My connection to Silas was forbidden—a twisted, “Flowers in the Attic” kind of situation. At least, that’s what I thought. I had no idea that “brother” was just a title, not a blood bond. Until the real daughter showed up at our door with DNA results in hand. I packed my bags to leave. Before I walked out, I made one last call to Silas. “Your real sister is back. Can I finally stop pretending to be your girlfriend and actually be her?” “Maya, give it a rest.” Ten years of constant rejection. It finally broke me. Every ounce of self-respect was gone. Brokenhearted, I did something wild. I hit the clubs and ordered up the hottest guys the VIP section had to offer. Plying myself with expensive drinks, I made a fool of myself, loudmouth and reckless. Then, a shadowy figure showed up in the club, dragging me out and throwing me into a private jet that very night. That evening, he pinned me rough against the harsh sheets of the hotel bed. “Feel that, Maya? Tell me, do you still think those club boys compare to me?” 01 I knew my time as the heiress to the sterling fortune was up the moment I walked downstairs and saw my parents, weeping and holding a strange girl in their arms. Deep down, I always knew. Growing up, everyone whispered that I looked nothing like them. It wasn’t just physical; our personalities were night and day. The Sterlings were old money, distinguished, reserved, and fiercely adherent to high-society rules. Then there was me: loud, wild, and rebellious. Bungee jumping, skydiving, urban exploring, drag racing—if it gave an adrenaline rush, I was there. Initially, those whispers made me angry. But as they grew louder, doubt crept in. One day, I snuck into my father’s study, swiped some hair from his brush, and took it to a private clinic for a DNA test. Just to be sure, I, in a stroke of utter disrespect, did the same with my mother. The results were life-altering, yet entirely expected. I wasn’t theirs. My first instinct wasn’t to hide it. But the crushing guilt of living a lie, of occupying a spot that didn’t belong to me, made it impossible to stay silent. I dropped hints. Subtle ones at first, then more obvious. I begged them to do a family DNA test, framing it as a fun ancestry thing. They always laughed it off, brushing my hair out of my face with parental affection. “Sweetheart, no matter what gossips say, you will always be a Sterling.” But how could I be a Sterling when I was in love with my brother? 02 I stood at the top of the stairs, gripping the handle of my packed suitcase. The trio downstairs finally snapped out of their emotional huddle. “Maya? I thought you were at that charity event?” my mother asked, her voice cracking as she quickly stood up, looking flustered. “Cancelled,” I said curtly. My gaze involuntarily shifted to the stranger. She wore a plain sleeveless tank and olive cargo pants. She was tall, slim, with a clean-cut bob and healthy, sun-kissed skin. She was the polar opposite of the polished, pampered debutantes of our circle. She stood next to a tattered black duffel bag, looking weathered and exhausted, like an old oak tree that had survived too many storms. She was a warrior. I studied her features in silence, awestruck. So this is the power of bloodlines, I thought. Well, damn. No wonder they always said I didn’t belong. Perhaps my stare was too intense. My mother shifted, instinctively stepping in front of the girl, her eyes flashing with possessiveness. A cold chuckle bubbled in my chest. Did she really think I was going to hurt her precious, newfound daughter? “Maya, this is Chloe. She’s…” My father frowned, struggling to find the right words to explain the situation to the girl I used to call my sister. Her name was Chloe Sterling now. She got the last name on day one. And me? Twenty-odd years later, I still carried a different name: Maya Thorne. My “mother,” Eleanor Sterling, was originally a Thorne. So, I wasn’t even using her maiden name. Even in the extended family, there wasn’t a single relative named Thorne. Memories rushed back, sharp and painful. “I told you she was some stray the Sterlings picked up! I knew it!” “She’s just a pawn for an alliance marriage. She thinks she’s a real heiress? Just wait till the real one comes back; she’ll be kicked to the curb.” The voices of the high-society hens echoed in my mind, sharp and vicious. My head began to throb. My parents—the ones who raised me—were good people. I knew that even with Chloe back, they wouldn’t kick me out. But I couldn’t bear to make things difficult for them. As my father was about to say the word “sister,” my ears began to ring. Before he could utter it, I dropped to my knees. I bowed my head in a final gesture of respect, then stood up, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out the door without looking back. The winter wind howling outside drowned out my mother’s cries for me to stay. I pulled my wool coat tighter, quickening my pace. 03 I slid into the back of a taxi, the blast of the heater instantly enveloping me. I rubbed my frozen hands together and pulled out my phone. I counted to ten in my head before the call connected. “Silas,” I said. “Call me ‘brother’.” Even though he must have received the news about Chloe, Silas was still as stubborn as ever, correcting me. I let out a dry laugh, then blurted out, “I’m not your sister. I want to be your girlfriend.” “Maya, stop messing around.” Silas sighed after a long pause, sounding weary. I had heard this rejection a hundred times. From the moment I realized I wasn’t biologically a Sterling, I also realized I had developed a sickening, borderline obsessive possessiveness over Silas. I stopped calling him “brother” and started using his first name. I acted like a jealous girlfriend, pushing my way into his social circle, monitoring his texts, restricting who he could see. I even crawled into his bed in the middle of the night on multiple occasions, using a fear of thunder as an excuse, then quietly slipping out of my nightgown. When our naked skin touched, Silas bolted upright, looking at me in sheer disbelief under the covers. “Maya Thorne, are you insane!” he had said. “I love you, Silas.” “I’m your damn brother!” “Brother, I love you!” I smirked, changing my address seamlessly. He had choked on his words, unsure of how to respond. After a long silence, he took a deep breath, wrapped me tightly in the comforter like a cocoon, and silently carried me back to my own room. After that, Silas started avoiding me. He became a workaholic, practically living at the office. He was traveling five out of seven days a week. Even our mother started complaining about his grueling schedule. “We have enough money. Stop killing yourself.” Silas shot me a quick glance and coughed. “I’m not tired.” Then he’d head back to the airport before sunrise. My focus returned to the present. Outside the taxi window, the wind was still howling. I had heard the word “no” too many times. I thought I had built a shield against it. I took a sharp breath, forcing a casual tone. “Silas, this is the last time I’m ever going to tell you I love you. Are you sure you want to say no?” “Maya…” His voice was hesitant, as if he was struggling with something. My heart stopped. The thudding in my ears was so loud it was deafening. But the faint spark of hope was extinguished instantly. “I have someone I like.” What? My mind went completely blank. I sat frozen, clutching the phone, unable to process his words. He wasn’t done with the execution. “I’ve loved her for years and years.” It felt like someone had physically grabbed my heart and squeezed. Tears blurred my vision. My mind began to sift through every woman in Silas’s life. Who is it? His secretary? A business partner? Some model? Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. I heard my own voice, raw and raspy, barely managing to speak. “Is it… the other owner of that ring?” “Yes.” Silas’s voice actually carried a trace of a smile, as if he was remembering something beautiful. Silas wore a simple platinum band on his left pinky finger. He had worn it for years. Whenever I asked about it, he always casually dismissed it as just a trinket. Until one time, while he was showering, I sneaked in and stole it to play with. By some stroke of awful luck, the ring fell off the balcony and plunged into the swimming pool two floors below. That was the first time I had ever seen a look of utter terror on Silas’s face. His brows were tightly knit, his expression dark and ominous. His eyes, usually cool, were cold and menacing. For a moment, I honestly thought he might kill me right then and there. I stood frozen, waiting for the screaming. But he said nothing. He just silently stripped off his clothes and dove into the icy pool, over and over, until he found it. That was when I knew that “trinket” meant everything to him. I wanted to ask who she was, if she was beautiful. If she loved him as much as I did. A thousand accusatory questions burned on the tip of my tongue, but in the end, I only managed, “Brother, I hope you’re happy.” The snow and wind continued to batter the taxi. This winter felt colder than any other. 04 By the time Savannah called, I had been in a hotel room for three days, sleeping the days away. “You got dumped? Perfect! I have just the cure!” When I walked into the VIP section of the club, I stared at the lineup of men, all easily over six feet tall. I pinched Savannah’s arm. “You call this the cure?” Savannah smirked, looking pleased. “Impressive, right? For your broken heart, I went all out.” She waved her hand, and instantly two guys slid into the booth on either side of me. I could see their abs defined under their tight t shirts. I couldn’t help but look. They were hot. But compared to Silas… they were still lacking. Ugh, why am I thinking about him again? I felt a surge of pure annoyance, picked up the glass in front of me, and downed it. Then I quickly let them refill it. Drink after drink. The bass in the club was deafening. I was completely plastered. I glanced up; Savannah had abandoned me for the dance floor. The guy next to me kept pouring. I grabbed his hand, slurring my words. “Do you like me?” He looked startled, then flushed and nodded. “Then why doesn’t he! “I’m a model, I’m smart, I’m hot! Why doesn’t he like me!” I downed the rest of my drink, pulling out my phone. “I’m going to show him. I don’t need him.” I hit the video call button. It was picked up almost instantly, and a familiar face appeared on the screen before I was even ready. “Maya Thorne! Where are you?” He was roaring through the phone. I flinched, instantly sobering up a little. Am I seriously still scared of him? The realization fueled my drunken frustration. I yelled at the phone, “Why the hell is it your business where I am? You don’t control me!” To prove my point, I recklessly pulled the two guys next to me into the frame, planting a messy kiss on one of their cheeks, leaving a vivid red lipstick mark. “See? See! I don’t need you! He’s hotter and way more fun!” After that, I don’t remember what Silas said. I only hazily recall hearing something that sounded like, “Don’t move.” If I remember correctly, he’s currently out of the country, right? Wait? Yeah, right. By the time he gets here, I’ll be long gone. 05 I was leaning heavily on Savannah as we stumbled out of the club, when someone suddenly grabbed my arm, yanking me out of her grasp. I stumbled, shaking my head violently to clear my vision. I must be hallucinating. I was seeing Silas. He gripped my arm, his face terrifyingly calm as he instructed Savannah’s driver, “Take Miss Reynolds home.” I tried to follow her, but Silas swept me up in a fireman’s carry. I thrashed against him. “Let me go!” “So you can go find more boys?” Silas sneered. “It’s my business! They’re hot and they actually want me. Unlike you!” I slammed my fists into his shoulder, screaming at him. Silas’s face was dark as he quickened his pace. Presidential Suite. He tossed me onto the bed with brutal force. My head was spinning. I suppressed the urge to vomit and slowly opened my eyes, only to see him towering over me. “What are you doing?” I gasped. Silas stared down at me with cold, detached eyes. He spat out two words: “You.” He crushed his lips against mine. The alcohol was hitting me hard, and I was dizzy. I subconsciously began to respond. The kiss was brutal, punishing, an absolute claim of ownership. Silas was too good at this. It felt like something he had done a thousand times. I managed to find a burst of strength and shoved him back. “Silas, this is my first kiss.” I gasped for air, my eyes red as I stared at him. I desperately wanted him to say it was his too. But he didn’t. Silas froze for a split second, then lowered his gaze, refusing to meet my eyes as he silently buried his face in my neck. Tears burned and flowed down my face. I clutched his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. “It hurts,” I whispered. He gentled his movements, but I pulled him closer. “Don’t let me go.” 06 The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom. I could see the outline of his body through the frosted glass. I looked away, and my gaze fell on the simple band on the nightstand. He had worn it for so long, and I realized there was minor wear on the outside. But what about the inside? Driven by a crazy impulse, I reached out. Under the dim lamp light, I finally saw the inscription. 60 forever. I didn’t understand. Perhaps it was a secret code between him and that girl. I offered a self-deprecating smile. The water in the bathroom stopped. I scrambled to put the ring back, then picked up the remote and turned on the TV to cover my tracks. It was the morning news. The anchor’s voice, tinged with emotion, filled the room. “There has been a new development in the case of Ambassador Richard Thorne and his wife, the renowned academic Dr. Amelia Thorne, who were victims of a terrorist attack seven years ago in New York. We hope to finally bring our heroes home…” Before I could finish watching, the screen went black. Silas dropped the remote. “Not tired? Still have energy for the news?” I looked up at him and said nothing. His towering figure leaned down, and a gentle kiss covered my lips. Unlike the punishing, desperate mess from earlier, this time he was gentle, almost as if he was trying to soothe me. “Do you do this with the girl you like, too?” I asked suddenly. Silas paused. He was standing with the light behind him, his face hidden in shadow. I couldn’t read his expression. But I got the distinct feeling he was staring at me. The room was silent. It felt like an eternity passed, or maybe just a few seconds. “She’s gone,” Silas said, not answering the question directly. The answer threw me. Gone? Like, dead? I didn’t understand, but I didn’t press further. At 8:00 AM, Silas was dressed impeccably in his suit. His assistant, Sarah, had delivered a fresh outfit for me. “The Angel’s Cove condo,” Silas said. “If you don’t want to go home, stay there.” The front door clicked shut. I sat frozen on the bed, only realizing what he meant after a long moment. Was he offering to keep me as his mistress? 07 “Maya, are you sure you won’t stay with me?” Savannah pleaded over the phone. “I found a place. I’ll see you for your birthday next month, okay?” After turning down Savannah’s invitation, I took my suitcase and headed to Silas’s private condo in Angel’s Cove. The security guard at the gate smiled as he buzzed me in. “Miss Thorne, are you here to see your brother?” It wasn’t my first time here, but it was my first time as… well, whatever I was now. When I entered the condo, everything was exactly as I remembered. A strange, melancholy feeling washed over me. I don’t know if it was because we had crossed that line in the hotel room, but Silas seemed to have stopped pretending. He transformed from a workaholic to a homebody. He stopped going to the main Sterling estate and lived entirely at the Angel’s Cove condo with me. When I crawled into his bed at night, he didn’t push me away. He pulled me into his arms. His body heat was intense. I leaned into his ear. “Let me help you.” Silas looked down at me for a long moment, then brushed his fingers against my lips. “Stop.” I turned my head. He let out a low chuckle, planting a soothing kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Just sleep.” The whole thing felt like a dream. We were like a normal couple, going on dates, watching movies. When Silas held my hand as we walked along the waterfront, I always felt like he was reliving a path he had walked with someone else. “Silas,” I called his name. He stopped, lowering his gaze to look at me. His expression was glazed, as if he was lost in a memory. My heart constricted. I asked the bitter question: “Who are you seeing when you look at me?” Silas smiled. “You.” He was lying. I bit my lip, but I didn’t expose him. Like a fragile dream, someone had to pretend to be asleep for it to continue. 08 The day of Savannah’s mother’s birthday party arrived. I took my gift and headed to the Reynolds estate. “There are so many people here! My face is starting to cramp from smiling,” Savannah said, slumping onto the sofa in the corner. Looking at her, I laughed. For families like the Sterlings and the Reynolds, these parties were just a spectacle to introduce the new generation and build business connections. “That’s just how it is. Before, I also…” The comforting words caught in my throat. I suddenly realized that in a little over a month, it would be Eleanor Sterling’s birthday. This year, the person standing by her side would be her real daughter. Actually, after finding out I wasn’t a Sterling, I had privately looked into Chloe Thorne’s background. But every time I got close to finding something, the trail would go dead, as if someone was deliberately blocking me. My thoughts were leading nowhere. I shook my head, clearing the strange suspicion. I was probably just overthinking things. “Look at that! She got kicked out of the family and she still has the nerve to show up at a party like this!” A woman in a dramatic black gown sauntered over. It was the same face that had called me a “stray” years ago—Bianca. “Bianca, Maya is our friend. Show some respect,” Savannah snapped, standing up defensively. “Being friends with her? Aren’t you afraid she’s going to steal your parents from you too?” “You—!” Savannah was shaking with anger. I grabbed her arm. I shook my head at her. Today was Savannah’s mother’s big night. As the host, it would be bad form for Savannah to get into a fight with a guest. Bianca was targeting me. I couldn’t hide behind Savannah. I squeezed Savannah’s hand, pulled her behind me, and was about to speak when a gentle voice interrupted. “Bianca, what’s going on?” “Amelia!” Bianca beamed and looped her arm intimately through the newcomer’s. “I need to introduce you to my ‘friends’.” Amelia Sterling swept a cool glance over Savannah, then focused on me. Her gaze lingered for a moment. “The real heiress, Amelia Vance. She just got back from studying abroad.” Bianca announced arrogantly, emphasizing the last few words. She looked like a proud hen showing off a prize. I ignored Bianca’s ridiculous posturing. My gaze was locked on the girl she introduced as Amelia Sterling. A simple white dress, loose waves, and a perfect, practiced smile. She was the definition of old money. But what caught my attention was the simple band on her left pinky. It looked exactly like Silas’s. Recognizing my stare, Bianca smirked and proudly lifted Amelia’s hand. “Isn’t this the engagement ring the Sterling family gave you?” “Engagement?” I frowned. “You don’t know? He was practically betrothed to Amelia years ago. They had an agreement. “She’s basically your sister-in-law. “Well, actually, since you aren’t a Sterling anymore, you don’t even have the right to call her that.” “Bianca! Stop it!” Amelia frowned, but her tone carried no actual weight. Then she turned to me, her smile still perfect. “My welcome-back party is tomorrow night, Maya. You should come. It’s always good to meet new friends.” Her tone was gentle, but I felt a distinct current of hostility. I looked at her, then calmly declined. “Sorry, I don’t usually make friends that easily.” She seemed genuinely surprised that I had turned her down so flatly. “That’s fine.” Bianca wasn’t going to let it go. She opened her mouth to start screaming at me. I moved instantly, grabbing her by the jaw. My expression was icy. “You… what do you think you’re doing!” We were too close. Her voice was trembling. Just as the crowd thought I was going to slap her, I suddenly let go and took a step back with a look of pure disgust. “You have spinach in your teeth.” My voice wasn’t particularly loud, but it was just loud enough for everyone close to us to hear. Bianca’s face turned scarlet. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. The corner of my mouth quirked up. I grabbed the stunned Savannah and walked out. We were ten steps away when Bianca’s furious scream echoed behind us: “I DIDN’T EAT SPINACH TODAY!” “Haha, did you see the look on Bianca’s face? That was brilliant!” Savannah was doubled over laughing before she finally composed herself and apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t arrange things well. I knew you two hated each other and I still invited her. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” I knew the invites were handled by her parents for business networking, so it wasn’t Savannah’s fault. But I still agreed to her offer, knowing that otherwise she would be consumed by guilt all night.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418545”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before I met him, Carter Hayes had never dated a C-cup before. He thought my body wasn’t good enough, thought I was plain and boring. Relying on the fact that I wouldn’t dare break off our engagement, he openly paraded his flings around town. For the sake of fairness, I cheated too. The day after I slept with a handsome stranger, something huge happened at my fiancé’s estate. The antique statue his family had worshipped in their private chapel for generations disappeared. Over the phone, my fiancé told me: The guardian spirit’s name was Silas Thorne. Wait a minute. I looked at the handsome guy in front of me, his chest covered in hickeys. “What did you say your name was again?” “Silas Thorne. Didn’t he just tell you on the phone?” The handsome guy smiled at me. 1 The night before his birthday, Carter invited a bunch of friends over to his estate. We were playing a drinking game. The “King” dared a guy and a girl to kiss with a napkin pressed between their lips. Since Carter was the birthday boy, the King cut him some slack. He told Carter he could pick any girl in the room. Everyone started cheering and immediately looked at me. I was Carter’s fiancée. Everyone knew that. Carter wore an ambiguous smile as he scanned the room. Finally, his gaze landed right next to me. “Chloe Davis. I choose you.” My name isn’t Chloe Davis. Chloe was my college roommate. 2 Being singled out, Chloe looked thrilled. But she quickly forced the corners of her mouth down, playing coy. “Me? I don’t know…” Carter smirked. “I’m the birthday boy. What I say goes.” Chloe happily stood up, standing bashfully in front of Carter. It wasn’t until their bodies were practically pressed together that she turned her head to ask me: “Hazel, this is just a game. You don’t mind, right?” Before I could answer, Carter beat me to it: “She wouldn’t dare.” His cold, dismissive gaze swept over my face for a split second. It felt like a slap. I stood up calmly. “You guys have fun. I’m going to the bathroom.” After leaving the living room, I heard wave after wave of cheering and catcalls. They were definitely kissing. And for quite a while, too. I felt a little sick, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. Carter was right about one thing. I didn’t dare. My engagement to Carter was arranged by my family. Our family business had been tanking for years. We weren’t just bankrupt; we were drowning in debt. My parents were desperate, and they finally managed to hook the wealthy Hayes family. As long as I married Carter, they would inject capital and bail us out. At the time, my dad actually fell to his knees, crying. “The whole family’s survival rests on your shoulders.” I said fine, but only if you leave your assets to me in the future, instead of giving everything to my younger brother. My dad, who had favored his son his entire life, shockingly nodded. It was only after the engagement that I found out the truth. Carter hated me. Before me, he had dated countless girls. Every single one was a bombshell, curvy and gorgeous with long legs. Just like Chloe. In contrast, I had plain features and a slender, unassuming figure. I wasn’t his type at all. After washing my face, I was just about to head back to the living room. Then I heard Carter’s voice from the hallway. “Hazel? She’s boring as hell. Even if every other woman on earth died, I still wouldn’t like her.” Someone asked, “Then why agree to the engagement? Even if your parents pushed for it, if you said no, they couldn’t force you.” “Because she’s obedient.” Carter let out a scornful scoff. “Once I marry her and stick her in the house, she won’t dare keep tabs on me. I can play around outside all I want.” I stopped in my tracks, listening in silence. The mocking laughter continued. I raised my eyes and suddenly looked down the end of the grand hallway. A heavy mahogany shrine stood elevated in a private alcove. 3 The Hayes family was incredibly superstitious. They had worshipped a guardian spirit for generations, showing absolute devotion. Rumor had it that this spirit blessed them with endless prosperity. And it seemed to be true. Generation after generation, the Hayes family had been wildly successful. Back when they agreed to the marriage, aside from eyeing my dad’s remaining assets, they had also consulted a psychic about my astrological chart. They said it was a perfect match. I walked quietly toward the shrine. The smooth, antique wood glowed with a timeless aura in the dim light. A statue sat squarely in the center. Backlit by a stained-glass window, its face was obscured. Carter had mentioned that this wasn’t some mainstream deity. It was a colonial-era general, an ancestor who had sworn to protect their bloodline. I quietly put my hands together. Founder of the Hayes family. I hope one day, I can make Carter feel the exact same pain he’s causing me. After making the wish, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Wishful thinking, wasn’t it? This was the Hayes family’s personal patron spirit. Why on earth would it listen to me? But… did the shrine just flicker? It must have been my imagination. 4 By the time the party ended, it was late. Carter said he was going to drive Chloe back to campus. I didn’t go back. Since tomorrow I was expected to act as the dutiful fiancée and join his family in offering prayers at the shrine, I was staying the night at the estate. He said he was just dropping her off, but by 11 PM, Carter still wasn’t back. Instead, I got a text. Carter: [Buy a box of condoms and send it to Room 901 at the Grand Plaza Hotel.] Wasn’t he just dropping her off? Why were they at a hotel downtown? I opened Instagram. Sure enough, Chloe had just posted a selfie. [Had such a great time today. I feel like such a spoiled princess! ~] In the corner of the selfie, I could clearly see the hotel’s white bedsheets and Carter lying on the bed. Carter: [Hurry up. Just leave it at the front desk, the robot will bring it up.] It had started raining outside. I held an umbrella and walked to a nearby convenience store. It was my first time buying something like this, and I felt a little awkward. Cashier: “Just the one box?” “No.” Driven by some inexplicable impulse, I grabbed another. “Two.” I dropped one box off at the front desk. I kept the other box in my pocket. I didn’t even know why I bought it. What was I going to do, blow balloons with them? While my mind was wandering, something strange on the sidewalk caught my eye. A bizarre man was standing in the pouring rain. He was dressed in full historical colonial garb, his long, ink-black hair cascading down his back, holding an antique paper umbrella. People walking by were staring, casting all sorts of weird looks his way. But he acted as if he couldn’t see them, standing tall and straight like a lone pine tree. The moment I saw his face, I couldn’t look away. He was strikingly handsome, but there was a sharp, lethal aura about his brow that gave him a fierce, commanding presence. I walked up and struck up a conversation. “Cosplay?” He looked down at me, his eyes like cold silver moonlight. “That outfit looks expensive. Must have cost a lot to make. Is there a convention today?” He didn’t answer. I squeezed the little box in my pocket. I didn’t know where the courage came from, but I invited him. “Want to come upstairs and hang out for a bit?” 5 I got a room with the guy. Room 902. Right next door to Carter. Once the door closed, I realized his long hair was real. The texture was incredible. Like spilled ink. “Hazel.” He suddenly called my name. I jumped. “How do you know my name?” He didn’t answer. I figured he must have seen it when I was checking in at the front desk. “What exactly do you want me to do, Hazel?” His voice was deep. When he said my name, it sounded absurdly good, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my brain. “Do something adults do.” “Are you sure?” “Do you have a girlfriend?” “No.” “Then it’s fine. Wait here, I’m going to take a shower…” “Let’s shower together.” His words caught me completely off guard. Ten minutes later, we were standing together under the showerhead. I was incredibly awkward. I didn’t dare look at him, let alone face him head-on. I just prayed the steam would fill the room and blur everything… Suddenly, he hugged me from behind. My whole body stiffened, a tingling, desperate craving washing over me. “Are you afraid?” “Yeah…” “Don’t be. I’m very clean.” It all started with a kiss. A gentle, damp kiss. The bathroom tiles were freezing against my burning back. “My name is Silas. Remember that. My name is Silas Thorne.” He whispered into my ear. My rationality had already mostly fled the building. Because of that, I didn’t stop to think—where had I heard that name before? Just as things were getting intense, Silas tore open the packaging. I sobered up a little, suddenly unable to cross that final mental hurdle. I gritted my teeth and said, “Maybe we shouldn’t. Actually, let’s just forget it…” I didn’t even finish my sentence. A noise suddenly came through the wall. It was definitely coming from 901. It was an unmistakable rhythm, and it was getting louder by the second. “Do you still want to forget it?” Silas asked me. I stared blankly for a second. “No. Keep going.” 6 The next morning, I was woken up by Carter’s phone call. “Where are you?” He sounded frantic. From the looks of it, he must have gone back to the estate and realized I wasn’t there. Today was his birthday, and there was serious family business to attend to. My brain slowly booted up. “I’m outside—” “Don’t you want to sleep a little longer?” Silas suddenly spoke up. Carter heard it and instantly got suspicious. “Hazel, is there someone next to you?” “Ah, no one.” I frantically signaled Silas to be quiet. But he acted like he didn’t understand my frantic waving. He pulled me close, leaning right up to the phone. “Were you satisfied last night?” I highly suspected Silas did that on purpose. Even through the phone, I could feel Carter freeze completely. “I heard a man’s voice. Who is talking?!” “No one, I’m just out for a walk. You heard wrong.” I slapped my hand over Silas’s mouth. His eyes curved into a sly smile, his thin lips brushing against my palm as if tracing the lines of my hand. Carter couldn’t even focus on that anymore. He panicked, “A walk? Something massive just happened, and you’re in the mood for a walk?!” “What happened?” “The statue in the shrine is gone!!!” 7 I threw my clothes on, rushing to head back to the Hayes estate. Behind me, Silas spoke with complete nonchalance. “It’s just a missing statue.” “That’s an incredibly important artifact. How can you say ‘just’?” “Important?” Silas grew serious. “You don’t believe in it, and it has never protected you. Yet you think it’s important?” “Of course.” Silas didn’t say anything else, just watched quietly as I left. When I rushed back to the estate, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The entire family was kneeling in front of the shrine, no one daring to breathe. Carter was supposed to be the center of attention today. For the statue to vanish on his birthday was an unimaginably bad omen. I tiptoed over and knelt beside Carter, whispering, “What’s going on?” “The statue came back.” “What?” “I don’t even know what happened. It was gone this morning, everyone was losing their minds, but just now…” He sighed heavily. “Just now, it suddenly reappeared in the shrine.” No wonder he looked so pale. The whole thing was supernatural and terrifying. I looked up at the shrine. It wasn’t backlit right now, and I could finally see the details. Carved into the pedestal were the words: Silas Thorne. I stared in shock. “Your family’s guardian spirit… his name is Silas?” “Yeah. General Silas Thorne.” That’s way too much of a coincidence. As I marveled at it, I tilted my head up to look at the statue’s face. I froze instantly. Isn’t this… the gorgeous guy from last night?! 8 The statue looked down with lowered eyes, gazing at the crowd with a tragic sort of mercy. For a split second. I felt like it was making eye contact with me. The shiver that ran down my spine was the exact same feeling from when I first saw Silas yesterday in the rain. The same name. The same face. The coincidence gave me goosebumps all over. As soon as the prayers were over, I wanted nothing more than to sprint back to the hotel. If Silas hadn’t checked out yet, I needed to ask him what the hell was going on. But Carter stopped me. “Maria said you didn’t sleep here last night.” Maria was their housekeeper. “Oh, right. I stayed at a hotel last night.” Carter was shocked by my bluntness. “Why were you at a hotel?” “You get to book a room, but I can’t?” I had never spoken to him like this before. “That hotel is actually really nice. The showers are huge, the bed is soft. Right?” I was personally ripping off my own mask of the obedient fiancée. Carter stared at me blankly, looking at me like he was seeing me for the first time. It took him a long moment to process. “Hazel, you misunderstood. Nothing happened between me and Chloe.” I looked at him like he was an alien. “You literally had me drop off condoms. What is there to explain?” “Those weren’t for me!” Carter desperately tried to explain. “Yesterday Chloe said her roommates weren’t going back, she was scared to be alone, so she asked me to book her a room. “I wasn’t planning to stay, but I drank too much, saw the bed, and just passed out. Chloe took my phone and texted you. You know that when a guy is blackout drunk, he can’t possibly do that. “I didn’t even see the text until this morning. I yelled at Chloe, and she said she was just messing around to see if you’d get jealous.” I cut him off. “Well, that’s a shame.” “A shame?” A shame that the noises I heard last night didn’t come from Room 901 after all. A shame that Chloe’s little scheme completely backfired. But I definitely got mine. The corners of my mouth curled up. I didn’t hide my absolute delight. Carter stared at my smile, freezing again. “Hazel, did you get a room with a guy last night?” he demanded. I blinked twice, my smile growing wider. “Take a wild guess.” 9 Because Carter delayed me, Silas was already gone by the time I got back to the hotel. I hadn’t gotten his number. When I left this morning, I figured I’d never see him again. But now that I actually couldn’t find him, I felt an empty ache in my chest. It was May, graduation season. The design department was hosting our senior portfolio showcase. Major brands and top-tier firms would send scouts to pick the best graduating talent. This was a massive deal, and everyone was taking it seriously. The night before the showcase. Chloe suddenly asked me, “Carter is coming to see my design tomorrow. Hazel, you don’t mind, do you?” “Whatever.” “Don’t be mad. Carter just sees me as a good friend. You absolutely cannot misunderstand us.” I scoffed, too lazy to even entertain her. The other roommates chimed in curiously. “Chloe, how do you even know the Hayes family heir?” “Oh, you know, we met through mutual friends.” Liar. She had obviously stolen Carter’s number from my phone behind my back. Chloe really thought I didn’t know about that. I just didn’t care enough to expose her. “Omg, I can’t believe you invited him…” “I didn’t invite him! He insisted on coming to support me,” Chloe said bashfully. “I told him it wasn’t a huge deal and he didn’t have to come, but he insisted. I couldn’t say no.” “Does he have a crush on you?” The roommate who asked that immediately got glared at by the others. They glanced at me guiltily. Seeing me with my AirPods in, they sighed in relief. Honestly, they didn’t need to be so tense. I truly, genuinely did not give a damn about that trashy man. The next day, the showcase began. Carter made a grand entrance. Chloe rushed up to greet him immediately. She was wearing a cocktail dress today, treating an academic showcase like her own personal red carpet. No one found it strange. Word on the street was that Chloe’s family had pulled some strings and already locked down the job offer from the top firm today. The internship slot was practically hers. “Carter, you really came! And you brought flowers?” Chloe asked happily. “Did you buy these because you know I’m signing with the agency today?” But Carter didn’t answer her. His eyes landed squarely on me first. “Hazel, what’s your problem? Why haven’t you been answering my texts?” For the past few days, Carter had actually been initiating conversations. Texting me random nonsense, even asking me out to dinner. But I barely replied. I gave a brush-off answer: “I was busy. Didn’t see them.” “Next time you’re busy, you still need to reply to me.” “And if I don’t? Are you going to just sit there hugging your phone waiting?” “Of course not! Who cares if you reply!” Carter snapped, humiliated. “Hazel, don’t test my limits. I can cancel this engagement at any second and make you regret it.” He turned and shoved the bouquet into Chloe’s arms. “Chloe, you guessed right. These are for you. Why would I buy flowers for anyone else?” It was pathetic. What was he even trying to prove? I rolled my eyes and looked away, completely bored. And in the next second, I saw a familiar silhouette. Silas! He was standing by the entrance, smiling at me from afar. I instantly pushed through the crowd and chased after him. 10 I followed Silas to a quiet corner where no one was around. He had actually adapted to modern times today. He was wearing normal casual clothes, his hair was cut short, and he had a baseball cap on. He looked exactly like a modern-day heartthrob. “Silas, who exactly are you?” I asked frantically. “You already know, don’t you?” He looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you seriously… the spirit from the shrine???” “Yes.” No wonder when I first met him, I felt that aura of blood and violence on him. General Silas Thorne had been a brutal warlord before he died. “Then why did you come to find me?” “I am a spirit. Naturally, I heard your prayer.” He patted my head, his gaze incredibly tender. “For hundreds of years, I’ve listened to the Hayes family’s selfish, greedy wishes every single day. When someone completely different suddenly showed up, it was hard not to notice.” He paused, then added. “But it was my first time taking human form. I wasn’t used to it, and I didn’t dress quite right. This is better, isn’t it?” I latched onto the other key piece of information. “First time taking human form?” “Right.” “So for hundreds of years… you just sat inside that wooden box?” “Yes. Sitting there, listening to their boring, greedy demands. My ears were practically bleeding.” I fell silent. Silas noticed. “Scared? It’s normal to be afraid—” “I’m not scared,” I looked up, meeting his eyes seriously. “I’m just wondering… were you lonely? Were you happy?” Silas froze, then let out a soft laugh. “That’s a very strange question. No one cares if a spirit is lonely or happy.” “I care.” Silas’s smile vanished. He stared at me for a long time, as if trying to permanently carve my expression into his memory. “No one has ever asked me that. Not even when I was alive, when I was just a soldier…” “Whether you’re a soldier or a guardian spirit, you still have moments of vulnerability.” I got up on my tiptoes, mimicking his earlier gesture, and ruffled his short, choppy hair. “Silas, whoever you are, I just want you to be happy.” And then, something bizarre happened. All around us, the decorative flowers that hadn’t bloomed yet burst open in a single instant, like magic. I understood immediately. It was Silas’s subconscious divine power leaking out. His heart was currently beating out of his chest for me. As Silas leaned down to kiss me, I thought to myself: This pure, ancient spirit is actually pretty easy to charm.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418544”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am deaf. Whenever people gossiped about Declan Cross’s endless affairs, I would just turn off my hearing aids. As long as he told me nothing happened, I believed him. Until I brought him lunch at the office and saw his newly hired assistant straddling his lap. Her body was soft, her eyes seductive: “Declan, isn’t it bad if I eat all the food your wife made for you?” His familiar voice was low and hoarse: “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a meal.” Later, he spent twenty million dollars at a charity auction just for the chance to have dinner with me. But I didn’t want it anymore. 1 “I’m telling you guys, absolutely no one is allowed into Mr. Cross’s office this afternoon.” The executive secretary finished speaking and winked at the other assistants in the bullpen. “I don’t know what kind of background this new girl, Blair Kensington, has. She just got hired as his personal assistant, and now she’s getting really personal.” “You don’t know her? She’s the heiress to the Kensington Group! Their only daughter. She gets whatever she wants. If you ask me, the current Mrs. Cross is probably going to be…” She made a slashing motion across her neck. “The current Mrs. Cross has no money, no background, and she’s deaf. If it weren’t for their shared history, he would have divorced her ages ago, right?” The mocking voices drifted into my ears. This time, I hadn’t turned off my hearing aids. Declan and I had our honeymoon phase too. Back then, no one thought we would make it. Accurately speaking, no one thought I would make it. I had no prestigious family background, and I was deaf. Standing next to the golden boy, Declan Cross, I looked completely out of place. But whenever we walked together, Declan would hold me tight, refusing to let go. He wanted to bring me to work with him every single day. His rich friends teased him, his employees catered to me, and everyone respectfully called me Mrs. Cross. Unfortunately, good things never last. I don’t know exactly when he changed. Maybe it was the first time he worked late and didn’t come home. Maybe it was the first time he went clubbing with his boys and didn’t tell me. Or maybe it was the first time he forgot our anniversary. People often maliciously reminded me, dropping hints that Declan’s new mistresses looked a lot like me. Whenever that happened, I would just turn off my hearing aids. When we got married, Declan told me that everyone in his elite circle was driven by hidden agendas. He said I shouldn’t believe a word they say. I took that to heart. I smiled and asked him, “Then who can I believe?” He said, “Harper. You can always trust me.” So, I would ask him if the rumors were true. He would say, “No.” And I believed him. I would ask him, “Do you still love me?” He would say, “Yes.” He didn’t know there was one sentence I never said out loud: If you ever stop loving me, I will leave. I will never beg you to stay. Declan was a notorious playboy, famous for his wandering eye. I was the only one stupid enough to believe he would never do anything to betray me. But Declan remained exactly who he was. The people around him started treating me worse and worse. His friends joked that I was a desperate cling-on, and his employees stopped giving me any respect. Listening to the secretaries gossip, a dull ache throbbed in my chest. I thought I didn’t care anymore. “Ahem! Stop talking!” A sharp-eyed secretary spotted me. She plastered on a fake, corporate smile: “Mrs. Cross, you can just leave the lunchbox here. Mr. Cross is in a meeting right now. It’s not a good time.” I dodged her outstretched hand. “Is that so? Then I really need to see what kind of crisis is keeping him from eating his lunch.” 2 “You can’t!” The secretary who had just been trash-talking me blocked the hallway doors. “Mrs. Cross, without Mr. Cross’s explicit permission, I cannot let you in.” A fleeting look of mockery flashed in her eyes. I smiled, glanced at her name tag, and said firmly: “I am going in.” Normally, if a secretary said that, I would just turn around and leave. But today was different. Just as I was leaving the house with the lunchbox, I received a package from Blair Kensington. An envelope containing an ultrasound report that pushed me straight into the abyss. The secretary had no intention of moving. “I’ll say it one more time. I am going in.” She bit her lip and looked down, refusing to budge. I laughed. It seemed that because Declan no longer loved me, even a secretary felt she could walk all over me. “You’re fired.” Hearing that, she finally panicked. Her eyes went wide, and she stuttered: “Y-You! I work for Mr. Cross! What gives you the right to fire me?!” I didn’t waste my breath. I called the HR Director. The very first time Declan brought me to the company, he stood in front of all the senior executives and said: “My wife’s word is my word.” I just never used that privilege. Until now. The HR Director acted fast, coming up personally to escort her out. Before she left, the secretary glared at me furiously: “You can’t even keep your own husband in check, and you’re throwing your weight around with me?!” “Just wait until Miss Kensington becomes the new Mrs. Cross! I’ll be back!” The HR Director looked at my face awkwardly. “Mrs. Cross, please don’t be angry…” I wasn’t angry. I just felt pathetic. “Mrs. Cross” was just a title, and Declan had made it clear it was no longer exclusive to me. Since when had I become so worthless in the eyes of a secretary? I looked her dead in the eye: “She’s right. So, while I still have a little power left, get the hell out.” That was the first time I ever lost my temper in front of the staff. No one dared to breathe. No one dared to stop me. Declan’s office was massive. As I walked down the corridor, a wave of melancholy washed over me. I had designed and decorated this place with him. Declan had insisted on installing a hidden, private rest suite with a shower in the back. He had rested his chin on my shoulder, biting my earlobe: “Harper, I want to leave traces of our love in every single corner of this room…” He spoke shamelessly, and he delivered. To the point where every time I visited the office, he would drag me into that hidden room. Now, I stood in front of that very door, listening to the murmurs inside. “Ah~ Declan…” The girl’s voice was coquettish. “Declan, isn’t it bad if I eat all the food your wife made for you?” His familiar voice was low and hoarse: “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a meal.” Just a meal. I didn’t have many talents, but my one skill was cooking. Declan loved my food. He begged me to make him lunches. He knew I always dreamed of opening my own high-end restaurant. But he always told me to wait a little longer. My heart felt like it had been beaten with a baseball bat. My icy hand pressed the door handle. The door opened. Blair Kensington was straddling his lap. Hearing the sound, she shrieked and buried her face in Declan’s chest. A guilty, unnatural flush spread across Declan’s face. “Who told you to come in?!” The moment he saw it was me, the frown on his face froze. His eyes went wide. 3 In a split second, he grabbed his suit jacket and wrapped it tightly around the girl, covering her completely. It was a deeply protective gesture. A storm of uncontrollable emotions raged in his eyes. The heavy, sickeningly sweet scent of perfume solidified in the air. The atmosphere was suffocating. After a long silence, he gritted his teeth and spat out two words: “Get out!” I didn’t know how I managed to control my body, but I took a step forward. I walked over to the mahogany desk. I set the lunchbox down. “Do you have anything else you want to say, Declan?” The veins on his forehead bulged. He bit his lip. His beautiful eyes looked like they were covered in a layer of fog. Declan bit his lip until it bled, finally regaining a shred of clarity. The scene was incredibly ugly. When had Declan ever looked this pathetic in front of me? His voice was laced with fury. He enunciated every word: “Get. Out. Now.” I didn’t linger. “Okay. Whenever you’re free, Mr. Cross, we can have a proper talk.” I closed the door behind me. My crushed heart shattered into a million pieces on the floor. I could never pick it back up. From inside, I heard a loud CRASH. Declan had smashed a glass against the wall. Before I left, I caught Blair shooting me a triumphant, mocking look. But I didn’t care anymore. I was tired. I just wanted to leave this place. Fast. As far away as possible. Unable to wait for the elevator, I ran down the stairs like a madwoman. My heart was in agony, tears blinding my vision. I missed a step and tumbled forward. “Are you alright?” A deep voice came from above me. A strong, firm hand gripped my waist. “I’m fine. Thank you.” I quickly stood up, turning my head to wipe away my tears so I wouldn’t look completely humiliated. I took a deep breath to compose myself. I looked up to see a man in a bespoke black suit, bending down to pick up my purse. His long legs bent slightly, the fabric pulling taut over his lean, muscular waist. His proportions were perfect, incredibly striking. It was Asher Pierce, currently the biggest corporate partner of Cross Industries. “Declan… he’s a bit tied up right now. You might want to reschedule, Mr. Pierce.” He smirked, raising a slashed eyebrow: “Who said I was here to see him?” 4 Seeing my confusion, Asher leaned forward and handed me my purse. The ultrasound report Blair had sent me had spilled out onto the floor along with it. A family scandal is meant to be kept private, yet he had seen everything. I was so embarrassed I didn’t know what to say. “Miss Harper, it seems you’ve run into a bit of a problem. My firm just happens to have an excellent legal department. Would you do me the honor of letting me help?” I really did need a specialized divorce attorney, and Asher Pierce’s firm was one of the top in the country. I just hesitated because of his business partnership with Declan. And the sheer awkwardness of the moment. Seeing my hesitation, Asher let out a soft chuckle. It was short, but it contained no mockery or negativity. “My dad was hospitalized a few days ago. The doctors said his diet has been fantastic lately thanks to your meal plans. “When you have time, I was hoping you could customize a new menu for him based on his current condition. “You don’t need to worry about my relationship with Declan. In my eyes, my father’s health is worth a hell of a lot more than money. So, Miss Harper, treat it as a favor to me, okay?” When Declan and I first got married, his startup was struggling. Because I loved cooking and dreamed of opening a restaurant, I got certified as a professional chef and a licensed nutritionist. I won over many of his early clients meal by meal. Especially the wealthy ones, who value their health above all else. My connection with Asher Pierce started because I designed a specialized diet plan for his parents. Asher was impeccable. His eyes were sincere, and I had no reason to refuse. “Then, thank you.” When I returned to our penthouse, Declan wasn’t home. I started packing my things. The apartment was new, all the furniture was new. I was the only thing that was old. I hadn’t noticed before, but I actually owned very little here. Two suitcases were enough to pack my entire life. While cleaning out a drawer, I found the “Couples Journal” Declan and I used to keep. My half of the journal was much thicker than his. He had stopped writing in it shortly after we got married, while I had kept it going until recently. I remembered back in high school, I was always stuck on the final, hardest math problem. I would write the word “Solution” and then just stare blankly at the equation. Declan had smiled, his face radiant: “Let me guess whose little idiot doesn’t know how to solve this and is too stubborn to ask me?” I flipped to the very last page and picked up a pen: [Declan Cross is a math problem I can never solve. No matter how many times I write ‘Solution’, I will never get any points.] Declan didn’t come home that night. I sat on the floor, flipping through his old journal entries. The further back I read, the more he loved me. 5 Declan was angry. I didn’t return his calls or texts. I moved back to the old, small house my mother had left me. I asked his secretary and found out he had flown to Paris for a “business trip.” A notification popped up on my phone. It was an Instagram post from Blair. A picture of her and Declan feeding pigeons in front of the Eiffel Tower. Compared to explicit photos, this kind of sweet, domestic intimacy was a dull knife carving out my heart. I understood what she was trying to do, but she wasn’t a very smart player. Because in my relationship with Declan, she was too low-class to even register. She wanted to win, she wanted the prize, but I didn’t want to play anymore. So, I easily tapped the ‘Like’ button. I refreshed the page, and the post was gone. I don’t know if Declan saw my ‘Like’ and made her delete it. It didn’t matter anymore. Asher’s efficiency was terrifying. We finalized the divorce settlement terms that very day. The documents were delivered to me the next morning. Declan called me, his voice accusatory: “Where are you? Why aren’t you home?” “I moved out. I’m never going back. Let me know when you return to the States so we can meet up.” The line went quiet for a moment. Suddenly, Declan scoffed. “Harper, you’re making a massive deal out of nothing.” “Now, get your ass home immediately, or don’t bother coming back ever!” He hung up, just like he did every time we fought. Waiting for me to go coax him back. I didn’t go back that night. Declan blocked my number and my social media. Then, he posted a picture of himself at a club, with an arm around two different models. I saw it on my burner account. Declan was always like this. If he didn’t want to communicate, he would force me to go find him over and over again. To prevent completely losing track of him, I had added his friends on burner accounts. [Hahaha! Tonight’s tab is on Mr. Cross!] [Declan, fighting with the wife again?] [Place your bets! Let’s see how many days Harper can last before she comes crawling back to Declan!] [I give her one day!] The group chat was buzzing. Declan’s best friend even set up a literal betting pool. I clicked into it and placed my bet on: [Breakup/Divorce]. After all, they had made money off me for years with these bets. It was time I won some of it back. The VIP Club was owned by Declan’s best friend. Members only. Hearing I was there, he immediately alerted the VIP room. Before I even opened the door, I could hear the voices inside. “Hahahaha, I told you! She couldn’t even last a day!” “Knew she’d rush over the second she heard you were at the club.” “Pay up, pay up!” I pushed the door open, ignoring their mocking gazes. I walked straight up to Declan. He raised his whiskey glass, smiling smugly, and patted the empty seat next to him. “Finish this drink, and I’ll take you home.” “Ooooh~” The crowd jeered. “No need.” I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and handed them to him. “Read this over. Make sure there are no issues. Sign it, and I’ll leave.” Declan’s eyes swept over the words ‘Divorce Agreement’. His voice dripped with ice. He slammed the papers onto the table: “Harper, what the hell is this?” 6 Everyone in the room was a socialite shark. Seeing the tension, the guy singing put down the mic, and the loudmouths shut up. Even the thumping background music was muted. Everyone sat frozen, terrified to make a sound. Except for Asher Pierce, sitting in the shadowy corner, leisurely taking a sip of his red wine. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. I stared at the large, bold word “DIVORCE” on the document. I spoke calmly: “Exactly what it says.” “Declan, we’re getting a divorce.” You could hear a pin drop in the room. My voice was crystal clear. I heard someone gasp. In the past, Declan was always the one using breakups or divorce to manipulate me. Every single time, I was the one who bowed my head, apologized, and begged for reconciliation. This was the first time I had ever initiated a divorce. Declan’s face was terrifyingly dark, his jaw clenched, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. “Declan, it must be because I ate the food Harper made for you. She’s mad.” Blair Kensington leaned in close to him, her eyes downcast, looking incredibly pitiful: “Let me apologize to her for you, okay?” Blair was wearing a very loose, flowing dress, clearly to accommodate her pregnancy. She deflected the main issue, playing the victim perfectly. She calculated that because I was a dignified woman, I wouldn’t publicly air out her dirty laundry and humiliate everyone in the room. Declan’s best friend jumped in to smooth things over: “Come on, Harper. You two have been through hell and back for years. Are you really going to throw a fit over a lunchbox?” “Yeah, just take the papers back…” I laughed. It had been like this for years. They were all Declan’s friends. They always spoke up for him. They covered for him, and they told me that since I was Mrs. Cross, I needed to be “magnanimous” and “forgiving.” “Don’t try to talk her out of it.” Declan leaned back aggressively into the leather sofa. “I want to see what kind of stunt she thinks she’s pulling!” He glared at me intensely: “Harper, this trick doesn’t work on me.” “Take these papers and leave right now, and I can pretend none of this happened.” 7 I took a deep breath: “Declan, I’m not pulling a stunt.” “I’m completely serious. Let’s get a divorce.” Declan stared at me, his eyes burning into mine, but he didn’t move. Dark emotions swirled in his eyes. After a long pause, a low chuckle came from the corner of the room: “Mr. Cross really is just like the rumors say—deeply in love with his wife!” “You act like a playboy on the outside, but deep down, you’re terrified she’ll actually leave you, aren’t you?” Asher Pierce swirled the wine in his glass with his long, pale fingers. He stepped out of the shadows, looking like a noble, centuries-old vampire. “What a wonderful, devoted husband!” The moment the words left his mouth, Declan exploded: “Bullshit!” Declan yanked the cap off a pen, ready to sign. His best friend grabbed his arm. “Declan! Wake up! Don’t do something stupid!” Declan had a volatile temper. In moments like this, the more people tried to stop him, the more rebellious he became. With a swift stroke of the pen, his signature was on the paper. “Harper, don’t you dare come crying to me begging to get back together!” Seeing him sign, Blair couldn’t suppress the triumphant smirk on her face. Only after signing did Declan remember to actually read the terms. He fully expected me to be greedy and demand half his empire. When he saw that I only asked for the profits from the specific projects I had personally secured for him, he frowned. He felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t know why. Soon, that fleeting emotion was replaced by arrogance. He scoffed: “Harper, you’re really taking this act all the way, aren’t you?” “Trying to draw a clean line with me?” “If you walk away with this little money after being Mrs. Cross for years, people will say I’m cheap.” “Tell you what, I’ll throw in the villa we lived in.” Anyone could hear the heavy mockery in his voice. I curled my lips into a smile and gave him a slow clap: “Since Mr. Cross is feeling so generous, I have a big gift for you too.” 8 I pulled Blair’s ultrasound report from my bag and slapped it right onto his chest. “Fuck!” Caught completely off guard, Declan couldn’t react in time. The paper smacked against him with a sharp thwack. His immediate reflex was to stand up and strike back. But when he saw the contents of the ultrasound report, his raised hand froze in mid-air. His eyes bulged. His face was a mix of sheer disbelief and panic. He instinctively reached for the signed divorce papers on the table. But a pair of long, elegant hands snatched them away a fraction of a second faster. Asher Pierce handed the agreement to me: “Hold onto these.” Asher was a veteran of the corporate battlefield, famous for never showing emotion. Strangely, why did I get the feeling he was actually… happy right now? He looked at Declan with a distinct air of triumph: “Thank you, Mr. Cross, for contributing to my law firm’s win rate.” Declan was clearly still in shock from the revelation that he was about to be a father. Before leaving the VIP room, I shook my phone: “By the way, don’t forget to Venmo me your bets. I’ve already sent a group payment request.” “I let you guys treat me like a joke for years. Consider this my appearance fee for playing the clown.” Before walking out the door, I couldn’t resist a final piece of self-promotion: “If anyone has any healthy catering or diet needs, feel free to contact me.” After sending the payment request in the group, I saw Asher instantly send his portion. Wow. Truly a born businessman. He knew I was going to divorce, and he was the only other person in the chat who voted [Divorce]. He really never missed an opportunity to make a buck. “Congratulations.” Asher congratulated me. I wanted to smile, but my facial muscles refused to cooperate. It probably looked worse than crying. I turned around, letting the cool night breeze hit my face. I whispered, “What’s there to congratulate…” Using the excuse of “post-sale customer service,” Asher insisted on driving me home. We didn’t say a word the entire ride. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I’m going upstairs now.” I tried to pull the car handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Asher got out of the car and opened the door for me personally: “Miss Harper, it takes courage to walk away from a toxic relationship. You are very brave.” “And leaving the wrong person is absolutely something worth congratulating.” 9 Good news stays indoors; bad news travels a thousand miles. According to the high-society gossip mill, Declan lost his mind that night. He dragged Blair straight to a clinic to get an abortion. In the end, it was Arthur Kensington, Blair’s powerful father, who rushed to the scene to stop the madness. The rumor mill quickly connected the dots: my divorce request and Declan dragging Blair to an abortion clinic. The verdict was unanimous: Blair was the mistress, and Declan was the cheating bastard. Many high-society wives sympathized with me, outraged on my behalf. Blair called me several times, screaming and cursing. Her tone had lost all its soft, “green tea” sweetness. She sounded like a feral banshee. I listened for a while and then laughed out loud: “Wow. So even wealthy heiresses can’t curse without resorting to genitals and bodily fluids?” “I just forwarded a recording of this to Declan. I wonder what he’ll think of his sweet little angel now?” Blair instantly shut up. The Blair Kensington who didn’t know me in high school only knew the “Mrs. Cross” version of me. Elegant, poised, gentle, and understanding. But back in high school, I was notoriously untouchable. Even the school bullies called me “Boss.” Because I had no family to back me up, I had nothing to lose. If anyone bullied me, I fought back with everything I had. I didn’t care if I got hurt. By messing with me, she had kicked a steel plate. I cleaned out the villa, handed the keys to a realtor, and told him to sell it as fast as possible. That same day, I moved back into the old house. I never knew my father. My mom had me out of wedlock, and she never spoke a word about him. But that didn’t stop her from loving me. She was the best mom in the world. When I was little, surrounded by my mom and grandparents’ love, I thought I was the luckiest kid alive. Later, my grandparents passed away. Then, my mom left me too. While cleaning out my mom’s belongings, I found a stash of heavy anti-depressants. 10 That was when I realized she had been battling severe depression for years. The neighbors always whispered that I was an illegitimate child. They called my mom a shameless homewrecker who got knocked up by a rich old man and abandoned. When I was little, I didn’t understand what they meant. My mom would just cover my ears, take me home, and make me my favorite clam chowder. “Bastard” and “homewrecker” didn’t sound like good words. I asked my mom, “Am I a bad kid?” She gently wiped my face: “Our Harper is the best, best, best kid in the whole world!” When she was alive, she shielded me from every storm. Knowing how much pain she endured before she died, I actually felt a strange sense of relief at her passing. She was free, wasn’t she? Thankfully, I had a little savings. The house my grandparents left and my mom’s house were both under my name. They bought them early when prices were low, and they were in prime downtown locations, perfect for renting. That was how I ended up renting a unit to Declan and his mother, which started this whole story. I shook my head. Ever since the divorce, this was the first time I had actively thought about him. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Maybe when you accumulate enough disappointment, you just go numb. I cleaned up both properties. I didn’t hire a cleaner. I just wanted to do physical labor to empty my mind. I wanted to open a high-end restaurant, and there were a lot of places I needed to spend money. I planned to rent one of the units out. I checked online and saw that rent in this downtown area had gone up significantly. That was the first piece of good news I’d had in a while. When your body is exhausted, your brain doesn’t have the energy to dwell on unhappy things. I slept from 2:00 PM straight through to 8:00 AM the next day. When I checked my phone, I saw a text from Asher: [Do you have time tomorrow to come to the hospital and check on my dad?] I smacked my forehead. Crap. I promised him I’d help, and I completely forgot. I quickly replied: [I’m free.] I went online and ordered some premium beef ribs and wild rice. The old man loved my beef and wild rice soup. I decided to make him a batch. Once it was done, I texted Asher, asking which hospital his dad was in. He called me directly, saying two words: “Come downstairs.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418543”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At a friends’ gathering, my bestie forwarded me a post: [How do you get a girlfriend of ten years to initiate a breakup?] I cursed the scumbag in my head and clicked on it. The author of the post was my boyfriend. 1 Staring at the title, the author’s username, and the profile picture, my mind went completely blank. My first reaction: my best friend sent this to the wrong person. With trembling hands, I scrolled to the very top and started reading word by word. But the more I read, the more my heart sank. The post was incredibly detailed. So detailed that every little thing was described perfectly. Making it impossible for me not to believe it. The post started by talking about how hard he pursued me, the excitement and beauty of finally winning me over. Then it talked about when I bombed my SATs and didn’t get into my dream school. He stayed with me, secretly applying to a college near mine. When he was doing his senior thesis and working across two different cities, we accumulated over four hundred round-trip Greyhound and Amtrak ticket stubs. Back then, maybe because of love, he just wanted to hold me in his hands. He never felt it was a burden. Even my occasional bad moods were easily noticed by him. He’d lose his appetite and sleep, buy an overnight ticket, and ride 12 hours just to see me. It was like he had endless energy and love. But I don’t know when it started, he got bored. Yet, because I almost died saving him from a car accident, leaving one of my arms half-ruined and unable to lift heavy things… He was afraid of being called a monster. He didn’t want to be the one to bring up the breakup. But he truly couldn’t stand being with me anymore. He grew more and more repulsed by my touch, annoyed by anything related to me. Sometimes, just hearing my voice… …made him inexplicably irritated and angry. At his worst, he even wanted to scream at me, “Why don’t you just go die?” 2 I don’t know how I finished reading that post. Or how I scrolled down to the comments. Many commenters said that in these situations, the guy usually has someone else in his heart. So the current girlfriend becomes a stumbling block to his new romance, making everything she does annoying. He didn’t reply to them. But he “liked” one specific comment: [Bro, I feel you. I wanted to break up with my GF of three years, but she was a total idiot. Not only did she miss all my hints, she loved me so much she lost all her self-respect. It made me more and more disgusted. I couldn’t even stop myself from wanting to cheat.] I don’t know if he liked it to agree that I was an idiot making him disgusted, or to agree that he wanted to cheat. “Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Someone across from me asked. Caleb, who had been looking at his phone, looked up when he heard that. He frowned first, then pulled a tissue to wipe my tears, but his voice was impatient: “We’re just out for drinks, why are you crying?” A female friend at the table started teasing: “After all these years, Caleb and Maya’s relationship is still so solid. Honestly, every time I run into a jerk, just thinking about you two gives me the courage to believe in love again.” In the past, hearing this would make my heart feel as sweet as honey. But right now, I felt so suffocated I could barely breathe. My mind was filled with the contents of that post. I turned my head and looked at Caleb. He was always like this before. Around outsiders, he always spoke to me with a hint of impatience. But his actions never slacked off. So I never thought anything of it. Because compared to guys online who are all talk and no action… I thought Caleb was so much better. I even thought of it as a playful little dynamic between us. But I never expected that his impatience was real. It was so real he wanted me dead. Or, did he really fall for someone else and cheat? 3 On the drive back, I was unusually quiet. Normally, when we were together, I couldn’t help but share every little detail of my life, while he usually just grunted in response. Sometimes, if I talked too much, he’d pinch my lips shut: “Are you annoying or what? Yapping away. Can you shut up?” But I’d just bite his finger: “No.” Then I’d look at him with a bright smile. Even if his attitude was cold, because we had sacrificed so much for each other, I never overthought it. I don’t know where the problem started. Was he just purely bored of me? Or was there really a third person between us? Even after we got home, I remained exceptionally silent. If it were before, he would have definitely noticed something was wrong and asked me why. But today, he just looked relieved. He tossed out a casual, “I’m gonna play some games. Go to sleep first.” It was as if he didn’t want to spend another second with me. Staring at his closed study door, when I went to take a shower, I finally broke down and cried on the floor. Ten years of history. In those ten years, I imagined countless scenarios where he might break up with me. When I bombed my exams and he did amazingly, getting into a top-tier university. When we graduated and did long-distance, separated by over a thousand miles. But the only scenario I never imagined was this: when I loved him so much that I thought our relationship was unbreakable, that we could spend the rest of our lives together… he got bored. I don’t know if he was moving too fast, or if my footsteps were too slow to keep up with his rhythm. We had obviously made it through the hardest times. Just when I thought we were till death do us part, he was sick of me. 4 I don’t know how long I cried in the bathroom. When I came out, his study door wasn’t shut tight, and I heard his faint laughter. It sounded like he was coaxing someone. I pushed the door open, and he didn’t even notice. It made me think of the comment he liked. I stood at the door for a moment, then went out and sat on the couch, waiting for him. During that time, I thought a lot. I wondered if I had done anything wrong recently. I wondered when he started getting sick of me. I thought about his recent unusual behavior. But after thinking and thinking, I only had one question: If he really fell in love with someone else, what should I do? He gamed until midnight before coming out. When he walked out, he still had a smile on his face that he couldn’t hide. But when he saw me sitting on the couch, the smile vanished instantly. He frowned, almost out of habit: “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I looked at him. “Caleb, let’s talk.” “It’s so late. What is there to talk about? Haven’t you talked enough from morning till night? Can’t you let me sleep early?” After he said that, he headed for the bedroom. My eyes turned red. I didn’t even know how I convinced myself before that he just had a mean mouth, that we had been together so long we didn’t need a filter. And that deep down, he truly loved me. Just as he was about to step into the room, I couldn’t hold back the question I’d been dying to ask since reading that post. “Caleb, do you like someone else?” Caleb’s face changed immediately: “I didn’t spend time with you while I was gaming, so you suspect I like someone else? Does this mean next time I go on a business trip, in your eyes, I’m going to a hotel with another woman? Maya, do I not even deserve an ounce of personal space now? Do I have to guard you 24/7?” It was as if every extra word I said was me being unreasonable and trying to strip away his personal space. He aggressively blocked everything I was about to say next. Caleb went into the room, grabbed his pillow, and walked back out. “I’m sleeping in the study tonight.” He really didn’t care about my feelings at all anymore. Just two years ago, he was so distressed because we were doing long-distance. The night my health failed and I passed out, almost not making it to the ER in time, he cried his eyes out. When I woke up, he held me so tight, wishing he could merge me into his own body. He said, trembling, “Do you know you scared me to death just now?” Then he made a firm decision to give up his career promotion just to be with me. A Caleb who loved me that much. How could he suddenly stop loving me right when I finally dropped everything to run to him? I sat on the couch. I couldn’t help but open his post again, reading the contents over and over, along with the reply he liked. My eyes burned unbearably. Tears fell drop by drop, soaking the screen. I wanted to get up, go to the study, lay everything out, and ask him clearly if he liked someone else. But I was too afraid to hear his harsh words again. So I sat on the couch the entire night. 5 Early the next morning, afraid that my bloodshot eyes would make him even more impatient, I washed my face before he woke up. When Caleb woke up, my face was covered in water droplets. I looked visibly terrible. But he didn’t see it. After getting ready, he just left the house. Only then did I realize that we hadn’t eaten breakfast together in almost a month. When I went to work, a coworker noticed I looked terrible right away: “What’s wrong? Have you been crying? Why are your eyes so puffy?” Even a coworker would care enough to ask, but Caleb remained completely indifferent. I forced a smile, my voice hoarse: “I’m fine.” At noon, my manager told me I had to go on a business trip. I opened iMessage. Looking at Caleb’s profile picture, my heart felt like it was being brutally squeezed. It hurt. It took me a long time, deleting and retyping, to send him a text saying I was going out of town. He replied very late with just one word: [Oh.] Looking at that word, my feelings were incredibly complicated. I couldn’t help but scroll through our chat history from the past few weeks. That’s when I realized. Most of the time, I was the one sending him messages, and he would take forever to send a dismissive reply. But because over the years, he had always put me first at every major crossroads in life… I naturally assumed my place in his heart was unshakeable, subconsciously finding excuses for him. But during the times he wasn’t replying to me, wasn’t chatting with me… was he chatting with someone else? Was it the little girl he was coaxing last night? 6 During my three-day trip, I didn’t contact Caleb, and as expected, he didn’t contact me either. Even though I anticipated it, the cycle of expectation and disappointment washed over me like a tidal wave every single day. Late at night, unable to sleep, I scrolled through his social media over and over, looking for clues. Then, my gaze locked onto a photo and stopped abruptly. It was a photo from their company’s holiday party last year. In the photo, he was sitting very close to a girl. The way he looked at her… it carried an indescribable gentleness. The reason this photo caught my attention was because I knew the girl too. From the few times we met, I could tell she treated Caleb differently. Did Caleb fall for her? Or was I just overthinking? I was afraid of being crushed by this feeling. I didn’t want to live in endless speculation. Eventually, I caught an early flight and returned home ahead of schedule. I had been with Caleb for ten years. In those ten years, our emotions were tangled too deeply. It wasn’t just love anymore; it was compromises and sacrifices. Even if we truly couldn’t go on, as long as there wasn’t a third person involved… I hoped we could part ways decently, without regrets, after giving it our best try. But I never expected that the moment I pushed the door open, I would find a pair of women’s heels in the entryway. When I saw those heels, my heart hit rock bottom. The blood in my veins ran cold. The very first thought that popped into my head was: [Caleb really cheated.] These past few days, the problem I dreaded thinking about the most, the one I feared the most, smashed into me so abruptly. For a moment, I felt like the whole world went silent. I stared blankly at the shoes for a long time before my weak legs carried me inside. Before I even saw anyone, I heard a soft, feminine voice: “Caleb, which towel should I use?” “The light-colored one.” As soon as the words fell, I saw Caleb sitting on the couch. He had obviously just showered, his mind miles away as he stared at his phone. What exactly had just happened between them? Just the thought alone was enough to break me. Soon after, the girl walked out of the bathroom wearing my pajamas. She was about to run to Caleb but froze when she made eye contact with me. “Maya?” I recognized her. It was the girl from Caleb’s photo, Lily. Only then did Caleb notice me. He froze too, but his first instinct wasn’t to explain. It was to interrogate me. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me?” In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. He truly didn’t love me anymore. 7 I didn’t say a word. I went to the bedroom to pack my bags. It wasn’t until I reached the bedroom that I realized my entire body was shaking. I opened the closet and started pulling out my clothes. But my vision was so blurry I couldn’t see a thing. I tugged at the clothes several times without getting them off the hangers. When I finally pulled one out, I realized it was Caleb’s. I don’t know why, but even the clothes were working against me. Caleb followed me into the room. Seeing my actions, his annoyance seemed to peak: “What are you doing?” My tears fell immediately. But I didn’t want him to see me looking so pathetic, nor did I want to embarrass myself further. I controlled my emotions, turned to look at him, and even gave him a slight smile: “What does it look like? Should I stay here and watch you guys hook up?” “Maya, what the hell are you doing? Suspecting me of cheating? If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say it! You don’t have to constantly accuse me of cheating, and you definitely don’t have to ruin an innocent girl’s reputation!” It was as if, from the very beginning, I was the one who wanted to break up. The funny thing was, at a time like this, he was interrogating me, blaming me for everything, yet he still remembered to defend Lily’s reputation. Lily, standing to the side, looked terrified. She glanced at Caleb. Caleb looked furious. Lily looked timid, the perfect picture to trigger a man’s protective instincts: “Maya, my clothes just got soaked with coffee, and since I was in the area, Caleb brought me up to take a quick shower. We didn’t do anything.” I ignored her. My heart was broken beyond repair. I just packed my things mechanically. I don’t know when Lily left. When I finished packing, I looked at Caleb: “Let’s break up.” If I had any thoughts of salvaging this before, in this moment, they were completely gone. Caleb stared at me coldly: “Maya, you’ve been putting on this whole act just for this moment, haven’t you? If you have someone else, just say it. Why go through all this trouble? Let me make this clear: if you walk out that door today, we are truly over.” It was hilarious. He was clearly the one who wanted to break up, but he twisted it to make it look like I was the one cheating. He knew exactly how much I loved him. I don’t know what our ten years meant to him. And I don’t know why someone who used to love me so much could suddenly stop. 8 I couldn’t say a word. There was no way Caleb couldn’t tell Lily liked him. He brought Lily home while I wasn’t around. Whether anything happened between them or not didn’t matter anymore. In the end, I didn’t finish packing all my things. It had only been two years since we moved in together, treating this place as our home, and I had bought too much stuff. Packing for half an hour barely scratched the surface. But every minute I stayed in this place made my emotions crumble. I grabbed a few random things, wiped my tears, and walked right out the door. But the moment I stepped out, Caleb sent me a text: [Maya, since you’re so determined to break up, I’ll have someone pack your things and mail them to you. Also, once we break up, don’t even think about getting back together.] Looking at the text, my tears smashed against my phone screen. I reached out my finger, typing and deleting a few times, before finally typing out everything I wanted to say: [No need. Just burn them.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418542”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For our third wedding anniversary, my husband Dominic gave me an unforgettable gift: an admission letter to The Rosewood Institute. It was a place notorious among the city’s elite, a glorified black site where high society sent disobedient women to be broken and tamed. “You have deeply disappointed me, Vivienne,” Dominic said, pinching my chin, his eyes twisted with disgust. “For three years you’ve tried to copy Audrey, yet you still lack even a fraction of her grace.” Audrey was his soft, gentle ideal. I was the untamed one he was determined to break. He was sending me away to learn how to be a good girl. “Go and be rehabilitated. Once you learn to act like her, I might consider bringing you back.” Two large bodyguards dragged me away in the dark. The instructors were brutal, using electric shocks, ice water cages, and solitary confinement to grind down my pride and mold me into a docile substitute. Two weeks later, Dominic came to inspect my progress. I was covered in deep bruises, my eyes hollow. He looked thrilled. “Have you learned your mistakes? Are you a good girl now?” I looked at his handsome face and let out a dry, rasping laugh, tears streaming down my dirty cheeks. “Dominic, you really do look just like him.” He froze, his smug smile faltering. I tilted my head, locking eyes with him. “Who do you think you are? You’re nothing but a cheap stand-in I bought to replace Rowan.” 1 For our third wedding anniversary, my husband Dominic gave me an unforgettable gift. An admission letter to The Rosewood Institute. The place was notorious among the city’s elite. It was a glorified black site, a dumping ground used by high society to break and domesticate disobedient women. “You have profoundly disappointed me, Vivienne.” Dominic pinched my chin between two fingers, applying enough pressure to bruise the bone. His face, so strikingly familiar to the man I actually loved, was twisted with undisguised disgust. “You’ve been imitating Audrey for three years, and you haven’t managed to learn a single ounce of her gentle grace.” He sneered, his eyes raking over me. “Look at yourself. You don’t possess a shred of elegance. You act like an absolute lunatic.” His precious first love, Audrey, was currently tucked against his side. She was wearing a custom haute couture gown I had ordered just last month. Her face was a perfect mask of delicate concern and manufactured pity. “Dominic, please don’t be so harsh with Vivienne. She’s just going through a rough patch.” She turned her big, doe-like eyes to me, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Please don’t be mad at him, Vivienne. He’s doing this for your own good. The instructors at Rosewood are highly professional. Once they teach you proper etiquette, he’ll bring you right back home.” “Exactly,” Dominic agreed. The contempt in his voice felt like a serrated knife. “Go there and get thoroughly rehabilitated. Once you’ve learned to be as sweet and obedient as Audrey, I might consider letting you back into my house.” I watched the two of them perform their little duet. It felt like watching a terribly written soap opera. Sweet and obedient? When he pulled me out of the abyss three years ago, he was drawn to my wild, untamable nature. He liked me because my absolute refusal to bow to anyone reminded him of my dead fiancé. And now, he wanted to personally grind those sharp edges into dust. “I’m not going.” I spat the words out, syllable by syllable. A flash of triumphant glee sparked in Audrey’s eyes, but she instantly buried it under a watery, trembling pout. “Vivienne, how can you be so incredibly selfish? Dominic has poured so much time and energy into you. Can’t you just be considerate for once?” “Considerate?” I let out a dry, barking laugh. “You want me to be considerate of the fact that he turned our wedding anniversary into a farewell party for a concentration camp?” “Vivienne!” Dominic roared, his patience entirely exhausted. “It seems you really won’t shed a tear until you see the coffin.” He snapped his fingers. Two massive bodyguards dressed in black stepped out of the shadows, grabbing me roughly by both arms. “Dominic, no!” Audrey made a pathetic, half-hearted gesture to stop them. “She’s going to get hurt!” Dominic pulled her securely into his chest. His movements were sickeningly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence he was inflicting on me. “Audrey, you are simply too kindhearted. You can’t show mercy to a woman who doesn’t know her place.” He looked at me like I was a broken appliance waiting for the scrapyard. “Take her inside. Tell the Headmistress to use the strictest methods available. I want her completely stripped down and rebuilt.” I didn’t waste my energy struggling. Because I knew something he didn’t. The moment he made the decision to lock me in that hellhole, our three-year game of playing pretend was officially over. It was time for the hunter and the prey to switch places. 2 The heavy iron gates of The Rosewood Institute slammed shut behind me, completely cutting off the afternoon sun. Waiting for me in the dim corridor was a middle-aged woman with a face carved from stone. She was the senior disciplinarian. Everyone just called her The Matron. “Number 037. Welcome to your rebirth.” In this place, names did not exist. You were nothing but a barcode. My rehabilitation started the very second my boots touched the floor. Lesson one. Walking. A rigid wooden crossboard was strapped tightly against my spine. The side pressing into my skin was lined with sharp, rusted tacks. If I slouched even a fraction of an inch, the metal bit deep into my flesh. The Matron’s voice hovered right by my ear. “Rule number one. A lady’s spine is always perfectly straight.” My heel caught on the uneven floorboards and I stumbled. A sharp, agonizing sting ripped across my shoulder blades as the tacks dug in. Lesson two. Dining. A bowl of gray, unidentifiable sludge was tossed onto the concrete floor. Right next to it sat a rusted metal dog bowl. “Rule number two. A lady’s appetite is always under absolute control.” The Matron tapped the toe of her sensible leather shoe against the dog bowl. “Eat it from the floor. Or starve.” I hadn’t eaten a single thing in three days. My stomach was a twisting knot of pure acid, but I just knelt there, locking eyes with her in dead silence. My defiance seemed to flick a switch in her brain. “It appears you need a session in the Isolation Tank to reflect on your attitude.” The Isolation Tank was a pitch-black, freezing water cell barely the size of a closet. The filthy, ice-cold water reached right up to my collarbones. Unknown things brushed against my legs in the darkness, biting at my raw skin. I was locked in that freezing void for twelve straight hours. At first, the violent shivering tore my muscles apart. By the end, there was nothing but a cold, heavy numbness. They wanted to grind down my pride. They wanted to shatter my psychology until I was nothing but an empty, obedient puppet. Sensory deprivation, starvation, calculated humiliation. The kind of psychological torture you only ever read about in classified military dossiers became my daily routine. Fifteen days. I honestly don’t know how I survived it. When they finally dragged me out of solitary confinement to prepare for Dominic’s grand inspection, I caught a glimpse of myself in a cracked mirror. My skin was sallow, my cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and my body was painted in a tapestry of deep purple bruises. I barely recognized the ghost staring back at me. The Matron looked at my hollow eyes and nodded in deep satisfaction. “Number 037, remember your place in the world. You are nothing but a shadow of Miss Audrey. A cheap replacement. Your only value on this earth is to mirror her perfection.” She grabbed my chin. “When Mr. Dominic arrives, do you know exactly how to behave?” I forced the corners of my cracked lips upward into a stiff, dead smile. “I know.” I was going to give him exactly what he came to see. And then I was going to make him pay the most catastrophic price imaginable for his blinding arrogance. 3 When Dominic walked into the room, I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the filthy floorboards with a ragged piece of cloth. He stood directly in front of me, looking down from his ivory tower. He was wearing a bespoke charcoal suit, his Italian leather oxfords polished to a mirror shine. He looked utterly alien standing in this dungeon of filth and despair. I hadn’t seen him in two weeks. He looked a little thinner, a faint trace of exhaustion resting between his eyebrows. But the second he saw me kneeling at his feet like a broken dog, that exhaustion melted into a sickening wave of pure euphoria. “Have you finally realized your mistakes?” His voice was dripping with the fake mercy of a benevolent god. “Have you learned how to be a good girl?” I stopped scrubbing. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, I raised my head. I looked at his face. That perfectly structured face I had spent three years and millions of dollars polishing into the masterpiece it was today. And then, I smiled. I smiled until tears spilled over my eyelashes. I smiled until my bruised ribs shook. “Dominic.” My voice was a dry, rasping whisper, yet it rang through the silent room with terrifying clarity. “You really do look just like him.” Dominic’s eyebrows pulled together. He completely missed the context of my words. “What kind of lunatic nonsense are you talking about?” “Nonsense?” I pressed my raw palms against the wet floor and pushed myself up, swaying slightly before locking my knees. I took a slow, deliberate step toward him. I was dressed in filthy rags. I was covered in wounds. Yet the sheer, suffocating gravity rolling off my body forced him to take an involuntary step backward. I leaned in, my lips hovering mere inches from his ear, and whispered. “Who exactly do you think you are?” “Dominic, you are nothing but a prop. A fake, pathetic counterfeit I bought to stand in for Rowan.” Boom. I watched the blood drain from his face in a single, violent rush. His untouchable composure, his arrogant control, completely vaporized in the span of a heartbeat. “What… what did you just say?” I ignored his stuttering shock, letting my mind drift back to the beginning. Three years ago, I found him bleeding out in a filthy alleyway. He had been beaten half to death by loan sharks, curled up next to a dumpster like a stray mutt. And I chose him. Right there on the spot. Not because he had some hidden genius. Not because he was special. I chose him because when he turned his bruised face to drink from a dirty puddle, the stubborn line of his jaw looked exactly like my Rowan. I dragged him out of the gutter. I paid off his debts. I funneled endless resources and capital into his hands, bought him a company, and crowned him as the glittering CEO everyone worshiped today. I dressed him in Rowan’s favorite suits. I made him wear Rowan’s cologne. I bought him Rowan’s dream sports car. I practically held his hand in the boardroom, teaching him how to be as ruthless as Rowan, how to smile over a glass of whiskey with Rowan’s exact effortless charm. He was a fast learner. And a greedy one. He genuinely believed I was just a desperate, lovesick woman who worshipped the ground he walked on. He thought he was the shining sun of my universe. It was hilariously pathetic. He was just a tool I used to look at a dead man’s ghost. He was a low-budget knockoff. 4 “Impossible!” Dominic snapped out of his shock, letting out a raw, cornered roar. “Vivienne, you have lost your damn mind! You’re just spinning these psychotic lies to get back at me!” He reached out, trying to grab my collarbone, but I casually stepped out of his reach. “Lies?” I tilted my head, my smile turning sharp and vicious. “Then tell me, Dominic. Three years ago, who dragged your bleeding carcass away from the cartel’s debt collectors?” “Who handed you your first ten million in startup capital when your own family kicked you out onto the street with absolutely nothing?” “And who fed you every corporate playbook, destroyed your rivals, and physically placed you on that CEO throne?” With every question I fired at him, his face grew a shade paler. Those were the darkest, most humiliating secrets of his past. The dirty stains he could never wash off his tailored suits. He always convinced himself I did all of that because I was blinded by devotion. “You did it because you loved me!” he barked, desperately trying to glue his shattered ego back together. “Love?” The word tasted like ash in my mouth. “Dominic, do you honestly think you’re worthy of that word?” “I was just feeding a stray dog. A dog that happened to share a passing resemblance to someone I actually cared about.” “But now, the dog has forgotten its place and is trying to bite the hand that holds the leash.” My words were dipped in venom, slicing his fragile masculinity into ribbons. “Shut your mouth!” He completely lost his mind, raising his hand to strike me across the face. But his wrist was caught mid-air. Not by me. By Audrey, who had just hurried into the room. She was dressed immaculately, as always. The second she saw the tension, she threw herself against Dominic’s chest, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. “Dominic, stop! Please calm down! Can’t you see her mind is completely broken from the stress? Don’t sink to her level!” She turned to me, playing the heartbroken saint perfectly. “Vivienne, how could you say such vile things? Dominic has given you the world, and you repay him with these toxic delusions?” “Look at that. The dog got backed into a corner and called its little lapdog for backup.” I completely ignored Audrey’s theatrical performance. My eyes stayed dead locked on Dominic. I reached into the pocket of my ragged uniform and pulled out the crumpled admission letter to The Rosewood Institute. While Dominic and Audrey stared at me in absolute bewilderment, I slowly, methodically tore the heavy parchment into tiny, jagged pieces. “Dominic, let me make this official.” “Our little game of dress-up is over.” I reached into the hidden lining of my bra and pulled out a microscopic burner phone I had smuggled in on day one. Right in front of his face, I dialed a number. The line connected almost instantly. “Uncle Robert.” My voice shed the hoarse weakness of a victim and returned to its natural, commanding absolute zero. “It’s time to put the stray down.” “Freeze every single asset under Dominic’s name. Liquidate his accounts and forcefully recall all executive shares of Zenith Corporation.” “You have exactly thirty minutes.” “Drag him out of the clouds and throw him right back into the filthy sewer where I found him.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418541”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 It was past ten at night by the time I finally left the library and drove home. As I turned onto Oakwood Avenue, a narrow one-way street, headlights blinded me. A sleek black Porsche was barreling straight toward me, going the wrong way. I laid on the horn, hoping the driver would realize his mistake and back up. Instead of stopping, the Porsche’s engine roared. The driver hit the gas and aggressively aimed his grille right at my hood. Blinded by his high beams, I yanked the steering wheel hard, slamming on the brakes. My tires screeched, stopping barely two feet from his bumper. Before I could even catch my breath, the Porsche’s door flew open. A heavyset, bald man stepped out. He was gripping a heavy steel crowbar. “You blind, stupid bitch! Do you have eyes in your thick skull? Learn how to drive!” Panic spiked in my chest. He was completely unhinged. In my absolute terror, my foot slipped off the brake and hovered over the gas pedal. … “Honk at me again! I dare you! Do you not see the badge on this car?” He marched up to my beat-up Honda Civic and kicked the side panel violently. With one swift motion, he swung the crowbar and smashed my side mirror clean off. “A piece of trash Honda trying to block my road. I could total ten of these junkers and pay for them in cash!” His face, heavy with fat and flushed bright red, pressed against my driver-side window. He pounded his meaty fist against the glass. “Back the hell up! I swear to God, I absolutely hate entitled female drivers like you.” He kicked my door again. The deafening thud made my entire body violently shake. Tears of frustration and fear welled up in my eyes. “You’re the one who isn’t looking! Can’t you see the giant one-way sign?” I shouted through the glass. “You were driving on the wrong side! I honked to warn you, and you just flashed your brights and sped up!” “If I hadn’t slammed on the brakes, someone could have died!” “Die then! It’s what you deserve!” The bald guy hammered his fists against my window a few more times. Still unsatisfied, he reached into his car, grabbed a steaming cup of takeout coffee, and hurled it directly at my windshield. The sticky brown liquid smeared across the glass. I flicked on the wipers and fumbled for my phone to call 911. The second the dispatcher picked up, the glass shattered. The steel crowbar pierced straight through the driver’s side window, stabbing brutally into my stomach. Agony ripped through me. I curled inward, dropping my phone onto the floorboard. Choking back a sob, I threw my arms over my head and screamed my location at the fallen phone. “Oakwood Avenue! Third traffic light on the one-way strip. A Porsche driver is attacking me. His plates are…” The man kept swinging. The windshield spiderwebbed into a million jagged lines. The hood of my car was a landscape of deep, brutal dents. Shards of glass sliced into my palms. The sight of my own warm blood made my mind go completely blank. When I looked up and saw him raising the heavy steel bar for another swing at my face, pure survival instinct took over. I needed to reverse. I needed to get away. But my trembling foot missed. I slammed down on the gas. The Honda lurched forward with explosive force. The bald man, trapped right between the two bumpers, was crushed against his own Porsche. A blood-curdling shriek ripped from his throat. It sounded like an animal being slaughtered. “My legs! My fucking legs are broken!” He collapsed onto the asphalt, his previous arrogance entirely vaporized. A crowd had already gathered. An older gentleman standing on the sidewalk started clapping. “Good! You served him right. God, that felt good to watch.” A younger woman rushed over to my window. “Don’t be scared, honey. I’ll testify for you. He attacked you first.” She held up her smartphone. “I got the whole thing on video. He was going the wrong way, running his filthy mouth, and smashing up your car for no reason.” As the adrenaline began to fade, a repulsive stench hit my nose. I recoiled in disgust. “He reeks of liquor.” The woman with the phone pointed at the groaning man on the pavement. “You can smell him from a mile away. He’s completely wasted, throwing a drunken tantrum and treating you like an easy target.” When the cops arrived, the woman practically shoved her phone into the officer’s hands. With the video evidence, the situation was crystal clear. An ambulance hauled the drunk driver away, and the police arranged a ride for me to the nearest ER. On my second day in the hospital, the bald man’s wife called me. She introduced herself as Brenda. She sounded soft-spoken and reasonable, asking if she could visit. Assuming she wanted to apologize, I agreed. She walked into my room carrying a basket of expensive-looking apples. She immediately grabbed my hand, her face a picture of exaggerated sympathy. “Sweetheart, how are you feeling? Seeing you hurt just breaks my heart.” Her warm attitude made me drop my guard a little. I shook my head. “The doctors said the glass didn’t cut too deep. I’ll be discharged in a couple of days.” “Oh, thank God. Since you’re not badly hurt, let’s just get this settlement agreement signed right now.” Her tone shifted slightly, growing a bit more urgent. “My husband Boris is the sole provider for our family. He brings in about eight grand a month.” “Now that both of his legs are shattered, our rent, utilities, and the boys’ private school tuition are all depending on this settlement money.” “Settlement money?” I stared at her, thoroughly confused, and looked down at the document she pushed onto my lap. The very first clause was highlighted. Party A voluntarily agrees to compensate Party B with the sum of one million dollars, exclusive of hospital fees. Under Party B was the name Boris. 2 “A million dollars?” My eyes nearly popped out of my skull. Brenda just waved her hand dismissively. “Honestly, a million is cutting you a deal.” “You broke my husband’s legs. You owe us a decade’s worth of living expenses for my entire family.” She leaned closer. “Considering you’re just a college student, I’m taking pity on you and only asking for a million. Otherwise, the tuition for my kids alone would be way more than that.” As if worried I wouldn’t believe her, she whipped out a crumpled report card. “Both of my boys are Ivy League material. They’ll definitely be getting full rides to the best universities in the world.” “Ivy League? With a 2.0 GPA? Lady, are you drunk too?” I shoved the paper filled with red ink away, offering her a cold, empty smile. “Your husband drove drunk. He drove the wrong way. He publicly demolished my car while bragging that he was rich enough to smash ten of my Hondas and pay for them in cash.” “He was acting like he owned the universe when he was swinging that crowbar. And now you’re sitting here trying to play the sympathy card, expecting me to fund your entire family for the rest of your lives?” Wow. Birds of a feather really do flock together. I grabbed the basket of apples, ready to kick her out. As I picked it up, a vile, rotting stench hit me. Beneath the perfectly polished apples on the top layer, the rest of the fruit was entirely rotten. Some were literally crawling with maggots. “It’s just a trashy little Honda! Why are you being so vindictive?!” Brenda’s polite mask completely slipped. “My man just put a few dents in your car. You crippled him! You turned him into a useless cripple stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life!” Seeing that I wasn’t going to sign, she forcefully shoved a pen into my palm. She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, trying to physically force my hand down onto the signature line. Her violent pulling yanked the IV needle in the back of my hand. Blood immediately started backing up into the tube. I slammed my free hand down on the nurse call button. The pen dragged across the paper, leaving a jagged streak of ink. I grabbed the basket of rotting apples and slammed it directly into Brenda’s face. I ripped her precious settlement agreement in half right in front of her. “Take your garbage paper and get the hell out of my room.” “With the repulsive way you people act, I wouldn’t settle with you if you paid me a million dollars.” “You broke his legs! That million dollars is a debt you owe my family!” The bruised, mushy apples had completely ruined Brenda’s makeup. She frantically wiped her face, getting mashed fruit and wriggling maggots all over her hands. The nurses rushed in with hospital security. They grabbed Brenda, who was still trying to lunge at my bed, and practically dragged her out into the hallway. “Fine, you little bitch! You want to do this the hard way? I’ll show you the hard way!” My phone buzzed with a text from her number. I immediately blocked it and grit my teeth while the nurse reinserted my IV. After I was discharged, I went to the impound lot to take one last look at my totaled car. It was a gift from my dad for my eighteenth birthday. The day I got my license, this was the car I drove. I ran my fingers over the deep, brutal dents in the hood. I uploaded the dashcam footage to my cloud drive, untied the lucky charm hanging from the rearview mirror, and headed to the police precinct to give my official statement. I figured it would just be a formality. The evidence was rock solid. But the moment I walked into the precinct, I saw Brenda. Her frizzy hair was a mess. She slammed a USB drive onto the front desk, her nose pointed up in the air with unbearable arrogance. “Watch this. Ironclad proof. That little tramp provoked him first.” Her so-called ironclad proof was a deepfake video. On the monitor, “my” face was twisted in a grotesque sneer. “I” was violently pounding on the Porsche’s window, revealing a mouth full of rotting yellow teeth. “I can total ten of your junk cars and pay for them in cash,” the fake version of me spat. The AI rendering was terrible. The facial proportions were completely warped. Only someone as delusional as Brenda would think her amateur editing skills were flawless enough to fool law enforcement. “See?! My husband drives a Porsche! A custom paint job alone costs thousands! This psycho woman was trying to smash his windows in. My husband was simply defending himself with that crowbar.” She even pulled out her phone, showing the officer a chat log with some “expert” online lawyer, trying to pressure them. “The legal experts online already confirmed this is textbook self-defense. That bitch deserved to get her car smashed.” She shot me a venomous glare, covering her nose like I was a walking biohazard. The disgust on her face was theatrical. “She reeks of cheap perfume. Just look at the way she dresses. Does that look like a decent girl to you?” “She’s a cheap piece of trash turning tricks. She crippled my husband. If you cops don’t lock her up immediately, what, are you waiting to become her regular customers?” 3 “Ma’am, we deal in actual evidence here. Our tech department ran the video you submitted. It’s heavily altered. The original audio and actions belong to your husband, Boris.” The desk sergeant looked at her with pure exhaustion. “You submitted fabricated evidence, perjured yourself, and publicly slandered another citizen. We are officially placing you under arrest for criminal obstruction and defamation.” “Arrest me? On what grounds?!” The moment Brenda realized she was actually going to be detained, she lost her mind. She started sweeping everything off the precinct’s front desk, screaming at the top of her lungs. “That little whore definitely paid you off! You’re protecting a murderer! You’re bullying a helpless family! Does the law even exist in this country anymore?!” She grabbed a paper cup of water and threw it directly into an officer’s face. When two cops moved to restrain her, she threw herself onto the floor in a theatrical swoon. She threw herself down a little too hard, and the back of her head cracked against the tile floor, drawing a thin line of blood. The second she felt the blood, she started wailing, rolling around on the floor. “I demand to see the captain! I’m taking this to the supreme court!” Her tantrum was a well-oiled machine. It was obvious she had used this exact method to bully people into submission her entire life. Unfortunately for her, she was throwing her fit in the middle of a police precinct, directly under a 4K security camera. No amount of screaming was going to save her from the handcuffs. When two officers hauled her up by her armpits like a dead fish, Brenda actually looked confused. She genuinely seemed baffled that her foolproof strategy had finally landed her in jail. By the time reality set in, she was crying, begging them to believe that someone else gave her the video and she had no idea it was fake. The officer just twisted her arms behind her back. His voice was completely devoid of sympathy. “Too late for that. Enjoy your cell.” They hauled her off to the medical ward to check the cut on her head. I watched the chaotic mess left behind on the floor and sighed. “You might want to book her a psych evaluation while you’re at it.” “She seriously needs her head checked.” Brenda tried to play hardball and ended up deepfaking her way into a jail cell. Now, the son was paralyzed in a hospital bed, and the daughter-in-law was locked in county jail. Boris’s elderly parents panicked. They hired a legal proxy to meet with me, begging me to sign a letter of forgiveness so they could bail Brenda out. “They’re a hardworking family. Boris is in sales. He has to drink with clients to close deals. He just had a little too much that night.” “Brenda is busy with the kids, and Boris wanted to save a few bucks on an Uber. He thought the streets were empty and he knew the neighborhood well. It was just a momentary lapse in judgment.” The slick lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose, his tone deeply serious. “The family is willing to cover the damages to your vehicle. But they ask that you show some grace. Sign the settlement so Brenda can go home and care for her children. And please, drop the charges so Boris doesn’t get a permanent record. It could ruin the kids’ future college applications.” The lawyer was a smooth talker. He booked a table at a high-end steakhouse and ordered their signature dishes just to butter me up. But the moment he slid that exact same absurd settlement agreement across the table, I stood up from my chair. “They owe me for the car and my three days of medical bills regardless of any agreement.” “From start to finish, Boris is at fault. Why the hell should I pay the price for his stupidity?” “You saw the dashcam footage. He literally said I deserved to die. Losing his legs is karma. I am not paying a single cent.” “You’re being incredibly vicious for a young woman. You crushed his legs. Even just out of basic humanitarian decency…” The lawyer furrowed his brow, trying to shame me. I just laughed. “Humanitarian decency only applies to humans. Not rabid animals.” “Being this stubborn isn’t good for your health, kid.” The lawyer sighed heavily, slipping the paper back into his briefcase. He shook his head. “Boris is the golden boy of that family. You turned him into a cripple. Their resentment toward you is massive.” “You ruined their son’s life, and now you refuse to pay a dime. When the payback finally catches up to you, it’s going to cost you a lot more than a million dollars.” The payback arrived faster than I expected. After the incident, my dad called my college advisors to get me a temporary leave of absence. He wanted me to stay home until the legal drama officially concluded. “Boris’s family are the neighborhood bullies. Now that you’ve hurt him, they’re definitely going to come looking for trouble,” my dad warned me. “They already did. One of them is already in a cell.” My dad, Arthur, ran a very popular local deli. Weekends were packed, so I was helping out behind the counter. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the front door swing open. “Welcome! Menus are on the tables, or you can scan the QR code to order.” An elderly woman waddled in. Her face was heavy with loose flesh, a massive knock-off designer bag slung over her shoulder. Trailing behind her were two chubby boys waving plastic action figures around, violently smacking them together. They nearly knocked over a glass bottle of hot sauce on the nearest table. I quickly caught the bottle before it shattered. The old woman’s narrow, beady eyes locked onto me. She flipped aggressively through the menu before pointing a bony, wrinkled finger at my face. “Your sign outside says unlimited soup refills if we order a large bowl, right?” “Yes, ma’am. Free refills on the broth.” The old woman had a dark mole on the corner of her mouth. I remembered seeing the exact same mole on Boris’s face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418540”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My adopted brother, Peter, was allegedly allergic to lies. He claimed that whenever he heard one, he would break out in hives, sneeze uncontrollably, and his eyes would stream with tears. On the very first day I returned to my biological family, Peter immediately suffered a massive allergic reaction. His skin turned bright red and swelled up, his eyes and nose running non-stop. From that moment on, my entire family branded me a pathological liar with zero morals. Later on, my grandmother, who was paralyzed from a severe stroke, was pushed down a flight of stairs. When they asked me, I simply shook my head and said, “It wasn’t me.” The very next second, Peter went into anaphylactic shock and collapsed right in front of everyone. My father was furious. My mother screamed and cried at me. My older sister, Jacqueline, slapped me across the face so hard my vision went black. “How could our family produce such a toxic, venomous snake like you?!” I was humiliated, tortured, and relentlessly punished. It wasn’t until the moment I died that I finally discovered Peter’s true secret. 1 On my very first day back at the Starzyk estate, I didn’t hesitate. I poured myself a glass of boiling hot water and drank it straight down. Only when I felt that agonizing, burning pain searing my throat did I finally relax against the leather seats of the family’s Porsche. In my past life, the second I was reunited with my biological parents and my sister, I had hugged them, my eyes red and brimming with tears of joy. My mother’s voice had choked with emotion as she told me they had finally found me. Peter, standing off to the side, had looked down at the floor and muttered, “I’m so sorry, brother. I’ve been occupying your rightful place all these years. Now that you’re back, I should give everything back to you.” Jacqueline had immediately frowned, reaching out to gently stroke his hair. “Don’t say such silly things. Ethan won’t mind.” I had quickly nodded in agreement. “Of course not. I consider you my real brother. We’ll always be a family.” It was supposed to be a warm, welcoming reunion. But the moment the words left my mouth, Peter started furiously rubbing his nose. He sneezed violently, over and over, his hands frantically scratching at his arms, which were rapidly breaking out in angry red hives. Jacqueline’s face immediately darkened. She barked at the maids to fetch his antihistamines. My parents subtly pulled their hands away from mine. The warm, loving looks they had just given me were instantly replaced by cold, calculated scrutiny. I was terrified. I couldn’t understand how a genuine, heartfelt sentence could trigger such a catastrophic reaction. I had heard rumors before. The adopted son of the Starzyk family had a bizarre medical condition. He was supposedly allergic to lies. The story went that shortly after he was adopted, Peter had a severe allergic reaction to a loyal, longtime nanny. After a thorough investigation, the family discovered that the nanny was actually a corporate spy hired by a rival firm to steal the Starzyk Corporation’s trade secrets. Another time, during a massive charity gala, Peter couldn’t stop sneezing while my father was negotiating with a prominent investor. Later, they found out the investor was secretly bankrupt and the entire partnership was a massive Ponzi scheme designed to steal their money. The most famous incident happened at Jacqueline’s engagement party. The moment Peter shook hands with her fiancé, he broke out in full-body hives and ran a dangerously high fever. Furious, Jacqueline hired a private investigator. She discovered her seemingly perfect fiancé was actually sleeping around and had contracted multiple STDs. Incident after incident elevated Peter to the status of a holy oracle within the Starzyk family. He was their precious, untouchable little prince. They trusted him implicitly. And they absolutely refused to let anyone or anything harm him. Because of him, they instantly threw up their walls against me, their own biological son who had just returned home. My mother looked incredibly awkward. She forced a stiff smile and asked me how I had been living all these years. Thinking back to the brutal beatings at the orphanage, the relentless bullying at school, and having to scrape a living off the filthy streets, I offered a bitter, honest smile. “It was hard, but I survived.” Hearing that, a flicker of genuine heartache finally crossed my mother’s face. But to everyone’s shock, Peter’s condition didn’t improve even after taking his medication. In fact, his arms flared up with massive, swollen welts. My mother panicked and immediately called for the family doctor. The look she shot me was entirely hostile and guarded. In her mind, I was obviously lying, playing the victim just to garner sympathy. Right on cue, Peter played the role of the incredibly reasonable martyr, insisting that he had to pack up his things and give his master bedroom back to me because it “belonged to the rightful heir.” 2 I felt like I was sitting on a bed of nails. I immediately shook my head and said, “I could never take your room. I didn’t come back here to steal anything from you.” That single sentence acted like a lit match to gasoline. It triggered the most violent reaction yet. Peter started gasping for air, clutching his chest, making horrific wheezing sounds like he was suffocating. Jacqueline lost her mind. She shoved me hard against the wall, screaming at me to stay away from him. My father’s face was completely black with fury. “That’s enough for today,” he snapped. “Maria, go prepare a guest room for him. Get him out of my sight.” I stood there, completely paralyzed, watching them swarm around Peter in a panic. I had no idea what I did wrong. Just like that, the family I had spent my entire life dreaming of finding completely rejected and despised me. From that day forward, the Starzyk family never gave me a single kind look. I would hide in the hallways, listening to the maids gossip about how the “newly found young master” was a vicious, pathological liar. They whispered that a piece of trash dragged out of the slums could never compare to their elegant, pampered Peter. I could only keep my head down, forcing myself to become completely invisible in my own home. The incident that sealed my absolute destruction happened late one night. The family had gone out for a walk. I was in my room, studying. Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed from the hallway. I rushed out of my room, only to see my grandmother—who had been paralyzed by a stroke—tumbling violently down the grand marble staircase, wheelchair and all. I screamed in horror and rushed toward the stairs to help her. But right at that exact moment, the front doors opened. My family walked in, witnessing the entire scene. A maid collapsed onto the floor in absolute terror, pointing a trembling finger directly at me. “Master Ethan said he was going to take the Madam to the gardens for some fresh air! I don’t know what happened, he just suddenly pushed her down the stairs!” Jacqueline broke down instantly. Our grandmother was the person she loved most in the world. My father’s hands shook uncontrollably as he dialed 911. Outside the emergency room, the surgeon told us the prognosis was incredibly grim. Tears streamed down my face. I shook my head frantically. “Please, you have to save her! I don’t know why this is happening. I didn’t do it!” But the moment the words left my lips, Peter, standing nearby, went into a severe asthma attack. His face drained of all color, and he collapsed into anaphylactic shock right there in the waiting room. The chaos exploded. Peter was rushed into the ER on a stretcher. My father grabbed me by the collar, his teeth bared in pure, unfiltered rage, roaring at me to shut my mouth. My mother sobbed hysterically into her hands, praying for her mother-in-law and her precious son. Jacqueline’s hair was a mess. Her eyes were bloodshot. She marched up to me and delivered a brutal, ringing slap across my face. “How many people do you have to kill before you’re satisfied?! How did our bloodline produce such a toxic, venomous bastard?! Is there a single ounce of truth in your filthy mouth?!” I was knocked straight onto the linoleum floor. My mind went completely blank. I didn’t know why this was happening. I wanted to know how any of this was possible too! I literally did nothing, yet I was instantly condemned as the family’s ultimate villain! My grandmother died that night. Peter was transferred to the ICU. The Starzyk family completely gave up on me. My mother wanted to throw me back onto the streets and severe all legal ties. But Jacqueline refused. Her voice was pure ice. “A life for a life. He murdered Grandma. I will make sure he suffers for the rest of his pathetic existence.” From that day on, my life became a living hell. I was locked in the dog kennels or strung up by my wrists from the second-floor balcony. Jacqueline tortured and humiliated me on a daily basis. My parents turned a completely blind eye. I spiraled into total despair. My will to live slowly drained away. One day, the groundskeeper “forgot” to feed the family’s massive Tibetan Mastiff. Starving and rabid, it sank its teeth deep into my calf. I just lay there on the grass, watching it tear into me, bite after bite. Eventually, I closed my eyes, letting the agonizing pain drag me down into the abyss. Remembering every brutal detail of my past life, I clenched my fists tightly. This time around, I absolutely refused to be their punching bag. I was done living like a coward! 3 Just like in my previous life, the moment I walked through the door, my family pulled me into a tearful embrace. And right on cue, Peter delivered his exact same rehearsed line: “I’m so sorry, brother. I’ve been occupying your rightful place all these years. Now that you’re back, I should give everything back to you.” This time, however, I didn’t say a single word. I just stood there, staring at him in dead silence. His eyes quickly turned red, acting as if my silence was somehow bullying him, and he just kept frantically apologizing. Seeing this, my family naturally started throwing annoyed, judgmental glances my way. I looked at them with wide, pitiful eyes. I pointed to my throat and opened my mouth. My throat was severely blistered, red, and covered in raw ulcers from the boiling water. Their faces instantly changed. They immediately called for the family doctor. After a quick examination, the doctor confirmed it was a severe burn, stating that with medication, I wouldn’t be able to speak for at least a week or two. My mother finally let out a sigh of relief. But then, the doctor frowned heavily. “The young master is covered in scars, both old and new. It looks like he has lived a very brutal life out there.” Hearing that, my mother pulled out a silk handkerchief and dabbed at her tears. A massive wave of guilt and heartbreak washed over her, making her voice tremble. “Oh, Ethan… you’ve suffered so much. I promise, Mommy will never let anyone hurt you ever again.” My father stood nearby. His eyes lingered on the jagged scars cutting across my arms, and he let out a heavy sigh. “From this day forward, no one will ever dare lay a finger on the heir to the Starzyk family!” The muscles in Jacqueline’s jaw tightened. A flicker of genuine sympathy crossed her normally icy eyes. Peter was completely blindsided by this sudden shift in the atmosphere. No one was paying attention to him anymore. He stood frozen in the corner like the main character who just had his spotlight stolen. At that moment, I looked over and saw my grandmother sitting silently in her wheelchair. My nose stung. I walked over and dropped to one knee beside her. In my past life, my soul had lingered after I died, desperately trying to figure out what had actually happened. I followed Peter around like a ghost. That was how I discovered the truth. He wasn’t allergic to lies at all. His “medical condition” was a complete fabrication. His real secret? He could hear people’s inner thoughts. Whenever he heard someone thinking something different from what they were saying, he would fake an allergic reaction. He used this “power” to build an untouchable persona of pure, infallible honesty. But the most terrifying secret I learned was straight from his own thoughts. Years ago, my grandmother had actually tracked down my location. She was overjoyed and immediately started making arrangements to bring me home. But Peter read her mind. Terrified of losing his status and inheritance, he deliberately unchained the rabid guard dogs and set them loose on her. The sheer terror triggered a massive stroke, paralyzing her and rendering her speechless. And the only reason she never recovered? Peter had spent years bribing the household staff. The daily “medication” she drank every night wasn’t curing her. It was a slow-acting poison designed to keep her trapped in her own body. For years, my grandmother had been fully aware of every evil thing Peter had done, but she couldn’t move a muscle or speak a word. She was trapped, forced to watch him destroy her family while she slowly waited for death. I pressed my face gently against my grandmother’s frail hand. Hot tears poured down my cheeks. She was the only one who genuinely loved me, but in my last life, I failed to save her. I even took the fall when Peter’s bribed maid pushed her down those stairs to silence her forever. This time, I swore on my life, I was going to pull her back from the edge of the grave! Even though she couldn’t move, I saw a faint glisten of moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. Jacqueline watched us, clearly moved, and quickly turned her head away. My parents exchanged a look filled with profound relief. Only Peter was left standing in the distance, entirely shut out of the family’s warmth. Round one. Victory was mine. That night, Peter slipped into my room, his face twisted in a dark, venomous sneer. “Don’t get too comfortable. My eighteenth birthday is exactly one month from now. Dad already promised to transfer his shares to me as a coming-of-age gift. The Starzyk empire belongs to me.” One month? I let out a low, silent chuckle. I was going to make sure his eighteenth birthday was an event he would remember for the rest of his short, miserable life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418539”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At my father-in-law’s funeral, the grieving family could hardly conceal their delight. My mother-in-law, adorned in jewels, held her chin so high it was as if her husband had not just passed away. This was all because the old tycoon had left them an inheritance of nearly a billion dollars. In my previous life, I discovered the truth as he lay on his deathbed. His investments had collapsed long ago, leaving him with nothing. His extravagant lifestyle was sustained only by a web of high interest loans from online lenders, all to feed his vanity. Yet, seeing him so frail, I kept the secret, hoping he could pass in peace. After his death, my mother-in-law worked me relentlessly. The funeral was my first chance to rest. I had intended for us to face the debt together as a family. Instead, she publicly tried to force me into a divorce, demanding I relinquish any claim to the inheritance. I refused, for I still loved my wife. But my refusal only convinced her I was after a share of the money. That night, as I slept, she crept into my room and murdered me with a knife. She then greeted my wife, who had just returned, with a chilling smile. “Don’t worry, dear. I took care of that useless trash for you. He won’t lay a hand on your money, or my grandson’s inheritance. You must sort out the marriage papers quickly. I won’t have my grandson born a bastard.” As a spirit, I watched my wife and her mother dispose of my body. They wove a tale for the police, painting me as an abusive monster and claiming she had killed me in self defense. Amid a firestorm of online hatred directed at me, my wife signed a letter of forgiveness for her mother. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back at my father-in-law’s funeral. This time, I will not hesitate. I will agree to the divorce and sign whatever they put before me. Let them enjoy the tens of millions in debt he left behind. 1 “Alex, get this dress to my sister, now. She needs to change soon.” A dress was shoved into my hands, and I looked up into the sharp, critical face of a woman. I was dazed. “Don’t just stand there spacing out. Can you try to be useful for once? No wonder my sister can’t stand you.” The familiar words sent a jolt through me. I whipped my head around, taking in the scene. She was still rambling. “I have no idea what kind of dumb luck you stumbled into to marry Isabelle. I’m telling you, she could do so much better. A small-timer like you doesn’t deserve…” Before she could finish, I threw open the door and ran. It was real. I was back. Thank God. I found my mother-in-law, Meredith, holding the dress. She had been chatting cheerfully with a guest, but the moment she saw me, her face soured. She snatched the dress from my hands and shot me a venomous glare. “Have you no sense at all? Can’t you see I’m with a guest?” “Just wait for me by the door of the changing room.” I offered her my arm to help her, a cold sneer hidden deep inside. It was her husband’s funeral, yet she’d already changed her outfit three times. Was she really oblivious to the strange looks the other guests were giving her? After she changed, I was gathering her discarded clothes when I caught her staring at me with a calculating glint in her eye. My heart steeled itself. Here it comes. “Alex,” she began, her voice dripping with condescension, “now that your father-in-law is gone, Isabelle is the pillar of this family. I’m sure you understand what I mean.” “I’ve been more than generous, letting a good-for-nothing like you stick around for this long. But this family will not be dragged down by a man like you.” “So, know your place. Get the divorce done with Isabelle, and do it now.” I feigned shock, lowering my head and mumbling, “Meredith… I know I’ve let Isabelle down. But… what does she think about this?” Meredith let out a scornful laugh. “You think she’s going to plead your case? Let me tell you, this is my decision, and it’s final!” “I’ll get her in here right now. I’ll make you give up, you pathetic worm!” A few moments later, Isabelle pushed the door open. Her expression was calm. She first offered me a soft, gentle smile before turning to her mother with a look of confusion. “Mom, what’s wrong? Why did you call me over in such a rush?” “How could I not rush? This man is going nowhere, and today is the day. We’re settling this divorce!” “Mom!” Isabelle’s voice was sharp, as if trying to cut her off. Meredith pulled her aside, and they began whispering furiously. I watched as a cascade of emotions washed over Isabelle’s face—shock, anger, conflict—before finally settling into a mask of profound sorrow. “Mom, could you leave us for a minute?” she said, her voice heavy. “I’d like to speak with… Alex… alone.” 2 Meredith shot me a cold, triumphant smirk before closing the door behind her. Isabelle walked toward me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She reached out, her hand gently caressing my cheek. “Alex… I… I have no choice,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’ve already lost my father. I can’t lose my mother, too.” “She has a heart condition, you know. She can’t handle any stress. I can’t be selfish… I can’t put my love for you before her health.” “Let’s just… let’s just get a divorce for show. Once I’ve calmed her down, we’ll get married again, I promise. You’re the only one I’ve ever loved!” She delivered the lines with such heartfelt passion, you’d think she was a tragic heroine from some old play, forced to abandon her love by a cruel matriarch. But I wasn’t her fool anymore. I knew exactly who she was. In my last life, I had truly believed she loved me, that all the trouble we had was just Meredith’s doing. It was only after I was dead, after I’d heard her conversation with her mother, after I’d seen the cold, detached look in her eyes as she stared at my corpse, that I finally understood. She knew everything. She had let it all happen. In fact, she had been the one to push her mother to kill me. She was the one who wanted the divorce. She was the one who wanted me dead. I dropped my gaze, hiding the mockery in my eyes. “I know… I understand, Isabelle. I’ll… I’ll divorce you.” The moment the words left my mouth, Meredith burst back into the room. “Let’s go, now! We can make it to the courthouse before it closes. Let’s get this done.” “Wait!” she added, her eyes narrowing. “First, you have to sign a waiver to the inheritance. Isabelle, this boy is sneaky. We can’t let him get a penny of your father’s money!” Her hand clamped down on my arm, her nails digging into my flesh as if she was afraid I’d make a run for it. Isabelle looked away, her eyes darting around the room, unable to meet mine. “…Fine. I’ll sign it. I won’t touch a single cent of your family’s money.” I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white, fighting the urge to laugh out loud. I had waited so long to say those words. Once I sign this paper, all that debt has nothing to do with me. Isabelle must have mistaken my trembling for grief. A flicker of pity crossed her face. “Mom, maybe we should just let it go. It’s not like we can’t afford to support one more person.” My expression tightened, but Meredith’s reaction was far more extreme. “What are you talking about? Isabelle, you have no idea how much trouble a man can cause! Besides, you have a child to think about now!” At the mention of a child, Isabelle’s eyes flickered, and she fell silent. I obediently signed the waiver, then followed Isabelle to the courthouse to file for divorce. We would have to come back in a month to finalize it. As we left the building, she seemed to want to say something more, but I couldn’t stand another second of her hypocritical performance. I turned, hailed a cab, and left her standing there. In the cab, I saw messages from my parents asking if I was coming home for dinner. With a sigh, I told the driver a new address. When I got home, the table was filled with all my favorite dishes, a rare sight. I picked at my food, my appetite gone, and then quietly announced the news. “We’re getting a divorce.” I braced myself for the storm, the screaming and shouting. After all, they had always been so proud that I’d married into a wealthy family, constantly reminding me to suck up to them, caring more about Isabelle than they ever had about me. But this time, there was no anger. They exchanged a look, a flash of unconcealed joy passing between them. My mother even put a chicken wing on my plate. “Oh, Alex, don’t be sad. It’s trendy to be single these days. Mom thinks it’s perfectly fine to be on your own.” I nodded, a small part of me touched. Maybe they finally understood. I was about to tell them about the family’s financial situation after dinner, but just then, my brother, Kevin, walked in. As he passed me, a familiar scent hit me, and I froze, the realization striking me like a bolt of lightning. I finally understood why my parents weren’t upset about the divorce. 3 I have an extremely sensitive nose; the scent of most commercial perfumes is overwhelming to me. That’s why I had personally blended a unique fragrance for Isabelle, with Blue Tansy as the main note. It was a scent unlike any other. And right now, that was the exact scent I smelled on Kevin. So, Isabelle’s affair was with my brother. No wonder my parents weren’t upset. In their minds, only their precious younger son deserved to marry into money, even if it meant he had to steal his own brother’s wife. I’d always known they favored him. My birth name, the one they gave me, was a cruel joke, a pun on the word for “failure.” I changed it myself when I got older. Growing up, I did all the chores while Kevin lounged on the sofa, ordering me around. New clothes and toys were always for him; I only got his hand-me-downs when he grew tired of them. Even after I got a good job at a prestigious firm and sent them money and gifts every month, they still doted on Kevin, who did nothing but leech off them. And now, they had helped him steal my wife, too. My mother glanced at my brother with a look of pure adoration before placing another chicken wing on my plate. “Alex, honey, your brother has found someone special. But you know our family’s situation… I’m worried her family will look down on him. Do you think… maybe you could help him with half of the down payment for a house?” I kept my head down, shoveling food into my mouth in silence. Suddenly, my father slammed his hand on the table. “All you do is eat! Your elders are talking to you. Have you no manners?” “Your brother is getting married! As his older brother, it’s your duty to contribute!” I set down my chopsticks and looked up, meeting their eyes directly. I hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down my face. “Married? To who? Isabelle?” I watched the color drain from their faces and let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “He’s the homewrecker who stole his brother’s wife, and I’m supposed to buy them a house? Am I just a complete joke to you?” “Who are you calling a homewrecker? You useless bastard, it’s your own fault you couldn’t keep her!” Kevin roared, lunging at me, his fist aimed at my face. We tumbled to the ground, trading blows. When it was clear Kevin was losing, my father bellowed, “That’s enough!” He and my mother rushed over to pull me off. He pinned my arms while she held me down, allowing Kevin to land several solid punches, splitting my lip and drawing blood. “You’re the older brother! Why can’t you just let him have his way for once? How dare you raise a hand to him, you animal!” my father yelled, his hand swinging back before connecting with my cheek in a series of sharp, stinging slaps. I collapsed onto the floor, watching my mother coo over Kevin, fussing over a scratch on his hand, while my father stood over me, his face contorted with rage. A wild, broken laugh escaped my lips. “I have to let him have whatever he wants? If he wanted to murder someone, should I hand him the knife?” “Why are you so biased? Why do you hate me so much? Sometimes I really wonder if I’m even your biological son!” I screamed the words, a desperate attempt to vent the years of resentment. I never expected to see a flash of pure terror in my mother’s eyes. Before I could process it, my father lunged, his hands closing around my neck, squeezing tight. “You ungrateful whelp! After everything we’ve done for you, you dare to scream at us!” “You’re not setting foot in this house again until you’ve learned to reflect on what you’ve done!” He dragged me out of the house and slammed the door shut. I covered my face with my hands, silent sobs shaking my body as tears slipped through my fingers. So it was true. I wasn’t their son. And in my past life… they must have been a part of my death, too. In the chaos of the fight, I had managed to grab a strand of hair from the floor. I sent it to a lab for DNA testing. While I waited for the results, I went to a real estate agency. Thank God I had resisted Meredith’s pressure to hand over all my savings back then. Now that I had nowhere else to go, I at least had enough to buy myself a home. After looking at a few places, I made up my mind. I was just about to confirm the purchase with the agent when I heard a familiar, sycophantic voice behind me. “Sweetheart, I want a villa with a garden. We can plant those roses you love.” I turned and saw him: Kevin, with his arm wrapped possessively around Isabelle. They saw me at the same time. Isabelle’s face went rigid, but Kevin strode over, a smug, triumphant grin plastered on his face. “Bro, I’d start thinking about your future if I were you. It’s tough for a divorced guy to find someone new. If you blow what little money you have on a house, how are you going to live?” “Not like me, of course. I’ve got a rich family to back me up. You should probably just go apologize to Mom and Dad.” 4 The real estate agent’s eyes lit up. She’d overheard Kevin mention buying a villa and immediately hurried over to them. “Sir, perhaps you’d be interested in one of these properties? They have large, beautiful gardens. This one, in fact, comes pre-planted with a full rose garden, perfectly suited to your lovely partner’s tastes.” Kevin’s eyes gleamed, but Isabelle hesitated. The inheritance hadn’t been settled yet; she didn’t have the cash on hand. “Kevin, we said we were just going to look today. We can buy it once the money comes through…” Hearing her whisper, I decided to pour some fuel on the fire. “What’s the matter, Kevin? You went to all that trouble to seduce your brother’s wife, and now she won’t even buy you a house?” The agent’s expression shifted as she took in this juicy piece of gossip, her eyes darting between the three of us. Kevin’s face turned beet red. He looked at Isabelle, his eyes pleading. She hardened her resolve. “We’ll take it,” she said, her voice sharp. “We’ll pay right now. For the one Kevin likes.” She pulled out her phone and, with a few taps, secured a multi-million dollar online loan. Then she shot me a look of pure venom. “Alex, when my father’s inheritance comes through, you’d better not regret this. You have disappointed me so much today!” “Why? Were you planning on having both of us, Isabelle? A little brotherly sharing?” My sarcastic retort made her face go pale. I guessed it pricked whatever was left of her conscience. She always did this—put on a show of being soft-hearted while doing the most monstrous things. Kevin, who obviously knew her well, tightened his grip on her hand and placed his other hand on her stomach. “Honey, the baby just kicked. I think he’s angry, too.” “I’m not a useless man like my brother. You and I are going to have lots of children together, Isabelle.” Isabelle’s face lit up with a look of genuine surprise and delight. She placed her own hand on her belly, not sparing me another glance as she walked away, clinging to Kevin’s arm. Watching her dig herself into an even deeper hole, I smiled and called the agent over. I bought the small apartment I’d had my eye on, paying in full. Back at my temporary place, I was planning my move when my parents called. I answered, and was immediately met with a torrent of abuse. “Alex, you’ve really grown a backbone, haven’t you? How dare you publicly call your brother a homewrecker! Do you have any idea that his wife is pregnant? What if the stress caused a miscarriage? How can you be so vicious?” Listening to them, I thought with a detached sense of irony, Wow, Kevin really tattles fast. “Did I say anything that wasn’t true? He is a homewrecker. What, do you expect me to babysit the child they conceived behind my back?” “You… Alex! You get over here and apologize to Kevin right now! If you don’t, we’ll go to your office and make a scene until you get fired!” The absurdity of it made me laugh, but a chill ran down my spine. “Fine. Go ahead. After you’re done and I’ve lost my job, I’ll make a scene of my own. I’ll make sure the whole world knows that Kevin is a snake who seduced his own sister-in-law.” “I have nothing left to lose. I’ll just drag my feet on finalizing the divorce, and Kevin’s precious child will be born a bastard.” The other end of the line went silent. I pressed my advantage, my voice low and menacing. “Don’t push me. I don’t mind taking you all down with me. If I’m going to be miserable, so is everyone else.” I hung up and blocked all of their numbers. The call served its purpose. For the next few weeks, they left me alone, and I moved into my new apartment without any trouble. When the one-month waiting period was over, I arrived at the courthouse on time. My threat had clearly worked; Kevin was already there, anxiously waiting with Isabelle by his side. The moment the divorce certificates were in our hands, he couldn’t resist a final jab. “Hey, bro, if you get on your knees and apologize, maybe I’ll let a little cash slip through my fingers for you. We’re talking about a billion dollars here. You couldn’t earn that in ten lifetimes!” I was about to fire back a cold retort when Isabelle’s phone rang. It was Meredith, her voice frantic and laced with panic. “Isabelle, it’s… it’s bad! There are… there are people here demanding money! They’re saying… they’re saying your father took out loans from loan sharks!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418538”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day I turned twenty-four, my sister, Veronica, jumped from the fourth-floor balcony. She said it was her birthday gift to me. By the time I scrambled down the stairs, her head was a bloody mess from the impact. But she was still conscious, lying cradled in my brother’s arms, a defiant smile on her face as she looked at me. “Jessie,” she breathed, “I know I’m the extra one… I just want you to be happy…” My mother collapsed to her knees, her sobs raw and guttural, begging me to move out for a while. I didn’t argue. I just nodded, numb, and packed my bags as if I were escaping a fire. Everyone in this house was insane. If I stayed any longer, I was afraid I’d become one of them. … “Veronica! Don’t you dare scare me like this, just hold on a little longer, please!” “The paramedics are on their way!” My brother, Vincent, looked like he was on the verge of a complete breakdown. His hands trembled as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from her head. My mother was a heap on the ground beside them, beating her chest and crying out, “What have I done to deserve this?” The entire household was thrown into chaos by Veronica’s sudden leap, all composure lost. Only I stood to the side. A detached observer, so calm I didn’t seem to belong, my mind already drifting. The paramedics arrived. Vincent and my mother climbed into the ambulance one after the other. As the doors were closing, my mother shot one last pleading look in my direction. Her eyes, clouded with tears and utter exhaustion, were a mirror of every other time she had begged me to give in to Veronica, to just let her have her way. In the past, that look would have sent me into a fit of rage and tears. But this time, a deep, weary sigh escaped from the very core of me. I couldn’t even be bothered to say a word. She didn’t have to worry about me refusing to leave. Even if she hadn’t asked, I had already decided to get as far away from this family as possible. In the seven years I had lived in this house, Veronica had slit her wrists twelve times and overdosed more times than I could count, using self-harm as her weapon of choice to get what she wanted. Every time she hurt herself, I had to take a step back. Now, I had nowhere left to retreat. I was scared. Truly, deeply terrified. If she had the guts to throw herself off a fourth-story balcony this time, what was to stop her from dragging me down with her next time? I wasn’t done with living. I was afraid to die. I had just dragged my suitcase downstairs when my boyfriend, Eric, showed up. Or, I should say, my ex-boyfriend. The reason Veronica jumped was because, just moments before, Eric had asked me to marry him. As she teetered on the railing, Eric had begged her not to jump, his face a mask of agony. By the end, both of their faces were streaked with tears. And I just stood there, an outsider, watching the man who had been kissing me moments before scream promises to Veronica that he would break up with me. Now, standing in front of me, Eric’s face was etched with fatigue. He saw me, and his gaze flickered away. “Jessie…” There was nothing left for us to say. I just pushed my suitcase past him. But he grabbed my wrist, his grip tight. “Jessie, Veronica is at the hospital. She’s crying, asking to see you. Will you please go see her?” In that instant, a wave of nausea so powerful it felt like my stomach was turning inside out washed over me. Veronica. She was like a viper. From the moment I was brought back to this family seven years ago, she had sunk her fangs into me and refused to let go. Just like in the soap operas, the wealthy family was greedy. They wanted to keep both the daughter they had raised and the biological one who had been lost. So, the adopted Veronica and I became “sisters.” For the first three months, she showered me with kindness. She acted as a buffer between me and my estranged parents and brother, the one person in the family who was genuinely warm to me. She introduced me to her friends, taught me the etiquette of high society, and would even defend me from those who sneered at my background, telling me to ignore them. For a while, I thought I had fallen into a fairy tale. I thought having a sister like Veronica was a wonderful thing. But then, she started treating me like a disease, a predator, an invader. She became obsessed with destroying me, even if it meant sacrificing her own life. At my “welcome home” party three months after my arrival, Veronica fell down the grand staircase. Just before she fell, her fingers, cold and clammy, dug into my arm. “Guess what they’ll think if I… ‘accidentally’ fall down these stairs?” she’d whispered. “Who do you think they’ll blame?” Her methods were crude. But her previous, very public displays of affection for me made her act all the more believable. And besides, everyone already loved her. So, all my frantic denials were dismissed as pathetic lies. And for seven years, I had choked on that lie, until it had nearly driven me insane. 2 I let out a cold laugh and wrenched my arm from his grasp. “Eric, are you sick? Are you and Veronica not done torturing me yet?” He looked at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes, before his face flushed a deep red. He stammered, gesturing wildly. “Jessie, I’m not breaking up with you, don’t be angry.” “I was just— I just had to—” I kept walking, dragging the heavy suitcase behind me without a backward glance. “Fine. Then let me inform you. We’re done!” “Now get out of my way.” Eric blocked my path, refusing to move. “Jessie! I don’t agree to this! Veronica was about to jump! I only said that to calm her down!” “She’s your sister, for God’s sake! Do you want her to die? Jessie, can’t you be reasonable for once?!” I’d had enough. I shoved him hard. “That’s right! I’m being unreasonable! So what?” “And what kind of sister is she to me?” “Eric, if you’re really in love with Veronica, then go ahead, be with her.” “I’m out. Can’t I just be out of this?” “My mother, my brother, you—I don’t want any of you anymore! I’ll give you all to Veronica.” “I’m begging you, all of you, just leave me alone!” “I said I don’t want any of it!” My voice, which had started as a rush of frantic words, rose to a desperate scream. The immense psychological pressure was suffocating me. I wiped away a single tear that had escaped and forced myself to stand steady. Eric stumbled back, staring at me in shock, his lips trembling. “Jessie, how can you say that… We… we grew up together… I only love you…” I scoffed, my gaze cold as ice. My adoptive parents and Eric’s family lived on the same block. Neither of our families had much money, so Eric and I spent our childhoods collecting cans and bottles to save up for school fees. When the Meng family came and told me I was their long-lost daughter, my first and only request was that they fund Eric’s education. Eric didn’t disappoint. He got into one of the best universities in the country. I knew Veronica wanted to take everything that was mine, so I kept Eric a secret, hiding him away like a precious treasure. I naively believed that as long as she never met him, the one thing that was truly mine would remain mine. I guarded my secret for so long. But I never imagined that Veronica and Eric had already met. Just before she jumped, Veronica had shown me their text messages, filled with flirtatious, ambiguous exchanges. She had smiled so radiantly, but her eyes held a raw, undisguised malice. She stared at my face, as if eagerly anticipating the same hysterical breakdown I’d had so many times before. But to her surprise, all I could manage was a dry, “Oh.” I couldn’t pinpoint the emotion I felt then. It was as if a heavy weight I’d been carrying had finally crashed to the ground. Seeing my flat reaction, Veronica’s face fell. A moment later, a chilling smile spread across her lips. She climbed onto the railing, tears streaming down her beautiful face. “I’m sorry, Jessie. I shouldn’t be bothering you two anymore… It’s better if I just disappear…” A sickening thud echoed from below. It was the sound of Veronica hitting the ground. It was also the sigh of my soul, utterly and completely exhausted. In that moment, all I wanted was to run far, far away. I ignored Eric’s explanations, just staring at him, my eyes empty. He eventually fled, utterly defeated. But he didn’t give up, sending me a relentless stream of texts, trying to explain his relationship with Veronica. He swore that as soon as she was out of the hospital, he would set things straight with her and never see her again. For a second, his words caused a flicker of emotion in me. But the next moment, my mother called, sobbing into the phone. “Jessie, please, I’m begging you. Can you just stop contacting Eric for a while? Veronica… she slit her wrists again last night.” 3 I heard my own voice, as cold and distant as a stranger’s. “Oh. So she didn’t die this time either. Veronica really is a tough one.” My mother was crying too hard to speak. Then, my brother’s hoarse, accusatory voice came through the line. “Jessie, how can you be so cold-hearted? Do you have any idea how many times Veronica has been saying she’s sorry to you these past few days?” “Just… get to the hospital. Veronica has something she wants to say to you—” Before he could finish, I could faintly hear Veronica’s muffled sobs in the background. “It’s all my fault… I shouldn’t be alive… I’m just an extra…” My mother and brother immediately rushed to comfort her, their voices urgent and panicked. “Veronica, sweetheart, don’t think like that, please don’t scare us…” “Veronica, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry. If only we had never brought Jessie home…” … Like a form of self-torture, I listened to the sounds on the other end of the line. I was calm. So calm that I even let out a small, contemptuous laugh. There it was. They finally said what they really thought. All this time, they’d been putting on a show of treating us equally, when their hearts had been with her all along. It was like having a fish bone stuck in my throat—a constant, irritating pain. The texts from Eric kept coming. He reminisced about our childhood, collecting bottles together. He remembered how I had cried and clung to his hand when I first went to live with my biological family. He even brought up the day he confessed his love for me, holding a jar filled with a thousand paper cranes. I scrolled through the messages, my heart a barren wasteland. But I still agreed to meet him one last time. After all, during these seven years of torment by Veronica, Eric had been the one pillar that kept me going. A proper goodbye was the last bit of warmth I could offer to a relationship that was now just a part of my past. We met at our favorite little diner. Eric looked nervous and fidgety. When he saw me, he pushed a container of food toward me. “Jessie, you’ve lost so much weight. You always loved my braised pork knuckles. See? I woke up at the crack of dawn to make them for you.” I glanced at the container. A sour taste rose in my throat. If I remembered correctly, in the text messages Veronica had shown me, Eric had promised to make her this exact same dish dozens of times. And now, he was pushing it in front of me with a hopeful smile. “Jessie, just try a little.” I fought the urge to throw the container in his face and looked away. “Eric—” As if he knew what was coming, he kept interrupting me, his eyes darting around the room. “Jessie, you said you wanted to go to that concert—I got us tickets.” “Jessie, please don’t be like this. Don’t look at me that way…” “We… we were supposed to get married. You said yes, remember?” “We grew up together, we know everything about each other. Jessie, are you really just going to throw all of that away?” “I swear, there’s nothing between me and Veronica. I just… I couldn’t stand by and watch her die. Jessie, you understand, right? You have to understand.” His voice cracked, and he ducked his head, miserably wiping away tears. For a moment, I was lost in a daze, my own eyes turning red. I had guarded him so carefully from Veronica, like a dragon protecting its only jewel. But on that day, when I found out they had been in contact all along, I hadn’t felt anger. Instead, it was a strange sense of relief, as if a long-dreaded fate had finally arrived. I was just sad. Sad that the jewel I had cupped so gently in my hands had turned out to be nothing more than a worthless pebble. “Eric, there’s nothing left for us to say.” “You knew that talking to Veronica would hurt me, but you did it anyway. So, you were the one who chose her over me, weren’t you? Veronica is insane. Seven years… it’s been long enough. I…” Before I could finish, Eric’s expression changed drastically. I followed his gaze and looked behind me. For a second, the world went silent, a ringing in my ears.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418537”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1. This Spring Break was… different. My husband, Mark, suddenly announced he was taking annual leave. He was all mysterious about it, even booked a seven-day trip to Scandinavia. A little thrill went through me; I thought he was finally learning to be thoughtful. Then, that day, I overheard him talking to our son. “Dad, you’re married to Aunt Lily, what about Mom?” Our son, Finn, sounded so confused, his voice tiny and innocent. Mark just chuckled, playing it off. “Silly boy, that’s just pretend.” “You have to keep it a secret for Dad, don’t tell your mom. I’ll get you the newest toy car.” He even tried to bribe Finn with a gift. In that moment, my mind just exploded. I stood there, rooted to the spot, for ages, trying to process it all. I eventually stumbled downstairs, the cold air outside doing little to help me calm down. If he was so desperate to rekindle things with Lily Roberts, then I didn’t need to put myself through this anymore. All those dreams I’d put on hold for family when I was younger? It was time to pick them up again. This Scandinavian trip? I wasn’t coming back. … After I’d calmed down, I headed back upstairs and ran smack into Mark in the hallway. He was wearing a flashy red suit, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t you hate red?” “That was then, this is now. Red’s in this year, and I’m helping a buddy try on his wedding suit. Gotta look festive, right?” Mark rattled off a string of excuses. But then it hit me: Lily Roberts adored red. And ever since she’d returned from abroad, Mark’s closet had gained several red jackets, not to mention red underwear and socks. It had all been there, clear as day, if I’d only looked. “Wedding suit? I can drive you.” I offered, my voice flat. “No, no, no!” Mark shook his head like a bobblehead doll. “Why would a woman get involved in us guys’ business?” “I’ll bring back gifts for you and Finn when I return.” He leaned in, kissed my forehead, and without another word, he was off, practically flying down the stairs. A sharp pang went through my heart. I almost called out to him, but in the end, I just shook my head. Everyone thought Mark and I were the perfect couple, a dream team in business. He never looked down on my humble background, choosing to marry me without hesitation. I worked practically non-stop, pulling Sterling Holdings back from the brink of bankruptcy countless times. They called me “The Workaholic.” Ten years of growing together, we not only had a wonderful son but also rebuilt Sterling Holdings into a powerhouse. But now, even I was just realizing that Mark had always harbored a secret love for Lily Roberts. I walked back into the house. “Mommy.” Finn ran over, hugging my legs tight. “No matter what, you’ll never leave Dad and me, right?” He seemed to sense something, his small face etched with worry and fear. My heart ached. I knelt down, stroking his head, and asked softly, “If one day, Dad and I go our separate ways, who would you want to live with?” 2. Finn froze, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” I hugged Finn tightly. “Mommy’s going to make you dinner.” Finn was only eight. Adult matters shouldn’t burden a child. We could have hired a nanny, but both Finn and Mark loved my cooking. I remembered all their likes and dislikes, and tonight, I made Finn’s favorite tomato scrambled eggs and lion’s head meatballs. I also made egg pancakes. When Finn saw the food on the table, he suddenly burst into tears. Looking up, he said, “Mommy.” “You know about Aunt Lily and Dad getting married, don’t you?” “Dad told me it was just a pretend wedding. Mommy, please don’t be mad, okay? Dad loves you.” I sighed softly, pulling Finn into my arms. I knew. His little head couldn’t comprehend all the twists and turns. He just innocently believed Mark and hoped that his mom and dad wouldn’t separate. Unfortunately, the adult world wasn’t that simple. After dinner, I saw a post from Mark’s “best friend” on social media and raised an eyebrow. The photo of someone trying on a wedding suit didn’t show a face, but that little red mole on the neck? Mark had one too. The picture of hands clasped with a woman, fingers intertwined, clearly showed the imprint of a ring on the ring finger. The watch the man was wearing? I’d seen it before. It belonged to Lily Roberts. The caption read: “The moon I missed will always return to light my way once more.” That line felt eerily familiar. I rushed into Mark’s study, moved his computer, and underneath, there was a notebook. The moment I opened it, that very sentence stared back at me. All the signs pointed to this account not belonging to some “best friend,” but to Mark himself. “A trip to Scandinavia.” “A fictitious wedding and social media account of a ‘best friend’.” “Mark, you came up with these ridiculous schemes just to deceive me, all for Lily Roberts.” I murmured to myself, picking up my phone and sending a message. [Keep a partner slot open for me.] [Also, have your lawyer draft a divorce agreement for me.] A few months ago, my childhood friend invited me to start a business in Scandinavia, offering me 30% of the shares, with no capital required from my end. The other two partners were also on board, recognizing my capabilities. But with a husband and child, I just wanted stability and had consistently declined. Now, it was time to unleash myself. It was almost midnight. Mark stumbled back, drunk. No gifts in his hand, but his shirt collar was wide open, and there was a faint lipstick stain. In short, he looked a mess. “Wife, why aren’t you asleep yet? Waiting for me, were you? You naughty woman, always messing with me.” He grinned at me, then headed straight for the bathroom. Usually, he’d give me a hug first. My heart sank at the thought. Suddenly, I heard a choked sob and hurried to Finn’s room. “What’s wrong? A nightmare?” Finn shook his head, pointing his little finger at the phone screen. I looked down. It was a social media post from Lily Roberts’ daughter, Sarah. Sarah was sitting at a pink piano, holding a tablet, smiling brightly. The caption: [Thank you, best dad in the world, for my limited edition custom piano.] “Mommy.” “I’ve seen this piano, and the tablet, on Dad’s computer.” 2. That one plaintive sentence almost shattered my emotional defenses. Finally, I understood why Finn was crying. Normally, Mark always said, “Boys should be raised tough, so they don’t become spendthrifts later.” He was strict with Finn, rarely buying him any toys he wanted. Even this phone was my old one, passed down to Finn. I would also secretly take Finn out to play. Every time Mark found out, he would get angry with me. So, that’s why he tried to bribe Finn with a toy car to keep him quiet. And today, before he left, he said he’d bring back gifts for Finn and me, but he came home empty-handed. Deceiving and cheating on me was one thing. But how could he dote so much on someone else’s daughter, giving her everything she wanted, while being so harsh and deceitful with his own son? “Sweetie.” “Mommy will buy you one later.” I comforted Finn, tucked him into bed, then went back to the living room and sat on the sofa. When Mark finally emerged, I suppressed my anger and asked, “Didn’t you say you’d bring Finn a gift?” “Forgot, forgot.” Mark chuckled awkwardly, rushing over to hug me. “I’ll buy him one next time. Boys should be raised tough anyway.” As he spoke, he stroked my face. In the past, I had a visceral attraction to him, so his flirting would have overwhelmed me. Now, my heart was utterly still. “I saw Sarah gets whatever she wants. Today she was sitting at a pink piano, beaming, with a tablet.” I said, deliberately sarcastic. Mark first stiffened, then exploded, standing up abruptly and frowning. “Why do you have to compare him to others?” “It’s just a gift! Why are you being so passive-aggressive? Are you deliberately looking for a fight?” “Is it Finn who wants the gift, or you?” I said nothing, just looked up and stared into his eyes. The atmosphere became tense for a moment. Mark seemed to feel guilty, avoiding my gaze, his tone softening considerably. “Wife, let’s not fight. The day after tomorrow, on Finn’s birthday, I’ll definitely prepare a big surprise for him!” “You just keep your spirits up these two days and get ready for the Scandinavian trip.” I nodded, using the excuse of work to go to my study. The next day, at the company meeting, Lily Roberts suddenly spoke up, “While Scarlett Stone is on vacation these few days, someone should take over her work, right?” “I’m willing to volunteer.” She smiled, her eyes fixed on me, laced with a challenge. Everyone was taken aback, turning to Mark, awaiting his response. It was only a seven-day vacation; Mark or his deputy could easily cover it. No one expected Lily Roberts to openly demand power. It was truly absurd. “Do as Lily Roberts says.” Mark took a deep breath, looking at me. “Scarlett, enjoy your vacation. Lily Roberts can handle the work; she’s quite capable.” The entire room fell silent. This time, everyone’s gaze shifted to me. “Scarlett Stone.” “You wouldn’t think I’m trying to steal your position, would you?” Lily Roberts’ smile grew even brighter, her tone more provocative. Everyone sensed the tension. In my ten years at Sterling Holdings, everyone knew I was decisive and not to be trifled with. Even Mark looked a little nervous. But I simply smiled and said, “Alright, I agree.” No one expected me to relinquish power so easily. Only Mark let out a long breath, a faint smile gracing his lips. Before she could say anything else, I stood up and walked out. Mark quickly followed, grabbing my arm from behind. “Wife!” “Listen to me…” I turned and cut him off. “Listen to what? Are you going to say this meeting was specifically targeting me?” Let alone me, anyone with eyes could see Mark was paving the way for Lily Roberts using me. And it all started with that Scandinavian trip. His motives were so deeply hidden. I hadn’t noticed it before. “Wife, let me explain properly.” Mark opened his arms and hugged me tightly, speaking earnestly. “Lily Roberts is talented. She can shine and inject new vitality into the company.” “I was forced to come up with this plan.” “When you return, I’ll make you Vice President of the company. I hope you can understand me.” 3. Vice President? Don’t make me laugh! Since Sterling Holdings was founded, there’s never been a Vice President position! It was just like the gifts he’d constantly promised Finn, nothing but empty words. “For ten years,” I mused, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’ve always understood you, always been considerate of your difficulties.” “Yes, you’re the best, wife!” Mark actually thought I wasn’t angry anymore. After praising me, he turned and went back into the conference room. As I packed up my office, Lily Roberts walked in. “I’m treating everyone to dinner tonight, want to come?” She smiled. “No, thanks.” I calmly refused, picking up my things to leave. From behind me, Lily Roberts’ voice floated, “Ten years together? It doesn’t compare to one glance from me that catches Mark’s eye.” This time, I could only remain silent. In the afternoon, Lily Roberts sent a message to the executive group: [I got a promotion today, so I’m treating everyone to dinner.] Mark didn’t object at all, instead he led the charge in responding, then sent me a message. [Wife, don’t overthink it.] I didn’t reply. That evening, Mark, Lily Roberts, and the others were happily dining out. I was home, packing my bags. “Mommy.” Finn ran over, tugging my hand. “Mommy, are you leaving? Can you wait a few days?” “Tomorrow’s my birthday. Mommy said she’d give me a big surprise, and then I’ll make a wish that you two never separate! That Dad won’t marry Aunt Lily!” “He’ll definitely agree!” His little face was anxious, his words a jumbled mess. “Okay,” I nodded softly. Mark didn’t come home that night. Finn and I spent a sleepless night. “Dad must be preparing a surprise for me!” Finn gazed out the window, speaking into the morning light. But an hour, two hours… until darkness fell, Mark still hadn’t returned. I couldn’t resist calling him. “It’s our son’s birthday today. Where’s the surprise you prepared?” “Oh, uh… it’s in the bedside drawer, there are tickets to Scandinavia. Take Finn and go travel!” Mark chuckled. “I’m too busy today, gotta hang up.” The call was abruptly ended. I turned and retrieved the tickets from the bedside drawer. It turned out Finn had also become an obstacle for Mark to achieve his desires. Almost simultaneously, Mark’s “best friend” account posted on social media again. [Engaged! Love her, give her everything she wants.] The accompanying image was a share transfer agreement. I clenched my fists. For ten years, I’d slaved away at Sterling Holdings, doing the work of ten departments single-handedly. From regulations to company development strategies, from partner negotiations to factory site selections, everything was meticulously planned and executed by me. Yet, I only earned a regular manager’s salary! Now, all my efforts were being reaped by Lily Roberts, who had contributed nothing. “Mommy.” “Dad’s not coming, is he?” My son’s crying voice reached me. I turned to see him trembling, clutching his phone, and on the screen, Lily Roberts’ daughter, Sarah, had also posted. [Thanks, Dad, for the handmade little cake!] For a child, this was undoubtedly a devastating blow. “Mommy.” “I don’t want to stay here anymore. Take me with you, okay?” Finn wiped away his tears. “Okay,” I nodded tearfully, packed all our luggage, left the divorce agreement, and led Finn out of the house. We boarded the plane to Scandinavia. … Mark and Lily Roberts had their wedding, then spent a few days on their honeymoon. They didn’t even come home, going straight back to the company for a regular meeting. He scanned the room, asking curiously, “Where’s my wife? Why isn’t she here?” Everyone shook their heads. “She must be having too much fun.” Mark muttered, stood up, walked out of the conference room, and dialed my number. “Hello, wife!” “You’re never late for work normally. Why weren’t you at the meeting today? Haven’t you returned from Scandinavia yet?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418536”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel