom, don’t waste your energy arguing with them. Go upstairs to the bridal suite and fetch the suitcases I packed yesterday.” The moment Frank’s mother heard the word “suitcases,” she jumped up immediately. “Go! Lock down the keys to the bridal suite!” She ordered two relatives to block the elevator entrance, putting her hands on her hips as she sneered at me. “Ivy, drop your clever little calculations. That apartment might have your name on the title, but the furniture, appliances, and even the bedsheets were paid for by the Montgomery family! You won’t be taking a single needle out of that room today!” Looking at her greedy, bitter face, I found the entire situation utterly ridiculous. I turned my head to look at Frank, who stood silently to the side. “Are you sure you want to push things to this absolute end?” 4 Frank avoided my eyes and adjusted his cuffs. He raised his head. “You were the one who refused to give anyone a way out first.” “Dear relatives and friends, the bride is just experiencing a bit of pre-wedding anxiety, please be understanding!” Frank’s mother snatched the microphone from the officiant’s hand, addressing the hundreds of guests in the room. “Young people these days always like to throw small tantrums right before getting married, a little fighting is completely normal. Please sit tight, our ceremony will resume shortly!” Frank grabbed a velvet ring box and shoved it forcefully into my hand. He leaned in close to my ear, his warm breath sickening me to my core. “Ivy, my patience has its limits. If you dare throw another scene, I guarantee your parents will not walk out of this hotel with a single shred of dignity today.” This was a blatant, unvarnished threat. Cassie suddenly broke free from the support of the people around her and dropped to her knees right in front of me with a loud thud. She threw her head back, tears flowing wildly down her pale cheeks. “Ivy, I beg you, please don’t cancel the wedding! As long as you agree to marry Frank, I will pack my bags and leave this city immediately, never showing my face to you again.” “Please, don’t ruin Frank’s reputation because of me!” The guests below were completely swayed by her pathetic display. The narrative flipped in an instant, and countless voices of condemnation crashed over me like a wave. “This bride is way too narrow-minded. That girl is literally on her knees begging her, yet she still won’t let it go.” “Right? It’s totally normal for a man to have a unforgettable first love before marriage, as long as he settles down afterward.” “Zero sense of the bigger picture. The Montgomery family is so unlucky to marry a girl like this.” Taking advantage of the chaotic scene, Frank’s mother rushed over. She violently shoved my mother aside. Unprepared, my mother stumbled backward, her lower back slamming hard against the solid wooden frame of a chair, causing her to let out a painful groan. “Mom!” My father tried to charge forward with reddened eyes, but four or five burly male relatives from Frank’s side pinned him down, rendering him unable to move. Frank’s mother seized the opportunity to shove a thick red envelope into my hands, pressing down heavily on my shoulders to force me to my knees. “Kneel down! Drink this tea and call me Mother! Once you kneel, our family will consider today’s farce settled!” I struggled with everything I had, but Frank simply stood by with cold eyes. Not only did he refrain from stopping his mother’s violent actions, but he also spoke in a icy tone. “Ivy, don’t drag both sets of parents down with you. Is bowing your head really that difficult?” Cassie seized the moment to hold onto Frank’s mother’s arm, her voice gentle yet dripping with poison. “Auntie, please don’t be angry. Ivy might just be unwilling to lose to me, so she is intentionally using this method to get Frank’s attention.” Hearing those words, Frank seemed to finally lose the very last shred of his patience with me. In front of every single guest, he issued his final ultimatum. “Ivy, if you do not apologize to Cassie and complete this wedding today, I will never forgive you.” Looking at this group of hideous faces before me, I suddenly broke into a serene smile. I slowly raised my hand, reaching for a small crystal brooch pinned to Hannah’s lapel. Hidden inside was a miniature remote control. Click. I pressed the button. The massive LED screen that was playing our wedding photos turned completely black. A second later, the screen flickered and switched to a high-definition security camera feed from the hotel hallway. The timestamp in the corner clearly displayed last night’s date. “Last night in my bridal suite, you two seemed to have a wonderful time.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618630”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Mindy personally built a human-like white lotus. To spark genuine human emotion within him, she pulled the oxygen tube from my ICU bed right in front of him, deciding to use my death as a catalyst to trigger his feelings. I struggled with everything I had, begging for help, but she pinned my hands down firmly. “Be good. You are a system quester, you can go home when you die.” “But without him, I will die.” I was murdered by my own wife. At the exact moment of my death, the system issued a notification that the mission had failed, and my soul was completely extracted from her world. Yet, not long after, regret consumed her. She squandered her vast, multi-billion-dollar fortune just to bring me back into her world. Holding the newly reformed me, she pleaded desperately for my love. “Paul? Look at me, I am Mindy.” “You are still angry, aren’t you? You can hit me, scold me, or even kill me, just please don’t stay silent.” I tilted my head, staring at her blankly. “Command invalid.” … The pressure release valve on the laboratory’s awakening pod emitted a soft hiss. The cold white mist dissipated. I opened my eyes. The final image lingering on my retina was Mindy’s gentle yet cruel face, paired with the image of the detached oxygen tube. Now, that very face appeared before me once more. Only now, she looked older, exhausted, her eyes shot through with red blood vessels. “Paul…” Mindy lunged forward, wrapping her arms around me in a suffocating embrace. “You came back… You finally came back…” Her words were jumbled as she buried her face into the crook of my neck. I lowered my eyelids, remaining entirely motionless. Mindy released her grip, cupping my face in her hands, desperately searching for something within my pupils. “Paul? Look at me, I am Mindy.” “You are still angry, aren’t you? You can hit me, scold me, or kill me, just please don’t stay silent.” I stared at her. “Command invalid.” “Permission for ’embrace’ not detected.” “Identity confirmed: Target Mindy.” “Current status: Emotional distress, heart rate at 140. Sedative recommended.” Mindy froze. “What did you… say?” I tilted my head slightly, continuing my broadcast. “Target’s auditory system detected as normal. Repeating command: Sedative recommended.” “No… This isn’t right…” Mindy took two sharp steps back, knocking over a nearby tray. Metal surgical instruments crashed onto the floor with a loud clatter. She turned to the trembling research team huddled in the corner, screaming, “What is the meaning of this! I spent billions, I wanted Paul back! A living, breathing human being!” “Miss Mindy…” The lead scientist wiped cold sweat from his forehead. “A glitched code occurred in the system during physical reconstruction. While Mr. Paul’s memories have been restored, his emotional module… appears to be lost.” “Find it! Get it back for me!” Mindy went wild, smashing equipment across the laboratory. The old Paul would have felt his heart ache for half a day just seeing Mindy frown. The current me simply watched her rampage in absolute silence. Once Mindy exhausted her rage, she panted heavily, turning around to fix her gaze on me. Her eyes carried an obsession that bordered on pathological. “It doesn’t matter… It doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself, stepping toward me one stride at a time. “As long as your body is here, that is all that counts. If the emotions are gone, we can cultivate them again.” “I was bad before, it was all my fault…” She suddenly grabbed a sharp scalpel from the table. With a sickening squelch, she drove the blade deep into her own thigh. Screams erupted from the surrounding staff, yet Mindy didn’t even knit her brows. “Does it hurt, Paul?” “Seeing me bleed, does your heart ache?” “In the past, a simple paper cut on my finger would make you suffer for hours. Now that I stabbed myself, do you feel anything at all?” Blood poured down her leg, pooling quickly on the floor beneath her feet. I looked down at the knife, then raised my eyes to her face. I extended my finger, dipping it lightly into the wound on her leg. Mindy’s eyes lit up with intense hope. I simply brought the blood-stained finger to my lips, tasting it. “Sodium chloride levels normal, red blood cell count normal.” “Artery damaged, blood flow velocity elevated.” “Immediate hemostasis recommended, otherwise shock will occur in ten minutes.” “Additionally, the scent of blood is unpleasant. I dislike it.” The scalpel slipped from Mindy’s grasp, hitting the floor with a metallic clang. Mindy refused to go to the hospital. She hastily bandaged her wound and forcibly brought me back to our home. The very villa where we had lived together for three years. Everything was preserved exactly as it was before my death. My favorite slippers rested by the entryway, our only couple portrait hung on the wall, and the air carried the familiar scent of gardenia fragrance I used to prefer. “Paul, you must be hungry, right?” Mindy limped out of the kitchen carrying a plate of sweet and sour ribs. Glistening red and rich in aroma. This used to be my absolute favorite dish, and her specialty. Back then, to coax her into making this dish for me, I would have to act sweet and beg her for hours. Now, she meticulously removed every bone, carefully bringing a piece of meat to my lips. Her gaze was filled with desperate pleasing. “Try a bite. I made sure to use less vinegar, just the way you like it.” I opened my mouth, accepting the meat mechanically. Chewing. Once, twice, three times… thirty times. Swallowing. Every movement was as precise as a quality-control machine on an assembly line. Mindy looked at me expectantly. “How is it? Is it delicious? Did it bring back any memories?” I set down the chopsticks, placing my hands neatly on my knees. “450 calories.” “Sugar content exceeds standard limits by 200 percent.” “Fat content excessively high.” “Violates host health management protocol. Discontinuation of intake recommended.” The smile on Mindy’s face stiffened. The chopsticks in her hand began to tremble violently. “Paul… I am asking if it tastes good, not about the calories.” “This was your favorite dish, made personally by me.” I stared at her without a single blink. “Taste sensors operating normally, but ‘delicious’ belongs to subjective emotional evaluation and cannot be quantified.” “To me, this is merely a mixture of carbohydrates and proteins.” “Do you require me to continue intake, Miss Mindy?” Mindy shoved the plate away violently. The dish shattered against the floor, ribs rolling across the tiles. “Stop calling me Miss Mindy!” she screamed, her eyes rimmed with red. “Call me Min! You used to call me Min!” I remained silent. Late at night, a heavy rainstorm erupted outside. Thunder boomed as lightning threatened to tear the sky apart. In the past, I was terrified of thunderstorms. Every time thunder rolled, I would crawl into Mindy’s blanket, trembling all over. Back then, she would mock me for being a coward while wrapping her arms tightly around me. Now, I lay flat on the bed, my body straight and rigid. Mindy walked in after taking a shower, carrying the scent of damp air. Seeing my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, she assumed I was frightened out of my mind. “Don’t be scared, Paul, I am here.” She climbed onto the bed, reaching out her hand to hold me. The very second her palm brushed against my back, I sprang up, twisting her wrist behind her and using the momentum to pin her down. I sat atop her, looking down at the suffocating woman beneath me, my voice icy to the bone. “Aggressive behavior detected.” “Warning: Cease physical contact immediately.” “Otherwise, the purge protocol will be executed.” Mindy did not fight back. Even though her physical strength was more than enough to flip me over. She simply stared up at me with difficulty, two streams of tears escaping the corners of her eyes. “Paul…” “Kill me… if that is what you want…” She released her grip, spreading her hands flat against the mattress. A picture of absolute submission, offering her neck up for the slaughter. I released my grip. Instead of retreating, she lunged forward, pinning me tightly against the bed. Her moist eyes locked onto mine, burning with raw desire. “I gave you a chance.” “You couldn’t bring yourself to kill me, could you?” “That means you will never escape my grasp again.” Her warm breath brushed against my neck, her fingers pressing into my palm, interlocking with mine. “Executing purge protocol.” “What?” Before Mindy could process the words, my hand had already clamped firmly around her throat. “I said, executing purge protocol.” At that exact moment, realization finally struck her. The present me possessed the power to stand against her on equal footing. Not merely stand against her, but overpower her completely. “Stop! Stop right now!” The bedroom door was thrown open. The family doctor rushed in alongside several bodyguards. They pulled me off her with frantic effort, plunging a high-potency sedative into my arm. Before the drug took effect, I caught sight of Mindy sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching her neck, gasping for air. The doctor tried to examine her injuries, but she waved her hand dismissively, her voice ruined and raspy. “I am fine.” She stared at my fading consciousness, letting out a bitter laugh. “This is retribution.” “Back then I pulled his oxygen tube, now he wants to strangle me.” “It is completely fair.” I closed my eyes, letting my consciousness sink into darkness while my mind sneered. Fair? Mindy, this is nowhere near fair. Do you really think my return was made possible by the billion-dollar research team you assembled? No. The reason I returned was to complete the mission assigned to me by the system. To utterly erase Mindy, both mentally and physically. To step over your corpse and claim the multi-billion-dollar quest reward in my original world. That is true fairness. When I awoke the following morning, the household was in absolute chaos. Convinced that my reset had gone wrong, Mindy unleashed her fury entirely upon the technical team. “A bunch of useless fools!” “I spent so much money, and you built me a killing machine?” “If you don’t recover his emotional capacity, every single one of you will die!” She brought me to the laboratory, which had already been smashed into ruins. Over a dozen top scientists knelt on the floor, trembling in terror. Black-clad bodyguards stood around them, holding electric batons in their hands. Mindy sat on the sole remaining chair, her face so dark it seemed ready to drip poison. The dark bruises on her neck had not faded, giving her a terrifying appearance. “Paul, look.” She pointed at the kneeling men, her tone deceptively gentle. “They are the ones who broke you.” “How do you want to punish them? Just say the word, and I will make them disappear forever.” I stood beside the debris, watching those people weep and beg for mercy. Mindy kept her eyes fixed on me. The former Paul would have felt heartbroken for half a day over a stray cat dying. Yet I displayed zero reaction. I stood there like an outsider, watching an utterly boring farce. The violence in Mindy’s eyes grew heavier by the second. She stood up abruptly, walked over to a scientist, and kicked him hard in the chest. “Speak!” she roared, turning back toward me. “Why aren’t you saying anything! Aren’t you supposed to be the kindest person? Save them!” She was forcing me. She was using slaughter to force the kind Paul out into the open. I finally shifted my gaze to her face. I walked over, picking up an electric baton from the floor. Holding the baton, I walked slowly up to the lead scientist. The man screamed in terror, “Mr. Paul, spare my life! Spare me!” I tilted my head, looking at Mindy. “Only extreme pain can test their true loyalty.” “Isn’t that right, Miss Mindy?” Those exact words were spoken by her to the doctor who tried to stop her when she pulled my oxygen tube years ago. Now, I returned them to her, word for word. Mindy looked as if she had been struck by lightning. “You remember everything…” I tossed the electric baton aside and walked over to stand in front of her. Extending my cold fingers, I gently traced the jugular artery on the side of her neck. The pulse beneath her skin beat wildly, rapidly. “Miss Mindy, your heart rate is excessively high. It appears a certain emotion has reached a high concentration.” I leaned close to her ear, my voice flat and devoid of fluctuation. “Is it fear?” Mindy grabbed my hand violently, pressing it hard against her chest. “It is regret… Paul, it is regret!” When Justin showed up at the front door, Mindy happened to be away from the house. “Well, well, is this the iron tin can she spent a billion dollars to bring back?” Justin walked in circles around me. “I heard your brain is broken? No emotions left?” He poked my cheek with a finger. “Tsk, the synthetic skin feels realistic enough, just like the real thing.” I stood in the center of the living room, unmoving, without even blinking an eye. Ignored by me, Justin grew infuriated. He picked up a cup of freshly brewed hot tea from the coffee table, steam rising from the scalding liquid. “What are you posing for?” He let out a cold sneer, flicking his wrist. Splash. The scalding tea was dumped entirely across my chest and arms. It was water hovering near ninety degrees Celsius. The delicate synthetic skin turned bright red in an instant, blisters forming across the surface. If I were a normal human, I would have leaped into the air screaming in agony. Instead, I stayed put. I stood on the spot without so much as twitching an eyebrow. Justin stunned for a moment, then burst into a triumphant laugh. “Hahaha! Mindy actually claimed you were Paul?” “Look at you! You are nothing more than a useless doll! You don’t even know what pain feels like!” He pointed at me mockingly. “Min is just keeping you around for novelty. Once she grows bored of you, she will tear you apart and sell you for scrap metal!” Looking at his arrogant face, I slowly turned my head, locking my gaze onto the fruit knife resting on the coffee table. The very next second. I snatched the fruit knife, skipping all words, pointing the sharp tip straight at Justin’s throat. Since I was an emotionless machine, killing someone shouldn’t count as a crime, right? Justin’s laughter died instantly. His eyes widened in sheer horror as he watched the blade approach. “What… What are you doing! Help!” Just as the tip of the blade hovered a single centimeter from his neck. A hand clamped firmly around the blade. Fresh blood dripped down the steel, falling onto Justin’s white shirt. It was Mindy. Seeing Mindy, Justin treated her like a savior immediately. “Min! Save me! This lunatic wants to kill me!” “He is insane! He really is a machine monster!” Mindy didn’t look at him once. She gripped the knife tightly, allowing the sharp blade to slice deep into her palm. Her eyes were locked entirely on me. “Paul… let go.” Believing Mindy was protecting him, Justin grew even more arrogant. “Min, dismantle him quickly! He tried to kill me just now! A dangerous thing like this cannot be kept around…” Bang. A heavy thud echoed. Before Justin could finish his sentence, his entire body flew backward. Mindy had kicked him hard in the chest. He flew a full five meters, slamming into the wall before sliding down like a crooked painting. He spat out a mouthful of blood, staring at Mindy in utter disbelief. “…Min?” Mindy didn’t offer him a single glance. She simply looked at me, her eyes so soft it was chilling. “Does your hand hurt?” she asked me softly, as if she wasn’t the one clutching a sharp blade. “Let go, be good, don’t hurt yourself.” I released my grip. The knife clattered to the floor. Mindy’s palm was a bloody mess, the cut deep enough to reveal bone. Yet she paid it no mind, using her clean hand to gently stroke the scorched skin on my chest. Her eyes held nothing but heartbreak and raw violence. “Drag him out,” Mindy commanded the bodyguards without looking back. “His mouth is filthy. Pull his teeth out before throwing him out of the city.” Justin’s screams were muffled by the bodyguards’ hands as he was dragged away like a dead dog. Only Mindy and I remained in the living room. Along with blood and tea splattered across the floor. Mindy stared at me, suddenly breaking into a smile. “Paul, you can feel anger, you want to kill someone, that means you still care, doesn’t it?” She retrieved the fruit knife covered in her own blood. Then, she handed the handle back to me. Pointing the sharp tip directly at her own heart. “If you hate me enough to want to kill…” “Don’t kill others.” “Kill me.” She held my hand, forcing my fingers to wrap tightly around the handle. “Paul, if I tell you I never loved Justin, that the only person I ever loved was you…” “Would you be willing to hear the truth from back then?” I froze. Mindy’s voice carried a subtle tremor. “Back then, I discovered your true identity.” “A system quester. As long as you completed the mission, you would receive a massive reward and leave this world behind.” “I was terrified, Paul.” “I was terrified that your kindness toward me, your warmth, your vows, were all just to complete a task.” “I was terrified that the moment you succeeded, you would abandon me without hesitation.” “I just wanted to test… to see if your love for me was real.” She raised her head, tears streaming down her face. “For these past two years, I haven’t slept a single night. Every time I close my eyes, I see you struggling in the ICU.” “Paul, I don’t ask for your forgiveness.” “I only ask, can you give me the smallest shred of a response? Even if it is pure hatred.” I listened quietly to everything she had to say. In the end, I tilted my head slightly. “Be a good little villain.” “Only death can trigger my love for you.” “So, would you be willing to die for me to see?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618629”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel