## My mother is the CEO of the powerful Brown Financial Group, a titan in the industry. My uncle is a globally renowned investor, and my grandfather was one of the first entrepreneurs in the country to revolutionize the economy. And yet, my father gave all his love and support to a foster child, Ryan Brown—the son of a housekeeper. Ryan not only stole my identity but also took my fiancée, with my father’s full backing. Together, they did everything they could to suppress me, tearing apart my life piece by piece. On Ryan’s 21st birthday, at the grand celebration held in his honor, he blocked my way, sneering at me in front of everyone. “A nobody like you, a foster child, has no business being at my coming-of-age party.” “You’re an embarrassment. Looks like I’ll have to teach you some manners myself.” He then rallied the staff and had them beat me until my legs were broken, my eyes gouged out. To seal my fate, they dumped me into the icy pool behind the mansion, leaving me to die. In my previous life, I endured their torment in silence, hoping to earn my father’s approval. I never exposed Ryan for the fraud he was. And for that, I paid the ultimate price—death. But now, I’ve been reborn. Watching Ryan bask in his arrogance and self-importance, I didn’t hesitate. I kicked him to the ground with brutal force, towering over him as he writhed in pain. My eyes were ice-cold as I said: “Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that?” … The air in the grand ballroom felt frozen in time. No one could have predicted I’d pull a stunt like this. Expression cold as ice, I turned to the housekeeper, Sarah, and ordered, “Clean this mess up and return the room to its original state.” But Sarah ignored me. Instead, she rushed to Ryan’s side, helping him to his feet as she scolded me with a sharp tone, her voice dripping with fake righteousness: “Young Master, today is Master Ryan’s coming-of-age party. How could you create such a scene?” “I’ll report this to Mr. Brown immediately. He’ll make sure Master Ryan gets the justice he deserves.” Hearing this, I grabbed a chair, dragged it to the center of the room, and sat down with a smirk. My voice was laced with mockery as I said: “Young Master? Aren’t I the true eldest son of the Brown family? When did I become the ‘young master’ instead?” Sarah’s eyes flickered with panic for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered, her lips curling into a sneer. “You? The eldest son? Don’t kid yourself. You’re just a foster child in the Brown family. If you’re not a ‘young master,’ then what are you?” In my previous life, this very housekeeper had been one of my greatest tormentors. Sarah constantly sided with Ryan, aiding him in humiliating me. She manipulated my mother, turning her against me, and even helped Ryan frame me for failures I didn’t commit. In the end, Sarah and my father assisted Ryan in burning me alive. I’ll never forget the way she laughed as the flames consumed me. Her words dragged me back to the present, snapping me out of the memory. I let out a cold laugh. “A foster child? Me?” “Who else could it be?” Sarah retorted bitterly. “You’ve always been jealous of Master Ryan’s rightful place in this family. He’s gracious enough to tolerate you, but you keep pushing your luck. You should be grateful he hasn’t thrown you out!” I stared at her, unflinching. Everyone in the Brown family knew the truth—who the real heir was and who the imposter was. I shot Sarah a frigid glare. “You’re just a housekeeper in this family. Don’t forget your place.” “You’re fired.” Her expression twisted with disbelief, and she let out a disdainful laugh. “Fired? You? A foster child thinks he has the authority to fire me? Did you ask Master Ryan? Did you consult Mr. Brown?” At that moment, Ryan was helped up by a few staff members. His face was livid as he pointed at me and shouted: “Michael Brown, how dare you disrupt my birthday party? Just wait until I tell Dad about this—you’re finished!” He turned to the rest of the staff with fury in his voice. “What are you all standing around for? Get him out of here!” The staff hesitated, their eyes darting between Ryan and me. I chuckled lightly, savoring the panic that flickered in Ryan’s gaze. My father had married into the Brown family, so I’d taken my mother’s last name, Brown. As her only child and the true heir to the family fortune, I was the rightful eldest son. When I was sixteen, my father had brought home a boy, claiming he was his late brother’s orphaned son. “We should take him in,” he said. “It’s the right thing to do.” My mother, ever cautious, had insisted the decision be left to me. Back then, I naively believed my father’s words. I felt sorry for the boy and called him “little brother” out of pity. That’s when Ryan entered our home, but not as “Ryan Jones.” My father gave him our family name. He became Ryan Brown—the so-called “eldest son.” From that moment on, my father showered Ryan with love and attention, treating him like the golden child. And me? I became nothing more than an afterthought, a shadow in my own home. But now, reborn and armed with the knowledge of my past life, I finally understood. I am the true heir of the Brown family. Why should I let a fraud like Ryan trample all over me? The staff began to move toward me, clearly intending to drag me out. Ryan’s smug expression and Sarah’s sneering face only fueled my resolve. I stood my ground and swept my cold gaze across the room. “I am the eldest son of the Brown family. Touch me, and you’ll face my mother’s wrath when she returns. Are you prepared to answer to her?” The staff froze, glancing nervously at Ryan. Ryan’s face turned a sickly mix of green and white as fury twisted his features. “Michael, have you lost your mind? Everyone here knows you’re just a foster child in this family!” He sneered, his tone laced with mockery. “And you dare invoke Mom’s name? She’s out of town negotiating an important deal. If she’s delayed because of you, you’ll be the disgrace of the Brown family!” Sarah stepped forward, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Young Master, stop causing trouble. Everyone knows you’re the foster child here. Think about how angry Mr. Brown will be if you keep this up.” The guests began murmuring their agreement: “Exactly. Ryan is the real Brown heir.” “Unbelievable! At Ryan’s coming-of-age party, no less—this foster kid has no shame.” I clenched my fists, but my face remained calm. I turned to one of the servers and said, “Since they’re so eager to bring my father into this, go ahead. Ask him whether I’m the foster child or not.” The server hesitated, clearly torn, knowing how much Mr. Brown favored Ryan over me. If my father found out I’d disrupted Ryan’s party, he’d likely lash out at me in front of everyone. I smiled faintly, trying to ease the server’s discomfort. “It’s fine. Just go.” Reluctantly, the server nodded and left. Ryan smirked, crossing his arms. “Michael, when Dad gets here, this whole charade will end.” Sarah chimed in, her voice thick with mockery. “Young Master, you know how much Mr. Brown dotes on Ryan. Why would you put yourself in such a humiliating position?” I remained silent, staring at them with icy indifference. In my past life, the father I had adored had stood back and watched as Ryan stripped me of everything. He had even helped Ryan burn me alive, his cold eyes watching as the flames consumed me. They scattered my ashes into the sea and told my mother I had committed suicide. The grief broke her, leaving her bedridden and sick. But now, reborn from the ashes, I vowed to make them feel the searing pain of betrayal and the torment of a fiery death. This time, I would burn their world to the ground. 2 The sharp scolding echoed down the hallway as the butler emerged from my father’s study, his face flushed with humiliation and still wet with spit. He looked at me apologetically and said: “Mr. Brown said he’s busy getting dressed and will be down soon to attend Master Ryan’s coming-of-age party. Oh, and he also said… he hopes Young Master Michael won’t cause any more trouble.” I wasn’t surprised by the response. In fact, I was certain the butler had softened my father’s words. What he probably meant to say was: Tell him to get lost. After all, to my father, I was never good enough compared to Ryan. He always favored Ryan. Sarah, the ever-loyal housekeeper, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to twist the knife. Her voice dripped with mockery as she said, “Young Master Michael, I told you to stop, didn’t I? But no, you didn’t listen. Now look—Mr. Brown’s spoken. Regret it yet?” Ryan’s face lit up with triumph as he sneered at me. “Michael, you brought this on yourself. Stop embarrassing yourself and end this farce. Someone come and drag him out of here!” I narrowed my eyes and let out a cold laugh, about to retort when the doors to the ballroom opened. A woman in an elegant white gown walked in, stealing the attention of the entire room. My gaze froze for a moment. It was her—Megan Wren, my so-called fiancée. The woman my mother had arranged for a powerful alliance through marriage. The whispers started immediately: “That’s Megan Wren, the fiancée of the Brown family heir!” “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? And her family is just as prestigious as the Browns’. They’re a perfect match!” But Megan didn’t walk toward me. Instead, she went straight to Ryan, slipping her arm through his with a warm and tender smile. When her eyes landed on me, they were filled with nothing but disdain. “Michael,” she said sharply, “why are you here at Ryan’s party? You’re just the Brown family’s foster child. And to think—you lied to me, claiming you were the heir!” She scoffed and glanced at Ryan affectionately. “If it weren’t for Ryan telling me the truth, I might’ve been fooled. Imagine how humiliating it would’ve been if the Wren and Brown families had formed an alliance based on your lie!” I chuckled softly at her words. Back when the marriage was first proposed, it was her family who had begged for the union, desperate to link themselves to the Browns. I had reluctantly agreed. But after meeting Ryan, she’d fallen for his sweet words and decided he was the true heir, turning her contempt squarely on me. Her public display of affection for Ryan erased any lingering doubts the guests might’ve had about my identity. After all, who would mistake their own fiancé? Ryan’s smirk grew even wider as he slid his hand around Megan’s waist and gave me a mocking look. “So, Michael,” he taunted, “what do you have to say for yourself now?” Megan turned to me, her expression filled with disgust. “Let me make myself clear,” she said, her voice cold. “I’m here today for two reasons: to celebrate Ryan’s coming-of-age and to tell you, once and for all, that the person I love is your brother.” She crossed her arms and added with a sneer, “From now on, address me as your sister-in-law!” “Sister-in-law?” Her words brought back memories of my previous life—when she’d found out Ryan was the foster child, she’d knelt before my mother, screaming and crying that she’d always loved me. I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Sure, little sister,” I said mockingly. “As your big brother, I wish you and Ryan all the best. Make sure to lock it down.” Megan’s expression darkened, and her voice turned icy. “Little sister? You keep claiming Ryan is the foster child and that you’re the real heir. Where’s your proof?” I spread my arms out casually and gestured toward Ryan with a smirk. “Isn’t it obvious?” I stood tall and unflinching, exuding a natural air of authority. Even though the room was against me, my confidence was unshaken, the mark of someone born to lead. Ryan, on the other hand, fidgeted nervously. Despite his expensive, tailored suit, he couldn’t hide the hunched posture and shifty eyes that made him look like a fraud trying to fit into a world that wasn’t his. “And if you really want proof,” I said, reaching into my pocket, “how about this jade pendant?” I held up the piece of exquisite green jade, and gasps rippled through the crowd. “Wait, isn’t that the legendary jade pendant Mr. Brown gave to his child? There’s only one in the entire world!” “Doesn’t this mean… Michael might really be the true heir?” Ryan’s face twisted with panic, and his voice trembled as he stammered, “If I’m the foster child, then why would Dad side with me? That jade pendant must be a fake! You forged it!” Sarah quickly jumped in, her expression venomous. “Exactly! I just saw the real pendant on Ryan earlier. Yours is a counterfeit!” Megan chimed in, her voice dripping with scorn. “Even if it’s real, maybe you stole it. A pendant doesn’t prove anything.” Their accusations fed the crowd’s doubts, and murmurs of agreement spread. Sarah’s smirk widened as she added, “Michael, if you’re the true heir, then why doesn’t a single servant here call you Master? Look around—none of them respect you.” I scanned the room. Everywhere I looked, the servants avoided my gaze, keeping their heads down. They were afraid. Afraid of saying the wrong thing and facing punishment. Sarah seized the moment, her voice rising in triumph. “Today is Ryan’s special day, and you’ve done nothing but ruin it! You’ve disgraced the Brown name. Someone grab him and take him to Mr. Brown!” The servants moved toward me, but I remained calm. From a young age, I had trained in martial arts. Even though they outnumbered me, they were no match for me. One by one, they fell to the ground. I stood in the center of the ballroom, my clothes slightly rumpled but still composed. “Is that all you’ve got?” But before I could say more, Ryan grabbed a bottle of red wine and smashed it over my head. The glass shattered, and the sharp sting of wine and blood trickled down my face. I staggered, collapsing to the floor. Ryan stepped on my face, pressing down with increasing force as he sneered, “You think you’re tough? So what? You’re just a foster child playing pretend.” He snatched the jade pendant from me and clipped it onto his own belt, grinning triumphantly. Megan spat at me, her voice dripping with disdain. “See what happens when you try to take Ryan’s place? You’ve humiliated yourself!” Sarah poured a glass of wine over my head, laughing cruelly. “If you love talking nonsense so much, why not drink up?” I clenched my fists tightly, enduring the pain and humiliation. “When my mother gets back,” I said through gritted teeth, “you’ll all pay for this.” Unbeknownst to them, I had already called her. She was on her way, flying home as we spoke. Ryan crouched down, his tone mocking. “Your mother? Don’t make me laugh. She’s not here to protect you. And even if she were, Dad would side with me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I could kill you right now, and he’d help me cover it up.” His words lit a fire in my chest. Not again. This time, I would turn the tables. 3 I seized the moment when Ryan wasn’t paying attention, flipping him to the ground and snatching back the jade pendant. Pinning him beneath me, I unleashed a flurry of punches. Every blow carried the weight of my past life’s agony—of skin scorched by fire, of betrayal and humiliation. Sarah screamed as she ran over to help Ryan, but I sent her flying with a single shove. Megan, standing nearby, tried to copy Ryan’s earlier move, grabbing a wine bottle to smash it over my head. But in her panic, she missed—and the bottle shattered across Ryan’s face. The scene descended into chaos. People rushed to intervene, shouting and scrambling. Then, from behind me, I heard a furious roar: “Stop this madness, you animal!” I turned slowly, my blood boiling as I faced my father. My knuckles turned white as I clenched my fists. “Animal?” I said, my voice trembling with rage. “Tell me, father—who are you calling an animal? Me? Or Ryan?” He stormed toward me, his face twisted in fury, and slapped me hard across the face. “Of course I mean you! You dare lay a hand on Ryan? Have you lost your mind? Do you have a death wish?!” While I was still stunned from the blow, he crouched down and helped Ryan up, his face filled with concern. “Ryan, are you okay? Did that brute hurt you?” he asked, his voice tender. Suppressing the rage rising in my chest, I stood and dusted myself off, forcing a bitter smile. “I’m an animal, am I? Then what does that make you, father? An old animal?” I had always known he favored Ryan. But still, I couldn’t help but ask myself: did he ever see me as his son? Ryan, wiping fake tears from his eyes, threw himself into my father’s arms. “Father, you have to do something about Michael,” he whimpered, his voice trembling with false emotion. “He’s gone crazy!” My father turned to me, his eyes blazing with rage. “Crazy? You’re worse than crazy! Fighting your own family in front of our guests—you’ve disgraced the Brown name!” I met his gaze head-on, cold and unflinching. “So what if I hit him?” I said, my voice sharp and cutting. “This family’s name is Brown, not Moore!” At my words, my father’s eyes widened in shock. Then, with a roar of fury, he slapped me again, harder this time. “You’ve gone too far! Do you want me to disown you?!” I refused to back down, staring at him with defiance. “If you want to disown me, go ahead. Let’s see if you have the guts!” Before he could respond, Sarah stepped forward, her face painted with faux concern. “Mr. Brown, you have to stand up for Ryan! Michael didn’t just ruin Ryan’s coming-of-age ceremony—he attacked him!” Megan, emboldened, chimed in with her own accusations. “That’s not all, uncle! He’s been harassing me, too! He even tried to force himself on me!” She glanced toward Ryan with teary eyes. “If it weren’t for Ryan, who knows what might’ve happened to me?” The crowd erupted, their voices rising in condemnation: “She’s right! Mr. and Mrs. Brown have spoiled him too much—that’s why this foster child is so arrogant!” “Exactly! He’s just a foster son, but now he’s acting like he owns the place!” The weight of their accusations pressed down on me like a suffocating net. Lies twisted into truths, and the whispers of the crowd became a deafening roar. My father cast a pitying glance at Ryan before turning his furious gaze back on me. “Do you hear that, Michael? Is the entire room lying about you?” He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Apologize to Ryan and the guests immediately!” His words burned like fire, igniting the fury inside me. I pointed at Ryan, my voice steady but filled with venom. “Him? He doesn’t deserve my apology.” My father’s face twisted with rage. “Doesn’t deserve it? What about me? I’m your father! I’m ordering you to apologize—and you’ll do it on your knees!” The room fell silent as his words echoed. Ryan, ever the actor, put on a show of humility. “Father, there’s no need to humiliate him like that. He’s still my brother, after all. Let’s not hurt his pride.” But his smirk betrayed the satisfaction he felt. The crowd erupted with praise for Ryan: “Ryan is so kindhearted—he’s a true Brown heir!” “What a gentleman! He’s the perfect future head of the Brown family.” Sarah sneered. “Young Master Ryan, you’re too soft. That’s why this foster child thinks he can get away with anything. Making him kneel is the least he deserves!” My father nodded, his voice colder than ice. “If it weren’t for the fact that he still carries the Brown name, I’d have thrown him in jail already!” Megan, leaning into Ryan with a coy smile, added, “Exactly. Ryan, you’re destined to lead this family. You can’t let emotions cloud your judgment.” Ryan sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Michael, you’ve really forced my hand today. But you don’t have to kneel to me—we’re still family, after all.” His words dripped with false benevolence, his smirk daring me to resist. My father’s gaze bore into me, colder than ever. It wasn’t the look of a father—it was the glare of an enemy. “Do you hear that? Why can’t you be more like Ryan? Now, kneel and apologize!” I raised my chin defiantly. “And if I refuse?” My father’s face darkened. He took a deep breath and bellowed, “If you won’t kneel willingly, I’ll make you kneel! Someone, hold him down and force him to bow!” The servants hesitated, glancing at each other nervously. “Sir… if we force him, we might seriously hurt him.” “Then hurt him!” my father snapped. “If he dies, so be it! Do it now, or I’ll do it myself!” The servants advanced, their faces grim, muttering apologies under their breath. “Sorry, Michael. We have to follow orders…” They grabbed me, trying to force me to my knees, but I fought back with everything I had. My father grabbed a heavy cane and swung it at the back of my legs, hitting me with enough force to buckle my knees. I fell forward but refused to bow my head. I clenched my teeth as the pain burned through me, staring defiantly at the laughing faces around me. If kneeling meant submitting to Ryan, I’d rather die. My father pressed his hand against the back of my head, trying to force me down. But just as he was about to slam my head into the ground, a powerful voice boomed from the entrance: “I dare anyone to lay another hand on my son!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295384”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #校园School #魔幻Magic

## My CEO girlfriend betrayed me by cheating with her puppy-eyed assistant. So, I erased myself from her world—completely. Every day, Laura’s driver would drop off a box of fresh fruit for James Wyatt. But there was always one piece missing. James didn’t think much of it until, one day, the driver handed him a single strawberry. Moments later, James received a photo from the driver, Adam Cross. In the photo, Laura lay naked beneath Adam, a crushed strawberry caught between her legs. At that moment, James realized that the home he had dreamed of for six years was nothing but a long-constructed illusion. Today, that illusion shattered for good. James had once told Laura: “If I ever find out you’ve betrayed me, I’ll vanish from your world completely.” And when James disappeared, Laura went mad. “Mr. Wyatt, your identity change package is fully processed. The new papers will take effect next Wednesday. We’re just calling to confirm.” James glanced across the room at Laura. She was surrounded by her bridesmaids, glowing in her wedding dress, the picture of happiness. “I’m certain,” he replied. The employee on the other end remained detached. “Understood. Your new documents will be mailed to your address. Please remember to sign for them.” “Good luck with your new life, Mr. Chase.” James Wyatt had chosen the name Chase Ryder for his new identity. He wanted a name that symbolized moving forward, breaking free, and running toward a life where no one could hold him back. He had decided on it the day he resolved to leave. Hanging up the phone, James turned to see Laura in her wedding dress. Next week was supposed to be their wedding day. Her bridesmaids fussed over her, showering her with praise. “Wow, Laura, you’re really getting married so soon! Whoever’s marrying you is the luckiest man alive!” “Seriously, Laura, the CEO who swore she’d stay single forever is finally tying the knot! Who would’ve thought?” Laura smiled, a mix of shyness and happiness lighting her face. “What can I say? I found the one, my soulmate. I’m the lucky one for finding James. I couldn’t wait to marry him.” She ran her fingers over the embroidered tulips on her dress. One of the bridesmaids noticed the gesture and chimed in, “This design is stunning! Must’ve cost a fortune, right?” Laura nodded, her gaze drifting toward James. Her eyes brimmed with love. “It’s not about the price. This pattern means so much to us—it’s our flower, the tulip. The embroidery took 2,192 stitches, all done by hand. I designed it myself. James’s suit has a matching tulip, too.” “Because,” she added with a radiant smile, “our wedding date marks six years together.” Her bridesmaids erupted into cheers, brimming with envy. To everyone else, James and Laura were a perfect couple, the epitome of true love. They had known each other for ten years and been together for six. James had stood by Laura’s side as she transformed from a carefree young woman into the accomplished CEO she was today. He had waited so long for this wedding. Laura’s happiness wasn’t fake. If James hadn’t discovered Adam Cross, he might’ve believed that their love had truly reached its fairy-tale ending. Laura had hired Adam as her new driver. One evening, after dropping her off, Adam handed James a box of strawberries. The strawberries were flawless, red and ripe, clearly expensive. But the gift box had been opened, and one was missing. James didn’t think much of it—after all, it was just a strawberry. Later that night, James received a friend request on a messaging app. Once he accepted, a photo popped up almost immediately. In the photo, Laura was completely naked, tangled up with a man who held her from behind. Between their legs was a crushed strawberry. Her neck, where she once proudly wore a matching couple’s tattoo with James, was covered in hickeys, bruised with the unmistakable marks of passion. James’s hands trembled as he clutched his phone. The man’s face wasn’t fully visible, but James recognized him instantly—it was Adam Cross, Laura’s new driver. The same man who had dropped her off that evening. James rushed to the bathroom, retching violently as though he could expel the betrayal from his body. Hearing the commotion, Laura ran in after him, wrapping her arms around him in concern. “What’s wrong, honey? Have you been overworking yourself because of the wedding? Or did you eat something bad?” she asked, her voice filled with worry. “I told the housekeeper to be extra careful with everything this week. How could you get so sick? I’ll fire them tomorrow!” Tears welled up in her eyes as she fussed over him. “Do you want to go to the hospital? I’ll call someone to drive us. Please don’t scare me like this, James.” Her concern seemed so genuine, so heartfelt. James glanced at her chest. That night, she wasn’t wearing her usual silk robe, but a high-necked silk nightgown instead. “You don’t like high-neck clothes,” James said flatly. “Why are you wearing them so often lately?” Laura’s hand flew to her neck, her panic betraying her for just a moment before she regained her composure. “Of course I like them! I just want to avoid sun damage before the wedding—you know, I want to look my best for you.” Sun damage? At night? Under the covers? James closed his eyes, despair washing over him. Laura. It seemed he could no longer find the “truth” in her anymore.

The group around James was still laughing and teasing when his phone suddenly buzzed, cutting through the noise. The screen lit up with an unmarked number. James knew exactly who it was—Adam Cross, the man who had been bombarding him with taunting messages over the past few weeks. He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly pressed the answer button. But instead of a voice, it was a multimedia message notification. As the photo loaded, James felt his chest tighten as if an invisible hand were squeezing his heart. The image was devastating. Adam was wearing his custom wedding suit—the one James had commissioned specifically for the big day. The suit didn’t quite fit, hanging slightly loose on Adam’s frame, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. Adam’s face was flushed, his expression a mix of smug satisfaction and taunting arrogance. His eyes gleamed with triumph, as if he had just won a prize. The background of the photo was a messy bedroom, but none of that registered in James’s mind. All he could see was Adam’s face, with that infuriatingly smug look. The caption was short but cut like a dagger: “Laura said this makes it official—I’ve basically married her already.” The words stabbed into James’s heart, twisting cruelly. A wave of nausea churned in his stomach, rising so violently that he thought he might collapse. How could this have happened? How could she, the woman who once gave up everything for him, who had filled her home with tulips just because he offhandedly mentioned liking them—how could she turn into this stranger? Tulips. They used to be the symbol of their love. Now, they were nothing but a cruel reminder of betrayal. It was years ago when James had casually mentioned, “I’ve always loved tulips, but I read somewhere that keeping them indoors can make your hair fall out.” Laura had laughed, throwing her head back teasingly. “What kind of man likes flowers, huh?” It was just a passing joke. But a few weeks later, Laura had stunned him. She blindfolded him, walked him into her small apartment, and uncovered his eyes. Before he could even take in the sight, the sweet scent of tulips filled the air. When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by dozens of them—every corner of her apartment bursting with vibrant blooms. “So? Do you like it? Surprised?” she had asked, grinning from ear to ear. James was speechless. “But tulips… they might make you lose your hair. I’d never dare keep so many.” Laura had waved it off, completely unconcerned. “Who cares? I’ve got plenty of hair to spare. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” Every spring, her apartment would be filled with the gentle fragrance of tulips. It became their thing—a symbol of their love, their shared joy, their bright future. Back then, Laura had been so pure, so full of life and hope. Her eyes sparkled with dreams of a future they’d build together. But all of that had shattered today. James’s phone screen still glowed, the image of Adam and Laura mocking him in the dim light. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to block out the betrayal, to erase the image from his mind. But the harder he tried, the more vivid it became. And then Laura’s voice broke through his thoughts from behind him, sweet and filled with concern. “James, aren’t you going to try on your suit? We need to make sure it fits perfectly. The wedding’s next week, you know. Everything has to be just right.” Her tone was so natural, so cheerful, as if nothing had happened. James turned to face her. There she was—Laura, the woman he had once loved with all his heart. Her face, once so familiar and comforting, now felt like a stranger’s. He forced a smile, trying to conceal the storm raging inside him. But his voice betrayed him, trembling slightly as he replied, “You go ahead and focus on your dress. I… I’m not feeling well. I’ll try the suit some other time.” Laura’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of worry. Without hesitation, she knelt down beside him, ignoring the awkwardness of her bridal gown. “Are you okay, James? You’ve been looking unwell lately. Please, let’s go to the hospital. I’ll call someone right now. I’m really worried about you.” Her concern, so genuine and tender, only deepened James’s pain. How could someone who still seemed to love him so deeply have done something so unforgivable? For a moment, he wanted to convince himself that Adam wasn’t real—that this nightmare was just a figment of his imagination. And then she said his name again. “James, let me call Adam to drive us to the hospital. He can take us right away. I’ll find the best doctor for you.” Adam. That name snapped James back into reality, like a slap across the face. The very man who shattered his world was still being invited into their lives so casually, so freely. A driver? A personal assistant? A… bed companion? James shook his head, forcing himself to remain calm. He couldn’t let her see through him—not now. “No, it’s fine,” he said, his voice steadier this time. “I just need some rest. Don’t worry about me.” Laura hesitated but finally nodded, her concern still plain on her face. James took a deep breath, steadying himself. He had already decided to leave. There was no point in dragging this out any further. Soon, he would vanish from her world entirely. And when that day came, let’s see if Adam could keep her entertained forever.

James used his supposed “illness” as an excuse to avoid trying on his wedding suit. Though Laura seemed a bit worried, her friends quickly whisked her away, chatting about dinner plans. Laura assumed James’s upset stomach was due to the stress of wedding preparations and his irregular meals. Determined to take care of him, she decided to prepare a hearty dinner to help him “bounce back.” They all headed to a mutual friend’s house for dinner. The meal was meticulously planned, and Laura took charge in the kitchen, personally cooking James’s favorite dishes. Her friends pitched in, helping with the setup while Laura hummed cheerful tunes under the warm kitchen lights. James stood by the doorway, watching her. She looked so serene, her every move exuding warmth. There wasn’t even a hint of guilt or unease in her body language. But the nausea in James’s chest twisted tighter, like an invisible thread pulling taut around his heart. When the meal was finally served, Laura uncorked a bottle of red wine to make the evening feel more romantic. She smiled and gestured for James to sit, her eyes brimming with both expectation and an unspoken apology. Around the table, their friends couldn’t stop marveling. “James, you really hit the jackpot with Laura. She’s amazing—so thoughtful!” one of them gushed. Laura, hearing this, smiled modestly and replied with a gentle laugh, “No, no, I’m the lucky one. James is such an incredible man—I’m just grateful to have him.” Her voice carried sincerity, layered with affection. But for James, her words felt like heavy stones sinking into his stomach. He stared at the table laden with food, but his appetite was nonexistent. Yet he knew he couldn’t let his emotions spill over—not now, not when he was just days away from disappearing out of her life forever. He forced a weak smile and said, “Laura, thank you for all this, but I’m really not feeling well tonight. I don’t think I can eat much.” Laura’s face immediately clouded with worry. “In that case, why don’t we reschedule? We can have dinner another night. You really don’t look good today,” she said, her voice full of concern. “Anyway, we’ve already planned the bachelor party for tomorrow night—we can all catch up then.” None of the friends at the table suspected a thing. They just saw a loving couple, with Laura doting on James and James seemingly unwell. Their comments were filled with admiration for their relationship, calling it “couple goals.” If only they knew the truth. Later that evening, Adam arrived to pick them up. Laura climbed into the passenger seat, explaining, “James isn’t feeling well. Let him stretch out in the backseat so he can relax.” Her tone was casual, almost dismissive, as if the arrangement made perfect sense. Adam, ever the professional during work hours, barely spoke. He kept his eyes on the road, saying only what was necessary. If anyone else saw them, they’d think he was just a quiet, dutiful driver. But James wasn’t naive. From his spot in the backseat, he could see Adam’s eyes in the rearview mirror—the subtle glint of arrogance, the faint smirk hidden behind his otherwise neutral expression. James clenched his fists but said nothing. When they finally arrived home, Adam parked the car, and Laura and James got out together. As they stepped into the elevator, James broke the silence with a seemingly casual suggestion: “Don’t you think it’s a little unsafe having a male driver around all the time? I know someone who’d be a better fit—more trustworthy and easier to rely on. What do you think about switching drivers?” Laura didn’t even flinch. Her voice remained calm and even as she replied, “No need. I’ve gotten used to Adam. He’s attentive and handles everything perfectly—not just driving, but other tasks too. He’s been great.” I’m sure he’s even better in bed, James thought bitterly. But he kept his expression neutral, unwilling to betray the storm raging inside him. Laura, oblivious to his thoughts, walked into the apartment as if nothing was wrong. She turned on James’s favorite playlist, poured some tea, and started chatting about tomorrow’s party plans. Then her phone buzzed. James noticed her glance at the screen. Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. “James,” she said suddenly, her tone shifting to one of apology, “there’s something urgent at work—I need to head to the office. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to stay with you tonight. Get some rest, okay?” Her voice carried a mix of regret and determination. James didn’t argue. He simply nodded and said, “It’s fine. You go ahead. I could use some rest anyway.” He knew perfectly well there was no “work emergency.” But he didn’t care anymore. He was numb to it all. Once Laura left, James walked to the window. He stood there, watching as she got into the car. Adam was already waiting for her. The car didn’t move right away. Instead, it stayed parked for a long time. James could only imagine what was happening inside. Eventually, the car pulled away, disappearing into the night. Two hours later, James’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Adam. Another photo. This time, it was taken inside the car. The seats were disheveled, the interior a mess. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what had happened.

Laura didn’t come home that night. It wasn’t until the following evening, at the bachelor party, that James saw her again—and she wasn’t alone. Adam was with her. The sight of them together was like a hand tightening around James’s chest, but he forced himself to remain calm, his expression betraying nothing. Laura, as composed as ever, explained with a cheerful smile, “Since we’re all drinking tonight, I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave my driver waiting in the car. Hope it’s okay that I brought him inside!” One of Laura’s friends chimed in with a teasing grin, “Laura, you don’t have to ask for permission to bring someone. But seriously, where did you find this driver? He’s kinda cute!” Adam’s expression was smug, dripping with arrogance, as if he were silently flaunting his victory. James only glanced at him briefly, his face devoid of emotion, before looking away. Laura noticed James’s indifference and didn’t linger. She brushed off the jokes and left Adam where he stood, making her way over to James. “James, are you feeling okay? You don’t look so great. Are you still feeling under the weather?” she asked, her voice soft with concern. “I’m so sorry about last night,” she continued, her tone genuinely apologetic. “Work’s been crazy lately with the wedding coming up. I had to stay late at the office and ended up crashing in the breakroom. But as soon as I finished everything, I came straight here. You’re not mad at me, are you?” Her words were so sincere that if James had pushed back, he would’ve looked petty. Adam, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. “That’s true,” he said with mock innocence. “She kept telling me to drive faster so she wouldn’t be late to see you.” The words seemed harmless enough, but James knew better. Adam’s smirk said it all. Laura shot him a sharp glare, silently warning him to shut up. Then, turning back to James, she wrapped her arms around his and gave him a playful shake. “James, you’re not mad, right? I promise, after the wedding, I’ll make more time for you. I just need to get through this busy streak, okay?” Their friends jumped in with teasing remarks. “Man, James, how’d you land a wife like Laura? She’s a total catch!” “Forget saving the world—you must’ve saved the entire galaxy to marry someone like her!” Laura blushed, pretending to deflect the compliments, but her smile was unmistakably pleased. She leaned closer to James and said, “Come on, don’t listen to them. I’m just lucky to have you. You’re the one who has me wrapped around your finger.” The party was lively, filled with laughter and games. When it came time for a round of Truth or Dare, the energy hit its peak. Someone asked Laura directly, “Have you ever done anything to betray James?” Without missing a beat, she answered, “Never. I belong to James, and only James, for the rest of my life.” Her voice was firm and confident, like she was making a public vow. The room erupted into cheers and applause, everyone marveling at what a perfect couple they were. But when it was Adam’s turn, the game took a darker turn. As the newest face in the group—and an undeniably attractive one—he quickly became the center of attention. Someone asked him a bold question: “When’s the last time you… you know… hooked up with someone?” Adam smirked and, without a shred of hesitation, replied, “Last night. In a car.” The room burst into laughter, some people whistling and joking about his honesty. But for James, the words hit like a dagger to the chest. The pain was sharp and immediate, but outwardly, he remained composed, his face an unreadable mask. Laura, however, didn’t take it so lightly. Her expression darkened, and she shot Adam another warning look before excusing herself to the bathroom. A few moments later, Adam slipped out as well, claiming he needed to move the car. James hesitated for only a moment before following them. In the dimly lit hallway outside the restroom, James heard their voices. Laura’s tone was sharp, laced with anger and frustration. “I brought you here as a reward, and this is how you act? Dropping hints and making comments all night? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Adam, ever the smooth talker, sounded almost pitiful as he replied, “I didn’t mean to, Laura. I swear. I just… I love you so much. Seeing you with him, I just couldn’t help myself…” But Laura wasn’t buying it. Her voice grew colder. “You’d better not be doing this on purpose. If James starts suspecting something because of you, I swear you’ll regret it. James is my bottom line—don’t you dare cross it.” Adam, however, didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “Fine,” he said, his tone suddenly playful. “Then punish me, Laura. I’ll be a good boy for you. Woof, woof.” Laura’s initial anger seemed to falter. Despite herself, she softened under his sweet words. It didn’t take long for her to forgive him, and within seconds, they were kissing passionately. James didn’t stay to watch. He turned and walked back to the party, his heart a mix of numbness and disgust. When Laura and Adam returned, her lipstick was smudged, and her hair looked slightly out of place. She tried to act normal, but James noticed every detail. He didn’t say a word. Not here, not now. He had no intention of causing a scene in front of everyone. The party carried on, the laughter and games continuing late into the night. But James felt like he was just going through the motions, detached from it all. In his mind, a single thought played on repeat: Just three more days. Three days until the wedding. Three days until he abandoned this façade of a life. Once his new identity as Chase Ryder was finalized, he would leave Laura and Adam behind for good.

The party finally wound down amidst cheers and laughter as the guests trickled out, leaving only James and Laura behind. James didn’t want Adam to drive them home. That car, no matter how thoroughly cleaned, was tainted—filled with the stench of their trysts. The thought made him sick. So, he came up with an excuse. “I ate too much. I think I need a walk to clear my head.” Laura didn’t hesitate for a second. She immediately dismissed Adam and offered to walk home with him. The night was calm, the streetlights casting a soft, amber glow over the empty streets. A cool breeze rustled through the trees, bringing a gentle chill to the air. Side by side, they walked in silence for a while, the quiet broken only by the distant hum of the city. The serene atmosphere seemed to bring them both back to the early days of their relationship. They started reminiscing. “Do you remember, James?” Laura said with a small laugh. “When we first started dating, you couldn’t even hold my hand without sweating buckets.” James smiled faintly, remembering how nervous he’d been on their first date. He also remembered the first meal she ever cooked for him, the long walks they used to take, the quiet moments filled with laughter and love. But those memories were now tainted. The woman who had once blushed at a simple kiss was now sneaking around with another man. The same woman who had giggled at his awkwardness now spent her nights tangled up with Adam in the very car he refused to step foot in. Laura, unaware of his thoughts, was still lost in their shared nostalgia. She looked at James with a kind of earnest affection, her eyes sparkling with conviction. James, feeling the weight of the moment, decided to test her. “I saw this post today,” he began, his voice casual, “about a couple who had been together for years. The night before their wedding, the bride cheated on him.” Laura’s brows furrowed slightly, but she quickly waved the thought away. “That’s ridiculous. I would never do something like that to you, James.” She spoke with absolute certainty, placing her hand gently on his arm. “I love you. I’ll always love you. No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.” Her words were like a dagger wrapped in velvet. James stared at her, trying to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that her promises were real. But he couldn’t. He’d already seen the truth—the stolen glances, the late-night messages, the lies. She had betrayed him. As she walked beside him, speaking with such conviction, all James could feel was a deep, aching disappointment. “People always say long-term relationships never work out,” he said, his voice low. “That if it’s meant to be, they’d get married sooner.” Laura stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression earnest. “That’s not true for us. We’re different, James. We’re going to be so happy together. We’re getting married in just a few days—what are you even worried about?” She smiled, her confidence unwavering. But James could see through her now, could see the cracks beneath her flawless exterior. “Laura,” he said, his voice unusually serious. “If you ever betray me, I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again.” The way he said her name—her full name—made her pause. She blinked, surprised by the intensity in his tone. “James, I would never,” she said quickly, almost defensively. “I love you. You’re the only one I’ll ever love.” Her words were rehearsed, smooth, and confident. Maybe she truly believed that as long as she kept her secrets buried, nothing would ever change. It was almost laughable. Halfway through their walk, Laura’s phone buzzed. She glanced down at the screen, her brows knitting together ever so slightly before she answered. James couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but he didn’t need to. He knew it was Adam. Laura’s tone was clipped but calm as she responded. After a few moments, she hung up and turned to James, her expression apologetic. “James, I’m so sorry,” she said, tucking her phone into her pocket. “My assistant just called—there’s something urgent at the office. I need to head over and take care of it. You go ahead and head home, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.” Her explanation sounded convincing enough, but James could see the faint flicker of anxiety in her eyes, the way her fingers tightened slightly around her phone. He nodded, his voice devoid of emotion. “Sure. Go ahead. I’ll see you later.” Laura smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and hurried off into the night. James stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure. He didn’t need to guess where she was going or who she was meeting. He already knew. When James got home, he felt a strange sense of calm. There was no suffocating pain or overwhelming anger. Instead, he felt… free. The past few years of his life—every ounce of love and effort he had poured into this relationship—felt like wasted time. He had been building a future with someone who had been slowly eroding the foundation beneath him. But now, it didn’t matter. He walked over to the desk where all their wedding plans were laid out: the venue contracts, the guest list, the meticulously chosen decorations. It all felt so meaningless now. Picking up the phone, James began canceling everything. The venue, the caterer, the florist—each call felt like shedding a heavy weight. Next, he packed up his custom suit—the one he’d had made specifically for their wedding—and put it in a box to donate to a local charity. These things no longer represented joy or love. They were relics of a dream that had crumbled into dust. By the time he was finished, James felt lighter than he had in years. The pain was still there, lingering beneath the surface, but it no longer consumed him. He had made his decision. In three days, he would leave this life behind, along with Laura and Adam. He would start over as Chase Ryder, free from the lies and betrayal. And for the first time in a long time, James felt like he could finally breathe.

Early in the morning, Laura rushed home, her face filled with anxiety and unease. She had just received a call from the wedding planner, informing her that James had canceled their original wedding venue. A cold fear crept into her chest. The wedding was only two days away. What did this mean? Why would James cancel the venue now? She didn’t dare let her thoughts spiral further. Flinging the door open, she spotted James sitting calmly on the couch, a cup of tea in hand, looking completely unbothered. His composure only amplified her unease. Laura hurried over to him, her voice trembling slightly as she asked, “James, what’s going on? Why did the wedding venue get canceled? I got a call from the planner, and it scared me to death! Please tell me this is some kind of misunderstanding.” James had already prepared a calm, plausible explanation. He glanced up at her with a small smile, his demeanor steady—almost too steady. There was a subtle chill in his eyes, but it was so faint, it was easy to miss. “Oh, that? I found out last night that the venue supposedly has some bad energy—bad feng shui, if you believe in that sort of thing. And, well, I didn’t want to risk it affecting our marriage.” He took a sip of tea and continued, his tone light but measured. “I decided to cancel it and booked another place instead. It’s a surprise, though. I’ll show you on the day of the wedding.” Laura’s shoulders relaxed, her worry melting away. “So that’s it? You just wanted to surprise me?” She let out a relieved laugh, shaking her head. “I was so scared you were upset with me. I’ve been so busy lately, I thought maybe you were angry that I haven’t been spending enough time with you.” She reached for his hand, her smile softening. “After all this craziness is over, we’ll have so much time together. Once we’re married, nothing else will matter.” She had completely forgotten that the venue James had just canceled was the one they had dreamed about since they first got together—the place they had once called their “perfect wedding spot.” To her, this change was just James being thoughtful or practical. So, she nodded and accepted his explanation without further question. But what Laura didn’t realize was that every word James spoke, every measured action, was hiding a deep and bitter pain. Laura sat down beside James, leaning her head gently on his shoulder. Her smile was radiant, her voice filled with genuine happiness. “James, in just two days, I’ll be your wife. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world.” James didn’t respond right away. He looked at her, at the woman who seemed so blissfully unaware of the weight of her betrayal. Her happiness almost felt like a cruel joke. How could someone who had so thoroughly betrayed him still sit here, smiling as if their love was untarnished? Last night, another photo from Adam had landed in his inbox. In the picture, Adam was naked, wearing nothing but a pair of fluffy animal ears and a matching tail. He was kneeling on a bed, smirking at the camera. The caption read: “Laura just can’t ever seem to get enough, can she?” James had stared at that photo for a long time, feeling a mix of revulsion and numb acceptance. And now, here she was, sitting beside him, playing the role of the perfect fiancée. As they talked, James’s eyes drifted to her neck. That’s when he saw it—a faint but unmistakable mark just below her collarbone. A hickey. The sight of it made his blood run cold. For a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off it, his gaze hardening as he stared. The mark seemed to mock him, a silent confession of everything she’d been hiding. Laura noticed his shift in demeanor. Following his gaze, she immediately realized what he was looking at. Her hand flew to her neck, covering the hickey as her face flushed with panic. “It’s not what you think!” she blurted out, her voice unsteady. “I… I got bitten by a mosquito last night. That’s all it is.” The excuse was so flimsy, so ridiculous, James almost wanted to laugh. But he didn’t. Instead, he forced a small smile and reached out to pat her hand reassuringly. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “I believe you.” Inside, James felt hollow. It doesn’t matter anymore, he thought to himself. In just two days, I’ll be gone. Out of her life, out of this mess. She can keep her lies, her secrets, and her lover. None of it will matter to me anymore.

James sat alone on the couch, shrouded in darkness, as if he had melted into the shadows themselves. The faint glow of his phone broke the silence. A new message. It was from Adam. “I know you and Laura are getting married the day after tomorrow, but do you really think a wedding means you’ll own her forever?” “Here’s a fun thought: if I ask her to spend the night with me, do you think you’ll even see her before the ceremony?” James didn’t reply. He leaned back into the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling above him. In his heart, he already knew the answer. The moment Adam’s message arrived, the truth had been laid bare. And yet, some small, fragile part of him clung to hope. Hope that Laura—the woman he had loved for six years—might surprise him. Might prove him wrong. Laura, meanwhile, had also received a message from Adam. She got out of bed, her footsteps soft as she walked into the dimly lit living room. “James,” she said gently, her voice breaking the silence, “I have to go on a business trip for the next two days. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, but don’t worry—I’ll be back in time for the wedding.” “I need to pack a few things,” she added. “You stay home and get some rest, okay?” Of course. James thought to himself. The room remained shrouded in darkness, but James’s eyes burned like embers, piercing through the shadows. For a moment, his gaze was so intense, it was as if he had come alive again—his final surge of emotion before everything inside him collapsed. Before Laura could leave to pack, James stood up. His voice was soft, almost pleading. “Laura,” he said, his tone trembling slightly, “I’ve been feeling so anxious lately. I can’t shake the unease. Can you… can you not go? Just stay with me until the wedding. Please.” He stepped closer to her, taking her hands firmly in his. The desperation in his voice was unmistakable. “Business opportunities come and go,” he whispered. “But these days, these moments—we’ll never get them back. I need you right now.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears, his vulnerability laid bare for the first time. “I need you. Please, just stay with me.” Laura froze, startled by the raw emotion in his voice. She had never seen James like this before—so open, so broken. Without thinking, she reached out and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “Okay, okay,” she said softly, her voice soothing. “I’ll stay. I won’t go. I promise.” James held her tightly, his forehead pressed to her back, his arms locked around her waist as if he were afraid she might vanish. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to believe that things could go back to the way they used to be. That her warmth, her presence, still belonged to him. But then, Laura’s phone lit up again, the glow cutting through the darkness like a knife. She reached for it, glancing at the screen. Another message from Adam. “Laura, I miss you so much. You’re about to be someone else’s wife, but tonight, can you be mine one last time?” Attached to the message was a photo of Adam, wearing nothing but a provocative costume. His smirk was full of confidence, his words dripping with temptation. “If you come over, I’ll do whatever you want.” James felt it. Her body stiffened in his arms. He could sense the subtle shift in her breathing, the way her skin warmed under his touch—excitement, longing. But it wasn’t for him. Laura gently pried his hands away from her waist, turning to kneel beside him on the bed. She rested her forehead against his, her voice soft but unwavering. “I’m sorry, James,” she said. “This is really important. I can’t skip it.” “But after the wedding, I’ll take some time off. A long vacation, just you and me, okay? I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She didn’t wait for his response. She stood up, walked to the closet, and began picking out clothes for her “business trip.” James stayed where he was, his arms still wrapped around nothing but air. He leaned forward, forehead pressed to the spot where her back had just been, as if trying to hold onto the warmth she had left behind. But it was gone. And so was she. In that moment, something inside James finally broke. He didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He didn’t even feel anger anymore. Instead, there was only a stillness—a numb, overwhelming quiet. He wrapped himself in the blanket, no longer caring whether Laura loved him or not. No longer caring about the memories they had shared or the promises they had made. He reached for his phone and opened the notes app, reviewing his plan for the next day. His escape route. His new identity. Chase Ryder. He read through every detail again, committing it to memory.

In a luxurious suite at a five-star hotel, Adam and Laura lay entangled on the bed, their naked bodies entwined in a way that made it hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Laura’s flushed face was still glowing from their passion, her skin marked with deep, violet bruises left by Adam’s lips—a testament to the intensity of their time together. For the past two days and nights, they hadn’t even stepped outside the hotel room. The clothes they brought remained untouched, as if they had no time or reason to wear them. It was as if they were trying to exhaust every last ounce of lust before it was too late. After their latest round, Laura was the first to recover. She sat up and reached for a glass of water, her voice rough and hoarse as she spoke. “Adam,” she began, her eyes fixed on him, “I’m marrying James in two days. I love him. He’s the only man I’ll ever marry, and I need you to understand that.” She paused, her tone growing more pointed. “James is my boundary. You can ask for anything else, but don’t you dare flaunt this in front of him. If you so much as try to mess with him, I promise you’ll regret it.” She narrowed her eyes at him, her glare cutting like a blade. Adam, still sprawled out on the bed, reached lazily for her, pulling her back into his arms. He nodded, but it was clear he wasn’t taking her warning seriously. Laura looked at him, her irritation fading into something softer. Stroking his hair gently, she allowed herself a small, indulgent smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll still take care of you after the wedding,” she said, her voice light, almost playful. “But we won’t see each other as often as we do now. Things will be… different.” For a moment, her thoughts drifted to James, sitting alone at home. Was he lonely? Was he sad? What was he thinking about, so close to the wedding? Her phone buzzed, cutting through her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw James’s name. Her lips curled into a smile. Of course he’s thinking about me, she thought. We’re so in sync—it’s why I love him. She reached for the phone, but Adam grabbed her wrist, pinning it to the bed. “Not yet,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “We’re not done.” Laura hesitated, but Adam’s mischievous grin and the fire in his eyes reignited something in her. The phone fell from her hand as she gave in to him once more. The room filled again with heat and muffled moans, while James sat alone on his bed miles away. He stared at his phone, the screen still lit with the unanswered call. His suitcase was packed, sitting neatly by the door. He didn’t move, his thoughts swirling like a storm. Finally, he let out a bitter laugh and muttered to himself, “She’s probably wrapped up with Adam right now.” When the call went to voicemail, James sighed deeply, as if releasing the last of his lingering doubts. He picked up his suitcase, walked out the door, and climbed into the waiting car. “Take me to the airport,” he said quietly. The car disappeared into the neon-lit night, leaving behind nothing but silence and emptiness in the home they had once shared. There was no love left here. At dawn, Laura caught the first flight back to Harbor City. She had arranged for someone to meet her at the airport and get her to the wedding venue as quickly as possible. She was in a hurry. She couldn’t wait to see the man she had dreamed of marrying for so many years. When she arrived at the venue, dressed in her wedding gown and veil, she was even a little early. Smiling to herself, she glanced at her watch, her heart swelling with sweetness. Today’s the day. I’m finally marrying James—the man I’ve loved for six years. The man I’ve always dreamed of being with. The car pulled up to the location James had promised—the “secret venue” he had mentioned just days ago. She stepped out, her makeup flawless, tears of joy welling in her eyes. Her smile was radiant. She could swear this was the happiest day of her life. But there were no guests waiting for her. No red carpet. No wedding march. No flowers, no tables, no arch, no balloons. Nothing. The summer wind blew across the empty lot, the scorching July sun beating down mercilessly. There was no sign of James. Her heart sank as a creeping sense of dread began to take hold. She rushed back to the car and grabbed her phone, dialing James’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. She tried again. And again. Each time, the same mechanical message played, cold and unfeeling. Her chest tightened, panic rising as she dialed over and over, desperate for him to answer. But he never did. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Laura collapsed to the ground, her phone slipping from her trembling hands. Her vision blurred, her mind spinning. And in that moment, she knew. The man she thought would always stand by her side, the man she thought she had wrapped around her finger… James was gone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295383”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #校园School #魔幻Magic

## I had worked so hard to climb that mountain and get a protection charm from the temple—only for Anthony Sullivan to casually toss it around the neck of the class queen’s pet dog. The sound of laughter echoed all around me as I stood frozen, humiliated. I turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. “Relax, Anthony,” one of his friends called after me, laughing. “Chloe will come crawling back in under thirty minutes. She always does.” They were wrong. I wasn’t in this for Anthony Sullivan. Not really. I was just trying to collect the beauty points my system had promised me. See, the system gave me two options if I wanted to become beautiful: One, I could “win over” Anthony Sullivan, the school’s golden boy. Or two, I could become a straight-A academic superstar. Being the lazy girl I was, I chose the first option. Who wouldn’t? Flirting seemed a lot less painful than hours of study. But standing there, humiliated by Anthony’s cruelty, I had a revelation. If I had the determination to chase after a guy like him, why couldn’t I put that effort into something meaningful? Why not aim for the top universities in the country instead? And so, I gave up on Anthony and poured everything into preparing for the national academic competition. But just when I was on the verge of winning gold, Anthony couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re doing all of this for him, aren’t you?” he snapped, pointing at the quiet, sharp-eyed boy standing beside me—the academic prodigy he had just punched in a jealous fit. I slapped Anthony across the face. I had already transformed into someone stunning. Men were lining up for me. Why on earth would I waste another second on him? For Anthony’s birthday, I’d gone all out preparing a thoughtful gift: the protection charm from the temple. It hadn’t been easy. I wasn’t exactly athletic, and climbing that mountain had felt like a death sentence. But for Anthony, I pushed through. Halfway up, I was wheezing like an asthmatic goat, ready to collapse. “Come on, Chloe!” the system chirped in my head. “You can’t win Anthony over without that protection charm! And you can’t get your beauty points without winning him over!” The system had a point. So, gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up the trail. When I finally made it to the top, drenched in sweat and on the verge of passing out, I got my charm. Later that evening, I set up the perfect birthday surprise. I decorated the room, arranged a cake, and waited for Anthony and his friends to arrive. The moment they walked in, my heart sank. Next to Anthony stood Katie Harper, the school’s undeniable queen bee. Her hair was immaculate, her makeup flawless, her features strikingly delicate. The two of them looked perfect together. Still, I wasn’t about to back down. “Happy birthday, Anthony,” I said, stepping forward and holding out the charm. “What’s this?” he asked, taking it from me with as much interest as if I’d handed him a napkin. “It’s a protection charm,” Katie chimed in, her voice sweet and melodic. She turned to Anthony, smiling. “Chloe’s so thoughtful. I heard this charm is only available at the temple on top of Redridge Mountain. She must’ve climbed all the way up to get it for you. Isn’t that sweet?” “Wait,” Anthony said, narrowing his eyes at me. “You climbed a mountain for this?” “Well, yeah,” I replied, trying to sound casual. “I heard the temple was really special and…” Before I could finish, Anthony cut me off with a laugh. “Are you serious? You climbed all the way up there for this stupid thing? What, did you think this would make me fall in love with you or something?” I froze. He wasn’t done. “God, Chloe. Do you seriously believe this is some kind of romance movie? Crawling up a mountain for a charm just to prove how much you ‘love’ me? Did you even stop to think if you’re worth it?” The room filled with laughter. “Man, Anthony,” one of his friends jeered. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a real-life stalker!” “Yeah,” another chimed in. “She finally confessed! Took her long enough!” Anthony’s face darkened, and he turned back to me with a look of pure disdain. “You really picked my birthday to pull this pathetic stunt?” he snapped, holding up the charm like it was trash. “Look at yourself in a mirror sometime, Chloe. You actually thought I’d be into you?” I felt my chest tighten, my vision blurring with unshed tears. I had known Anthony might reject me. I had prepared for that. But I hadn’t expected him to humiliate me like this. This was the same Anthony who’d once been kind to me, the same Anthony who had helped me when I was at my lowest. How could he use my insecurities to tear me apart like this? “Anthony, don’t be so harsh,” Katie said, her voice dripping with feigned sympathy. She turned to me with a pitying smile. “Chloe clearly likes you. She must’ve thought you liked her back. I mean, why else would she have the courage to confess in front of everyone?” Her words were like gasoline on a fire. “Like her?” Anthony shouted, his voice rising. “Are you out of your damn mind, Katie? What makes you think I’d ever be interested in her? I’m not blind!” 2. Anthony was so furious that the veins on his forehead were bulging. Just then, Katie’s fluffy chow chow waddled into the crowd, its tail wagging. Katie scooped up the dog and kissed its head affectionately. “Aww, tell Daddy not to be mad anymore. It’s his birthday—he should be happy!” Daddy? Wait, wasn’t that Katie’s dog? And just like that, it all clicked. Anthony had already become the daddy of Katie’s dog. “Come here, Coco,” Anthony said, his anger melting away as he patted the dog’s head gently. So that’s how it was. Anthony treated me worse than a dog. The next thing I saw made my blood boil—he took the protection charm I had painstakingly climbed a mountain to get for him and tied it around the dog’s neck. “Here, you can play with this,” he said casually. “Whoa, Anthony! You just gave your little fangirl’s gift to the dog! She’s gonna lose her mind, man!” one of his friends jeered, laughing hysterically. They weren’t wrong. I was losing my mind. I had sweated and struggled to climb that mountain for hours to get that charm. And now? He’d just turned it into a toy for Katie’s dog. I felt both angry and heartbroken. Sure, I was chasing Anthony because of the beauty system, but my feelings for him had been real. But this? This was like stomping on my pride and grinding it into the dirt. Sure, I wasn’t beautiful, but I had dignity. If Anthony saw me as nothing more than a joke, then why should I waste another second chasing after him? As laughter erupted around me, I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. “She’ll come back,” one of Anthony’s friends said, snickering. “She’s just a little lapdog—give her half an hour, tops.” But they were wrong. That was the moment I decided I would never like Anthony again. He had let me stay in his life, allowed me to orbit around him—not because he appreciated me, but because I was convenient. I wasn’t a person to him. I was a tool. And I’d been stupid enough to let myself believe otherwise. I had thrown him a birthday party. I had bought him a thoughtful gift. I had even confessed my feelings to him in front of everyone. And all I’d gotten in return was humiliation. Katie’s laughter rang out behind me, sharp and grating. Katie Harper—the transfer student who had turned everything upside down from the moment she arrived. Her striking features and hourglass figure had caused quite the stir. With her long, flowing hair and perfectly styled makeup, she had quickly become the girl everyone wanted to be—or be with. Anthony had been distant ever since she showed up. Before she came, he’d still let me hang around his group. I’d run errands for him, but he’d let me stick around and join their conversations. Back then, I’d convinced myself that Anthony wasn’t shallow. That he wasn’t just about looks. After all, he had stood up for me once. When classmates mocked my appearance, Anthony had spoken out. “Do you seriously think it’s funny to bully someone over how they look?” It was Anthony who had pulled me out of a humiliating situation, who had taken me to the nurse’s office after I’d been pushed down and pepper-sprayed by a group of bullies. “Don’t be scared,” he had said at the time, his tone firm but kind. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” That Anthony had given me hope. He had made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could win him over. But Katie’s arrival had changed everything. 3. I had officially become a full-time errand girl. Anthony didn’t let me linger around him anymore, nor did he invite me to hang out like he used to. He’d make me deliver an umbrella to the basketball court in the middle of a downpour but wouldn’t let me stay and grab dinner with his buddies. He’d have me take my neatly organized class notes to him but wouldn’t ask me to study with him. The teasing from classmates got worse: “Chloe, don’t tell me you actually think Anthony likes you?” “Only someone like Katie—gorgeous, popular, flawless—could ever match him. Give up already.” But I refused to believe them. I stubbornly continued to treat him well. “Chloe, can you grab some cold medicine from the nurse’s office?” I saw Anthony’s message and thought he was sick. Without hesitating, I sprinted to the nurse’s office and bought the medicine. Then I hurried to his classroom to deliver it. “Well, well, Anthony, your little errand girl is here again,” one of his friends jeered. Anthony barely raised an eyebrow as he took the medicine from my hands. “Are you sick, Anthony? Is it serious?” I asked, concerned. His friends burst into laughter. “Anthony, did you hear that? Your little assistant really cares about you!” But Anthony didn’t even acknowledge me. He calmly poured the medicine into a cup, filled it with steaming hot water, and walked out the door. I stood there, stunned, watching him head straight to another classroom—the one Katie was in. “Katie, here, drink this,” he said, handing her the cup. My heart dropped. Anthony wasn’t sick. He’d sent me to get the medicine just so he could give it to her. “Anthony, how could you? I thought you weren’t feeling well…” Katie glanced between Anthony and me, then smiled sweetly. “Oh, Chloe, you got this for me? Thank you so much!” Wait. What? Why was she thanking me? What was their relationship? “Chloe,” Anthony snapped, annoyed, “it’s just some medicine. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” He rolled his eyes, speaking to me in a tone he never used with Katie. I felt a lump in my throat. He really did like her, didn’t he? “System,” I whispered in my mind, “it looks like Anthony has fallen for Katie…” “Host, would you like to explore an alternative path to becoming beautiful?” I hesitated, unsure of what to do. I trudged back to my own classroom, feeling defeated. As I passed by a window, I caught a reflection of myself. Small eyes, flat nose, protruding mouth, and a wide face. I was hideous. So, that’s why Anthony liked Katie. Because she was pretty. But if he liked me, I’d become beautiful overnight. You see, I wasn’t just an ordinary girl. I was bound to a beauty system. The system had told me there were two paths to becoming beautiful: Win Anthony’s heart. Become a straight-A student. Naturally, I chose the first option. Who wants to bury their head in books when they can chase love instead? Anthony wasn’t just any guy. He was the most handsome guy at school—tall, athletic, charming, and from a well-off family. Most importantly, he’d never mocked me. In fact, he’d once stood up for me. I still remember that day vividly. A group of mean girls had shoved me to the ground and sprayed chili water into my eyes. Anthony had stepped in, pulled me up, and taken me to the nurse’s office. “Making fun of someone’s looks? Real classy,” he’d scolded them. “Don’t worry,” he’d told me, his voice low and comforting. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 4. His voice was so deep, so soothing, that I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. So when the beauty system appeared, I was overjoyed. It felt like the universe was giving me permission to like Anthony. To become beautiful for the one I loved—it sounded so romantic. Without hesitation, I chose the first path. I’d even daydreamed about the moment Anthony and I got together. Would he be surprised when he realized I’d transformed into a stunning beauty? Would he be happy? But now, after more than a year of chasing him, I’d gotten nowhere. Despite everything I’d done, the system’s progress bar for my beauty hadn’t budged an inch. It was clear—I needed a new strategy. Why waste my time pining after someone who didn’t care about me? Why not aim for something bigger, something better? Like getting into one of the top universities in the country? I summoned the system. “I want to change my approach. I’ll choose the second option.” “Understood. Host has selected the academic path to beauty. If your test scores improve by 30 ranks next month, you’ll receive 10 beauty points.” With a new goal in mind, I felt a surge of motivation. “Study hard, become a straight-A student, and transform into a beauty—let’s go!” When the new week began, I threw myself into my studies. I highlighted anything I didn’t understand and stayed after class to ask the teachers questions. I used every free moment to study, staying glued to my desk during breaks. Anthony and I weren’t even in the same class. If I didn’t go out of my way to see him, we’d have no interaction at all. Maybe he noticed something was off because, after gym class one day, he cornered me in the hallway. “Why haven’t I seen you around lately? Are you mad at me?” he asked. I ignored him. Anthony shifted awkwardly. “Look, what I said on my birthday was harsh, but you have to admit, you were out of line.” Out of line? All I’d done was confess my feelings. Was that really so terrible? I guess it was, if the person on the receiving end didn’t like you. But I didn’t care anymore. Anthony, seeing that I wasn’t responding, started giving me orders again. “I’ve got a basketball game tomorrow. Make sure to bring water and tissues for the whole team.” And with that, he walked off without waiting for my answer. But there was no way I’d do it. I had no time for that nonsense anymore. My focus was on studying now. If I worked hard, I could become both a top student and a beauty. Why hadn’t I realized sooner how great this deal was? Anthony? He could go to hell. 5. The next afternoon, during club activity time, I was still glued to my seat, working through practice problems like a monk in meditation. “Chloe, aren’t you going to watch Anthony’s game today?” my desk mate whispered. I shook my head. “No. I’m done. I won’t be going anymore.” By the time I finished another worksheet, most of the classroom had emptied out. From the open-air basketball court below, I could hear the roar of the crowd, cheers erupting every now and then. But none of that mattered to me anymore. The girl who sat behind me was the top student in class. She was still at her desk, quietly working on her assignments. I glanced at her, then at the blank questions on my own worksheet. “Hey, genius, mind helping me out with this one?” I asked, forcing myself to sound casual. I braced for sarcasm or a snide remark, but none came. She simply took my paper, scanned the question, and began explaining in a calm, gentle voice. To her, I was just another classmate—no different from anyone else in the room. When she finished, I finally understood the problem. It hit me then: connecting with people wasn’t as hard as I’d made it out to be. Not everyone cared about how I looked or judged me for it. So why should I care so much? For the first time, I started enjoying studying. Just as I was diving back into my work, my phone buzzed with a new message. It was Anthony. “Where are you?” I wasn’t planning on watching his game, but I couldn’t let them go thirsty because of me. “I’m not coming. Ask someone else to grab water for you,” I replied. With that, I turned off my phone and dove back into my sea of practice problems. When the monthly exams rolled around, I hit my goal and jumped 30 spots in the rankings. “Congratulations, Host! You’ve earned +10 Beauty Points. Current Beauty Score: 15.” Wow. That’s when I realized: my starting beauty score had been a measly 5. After the system announcement, I rushed to the bathroom to check my reflection. Was it just me, or did my skin look a little less sallow? I even seemed a bit slimmer. “Host, if you improve by another 50 ranks in the next exam, you’ll earn 15 more Beauty Points.” Another 50 ranks? That would put me in the top 100! It sounded tough, but I couldn’t back down now. I doubled down on my studies, using every spare moment—even lunch breaks and bathroom trips—to memorize vocabulary and history facts. “Chloe has made remarkable progress this time. Everyone should take inspiration from her,” my homeroom teacher announced proudly after handing back the test results. It was the first time I’d ever been publicly praised like this. The feeling was… indescribable. I was still basking in the glow of those words when I bumped into Anthony on the stairs. “Chloe, looks like you’ve grown a backbone, huh? Skipping my game and even blocking me?” Anthony said, a smirk playing on his lips.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295382”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #校园School #魔幻Magic

## For three years, I took care of my blind girlfriend. Then she regained her sight. And my brother? He pretended to be me and started dating her. One day, my girlfriend came to my dressing room. My brother locked me in the bathroom. Through the crack in the door, I saw them slowly kiss, and surprisingly… I was relieved. What my brother didn’t know was that this blind girl was a psychopathic killer who’d murdered her own parents. Later, when he ended up locked in a dark basement, chained and disfigured, begging me to let him out, I stared at him calmly and said: “Brother, I spent years in that place. Now it’s your turn.” The audience erupted into applause, snapping me out of my thoughts. I let out a quiet breath of relief. My piano performance was finally over. “Let’s give a round of applause for the talented Noah White,” the host announced. “And now, we have the honor of welcoming the acclaimed pianist and patron of the arts, Ms. Evelyn Sinclair, to share her thoughts on tonight’s performance!” Evelyn Sinclair? The name made my blood freeze. I shot up from my seat, and when I looked toward the stage, I locked eyes with her. Those sharp, fox-like eyes. I stumbled back a step, my throat tightening. My mind went blank as I tried to look away, but my heart pounded so loudly I could barely think. She could see. She wasn’t blind anymore. No, it’s fine. My name is Noah White now. She’s never seen my face before. There’s no way she can recognize me. I forced myself to stay composed, nodding politely to the host before quickly leaving the stage. As soon as I was offstage, I rushed toward the backstage lounge. I wasn’t even supposed to be performing tonight—my brother, Noah, had asked me to stand in for him. My real name is Liam White. When I threw open the lounge door, my brother was lounging on the couch, waiting for me. I grabbed his arm with urgency. “We need to leave. Now.” He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Liam, have you gone insane? Don’t forget, you’re just my stand-in. What gives you the right to tell me what to do?” He yanked his arm out of my grip, smirking. “Evelyn Sinclair is here, sitting in the audience. She’s the head of the Sinclair family empire, and she came here specifically to see me perform. I’m about to hit the jackpot, Liam.” I shook my head, my voice low and firm. “Do you even know who Evelyn Sinclair is? She’s not a good person. I was kidnapped and sold to the Sinclairs as a servant. You can’t trust her.” He scoffed, laughing dismissively. “Sold to do what? Shine her shoes?” He rolled his eyes. “You’re just jealous because Evelyn likes me.” The moment he said that, I knew. He and Evelyn had already gotten involved. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I warned him quietly, “If you stay with her, you’re signing your own death sentence.” His expression darkened, and before I could react, he slapped me hard across the face. “Shut up! Don’t you dare try to ruin this for me. I’ve waited my entire life for a chance like this!” Before I could reply, a soft voice called from the other side of the door. “Noah?” Evelyn’s voice was gentle, but I could hear the edge beneath it. My hands trembled, and I accidentally knocked over a glass of water on the table. The water spilled onto the floor, pooling at my feet. Her knocking grew more insistent. Panicking, I crouched down, clutching my head in my hands. My brother grabbed me roughly, dragging me to my feet. Without hesitation, he shoved me into the bathroom and hissed, “If you make a sound and ruin this for me, I’ll make you regret it.” I bit my lip, swallowing my reply, and stayed silent. My brother opened the door and welcomed Evelyn inside with a charming smile. Through the crack in the bathroom door, I watched Evelyn reach out and gently touch his face. “Noah,” she said softly, “I’ve been looking for you for so long.” It was obvious. Evelyn could see now. But she’d made a mistake—she thought my brother was me. Her gaze was filled with affection, her eyes lingering on him longingly. My brother took her hand and smiled. “Well, you’ve found me now.” Evelyn’s expression flickered, her eyes clouding with sadness. “But you don’t seem to remember me,” she murmured. “It’s okay, though. Some memories are better left forgotten. I’ll take care of you now. I’ll treat you better than anyone ever has.” She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Just don’t leave me again. Because if you do…” Before she could finish, my brother cut her off with a kiss. It was forceful, almost possessive, and Evelyn quickly melted into his arms. But as they kissed, my brother glanced toward the bathroom door, his eyes glinting with triumph. I knew exactly what Evelyn hadn’t finished saying. If you leave me again, I’ll kill you.

Evelyn was my ex-girlfriend, the only daughter of the Sinclair family—the most powerful dynasty in the capital. Behind her beautiful, angelic face hid the heart of a devil. For three long years, I endured her cruelty, humiliated and broken, just trying to survive as her servant. The day I escaped, I made sure she’d never forget me—I drove a knife straight into her chest. If she ever found me, I knew I wouldn’t just die. She’d make sure it was slow and agonizing. When I escaped, I didn’t go home right away. I moved from city to city, always looking over my shoulder, making sure she wasn’t following me. Only when I was certain I’d shaken her off did I return to my rural hometown, disguised as a beggar. I stayed away from big cities, terrified she’d find me. I only returned to society when my biological parents tracked me down. When my mother discovered I had a talent for piano, she decided I should train alongside my twin brother, Noah. But Noah wasn’t thrilled about the idea. He injured his hand on purpose and blamed me for it. When our parents took his side—as they always did—they forced me to perform in his place. I refused at first, but they threatened to cut off my grandmother’s care. She was old, frail, and the only person who’d ever truly loved me. I had no choice but to give in. So, I became Noah’s shadow. I performed under his name, and he basked in the glory that should’ve been mine. At least with Noah around, Evelyn wouldn’t find me. For now, I was safe. I don’t know how long I waited in that bathroom before I was sure they were gone. Finally, I slipped out, carefully checking my surroundings before calling a cab and heading home. When I arrived at the house, I rang the doorbell over and over, but no one came to open the door. I’d left in such a hurry that morning, I’d forgotten my keys. It was clear Noah had locked me out on purpose. If he’d wanted me inside, any of the staff could’ve opened the door by now. Frustrated, I turned to leave, but then the door opened. I looked up, ready to thank whoever it was—only to feel the words catch in my throat. The bag in my hand slipped to the ground, sheet music spilling out. Panicking, I knelt down to gather it, my hands trembling uncontrollably. “Noah?” I froze. The voice was soft, familiar, and terrifying. When I looked up, I saw Evelyn standing there. She was dressed in a sleek, wine-colored cheongsam, her long hair cascading in elegant waves. She looked stunning—every bit the perfect picture of beauty and grace. But I knew better. Beneath that polished exterior was a monster who thrived on control and chaos. Before I could react, Noah appeared at the door, his face lighting up. “You’re a guest. You should just relax inside,” he said smoothly. “The staff can handle the door.” Evelyn smiled at him, her gaze playful. “I heard the doorbell ringing so insistently. I thought I’d help. It’s no trouble.” Her attention shifted back to me for a moment. I kept my head down, clutching my bag tightly to stop myself from bolting. She tilted her head, studying me. “Is he your brother? You two look so alike.” Noah laughed nervously, quickly taking her hand. “He’s my twin.” Her lips curved into a coy smile. “Your twin? He seems… afraid of me.” “He’s always been shy,” Noah said quickly, steering her back toward the house. Evelyn didn’t move right away. Her gaze lingered on me, her expression thoughtful. “What’s his name?” “Liam,” Noah replied casually. “Liam…” she repeated slowly, as if tasting the name. “It’s a nice one. Suits him.” Noah gave her an awkward laugh before wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside. But not before shooting me a warning glance over his shoulder. Later that evening, I avoided going to dinner. But Evelyn insisted Noah bring me down to eat with them. Reluctantly, I sat at the table, keeping my head down. Evelyn pushed a plate of spicy fish toward me, the red chili peppers covering the dish like a warning. “Noah told me you didn’t want to eat,” she said sweetly. “I thought maybe you’d lost your appetite. Spicy food is supposed to help with that—try some.” I stared at the dish, my stomach turning. I knew immediately what she was doing. Evelyn was testing me. Because she knew I couldn’t eat spicy food.

When I was kidnapped, the abuse I suffered left my stomach permanently damaged. Eating anything spicy caused excruciating pain. Evelyn loved using this against me, forcing me to eat raw chili peppers whenever she was in a bad mood. Noah, conveniently, avoided spicy food too—but he claimed it was because it was bad for his skin. Now, staring at the fiery red dish in front of me, I knew I only had two options: eat it and suffer in silence, or refuse and risk exposing myself. Without a word, I picked up my chopsticks and started eating. Each bite felt like swallowing fire, but I forced myself to stay calm. I didn’t speak, didn’t react, barely even breathed. Evelyn watched me closely, her eyes narrowing slightly as if disappointed. When dinner was over, I excused myself and went back to my room. As soon as the door closed, I collapsed onto the floor, clutching my stomach as waves of pain tore through me. Downstairs, Evelyn leaned back in her chair, her gaze lingering on the empty plate of fish. “Noah,” she said casually, “your brother seems to really like spicy food.” Noah barely looked up. “I guess so.” Evelyn’s eyes darkened, a small smile playing on her lips. “Noah, I think I’ll stay the night. Your guest room will do, won’t it?” Noah lit up, practically tripping over himself to agree. “Of course! You can stay wherever you’d like.” Upstairs, the pain finally became unbearable. I curled into a ball on the floor, biting down on a towel to muffle my cries. The memories came rushing back—Evelyn’s punishments, her cold voice, the sound of my own screams. Even after all this time, she still had the power to destroy me. When I finally passed out from the pain, the last thing I heard was the echo of her voice in my mind, whispering: “You’ll always belong to me.” I woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. My heart raced as I frantically looked around. But I wasn’t in the Sinclair mansion. I was in the White family home. For now, I was safe.

The sour stench of sweat clung to me, sharp and unbearable. I glanced down at my clothes—they were soaked through, wrinkled, and clinging to my skin. “BANG!” The door to my room flew open with a loud kick. Noah leaned casually against the doorframe, dressed in one of his vintage-style outfits. His dark eyes swept over me with disdain. “Liam,” he sneered, “Evelyn’s going to be mine sooner or later. You better not get any stupid ideas.” He paused, smirking as he gestured to his clothes. “See this? She made this for me. Stitched it herself.” “Oh, and in case you were wondering, she’s taking me to her family’s ranch today to ride horses.” I stayed silent, watching him for a moment before letting out a small laugh. The more Evelyn doted on Noah, the safer I was. I wasn’t some noble saint, but I wasn’t the one pushing Noah toward destruction either. He was doing that all on his own. “Pick a red horse for her,” I said lightly. Noah frowned, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “She likes red.” His lips twitched, as if he was about to argue, but then he hesitated. He remembered what I’d told him before, that I’d been sold to the Sinclair family, and how Evelyn had inexplicably fallen for him, claiming he was just suffering from memory loss. The doubt in his eyes softened into belief. “What else do you know about Evelyn? Tell me!” “Why should I?” I replied coldly. He narrowed his eyes. “I heard your grandmother needs surgery. Help me win Evelyn over, and I’ll cover all her medical expenses.” I raised an eyebrow. “Words mean nothing.” Grinding his teeth, he pulled a card from his pocket and threw it at me. “There’s over fifty grand on that card. I’ll give you half now.” “Deal.” I picked up the card and said softly, “Don’t eat anything spicy around Evelyn. Not even a little. She doesn’t like it.” “That’s it?” he asked, suspicious. “For now. When you get back, I’ll tell you more.” His gaze darkened, and he leaned in to whisper a threat. “If you’re lying to me, Liam, you and your granny can meet in hell.” Before leaving, Noah hired a few guys to keep an eye on me. He wanted to make sure I didn’t try to sneak off and see Evelyn. As if I’d ever go looking for her. I’d been running from her for years. After taking a shower, I sat on my bed, thinking about the ranch. Back when Evelyn was blind, she relied on Braille to navigate the world. But she was brilliant—a genius, really. She didn’t just adapt; she thrived. She was reckless too. Even without her sight, she insisted on horseback riding, a dangerous hobby for anyone, let alone someone blind. I was tasked with ensuring her safety on those rides. If she got hurt, I’d be punished. Red was her favorite color. “It’s the color of blood,” she used to say. I still remember the day I asked her, “Your hair is naturally black. Why don’t you like black too?” She smiled at me, a playful glint in her blind eyes, then drove a knife into my arm. “Because red is the only color I’m sure of—the one you and I both share.”

The next morning, Noah burst into my room, grinning from ear to ear. “I picked a red horse for her, like you said. She loved it,” he bragged. “She was so happy, Liam. We were this close to spending the night together, but she said she wanted to wait until marriage.” My stomach sank. Trying to sound casual, I asked, “Did she ask you anything… unusual?” “Yeah, she asked why I picked the red horse for her.” “And what did you say?” “I told her it was just instinct, like I knew she’d love it.” I exhaled, relieved. But then I couldn’t help asking, “Did she… punish you for anything? Like, I don’t know, carve her name into your skin?” Evelyn’s possessiveness was legendary. If someone so much as looked at me too long, she’d take out their eyes. Once, she told me she wanted to carve her name into my skin, to mark me as hers. She said she’d do it herself when the time was right. Thankfully, I escaped before she got the chance. Noah laughed, oblivious to my fear. “Nah, she’s sweet as can be. Says she’ll do anything for me, as long as I don’t leave her.” I stared at him, disbelief coursing through me. Was this the same Evelyn? The cruel, sadistic woman who controlled every aspect of my life? “She did give me a gift, though,” Noah added, pulling a box from his pocket. “Actually, two gifts.” My heart stopped. “She picked out these jade pendants,” he said, handing me one. “Said it was for you, since you’re my brother.” I stared at the pendant, my pulse racing. “She specifically chose this?” “Yeah. Who knew she liked antiques so much?” Idiot. Evelyn didn’t care about antiques. She cared about chaos, adrenaline, and the thrill of walking the edge. She was a psychopath, through and through. Clutching the pendant, I cursed under my breath. Evelyn was testing me again. Before I could say anything, there was a commotion outside. A moment later, the butler burst into my room, looking panicked. “Evelyn’s here,” he announced. Downstairs, Evelyn lounged on the sofa, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. She was as stunning as ever, her lazy smile both alluring and menacing. Her dark eyes locked onto me as soon as I entered the room. “So,” she said, her voice soft and mocking, “your name is Liam. Why haven’t you said a word to me?” “Evelyn,” Noah interrupted, trying to smooth things over. “He’s just shy. You know, social anxiety and all.” “Really?” She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “We’ve seen each other so many times, and he still won’t say hello?” “Good evening, Ms. Sinclair,” I said quickly, cutting Noah off. Her smile faltered, and for a brief moment, disappointment flashed in her eyes. I’d prepared for this. I’d taken an ice-cold bath to make my voice hoarse, masking it so it wouldn’t match the one she remembered from when she was blind. Evelyn studied me for a moment longer, then turned back to Noah, her expression thoughtful. Taking advantage of the moment, I mumbled an excuse and slipped into the kitchen. I needed to keep my cover. I opened the freezer and grabbed two ice creams, hoping the cold would further distort my voice. But when I closed the freezer door, I froze. Evelyn was standing right behind me, silent as a shadow, her dark eyes fixed on mine.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295381”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance

## When I was hospitalized with a sudden illness, my wife, Clara, was speeding to the airport to pick up the man she’d always loved—her old flame, Adam. She drank with him, fought for him, and threw away every shred of reason for him. She forgot our anniversary, hid the abortion of our child from me, and didn’t even visit me when I was critically injured in a car accident. In the end, I died on the operating table, my heart cold and empty. And when she finally pieced everything together, the guilt drove her to the brink of madness. Clara and I had been married for five years, but her work always came first. Our time together had been fleeting, barely enough to fill a handful of memories. This year, I thought we’d finally turned a corner. She’d said to me, “Benjamin, let’s start over.” That night, I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. I believed we’d finally grow old together, living a life of love and happiness. But it didn’t last. One event brought everything crashing down again. Yesterday, I was rushed to the hospital with acute appendicitis. It was an emergency, and I needed immediate surgery. I called Clara—again and again—but she didn’t pick up. Lying on the hospital bed, staring at the sterile white ceiling, I felt a hollow ache in my chest. Clara had been distant for weeks. She’d become increasingly elusive, ignoring my calls and leaving my texts unanswered. I scrolled through our chat history on my phone. The screen was filled with green bubbles—messages from me, all unanswered. The last message I’d sent her was yesterday evening: “Babe, I’m at the hospital. The doctor says I need surgery for acute appendicitis. Can you come be with me?” She never replied. Maybe she was busy, I thought. Maybe she hadn’t seen it yet. Clinging to the faint hope that she’d respond, I sent another message: “Don’t worry, the surgery is done. I’m fine now.” After hitting send, a notification popped up: a friend request from someone I didn’t know. But just from the profile picture, I knew exactly who it was. Adam. The man my wife had spent years chasing. Her so-called “one that got away.” I didn’t know why he was adding me in the middle of the night, but I accepted the request anyway. He didn’t say anything. Curious, I clicked into his profile and started scrolling through his posts. One post in particular caught my attention. “Someone who loves you will cross mountains and oceans just to be by your side.” The photo attached to the post? A woman’s silhouette, standing in an airport terminal. That silhouette was unmistakable—it was Clara. My wife. The post was timestamped 10 p.m. last night. Ten minutes after I’d sent her that message from the hospital. That was the exact moment I was being wheeled into surgery. It suddenly became clear why Adam had added me.

Before seeing that post, I had been making excuses for Clara. She was busy. She was stressed. Maybe she was at work, stuck in a meeting, or networking over drinks. I’d convinced myself that she just didn’t have time to check her phone. But Adam’s post shattered all of those excuses. No wonder she didn’t answer my calls or reply to my messages. She wasn’t too busy—she was with him. She’d dropped everything to be by his side. I felt like a fool. My grip on the phone tightened, my knuckles turning white. My vision blurred as I stared at her number on my screen, debating whether to call her. But in the end, I couldn’t do it. Pathetic. I didn’t even have the courage to confront her. Lying alone on the hospital bed, I found myself scrolling through Adam’s profile again, masochistically digging deeper. Unlike Clara’s profile, which was empty and pristine, Adam’s was full of life. He posted constantly—snapshots of his day, his thoughts on life. And at the end of every post, there was always a small snowflake emoji. It was subtle, but I knew what it meant. That snowflake—Clara. He never mentioned her by name, but she was everywhere. Every post was about her. No wonder Clara checked his profile religiously. Every time she read his posts, her mood would visibly brighten. And when I’d try to peek over her shoulder, curious, she’d immediately lock her phone and glare. “Don’t invade my privacy,” she’d snapped. I’d backed off, not wanting to upset her further. But one of Adam’s posts caught my attention. It was an announcement: He was getting married. He was moving abroad to start his new life. That was the same day Clara had told me, “Benjamin, let’s start over.”

Adam was Clara’s college classmate, the man she had loved but could never have—the one who got away. Back in school, Clara devoted herself to him completely. She was always by his side, running errands, doing whatever he asked without hesitation. A single offhanded comment from Adam could send her across half of Riverview City just to pick up his favorite breakfast. Adam majored in a different field than Clara, so what did she do? She switched majors. Adam liked nightlife, so she learned how to drink and smoke to fit into his world. Anything Adam liked, Clara would pursue it relentlessly, no matter the cost. Everyone in college knew how deeply Clara loved him. But in the end, they didn’t end up together. During Adam’s senior year, he announced he’d applied to study abroad. When Clara found out, she chased after him all the way to the airport. I don’t know what Adam said to her that day, but whatever it was, it broke her. She fell into a deep depression for months. I stayed by her side the whole time, quietly supporting her. Not long after graduation, to my surprise, Clara agreed to marry me. Even on the day of our wedding, I couldn’t believe it was real. It wasn’t until I slipped the ring onto her finger that it hit me—this wasn’t a dream. Overcome with emotion, I grabbed her hand and cried like a child. I had finally married the woman I’d loved for so many years. No one knew how much Clara loved Adam. And no one knew that my love for her was just as deep—if not deeper. I’d loved her for years, long before Adam ever entered the picture. Even when people mocked me, calling me a pathetic doormat who worshipped her, I didn’t care. Clara was my exception, my one and only. As long as I could be with her, I was content. But now… I’m starting to realize that maybe I don’t love her as much as I thought I did.

The doctor came in for his rounds and frowned when he saw I was alone. He sternly reminded me that I needed someone to look after me. My parents had passed away a couple of years ago. Clara was the only family I had left. I called her again. This time, it didn’t go straight to voicemail—it was turned off. I laughed bitterly to myself. What was I expecting? Adam was back. Of course, she wasn’t going to care about me. So, I called my childhood friend, Ryan. He showed up not long after, bursting through the door of my hospital room. “Benjamin, what the hell happened to you?” Ryan exclaimed, looking me over with wide eyes. “You look awful!” It had only been one sleepless night, but I must’ve looked so haggard that even Ryan, who’d known me forever, barely recognized me. “Where’s Clara?” Ryan asked, his voice sharp with anger. “You had surgery, and she’s not even here? What kind of wife does that?” He ranted on, furious on my behalf, but his words only made me sink deeper into thought. Maybe this was my fault. Maybe it was my unconditional love and patience that gave Clara the freedom to hurt me so carelessly. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Adam’s back,” I said quietly. Ryan’s face darkened. “That bastard actually came back?” “This time,” I said, my voice calm, “I think I’m going to divorce her.” Ryan froze mid-motion, the apple he’d been peeling dropping onto the table. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, his face shifting through a mix of emotions. Finally, all he managed was, “Just… take care of yourself, man.” Truthfully, I’d already made peace with it. I’d always known Clara never truly let go of Adam. There was one time, a year into our marriage, Clara had gone out with friends and forgotten to bring a jacket. Worried she’d get cold, I rushed out to bring it to her. When I arrived at the restaurant, I overheard one of her friends teasing her: “You’re married to Benjamin now, but you’re still thinking about Adam?” Clara’s voice was calm, almost indifferent. “It’s different. Adam will always be special to me. I can’t forget him. Benjamin… he’s just my second choice.” I stood frozen outside the door, her words stabbing through me like ice. I was wearing a heavy coat, but in that moment, I felt cold to my core. From that day on, I understood. I would never compare to Adam.

When I was discharged and went home, I discovered something that shouldn’t have surprised me: Clara hadn’t been home at all while I was in the hospital. The house was eerily quiet. Dust had gathered on the furniture, a thin layer that made the emptiness feel even heavier. I imagined how happy she must’ve been these past few days, free of me and my burdens. I unlocked my phone and opened Adam’s social media profile again. The most recent post was a video. Dim lighting. Thumping bass. A crowded dance floor filled with bodies moving to the beat. In the center of it all was Clara, pressed tightly against Adam. The two of them moved in perfect rhythm, their bodies so close they seemed inseparable. As the song ended, Adam wrapped his arm around Clara’s waist, pulling her even closer. She tilted her head up, her eyes half-lidded, filled with an intoxicating mix of desire and devotion. And then, he kissed her. The kind of kiss that spoke of possession, of claiming. They stood there in the middle of the dance floor, locked together, oblivious to the world around them. The video cut off abruptly after that. I scrolled further, finding more posts I hadn’t seen before—all of them featuring Clara and Adam together. Dancing at clubs. Drinking and laughing at a barbecue joint. Racing motorcycles late at night. It was like they were reliving their college days, indulging in all the reckless things they used to love. Meanwhile, I’d been lying in a hospital bed, alone. The absurdity of it all hit me like a punch to the gut. Clara was my wife. And yet, the only way I could keep track of her was through another man’s social media. 6

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295380”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance

## The day I received my college acceptance letter, I made my best friend promise not to tell my family. She agreed, smiling sweetly as though she understood. But the moment I turned my back, she ran straight to my mom. My mom tore up the letter and locked me in the house. She planned to sell me off—to marry me to a middle-aged bachelor in our rural town for a $30,000 dowry, all to help my brother buy an apartment in the city. I fought back with everything I had. But when I tried to escape, my mom beat me so badly she broke both of my legs. Years later, after giving birth to my fifth child, I died in childbirth, bleeding out while no one cared enough to help. When I opened my eyes again, it was as if time had rewound itself. I was back on the road to pick up my acceptance letter. My so-called best friend, Karen, was smiling at me. “So, Sophie, did you get in?” Karen was holding my acceptance letter, grinning as she walked toward me. Her smile couldn’t hide the glint of malice in her eyes, and I narrowed mine in response. In my previous life, we’d both taken the college entrance exams. I had been accepted to a prestigious university out of state, while Karen had only managed to get into a low-tier community college. We both came from the same rural town, where life was tough and opportunities were rare. My family, dirt poor and deeply traditional, couldn’t afford to send me to college. To make matters worse, my mom had set her mind on marrying me off for a $30,000 dowry, all to fund my younger brother’s dream of buying a house in the city. But I had a dream too. I wanted to leave this town. I wanted to escape the suffocating mountains and build a future for myself. I begged Karen to keep my acceptance a secret from my family. I poured my heart out to her, sharing all my hopes and plans for the future. She nodded, promising to keep my secret, swearing she supported me. But the night I was ready to leave, my battered suitcase in hand, Karen showed up—with my mom trailing behind her. “Mrs. Miller, Sophie got into college, but she’s not really going, right? She wouldn’t abandon you or the family, would she? Isn’t that right, Sophie?” Her fake concern was infuriating. My suitcase said everything I couldn’t—I was leaving, no matter what. My mom’s face turned red with rage. She lunged at me, grabbing my hair and yanking me back. “You’re going to college? Over my dead body!” she screamed. I begged her, sobbing, trying to explain that I’d make good money after graduation, that I’d help the family then. “I let you finish high school, didn’t I? And now you think you’re too good for us? College? Are you out of your mind?” Her grip tightened, the pain of my scalp nearly blinding me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Karen standing there, smirking. She waved my acceptance letter in the air, the one my mom had ripped to shreds. I was dragged back home, locked in my room, and left without food or water for two days. The only thought keeping me going was the dream of escaping. One dark night, I finally managed to break free. I was so close—the edge of the village was right there. Just a few more steps, and I’d be free. Then pain. Blinding, searing pain. My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed. My mom stood over me, holding a thick wooden stick. She’d broken my legs. “You little brat. You think you can run? You’re staying right here until you’re married off, you hear me?” And just like that, I was sold off—for $30,000—to a middle-aged man in the village. No marriage certificate, no ceremony. Just a transaction. I was nothing more than a childbearing machine for him, enduring endless abuse for five years. When I gave birth to my fifth child, I bled out on the bed, the life draining from me as I realized no one would care. Meanwhile, Karen had stolen my acceptance letter and taken my place at college. She graduated, married a wealthy man in the city, and lived a picture-perfect life. No one would ever know that I had died, forgotten and alone, in a remote, nameless village. But now, I have a second chance. This time, I’ll make sure they all pay. Every single one of them will face justice for what they did to me. This time, I will take back everything that was stolen from me. 2 I stared at the acceptance letter in Karen’s hand, letting a glimmer of envy show in my eyes. “It’s been days, and my college letter still hasn’t arrived. Guess it’s just not happening for me.” My words seemed to hit the exact note Karen wanted to hear. She was the kind of person who couldn’t stand seeing me do better than her. The idea of me not getting into college clearly delighted her. Karen sighed dramatically and walked over, grabbing my hand in mock sympathy. “Sophie, you always aim too high. Honestly, you should’ve just applied to a community college like I did. Why waste your time on some out-of-state fancy university?” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Well, look where it got you,” she continued, shaking her head as if she were truly disappointed. “But what’s done is done. Let’s head home, okay?” Karen’s words might have sounded caring to someone else, but I could hear the smugness beneath her tone. In my past life, it had been just like this. She’d flaunted her acceptance letter in front of me, over and over, just to savor the sight of my disappointment. What she didn’t know then, though, was that my acceptance letter had simply arrived a day later than hers. When it finally arrived, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I ran straight to Karen’s house, holding the letter tightly in my hands. “Karen! I got in!” I shouted, beaming with joy. “What?!” Karen snatched the letter out of my hands, flipping it over and over as if she couldn’t believe it was real. At the time, I thought she was just happy for me. I didn’t notice the way her hands clenched around the paper, or the fleeting look of malice in her eyes. Looking back, that moment was probably when she started plotting against me. How could she accept that someone she considered beneath her had gotten into a prestigious university? In her mind, it should’ve been her. Always her. But Karen had forgotten one thing: in high school, I’d been at the top of our class every single year. 3 The next day, I went alone to pick up my acceptance letter. When I finally had it in my hands, the weight of it made everything feel real. This time, I told no one. I went straight home and hid the letter in the dusty beams of the attic. “What are you doing up there?” The lazy, drawling voice from behind me made my heart skip a beat. It was my younger brother, Jason. I turned around slowly, trying to gauge how much he might have seen. “Oh, I was just putting some rat poison up here,” I said casually. “We’ve had mice scurrying around at night, and they’ve been freaking me out.” Jason looked annoyed, waving me off. “Alright, whatever. Mom said to get ready. She wants you to go out with her later.” I froze for a moment but managed to keep my tone steady. “Got it. I’ll change and head out.” After he left, I locked the door behind him and moved the letter to a new hiding spot. I wasn’t taking any chances this time. Sure enough, when my mom called me to leave the house, it was exactly as I had expected. She was dragging me to meet one of the middle-aged bachelors in town. A “nice man,” she’d called him. Someone who’d pay $30,000 for the privilege of marrying me. In my last life, I’d been naive enough to wear my best dress, hoping to make a good impression. That man had chosen me on the spot, sealing the deal with a handshake and a “gift” of a delicate wristwatch. I’d been too foolish to realize the watch was part of the dowry—the first payment in the transaction that would sell me off like livestock. This time, I clenched my fists and took a deep breath, forcing my anger to settle before it boiled over. “Mom, most of my clothes have been chewed up by mice. I’m going to borrow something from Karen to wear,” I said nonchalantly, walking past her as she sat peeling cotton in the yard. She looked up briefly, narrowing her eyes. “Fine, but hurry back. And I’ll put some rat poison in your room later.” I froze for a split second but forced myself to keep walking, smiling faintly. “No need, Mom. I already set some traps earlier.” She waved me off, turning back to her work. Karen was in her yard washing clothes when I arrived. Her family’s situation wasn’t much better than mine. She had an older sister who’d been married off at 18 for a hefty dowry, and a younger brother who was the golden child of the family. In our deeply patriarchal village, having a son was everything. Women were just a means to an end. “Sophie? What brings you here?” Karen asked, her voice laced with curiosity. I walked toward her, pretending to hesitate. “I… didn’t get into college,” I said softly. “My mom’s introducing me to someone. There’s a $30,000 dowry involved.” Karen’s eyes immediately lit up. “My good dresses have all been ruined by mice, though,” I continued, feigning embarrassment. “I was hoping to borrow something nice from you.” Karen’s hands froze mid-wash, and she swallowed hard. “Thirty thousand dollars? And he’s okay with you retaking the entrance exams next year?” I nodded shyly, lowering my voice. “Yeah, he’s older, but he seems like a good guy. My mom says I should dress up to make a good impression.” Karen’s curiosity turned into outright greed. “What’s he like? Have you met him yet?” I propped my chin in my hands, pretending to daydream. “Not yet. I’m meeting him soon.” Karen stared at me, her excitement barely contained. “You know,” she said after a moment, “I’ve got some free time today. Why don’t I come with you? Just to make sure everything’s… you know, okay.” Bingo. I smiled inwardly. “Really? That’d be great.” In my last life, Karen’s mother had been just as dismissive of her education as mine. But Karen had been resourceful. She’d found herself an older, married man from a neighboring village who sent her money every month, enough to pay her college tuition. The moment she graduated, she dumped him and set her sights on a rich guy from the city. This time, though, I wasn’t going to make it so easy for her. 5 I was smaller than Karen, so her clothes didn’t fit me well at all. She had “carefully chosen” a bright orange dress for me, one that clashed horribly with my sun-tanned skin and made me look even darker. Meanwhile, Karen had dressed herself to impress. She wore a fitted black V-neck top that hinted at her cleavage, paired with a cream-colored pleated skirt that showed off her slim, pale legs. The more polished and elegant she looked, the happier I felt. Because only I knew the truth—the man we were meeting was a lecherous creep. Standing side by side, it was obvious who he’d pick. And it wouldn’t be me. When we returned to my house, my mom gave me a quick once-over. She hesitated for a second, probably annoyed by how plain I looked, but with Karen standing there, she didn’t say anything. “Karen, you look so grown-up now! Definitely like a college student,” my mom said with a smile, her eyes lighting up as she admired Karen. Karen blushed modestly and grabbed my hand. “Oh no, Auntie, Sophie’s way smarter than me. It’s such a shame she didn’t get in.” “If she got in, I wouldn’t have let her go anyway,” my mom said matter-of-factly. “Her brother’s about to get married. Where would we get the money for her tuition?” I’d heard it all before. I should’ve been numb to it by now, but it still hurt. As we walked to the meeting spot, my mind raced, plotting my next move. Karen suddenly raised her voice, “My dad said someone from the village got into a really good college.” She turned to my mom. “Auntie, could it be Sophie? I mean, her grades were always so good.” Then she glanced back at me, a sly smile on her face. “Sophie, who do you think it is?” My heart skipped a beat. Did her dad see me when I picked up my acceptance letter? I stayed quiet for a moment before replying, “How would I know? There are so many people in the village.” Karen raised her finger and wagged it playfully in front of me. “My dad saw who it was,” she said. A chill ran down my spine. Damn it. She knew.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295379”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring

## My mom forced me to donate a kidney to the neighbor’s daughter. After a DNA test, she completely lost it. The neighbor’s daughter was gravely ill, and my mom insisted I give her a kidney. I was malnourished growing up—just drawing blood for a test felt like it could finish me off. But my mom’s response? “Why should I care if you die? Savannah is my real daughter!” That’s when I found out the truth. At birth, my mom had switched me with the daughter of our wealthy neighbors. I glanced over at the neighbor, expecting some shock or guilt. But no—she was calm, detached, like none of this mattered at all. I watched, helpless, as my mom signed the consent forms. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, my dad tied me down to the operating table, and my older brother picked up the scalpel himself. I didn’t have the strength to fight back, so I made one final request: a DNA test with my mom. She agreed, probably thinking it would shut me up for good. But after the surgery, I developed an infection and lost all memory of what happened. And her? She completely broke down.

When I opened my eyes, my mother was standing in front of me. I tried to move, but quickly realized my arms were tightly strapped to a hospital chair. Before I could even process what was happening, she spoke: “I’ve raised you for so many years. It’s time for you to repay me.” “I need you to save Savannah.” Panic gripped me. “Mom… what are you talking about?” A young male voice cut in: “She’s asking you to give your kidney to Savannah.” That voice—it was so familiar. I turned my head and saw him. Sure enough, it was my brother, James. “James?” My eyes immediately filled with tears. Growing up, he was the only one in the family who cared about me, the only person who treated me kindly. But now, the look on his face terrified me. It was cold, detached—like I was a stranger to him. I begged him, sobbing, “James, please untie me! I’m in so much pain! What do you mean, give up my kidney?!” “Savannah is sick,” he said flatly, “and she needs a healthy kidney. Yours is a match. You should be grateful you’re even useful for something.” As he spoke, he stepped back, standing protectively behind Savannah. That’s when I noticed them—Savannah and her mother were here too. A few months ago, Savannah had been diagnosed with a serious illness. Shortly after, my mom took me for a full physical exam. Even as a child, I always felt my mom hated me. But when it came to Savannah, the neighbor’s daughter, she treated her like she was the most precious thing in the world. A horrifying thought began to form in my mind. Would my mother really sacrifice me for someone else? I struggled to believe it. Desperately, I pleaded, “What does any of this have to do with me? I’m your daughter! How can you force me to do this?” James let out a bitter laugh, one that chilled me to my core. “You’re not my sister,” he said. “Savannah is.” “You’re just an imposter.” I froze. I understood every word he said, but my brain refused to make sense of them. What did he mean, Savannah was his sister? Savannah looked just as confused as I was. She turned to James, but he simply smiled at her, warm and gentle. Meanwhile, the nylon straps on my arms were cutting deeper into my skin. Blood was starting to seep out. But the pain in my heart was worse. Seeing James smile at her like that—it felt like a knife slicing me open. My mom stepped forward. “I didn’t want to say anything, but now that Savannah is sick, I have no choice.” She walked over to Savannah and took her hand, cradling it like it was the most delicate treasure in the world. “Savannah is my real daughter,” she said. “You? You’re the neighbor’s child. I swapped you at birth.” My mind went blank, my head buzzing like I’d been struck by lightning. I shook my head violently. “No… That’s impossible!” “Impossible?” my mom said coldly. “If you don’t believe me, I even recorded a video back then. I kept it for this very moment—to take Savannah back.” I broke down completely, screaming and crying, my voice raw with desperation. “Mom! Mom, I’m sorry! Did I do something wrong again? Please don’t abandon me! I am your daughter!” I was frantic, grasping at anything. “Mom, look at my hands! I’m bleeding! Please hold me—I’m in so much pain, Mom!” But she just stared at me, her expression filled with disgust and finality. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your mom.” “I’ve hated you since the day you were born. Every time I looked at you, I thought about Savannah. I hated you for taking her place!” I opened my mouth, my voice trembling. “But last night… you took me out for cake…” That cake—I’d dreamed of it for 20 years. And now, just as I’d finally had a taste, she was taking it all away. I collapsed to the floor, shaking with sobs. For 20 years, I’d been trying to warm my mother’s frozen heart. I thought I was finally getting through to her. But reality had struck me like a bolt from the blue. “So what?” she said, her voice icy. “You’ll never matter as much as Savannah.” “And besides, it’s just a kidney. I already asked the doctors—you won’t die from this.” Realizing there was no one left to help me, I turned desperately to Savannah. “Savannah, we grew up together! Please, you have to help me!” Savannah had always been kind and principled. Surely, she wouldn’t accept this. But in the very next moment, her words shattered my world.

“Mom, you’ve already taken so much from me. You owe me this—you have to save me this time!” A trembling, tearful voice shattered the last of my illusions. I turned, stunned, and saw Savannah struggling to stand from her wheelchair. She wobbled, unsteady, before collapsing into my mother’s arms. Only now did I get a good look at her. Despite her mother’s constant care, Savannah’s illness had ravaged her body. She looked frail and broken. I remembered how many times she’d told me she just wanted to live a normal, healthy life. And now, with an opportunity right in front of her that required no sacrifice on her part, of course she would seize it without hesitation. My brother, James, walked over and gently wrapped Savannah in his arms, soothing her like she was the most precious thing in the world. “I’m sorry, Savannah,” he said softly. “For all these years, I’ve been loving the wrong person.” “From now on, I’ll make it up to you.” My mom was already crying as she clung to Savannah. “I’m so sorry, my daughter… I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. I don’t care what it takes.” I watched as the small trickle of love I’d fought for over twenty years—all those fleeting moments of hope—was now gushing uncontrollably toward her. Suddenly, I felt a metallic taste rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I forced a bitter smile. For most people, donating a kidney might not be fatal. But for me? A girl my mother never loved, who grew up malnourished, weak, and neglected? My body was already broken. Losing a little extra blood was enough to put me in danger. I glanced at the three of them, holding each other like the perfect family. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Savannah’s mother—Mrs. Whitmore. She stood off to the side, detached, watching this absurd scene like it had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t crying over her daughter’s betrayal. She didn’t even seem to care that I might be her biological child. I turned to her, trembling, and asked, “Do you really not care at all?” “I might be your real daughter. Why won’t you save me?” She shrugged. “So what if you’re my biological child? What difference does it make?” “I’ve raised Savannah for twenty years. She is my daughter. If saving her means sacrificing you, I don’t mind.” I froze. So that’s what a mother’s love is supposed to look like. I lowered my head and blinked back the tears. Love, it seems, only flows toward those who already have it. For someone like me—abandoned by the world—I was nothing more than trash. But even trash clings to life. I gathered every ounce of strength I had and shouted at them, “You can’t do this! It’s illegal!” My mom didn’t flinch. “It doesn’t matter. Legally, I’m still your mother. I’ll sign the consent form for your kidney donation.”

Mrs. Whitmore raised her hand calmly. “I agree. Whether Savannah is mine by blood or not, I’ll always love her.” And just like that, the two of them handed me a death sentence without a second thought. I choked out, “Mom…” Even now, I couldn’t let go of the hope that she might feel something for me. That after all these years, there was some bond, however faint, between us. Maybe it was my desperate tone, but she finally turned around. For a moment, she didn’t move. James frowned and grabbed her wrist. She gently patted his hand before stepping toward me. Her eyes were red, and her voice trembled slightly. “Jessica,” she said, “Savannah is my flesh and blood. She’s my real daughter.” “For years, I’ve dreamed of her, loved her, waited for her. You have to give her your kidney.” She took a deep breath. “I asked the doctors. You won’t die. At worst, you’ll be unable to take care of yourself for a while.” “When you recover, I promise I’ll love you. I’ll make it up to you.” Twenty years of hope disintegrated into nothing. All I got in return was, You won’t die. I laughed bitterly, a hollow sound that echoed in the room. “I won’t survive this,” I whispered, almost to myself. “I’m going to die.” My mom’s face twisted in panic. “No! That’s impossible! Your brother will perform the surgery himself!” Even if James was the most skilled surgeon in the world, he couldn’t save someone who no longer wanted to live. My father, who had been silent the entire time, helped me up and secured me to the operating table like I was some animal being prepared for slaughter. James held the consent form in his hands. My mother quickly signed her name. I lay there, head turned to the side, watching helplessly as they prepared to wheel me into the operating room. I blinked at the ceiling, tears streaming down my face. Then I forced a smile—one uglier than any cry. “I’ll do it,” I said. “Take my kidney, my life, whatever you want. But I have one condition.” James frowned. “What now? Are you still trying to fight this?” “Savannah suffered for twenty years because of you,” he snapped. “She’s the one who was robbed of her life with Mom. And you still think you have the right to ask for anything?” Suffered? Who had really suffered all these years? I hadn’t just been robbed of my family—I was being asked to wager my life to pay for it. All I wanted was one answer. My father sighed. “Let her have this. After everything, Jessica deserves to know.” “Fine,” my mom said coldly. “Let’s do the test. But after this, don’t ever call me your mother again.” I smiled faintly. Finally, after twenty years, I could let go of this hollow, one-sided love.

To increase the chances of a successful surgery, my brother deliberately didn’t give me enough anesthesia. I could feel the blade slicing through my skin, the scissors cutting through my tissue. The pain was excruciating. When people are scared, they instinctively cry out for their mom. I almost did too—until it hit me like a slap in the face: I didn’t have a mom anymore. My brother, James, raised an eyebrow and glanced at me with disgust. “Never thought you were a fake,” he sneered. “No wonder you never felt like family. All those years I cared about you—it was a complete waste!” His words were sharp, but I couldn’t be hurt anymore. My vision blurred as I stared at the ceiling, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. “Don’t be mad, James,” I said softly. “After this, I won’t call you my brother ever again.” He didn’t like that. His expression darkened, and he twisted the scalpel deliberately. Pain shot through me, making my whole body tremble and break out in cold sweat. “Good,” he growled, grinning smugly. “You don’t deserve to call me your brother.” The surgery felt endless. So long, in fact, that I started to wonder if I’d already died. Finally, James tied off the last suture. He tilted his head, looked down at me, and said with a smirk, “Lucky you. You made it.” I blinked slowly, the pain dulling into a cold numbness. “Thank you… Dr. Whitman,” I murmured. Something about the way I said it set him off. His face twisted in anger, and he slammed the scissors onto the tray before storming out of the room. From the operating table, I could hear the voices outside. My mom’s frantic voice broke through the indistinct chatter. “How’s Jessica? Is she okay?” James’s voice was dismissive. “The surgery was a success, but her body’s in terrible shape. She’s going to suffer for the rest of her life.” I heard my mom sigh in relief. “As long as she’s alive… that’s all that matters.” Then her tone changed, as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh, Mrs. Whitmore,” she said, turning to the neighbor, “she’s always wanted a mom. I’m giving her back to you now. You need to take good care of her!” Mrs. Whitmore didn’t even have a chance to respond. Suddenly, I started coughing violently, blood gushing out of my mouth in uncontrollable waves. The nurse working nearby froze in shock, dropping the instruments in her hands as she stumbled backward. Panic consumed the room. The nurse scrambled to her feet, tripping over herself as she rushed to the door and shouted at the top of her lungs: “Doctor, emergency! The patient’s bleeding out!” “And… and there’s signs of infection!” The moment the words left her mouth, James spun around in a panic. He sprinted back into the room, yelling my name as he ran. But my vision was fading fast. My pupils were dilating, the world around me growing darker and more distant. Outside, I heard my mom trying to push past the people holding her back, her voice trembling with fear. “What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?” The chaos in the room was overwhelming, and in the midst of it all, a nurse from the lab walked in, holding an envelope. She seemed completely oblivious to the scene, her voice cheerful as she announced, “Congratulations! The DNA test results are in—these two are confirmed to be mother and daughter!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295378”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic

## Quinn Monroe once vowed to love Ryan Winters for the rest of her life. But when Robert, Ryan’s father, was in a life-threatening car accident, she betrayed him. She flaunted her affairs in front of him, teasing and toying with other men while holding his father’s medical bills over his head, ensuring he couldn’t leave. Eventually, Ryan’s heart broke completely. He decided he’d rather marry a woman he had no connection to—even one with a disability—than stay by Quinn’s side. But when she finally lost him for good, regret came too late. “I’ve made up my mind, Mr. James,” Ryan said, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. “If you’re still willing to cover my father’s medical costs, I’ll marry your daughter.” On the other end of the line, the middle-aged man’s excitement was barely concealed. “You’re serious? You’re really okay with her being disabled? You don’t mind?” Ryan’s response was calm, resigned. “I don’t mind.” After all, as long as his father could be saved, it didn’t matter who he married. The woman he truly loved had already given her heart to someone else. “Good, good!” Mr. James said, trying to suppress the excitement in his voice, afraid Ryan might change his mind. “Give me two weeks. I’ll wrap up my business abroad and fly back to get your father the best care possible.” “Thank you, Mr. James.” Ryan’s tone was polite but distant. After ending the call, he slowly set the phone down and glanced at the black stocking lying on the sofa. The tears in the fabric told him everything he needed to know about how wild things had gotten the night before. The pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Ryan’s exhausted face. He let out a bitter laugh. Last night, while his father was in critical condition, Ryan had spent hours sitting alone outside the operating room, frantically calling Quinn. Each call went unanswered, met only with the cold sound of the line disconnecting. At first, he’d convinced himself that she was busy with work and couldn’t pick up. But returning home to find a discarded stocking on the sofa, red-bottomed stilettos tossed carelessly on the floor, and the master bedroom door tightly shut told him the truth. She wasn’t busy with work. She was busy with someone else. Ryan picked up the black stocking, walked to the bedroom door, and knocked lightly. “If you’re going to fool around, at least clean up after yourselves. Don’t leave your trash lying around where I can see it.” Without waiting for a response, he tossed the stocking onto the floor and walked away, heading for the study. Even when he heard the hurried sounds of movement behind the door, he didn’t care. Why would he? In two weeks, he’d be gone. The study was filled with pictures of Ryan and Quinn—photos they’d carefully hung on the walls together. Each frame held a moment from their six years of love, a timeline of a relationship that had once been unshakable. Tears blurred his vision as Ryan stared at the wall. He wiped his eyes, took a deep breath, and began tearing down the photos one by one. They’d met in college and fallen in love quickly. After graduation, Ryan had turned down his father’s request to return home and take over the family’s traditional medical clinic, choosing instead to stay and help Quinn build her business. When her company took off, Quinn had proposed to him the moment she tasted success. Their friends and families had called them a golden couple, a match made in heaven. But everything changed in the blink of an eye. Right before the wedding, Robert was struck by a car and left critically injured. The medical bills were astronomical, and suddenly, their passionate love began to wither under the weight of financial stress. Quinn grew resentful, blaming Robert for “dragging them down.” She became impatient with Ryan, and six months ago, she hired a young, attractive assistant who never left her side. She paraded her flirtations openly, using “work” as an excuse to spend time with the man in ways that made Ryan sick to his stomach. Ryan saw it all for what it was. He wasn’t blind. He’d thought about leaving her more times than he could count. But the cost of his father’s care was too much. Without Quinn’s financial support, Ryan couldn’t even imagine how many days his father had left. So, he swallowed his pride. He endured the humiliation. He stayed. But now, everything was different. Mr. James had promised to take on the medical bills. In two weeks, Ryan would no longer have to live under Quinn’s roof, no longer have to bow his head and endure her cruelty.

The door to the study swung open, and Quinn stormed in, her disheveled silk pajamas barely hanging on her shoulders. She snatched the photo Ryan had just torn from the wall, her voice tinged with panic. “Ryan, stop tearing them down! You’ve got it all wrong. Last night, George and I were out meeting clients. He drank too much, and I was worried about him getting home safely, so I brought him here. Nothing happened, I swear!” As if to prove her innocence, she called over George, who had just stumbled out of the bedroom, looking equally as rumpled. “Ryan, I promise it’s not what you think,” George said as he walked up, speaking in a voice so exaggeratedly sweet it was nauseating. “Quinn and I just slept in the same bed—platonically. Nothing happened.” Ryan glanced him over, his eyes cold and calculating. “Nothing happened?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. “Well, Mr. George, you must be a real disappointment then. Dressed like that and still couldn’t win over your boss? So, tell me—who’s the problem here? Is it you… or is it her?” His gaze flicked to Quinn, whose face immediately darkened. “Ryan!” she snapped, her voice sharp. “George and I already explained everything. Why are you still throwing out snide remarks? Who do you think you’re impressing?” George tugged gently at Quinn’s sleeve, his voice soft and saccharine. “Don’t be so harsh on him, Quinn. He’s just upset. It’s understandable—Ryan’s never worked in the corporate world. He doesn’t get what it’s like to entertain clients. Misunderstanding us is only natural.” Ryan’s lips twitched, a bitter smile tugging at the corners. Entertain clients? He thought back to all the times he’d stood by Quinn’s side at events, supporting her every move. Back then, George was probably still in some college internship, dreaming of being noticed. Ryan stayed silent, lowering his gaze. George must have interpreted it as shame, because he pressed on, now emboldened. “But seriously, Ryan, you need to let these little things go. Quinn’s running a whole company and covering your dad’s hospital bills. She’s under a lot of pressure. You can’t keep nitpicking over every small misunderstanding.” He tilted his head slightly, his tone almost condescending. “Why don’t you apologize to her and drop this? Let’s just move on.” The confidence in George’s voice was so unshakable, so smug, that it almost felt like he believed he was the one wearing the ring on Quinn’s finger. Ryan’s eyes flicked to Quinn, searching for even the slightest hint of defense or reassurance from her. But there was none. She stood there, arms crossed, clearly waiting for him to give in. Ryan let out a long, heavy sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry for misunderstanding.” Quinn waved her hand dismissively, as if she couldn’t be bothered with his apology. “Fine. Now, go make some hangover soup for George and me.” “Got it,” Ryan replied evenly, his tone devoid of emotion. As he turned and walked toward the kitchen, Quinn furrowed her brow slightly, an uneasy feeling creeping in. Something was… off. She remembered how, in the past, whenever something like this happened, Ryan would lose his temper—shouting, crying, fighting with her until she shut him down by reminding him of his father’s medical bills. Only then would he begrudgingly back down. But tonight, he hadn’t argued at all. He’d apologized and done what she asked without a single complaint. What’s gotten into him? Before she could dwell on it any further, George’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her close. “George, stop it,” Quinn said, brushing his hand off with a light slap. “He’s still here.” “Fine,” George pouted, his voice playful. “But how about we book a room tonight, just the two of us?” Quinn laughed softly and tapped him on the nose. “Alright, alright. You win.” Standing in the kitchen, Ryan overheard every word of their exchange. He froze, his hand gripping the counter, his knuckles white. He had always suspected their relationship was more than just professional, but hearing it laid out so plainly still felt like a knife to the chest. He wiped at his eyes, forcing back the tears. It’s fine, he told himself. I’ll be gone soon anyway.

Ryan placed the bowl of hangover soup on the dining table, ready to retreat to his room and finally get some rest. But Quinn grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “You called me so many times last night. Was something wrong?” Ryan froze mid-step, his body stiffening. For a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, and his eyes turned red. “Last night… my father was in critical condition.” Quinn fell silent for a few seconds. Then, without saying a word, she picked up her phone and transferred $50,000 to Ryan’s bank account. “This should cover your dad’s expenses for the next month,” she said. A rare flicker of guilt crossed her face. “Tonight, I’ll go with you to visit him.” It was the first time in six months that Quinn had voluntarily offered to see Robert. Maybe she felt bad for ignoring his calls the night before. Ryan hesitated, debating how to politely refuse, but George jumped in before he could say anything. “Quinn, don’t forget—you’ve got that meeting tonight,” George said, giving her an exaggerated wink, clearly hinting at their “appointment.” Ryan seized the opportunity and replied, “You should take care of your work. I’ll go by myself. He hasn’t woken up yet anyway—your visit wouldn’t make a difference.” Quinn’s eyes flicked to George’s toned figure, and her resolve wavered. Clearly unwilling to give up her evening plans with him, she sighed and pretended to be concerned. “Alright. But be careful, and let me know if you need more money.” Ryan nodded. “Got it. I’ll go rest now.” He instinctively headed toward the master bedroom but stopped dead in his tracks when he remembered the events of the previous night. Just thinking about what had happened in there—Quinn and George, tangled up in those sheets—made his stomach turn. He stood outside the door for a couple of seconds, his hand hovering over the doorknob, before he turned around and walked to the guest room instead. If the bed was dirty, there was no need to force himself to sleep in it. Ryan fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of the past—back when he and Quinn had first met. In his dream, there was the nervous excitement of their first kiss, the way her cheeks would flush whenever their eyes met. He remembered their arguments, too, and how Quinn would soften her voice to gently coax him out of his anger. And then there were the good times, like the year she saved up for months to surprise him with a birthday gift he’d casually mentioned wanting. When he woke, tears were streaming down his face. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor. How had it come to this? They had been so in love once. Was it really just his father’s illness that had broken them? Or had Quinn’s feelings faded long before that? His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of his phone. Several new messages popped up on the screen. They were from George. Ryan hesitated before opening them. When he finally did, his blood ran cold. The photos showed a man and a woman locked in a passionate kiss. It only took a second for Ryan to recognize the woman’s familiar figure—it was Quinn. It was a blatant taunt. Ryan exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm. He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned off his phone and began packing his belongings. The years had left him with a collection of small, scattered items, but he didn’t want to leave anything behind when he left in two weeks. No traces. No memories. For three days, Quinn didn’t come home. Ryan didn’t care. But on the fourth evening, she suddenly texted him, asking him to accompany her to a business dinner. Ryan had no intention of going, but Quinn mentioned that Mr. Walker, a major investor who had helped her during the early days of her company, had specifically requested that Ryan attend. Out of respect for Mr. Walker, Ryan reluctantly agreed. When Ryan arrived at the restaurant, George was already waiting at the entrance. With a smug grin, George handed Ryan an outfit—a sleek, fitted shirt with an intricate cutout design. “Here, Mr. Winters. Change into this before you go in. We wouldn’t want you embarrassing Quinn.” Ryan glanced at the shirt, then back at George, his expression cold. “And who do you think you are to tell me what to wear?” George’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered, pouting dramatically. “I’m just trying to help! You don’t want to look cheap in front of important people, do you?” Ryan’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his voice sharp. “If I embarrass anyone, that’s my problem—not yours.” Without another word, he brushed past George and headed toward the private dining room. The moment Ryan stepped into the room, Quinn’s expression soured. She was seated near the door, and her displeasure was obvious. “What are you wearing?” she hissed under her breath, her tone dripping with irritation. At the head of the table, Mr. Walker—an older man with a gruff demeanor—looked Ryan up and down, the disappointment clear on his face. “Quinn,” Mr. Walker drawled, leaning back in his chair with a mocking smile. “Your boyfriend’s really changed, hasn’t he?”

Quinn immediately plastered on a fake smile. “Oh, Mr. Walker, I’m so sorry you had to see him like this. Ryan, hurry up and pour Mr. Walker a drink.” Ryan silently grabbed the bottle and began pouring. As he did, George slipped into the room, leaning down to whisper something in Quinn’s ear. Whatever he said made Quinn’s face turn pale with fury. If it weren’t for the important guests in the room, she probably would’ve exploded on the spot. “Ryan,” Mr. Walker said, his tone laced with mockery, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. What happened? You look so… worn down. Is Quinn too busy running her empire to take care of you properly?” Ryan’s worn outfit and tired face—aged prematurely by sleepless nights—stood in stark contrast to George’s sharp, tailored suit and confident demeanor. The comparison was humiliating, and the jab cut deep. “Here’s your drink, Mr. Walker,” Ryan said evenly, placing the glass down without meeting her gaze. But Mr. Walker wasn’t done. “Don’t go anywhere! Sit here, next to me.” Before he could walk away, her clammy hand clamped down on his shoulder, forcing him back into the seat. Across the table, Quinn glanced at the scene but didn’t lift a finger to intervene. Ryan gritted his teeth and sat down. After a few rounds of drinks, Mr. Walker’s wandering hand started inching toward Ryan. He flinched and quickly stood up. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” He barely made it out of the room before Quinn followed him, grabbing his arm. “Where are you going?” she snapped, her nails digging into his skin. Ryan turned, his expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Quinn, what are you doing?” She folded her arms, her voice low but firm. “The company’s negotiating a major deal with Mr. Walker. I need you to stay and make sure she’s happy. Just play along.” Ryan stared at her, stunned. “Are you serious? You dragged me here to use me as some kind of bargaining chip?” “Don’t say it like that,” Quinn muttered, her voice dropping to a whisper. “All I’m asking is for you to keep her entertained. I’m not asking you to sleep with her.” Ryan let out a bitter laugh. “Funny. When you first started this business, you wouldn’t even let me pour someone a drink. Now you’re fine with me being groped in front of you?” His voice cracked. “Quinn, do you even care about me anymore? Even a little?” Quinn’s lips curled into a smirk, as if he’d just told a joke. “If I didn’t care about you, Ryan, I would’ve let your father die a year ago. Do you think keeping him alive was free? Do you think the money I’ve given you for his medical bills grows on trees?” Her voice turned icy. “Let me make this clear: if you don’t go back in there and make Mr. Walker happy, I’ll take back the $50,000 I just sent you.” Each word hit him like a blow. Ryan’s hands trembled as he clenched his fists at his sides. “Fine. I’ll do it,” he said through gritted teeth. Pushing down the humiliation, Ryan straightened his back and walked back into the private room. But as he opened the door, he froze. Mr. Walker, now visibly drunk, had one arm draped over George’s shoulders. “You’re Quinn’s secretary, right?” she slurred, giggling. “You’re way better looking than her boyfriend. So much more my type.” George tensed, his face turning red as he glanced at Quinn for help. Quinn stormed into the room behind Ryan, her face twisting with rage. She immediately pulled George away from Mr. Walker’s grasp. “What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, her voice cutting through the room. Mr. Walker blinked, startled. “What’s your problem? I barely touched him.” Quinn’s eyes blazed. “You think you can just put your hands on my secretary?!” Mr. Walker’s drunken confusion turned to anger. She let out a bitter laugh. “You’re something else, Quinn. I’ve been touching your boyfriend all night, and you didn’t say a word. But the moment I lay a hand on your secretary, you lose it?!” The room fell silent as the weight of her words settled. Quinn’s jaw tightened, her eyes darting toward George, who was still flustered and avoiding her gaze. Mr. Walker’s laughter turned cold. “Well, guess what? That deal you wanted? Forget it.”

“I don’t need it anyway.” Quinn scoffed, spitting the words out like venom. She grabbed George’s hand and stormed out of the restaurant, but not before calling Ryan to follow along behind them. Outside, as they waited for the car to pull up, Quinn simultaneously comforted a visibly shaken George, who was trembling in her arms, while throwing blame in Ryan’s direction. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made such a scene and left the room,” she snapped. “If you’d just stayed, George wouldn’t have had to deal with that creep.” Ryan stood motionless beside them, the chilly autumn wind brushing through his hair. For the first time, he felt the city’s fall air truly bite. It was colder than he’d ever remembered it. George, clinging to Quinn like a frightened rabbit, buried his face in her shoulder, his tears streaming down in dramatic streaks. “I’m fine, Quinn,” George sniffled, his voice trembling. “Don’t be mad at Ryan. He didn’t mean for this to happen.” Ryan said nothing, his gaze fixed on them in silence. After a moment, Quinn seemed to calm down. “George works for my company. He’s fresh out of college, completely inexperienced. As his boss, it’s my responsibility to protect him. Otherwise, how could I explain this to his family?” “Of course,” Ryan replied simply, his tone devoid of emotion. He let the ache in his chest simmer, unaddressed. It doesn’t matter anymore, he thought. In ten days, I’ll be gone. Let her do whatever she wants. When the car arrived, Ryan climbed into the passenger seat without a word, leaving the backseat for Quinn and her precious George. “Take us to the Westwood Hotel first,” Quinn instructed the driver. Only then did she glance at Ryan, as if suddenly remembering to explain herself. “I need to drop George off at his hotel before I can head home with you.” “Sure,” Ryan murmured, leaning back against the seat, his eyes closed. The alcohol he’d consumed earlier had started to hit, and his stomach churned with a dull, persistent ache. Ryan wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when the driver shook him gently. “Mr. Winters, Quinn said she had something to take care of and left.” “Alright,” Ryan replied flatly. He grabbed his bag, the sound of his black coat brushing against the leather seat filling the quiet car, and stepped out. Walking into the house, he wasn’t surprised to find his phone empty of any messages from Quinn. He didn’t need to ask where she’d gone—he already knew. She was with George. And yet, even though he was counting down the days until he’d finally leave her behind, the knowledge of her devotion to another man sliced through him like a knife. After taking a long, scalding shower, Ryan heard his phone buzz. He picked it up, expecting nothing of importance, but what he saw made his blood boil. It was a photo from George. Unlike the last time George had sent pictures meant to taunt him, this one didn’t spark sadness—it ignited rage. Quinn, in an effort to appease George, had given him the jade pendant. That pendant wasn’t just any piece of jewelry. It was the Winters family heirloom, passed down through generations. It symbolized peace, love, and eternal partnership. Quinn had received it from Robert as a wedding gift—a gesture of welcoming her into the family. And now, she’d handed it off to another man, as if it were nothing more than a cheap trinket. This was the only thing my father entrusted to me. If his condition doesn’t improve, it will be the last thing I have to remember him by. Ryan clenched his fists, his chest heaving. Without hesitation, he called for a cab and headed straight to the Westwood Hotel. Ryan didn’t know George’s room number, so he knocked on door after door, ignoring the glares and insults from annoyed hotel guests. Finally, on the fourteenth try, he heard Quinn’s voice behind the door. When she opened it and saw Ryan standing there, her face immediately darkened. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Where’s the jade pendant?” Ryan pushed past her, stumbling into the room. His voice cracked with desperation. “Give it back to me!” Quinn barely had time to react before Ryan turned to face George, who was sitting on the bed, clutching the blanket like a frightened child. “That pendant belongs to my family,” Ryan said, his voice shaking. “It’s not yours to take. Hand it over!” “Quinn, I’m scared,” George whimpered, looking to her for rescue.

Quinn stepped forward, grabbing Ryan’s wrist and yanking him back. “It’s just a piece of jade, Ryan. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Ryan’s voice broke as he snapped, “My father is lying in a hospital bed, unconscious, and you’re using the one thing he gave you to bribe another man. Do you even have a conscience?” For a moment, Quinn looked startled, but the fleeting vulnerability quickly vanished, replaced by her usual indifference. “Do you think keeping your father alive is free?” she spat. “I’ve spent a fortune on his medical bills. Don’t I deserve to use that pendant however I see fit?” Ryan’s eyes burned with tears of frustration. “Don’t forget—I gave up everything for you. I transferred all my shares to your name because you promised to take care of my father. And now you’re acting like it’s all your money?” “Stop being so dramatic.” Quinn rolled her eyes and shoved him back. Ryan stumbled and fell to the cold, hard floor. “Give it back!” Ryan shouted, scrambling to his feet. He lunged toward George, determined to find the pendant himself. “Don’t touch me!” George screeched, flailing his arms as the two struggled. Quinn’s expression hardened. Without hesitation, she kicked Ryan square in the stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. The pain was immediate and excruciating. Ryan clutched his abdomen, gasping for air as cold sweat drenched his face. For a brief moment, Quinn hesitated, guilt flickering across her face. But just as she started to move toward him, George tugged at her arm, his voice trembling. “Quinn, I don’t feel well,” he whispered, his eyes wide and pleading. Her focus shifted instantly. “Where does it hurt?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. She forgot about Ryan entirely, fussing over George like a doting mother. “Ryan!” she barked suddenly, turning back to him. “You’re from a family of doctors, aren’t you? Come check on George.” Ryan looked up at her, his face pale and his body trembling from the pain. “Do it,” she snapped. “If something happens to George, don’t forget—your father’s health depends on me.” Ryan stared at her, the last shred of warmth he felt for her crumbling into nothingness. He forced himself to his feet and staggered toward George. Gritting his teeth, he reached out to take George’s pulse. After a long pause, Ryan muttered, “He’s fine.” “Are you sure?” George whined, clutching Quinn’s hand. Quinn glared at Ryan, clearly dissatisfied with his answer. “Just go home,” she said sharply. “I’ll deal with you later.” Ryan didn’t argue. “Give me the pendant,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s not even that valuable,” George chimed in, pulling the pendant from under his pillow and tossing it carelessly at Ryan’s feet. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with it.” Ryan scrambled to pick it up, but it was too late. The jade pendant hit the floor and shattered into pieces. As he knelt there, staring at the fragments, tears streamed down his face.

“You can go home now,” Quinn said, her brow furrowed as she stepped in front of George, shielding him like he was some fragile treasure. “I’ll find someone to fix the jade pendant later.” “There’s no later,” Ryan said, his voice trembling. He slipped the shattered pendant into his pocket, leaning against the doorframe for support before staggering out of the hotel room. Quinn watched his hunched figure disappear into the hallway. For a brief moment, a strange pang of unease tightened in her chest. What did he mean by ‘there’s no later’? She shrugged it off just as quickly as the thought came. It’s just one of his tantrums. Give it a few days, and he’ll get over it like always. With a dismissive shake of her head, she turned her attention back to George, who was wrapped tightly in her arms. The two cuddled sweetly, while across town, Ryan walked home alone, tears streaming down his face. When Ryan got home, the first thing he did was swallow a painkiller. The ache in his stomach—whether from Quinn’s kick or the emotional toll—refused to subside. For the next three days, he was bedridden, the pain locking him in a prison of physical and emotional torment. By the fourth morning, the pain had finally begun to ease. Opening his eyes, Ryan was surprised to find Quinn sitting on the edge of the bed. Unlike him, pale and worn from the sleepless nights, Quinn looked radiant. Her energy was reminiscent of the days when they were first in love, back when she still cared. “You’re awake? Good,” she said briskly, showing no concern for his condition. “I need to talk to you about something important.” Ryan sat up slowly, his body still weak. “What is it?” “It’s about George,” Quinn said, her tone casual. “He’s had some bad luck. His ex-girlfriend cheated on him, and he doesn’t want his family to worry. So, he asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend for dinner with his parents. You don’t mind, do you?” Ryan froze for a moment, his lips curling into a bitter smile. She’s not even trying to come up with believable lies anymore. “I don’t mind,” he said softly, his voice barely audible. “I knew you’d understand,” Quinn said, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “You’re always so considerate.” She stood to leave, but paused at the door. “Oh, and next month on your birthday, I’ll make sure to spend the whole day with you. We’ll visit your dad together, okay?” Ryan’s eyelashes fluttered, his gaze dropping to the bedsheets. Next month? Quinn, I’ll be gone in five days. The words sat heavy on his tongue, but before he could say anything, Quinn’s phone rang. “Quinn, my parents showed up early. I don’t know what to do!” George’s panicked voice echoed through the speaker. Quinn barely hesitated. “I’ll be right there,” she said, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. She didn’t look back. Ryan watched her leave, the door slamming shut behind her. For the next four days, she didn’t come home. George, however, made sure to send Ryan a steady stream of taunting texts. But Ryan felt nothing—his heart was numb now. On the morning of his departure, Ryan received a text from Mr. James. “The car will pick you up at 9 PM tonight.” Ryan replied with a simple, “Got it,” and began packing the last of his belongings. Around 10 AM, a package arrived at the door. Curious, Ryan opened it to find a familiar necklace inside—Emerald Dream, the one Quinn had once gifted him. Back when they were in love, Quinn had spent $500,000 on the piece, knowing how much Ryan adored it. But when his father fell ill, Ryan sold it on Quinn’s suggestion to cover the hospital bills. His hands trembled as he held the necklace. Did Quinn buy it back?

For the first time in years, a faint flicker of hope stirred in his chest. But it was quickly extinguished when his phone rang. “Mr. Winters,” George’s smug voice greeted him. “That package you just signed for? Quinn accidentally sent it to the wrong address. Could you bring it to the New Haven Hotel? She needs it for something urgent.” Ryan paused for a long moment before replying, “Sure, I’ll bring it.” Ryan took a cab to the New Haven Hotel, the necklace tucked safely in its box. But as the cab pulled up to the entrance, his breath caught in his throat. A massive banner hung over the entrance, displaying a photo of Quinn and George. The text beneath it read: “C&E Engagement Party.” Ryan’s vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. So this is what she needed the necklace for. A hotel staff member escorted him to the event hall. At the door of the bridal suite, he ran into Quinn and George’s mother. “Oh, who’s this?” George’s mother asked, her brows furrowing in suspicion. Quinn’s eyes widened slightly, her gaze darting nervously between Ryan and the older woman. “He’s… he’s my driver,” she said quickly, her voice trembling slightly. “Why don’t you head back inside, ma’am? I’ll handle this.” Without waiting for a response, Quinn grabbed Ryan’s arm and pulled him into a quiet corner. “Why are you here?” she hissed. Ryan chuckled bitterly. “Your ‘driver’?” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Six years together, and now I’m just your driver?” Quinn ignored the jab, her tone sharp. “I asked you a question. Why are you here?” Ryan held up the necklace. “George said you needed this for something. Congratulations, by the way.” “You’ve got it all wrong,” Quinn said quickly. “This engagement party—it’s not real. I told you, I’m just pretending to be George’s girlfriend.” Ryan’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Pretending? You’re using the engagement plan we created for our wedding. The same decorations, the same fireworks. Is that part of the act too?” Quinn’s eyes flickered with guilt for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “It’s just a coincidence. Why don’t you believe me?” Ryan stared at her for a long moment, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. If you say it’s fake, it’s fake.” Relieved, Quinn smiled. “I’ll explain everything when this is over, okay? Just go home for now.” Ryan nodded again, too tired to argue. As Ryan left the hotel, his phone buzzed with another text from George. The photo showed George wearing the necklace, his arms wrapped around Quinn. “Quinn says only I deserve this necklace. She’s always loved me, you know. Oh, and once we’re married, she’s cutting off your dad’s medical bills. Makes sense, right? After all, I’m way more useful than your half-dead father.” Ryan closed the message, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. It’s over, he thought. We’re done. Later that night, as fireworks lit up the sky—part of the engagement celebration Ryan and Quinn had once planned for their own wedding—Ryan received two texts. One from Mr. James: “The car is outside.” And one from Quinn: “Sorry, I’m too busy tonight. I’ll come home tomorrow to explain everything.” Ryan typed a brief reply: “Don’t bother.” Then, with a deep breath, he deleted her number, blocked her on every platform, and stepped into the car. As the vehicle pulled away, Ryan glanced one last time at the house he had called home. Goodbye, Quinn. We’ll never see each other again. The cityscape blurred as the car sped off, taking Ryan toward a future where Quinn no longer existed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295377”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #玄幻Fantsy #重生Reborn

### “Faking death?” The voice on the other end of the line was filled with shock and hesitation. “Miss Jane, are you sure about this? Our team is professional, no doubt, but once you go through with this paperwork, it’s as if you’ve vanished from society. You’ll never be able to show your face to your family and friends again…” “I’m sure,” Jane Faulkner’s voice was soft yet resolute. “Let’s set the date for seven days from now.” Seven days later was her sister Summer Faulkner’s final surgery. At this very moment, Jane’s blood was steadily flowing into a specialized container, waiting to be sent to Summer’s hospital room. The nurse, seeing Jane’s pale complexion, couldn’t help but interject with concern. “Doesn’t your family have anyone else with this rare blood type? You can’t keep doing this alone! You nearly fainted earlier!” Before Jane could respond, the door swung open, and a visibly anxious William Grant rushed in. “Is it done yet? Summer can’t hold on much longer.” The nurse quickly explained, “Mr. Grant, Miss Faulkner doesn’t seem to be feeling well—” William frowned impatiently, cutting her off. “What now?” The word “now” hit Jane like a needle, small and sharp, pricking deep into her heart. William grasped her wrist and let out a sigh. “Jane, stop making a scene. We’re at a critical point after the second surgery. Who else can help Summer if not you?” “I know this isn’t fair to you, but… I owe Summer too much. Please, think of this as helping me repay my debt to her, okay?” “You’ve gotten through it all these years, haven’t you? Just bear it a little longer. It’ll all be over soon.” Jane stared at him calmly. Yes, she had endured it all for so many years. It didn’t make sense for her to stop now. But… she couldn’t bear it any longer. From the very beginning, Jane Faulkner’s life had been marked by “expectations.” Summer Faulkner had been born with severe anemia, her blood type so rare that even hospitals often ran out of stock. She was the beloved darling of the family, raised like a delicate treasure, but growing up, she couldn’t escape bouts of fainting spells and emergency hospital visits. Jane Faulkner was born to fill that gap. She was healthy, which was fortunate. But she shared the same rare blood type, which was unfortunate. Put bluntly, she was Summer’s “walking blood bag.” Jane’s existence was for one purpose: to keep Summer alive. She thought her life was destined to stay that way—until she met William Grant in college. William was the one who taught her to fight back, the one who showed her that there was another way to live. That she didn’t have to belong to anyone but herself. At the time, Summer had a crush on William, so Jane and William’s relationship was kept in secret. For the first time in her twenty-something years of life, Jane had “taken” something from her sister. When the truth came out, the family’s fury was like a tidal wave. Jane became the ungrateful villain in everyone’s eyes. The day she was kicked out of the house, she called William, who was away on a business trip. She couldn’t even say a word—just let out a sob. William immediately booked the next flight back, showing up by her side that very night. He held her close and said, “Jane, you can always count on me.” With William’s support, Jane cut ties with her family and thought she could finally live a life of her own. But then William’s family business ran into trouble. To protect Jane, William kept everything from her. It wasn’t until Summer went to prison to take the fall for William that Jane learned the truth—that William was supposed to be the one behind bars. By the time William managed to get Summer out on bail, it was too late. Summer had suffered greatly in prison. Her pelvis had been fractured, leaving her nearly paralyzed. That day, William carried Summer into the emergency room, his eyes bloodshot, and hoarsely pleaded with Jane: “Jane, only you can save her.” It was like the first twenty years of her life all over again. She was back to being her sister’s supplement. But having glimpsed a better life, Jane couldn’t go back. She didn’t want to be a blood bag anymore. And she didn’t want William anymore, either. After the transfusion, Summer’s face regained some color. She smiled weakly and asked Jane, “Jane, are you okay? What do you feel like eating? I’ll have William get it for you…” Her words carried a subtle claim of ownership, as if she and William shared a deeper intimacy. Jane replied coolly, “Don’t bother. You should rest. I’m heading out.” But Summer grabbed her wrist. “Jane… are you mad at me?” Her lips quivered, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Jane, I know this has been hard on you. I promise, once this surgery is done, I’ll never come between you and William again.” “How could it be a bother?” William walked in with two thermoses in hand, frowning as he overheard the conversation. “Jane, what did you say to your sister?” “Summer, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have suffered so much. Don’t worry, I’ll take full responsibility.” Summer’s eyes reddened with gratitude. “William, it’s okay. I chose this myself.” Jane couldn’t listen to another word of their heart-wrenching “sacrifice and devotion.” She turned and walked out of the room. William followed her, shoving one of the thermoses into her hands. “I got you red date and goji berry soup—it’s good for replenishing blood. You’ve just had a transfusion. Drink up.” Jane didn’t take it. She stared at the steaming thermos, her brow furrowing slightly. “William, I’m allergic to red dates.” William froze. The one who loved red dates was Summer. She’d been anemic since childhood, and their mother had always made sure there were endless supplies of red dates for her. Summer had tried every variety under the sun and never got tired of them. “I forgot…” William retracted the thermos, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Jane, it’ll all be fine once your sister gets through the surgery.” “Go take care of her,” Jane replied flatly. She didn’t bother arguing. Ever since she’d seen a property deed at home a few days ago, she hadn’t felt like wasting energy talking to William. It was for the luxury apartment next door. Only now, the owner’s name had been changed to Summer Faulkner. That day, Jane ran into the neighbor who was moving out and struck up a conversation. The neighbor smiled and said, “Miss Jane, you’ve got yourself a great boyfriend.” Jane smiled politely and asked, “Why do you say that?” The neighbor replied, “Well, he said your sister’s been sick and needs someone to take care of her, so he bought this apartment from me—for double the market price! I mean, if he’s this thoughtful about your sister, he must treat you even better.” In that moment, Jane’s smile froze on her face. She held the property deed in her hand, her curiosity about the details suddenly vanishing. William had made his decision, all without consulting her. Maybe he didn’t think he needed to. Maybe he believed Jane wouldn’t object to her sister living next door. William’s hand on her arm brought her back to reality. “There’s something I haven’t had a chance to discuss with you yet,” he said hesitantly. “What is it?” “After Summer’s final surgery, I was thinking we could bring her home for a while. Just until she’s fully recovered,” William said, carefully. “It’ll be more convenient that way.” “Sure,” Jane replied without hesitation, her quick agreement catching William off guard. “You’re not against it?” he asked, surprised. Jane merely said, “It’s your house. Do whatever you want.” She brushed his hand off her arm, leaving William with his outstretched arm hanging in midair. And just like that, she walked away. William watched her go, suddenly unsure of himself. The day after she received her fake medical records, Jane followed the agency’s instructions and signed a body donation agreement. The agreement was real, but the person who would “die” was an actor hired by the agency to stage her death. To make the arrangement more convincing, the agency recommended getting a family member to co-sign. So Jane called Mrs. Faulkner. Mrs. Faulkner’s voice was as cold as ever. “The one who’s dying is Summer. What nonsense are you up to now? A body donation? Do you think if you die, we won’t find someone else with the same rare blood type?” “You’ve really grown wings, haven’t you? Forgotten your place completely.” Jane was silent for a moment before quietly asking, “What if I really were dying?” Mrs. Faulkner scoffed. “Then come over. I’m with Summer right now.” She didn’t believe her. Jane wasn’t actually sick, but Mrs. Faulkner’s reaction still made her heart grow cold. She arrived at the hospital and handed the crumpled donation agreement to Mrs. Faulkner. Mrs. Faulkner didn’t even glance at it before signing her name with a flourish. She even sneered, “Summer, your sister says she’s dying. Do you believe her?” Summer bit her lip, looking hurt. “Jane, I know I’ve been such a burden to you lately, but you don’t have to make up lies to scare us…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve been looking for other donors with the same blood type. I won’t keep bothering you. I promise.” Just as she finished speaking, William walked in. He was holding a bouquet of baby’s breath—Summer’s favorite flowers. “Who upset the Faulkner princess this time?” he teased gently. Summer let out a tearful laugh. “William, don’t joke around. No one upset me. I’m just feeling a little embarrassed.” “My body’s been so weak… I’m almost thirty years old, and I still have to rely on my sister’s blood to stay alive…” William hesitated for a moment, then turned to look at Jane. She was standing there, thin and frail, her cheeks hollowed out. She looked almost sickly—though maybe it was just anemia from everything she’d been through recently. William tried to smooth things over. “Come on now. Jane’s your sister. She’d never blame you for anything.” Their mother, however, was less patient. “Jane, aren’t you going to apologize to your sister?” “You’re in your late twenties. How do you still not understand gratitude? If it weren’t for Summer’s illness, do you think we would’ve even had you? Let alone let you stand here now, threatening us like this?” Jane froze in place, her resolve crumbling under those few short sentences. She had always known. If it hadn’t been for Summer’s severe anemia and rare blood type, her parents never would’ve had her. She wouldn’t exist. But hearing it said out loud, hearing her worth as a person reduced to nothing, still felt like a knife twisting in her chest, leaving her breathless. Instinctively, she looked to William. Once, he had been the one to tell her she wasn’t anyone’s accessory. But now, William avoided her gaze. “Jane,” he said quietly, “the doctor said Summer needs to stay in good spirits…” “Just apologize to her. Make her feel better.” Jane’s entire body trembled. She took a step back and let out a hollow laugh. “Why should I apologize?” she asked, her voice steady but her eyes defiant. William stepped closer, frowning deeply. He lowered his voice and said, “Summer’s sick. Her health is fragile. Can’t you just be a little more understanding?” All her life, Jane had been the “understanding” one. Because of William, she had learned to rebel, to stop being “understanding.” But now, the person asking her to be understanding again… was William. She blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall, but her eyes still turned red. “William, I’m sick too. My health is failing. I’m dying. Can she, for once, show some understanding for me?” The truth was, Jane’s body wasn’t completely fine. The doctor had warned her that if she kept donating blood and overextending herself, her immune system would eventually collapse. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. So yes, she had been losing weight—rapidly. But no one seemed to notice. William’s brow furrowed, carving deep lines across his face. His patience was wearing thin. “Jane, stop this nonsense, will you?” he said with a sigh. “No matter what, Summer is your sister—your blood relative. And now, just to avoid donating blood, you’re making up lies like this?” “Why are you even wasting time arguing with her?” Jane’s mother snapped coldly. “William, you need to keep an eye on her. What if she runs off the day Summer has her surgery?” “Mom, don’t say that…” Summer interjected quickly, her voice soft and soothing. “Jane, don’t worry. I’ll do my best to find other donors with the same blood type in the next few days. I won’t keep troubling you.” “She won’t run,” William said, taking Jane’s hand and pulling her out of the room. “I’ll take you home.” It had been a while since Jane had ridden in William’s car. Out of habit, she climbed into the passenger seat. When William first got this car, Jane had joked with him, “The passenger seat is for your girlfriend only.” He had laughed and said, “Don’t worry. Without Miss Jane’s permission, no one else will ever sit here.” But now, as she opened the door, she froze. The seat—the seat that had once been hers—was customized for Summer. A wheelchair, neatly folded, was placed there for easy access. The seat was adjusted far forward to accommodate Summer’s slim frame. And the faint scent of Summer’s perfume lingered in the air, unmistakable and pervasive. William approached, reaching for the wheelchair, but Jane stopped him. “Forget it. I’ll sit in the back,” she said. William hesitated, then offered an explanation. “She sits in the front so I can keep an eye on her. It’s easier for me to take care of her that way.” “I know. I know everything,” Jane said, rolling down the window. The hot night air rushed in, tangling her hair in disarray. Her voice, however, was lifeless, a barren wasteland devoid of emotion. “Everything is about my sister. Her health is all that matters. I don’t matter. Even if I’m dying, it doesn’t matter.” William slammed on the brakes, the car jerking to a halt. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, staring into the rearview mirror. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with frustration. “Jane, how can you say that? I’m really disappointed in you.” Jane laughed softly at his words, the sound light and hollow. William pressed on. “If it weren’t for your sister, I’d be the one who went to prison back then. I’d be the one who almost ended up crippled. I owe her too much, Jane. I can’t just walk away from her. “And she’s your sister, your family. How can you be so cold to her?” He exhaled sharply, his frustration spilling over. “Half a year ago, I went with you to get a full check-up. The doctor said you were perfectly healthy. It’s just some blood, Jane. Donating it won’t kill you. “Can’t you hold on for just a little longer? Once Summer’s surgery is over, everything will be fine.” Jane looked at him, and for the first time, she realized she had never truly known this man. This was the man who had once saved her from her cage. And now, he was the one locking her back inside. Jane’s voice was calm when she asked, “You’re not planning to just take care of her for a little while, are you?” William froze, a flicker of panic crossing his face. “I saw the property deed,” Jane continued. “She’s going to be living next door to us. You’re planning to take care of her for the rest of your life.” William pounded his fist against the steering wheel, his eyes bloodshot. “I owe her!” “Then keep owing her,” Jane said as she pushed the car door open and stepped out. Before walking away, she turned and added, “William, I hope you and the Faulkners understand one thing: I don’t owe Summer anything.” Her figure quickly disappeared into the crowd. William remained in the car, sitting in stunned silence. His mind replayed the look Jane had given him before she left. Her gaze had been calm, but there was a finality to it—decisive and unyielding. His eyes drifted to the back seat, where a slip of paper caught his attention. It was a cancer diagnosis. William’s calls came in rapid succession. Jane declined the first, but he kept calling, forcing her to answer. Before she could say a word, William’s voice came through, sharp and anxious. “What’s this about a cancer diagnosis?!” Jane froze, realizing she had accidentally left the paper behind. After a brief pause, she replied softly, “It’s for a friend. She knew I go to the hospital often and asked me to pick it up for her.” William let out a long breath, relief flooding his voice. “Thank God. Have you made it home yet? If not, let me come pick you up—” In the background, Summer’s voice chimed in, playful and insistent. “But I really want those dumplings from that one place! And I want them now!” Jane cut him off before he could answer. “You’re busy. I’ll make it home on my own.” She hung up decisively. Listening to the dial tone, William felt a strange emptiness in his chest. He wondered if he had missed something. But Summer, now dressed and glowing with excitement, looked up at him with stars in her eyes. “William, are we leaving now?” He could only nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.” It was past midnight when William finally came home. He slid into bed, his cold body waking Jane from her sleep. She instinctively shifted away, but William rolled over and pulled her into his arms. His voice was heavy with exhaustion. “Jane… just let me hold you.” “These past few months have been so hard. “Thank God you’re still here with me. Between the company and the hospital, I don’t think I could’ve kept going without you…” He kissed the back of her head, and for a moment, Jane’s heart softened. But then her eyes fell on the new ring on his finger. It was from a brand known for selling rings that could only be purchased as a pair—rings meant for soulmates. When William had proposed to her, she had asked why he hadn’t chosen that brand. She had wanted it so much. William said lightly, “If I’m giving you a gift, of course, it has to be the best and most expensive one.” The ring was, indeed, worth a small fortune. But to her, its value paled compared to its brand. She didn’t like it. Still, she wore it anyway. Her cold fingers pressed against William’s palm, brushing over the ring. She asked softly, “Is it a couple’s ring?” William froze, his composure slipping. “Oh, I went shopping with Summer today. She saw the ring and thought it was pretty. They were sold as a set, so I bought both. She insisted I try one on, and I… forgot to take it off.” As he spoke, he sat up halfway, quickly slipped the ring off his finger, and carefully placed it into a jewelry box on the nightstand. Jane’s stomach twisted painfully. Watching his back, she felt a wave of nausea rise, the kind that made every fiber of her body scream in discomfort. She thought to herself how foolish she was—just moments ago, she’d been debating whether or not to forgive him. But how could she? Turning to the side, she gagged several times, her face pale and drained of all color. William rushed to her side, gripping her arm. “Jane, what’s wrong?” “Nothing… probably just a chill. My stomach hurts a bit,” Jane evaded his touch, and to her surprise, even his mere presence now made her feel sick. “I’ll just take some meds. It’s fine.” William hurried to the living room to fetch her some medicine. But before he could find it, Summer’s call came in like a siren. Her voice was tearful. “William, I had a nightmare. I dreamed I was in prison, locked in the dark, and people were hurting me. I was in so much pain… I was so scared…” “Please, can you come over? I need you.” Without a second thought, William bolted out the door. He didn’t even glance back at Jane, not once, even as she curled up on the floor, unable to straighten from the pain in her stomach. Jane was later diagnosed with acute gastroenteritis. At the ER, the pain was so severe she nearly blacked out. A nurse asked her for an emergency contact. Jane hesitated, then dialed William’s number. To her surprise, William answered with, “I was just about to call you. You need to come to the hospital right away—Summer’s anemia is acting up, and she needs a transfusion.” Jane paused, her voice hoarse. “William, I’m not feeling well…” “Isn’t it just a stomachache? Take some medicine and stop being so dramatic,” William snapped, clearly losing patience. “This is a life-or-death situation—get here now!” Jane hung up without another word. William called several more times, but she muted her phone and ignored them all. After getting an IV, Jane finally felt some relief and drifted into a deep sleep. When she woke up, it was already the next afternoon. Her phone was flooded with missed calls from William and countless text messages. The last one read: “Jane, that’s your sister. How can you be so heartless?” Jane let out a bitter laugh. She laughed and laughed until tears rolled down her face. Pulling out the IV needle, she slowly made her way to the third floor, where Summer’s room was. What greeted her was unexpected—a lively, almost celebratory atmosphere. The kind of buzz that didn’t belong in a hospital. A small group of patients and visitors crowded near the door, craning their necks to peek inside. Jane approached, and someone immediately stepped aside for her, grinning. “Oh, look who’s here! Your sister’s in there confessing her love to your brother-in-law. It’s so romantic!” Jane felt a chill run down her spine. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin. Peering into the room, she saw Summer sitting in a wheelchair, holding a large bouquet of red roses. William stood in front of her, his back to Jane. Summer was smiling, her eyes shimmering like they held all the stars in the sky. “William, I’ve actually had a crush on you since college. All these years, I’ve always liked you.” “I know saying this might trouble you, but I just had to get it off my chest. For the rest of my life, I’ll never love anyone else.” “No one will ever treat me like you do.” Her eyes glistened with tears as she gazed at William, her voice filled with emotion. William stood frozen, unable to respond. The crowd outside the room erupted in encouragement. “What are you waiting for? Say yes already!” “Yeah, everyone knows you’re always here for her. You two are obviously made for each other!” “Don’t let this chance slip by, man! Girls with her kind of courage don’t come around every day. Hold on to her!” William hesitated, finally opening his mouth. “But I’m still with—” “William,” Summer interrupted, her voice trembling and her eyes now red-rimmed. She lowered her head, her fragile neck bowing like a butterfly with a broken wing, lifeless and defeated. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You can reject me. Maybe… maybe I don’t deserve happiness after all.” She let out a sad smile, her eyes full of hurt. “Really, you don’t have to give me an answer. I just wanted you to know how I feel…” “I’m already broken. Even if surgery can save me, I’ll never be the same as I was before…” The next moment, William took the bouquet from Summer’s hands. He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his hand softly brushing over the top of her head, his voice tender and comforting. “How could I ever think that, Summer?” he said quietly. “You have to keep going, to stay strong. Don’t give up—not for yourself, but for me. No matter what happens, you’ll always have me.” The room erupted into cheers, celebrating Summer’s “successful confession” as if it were the happiest moment in the world. Only Jane remained silent. She turned and walked away, making no effort to stay. It was then that Summer spotted her. In surprise, she called out over the excited crowd, “Jane? When did you get here?” After paying her hospital bill, Jane noticed William waiting at the entrance. His expression was calm, as though he’d been standing there for some time. Seeing the receipt in her hand, William walked over and asked, “Were you sick?” Jane gave him a faint smile, her tone almost teasing. “Yeah, I am. Maybe I’m dying soon.” William’s expression changed instantly. He grabbed the receipt from her hand, looking panicked, but when he saw the diagnosis was just gastroenteritis, he exhaled in relief. “Jane, don’t joke about things like that,” he said, his tone heavy. Jane chuckled lightly before asking, “What counts as a joke, William? Summer confessed to you, and you accepted. Does that count as one?” William rubbed his temples, letting out a long sigh. “Jane, I’m sorry. You saw the situation. I couldn’t exactly reject her in front of everyone…” Jane let out a soft laugh—not angry, just distant. William continued, trying to explain. “Her surgery is the day after tomorrow. If I upset her now, she might refuse the operation. I didn’t want to risk saying something that would affect her mood.” As he spoke, Jane seemed to realize something—the seven days were almost up. “She’s been through so much already,” William added. “She’s fragile after everything that’s happened since she got out. Once the surgery is over, she’ll recover, and everything will go back to normal.” Jane’s expression remained calm, her voice steady as she replied, “It’s fine. I’m not upset.” William seemed relieved that she wasn’t angry. He even went so far as to reach out and take her hand gently, as if to seek her approval. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he said hesitantly. “Our wedding was supposed to be in two months…” William paused, clearly struggling to put his thoughts into words. “But after talking to the doctor, I realized that Summer’s physical and mental state will take at least six months to stabilize after the surgery.” “She told me she loves me, Jane. I’m worried that if we move forward with the wedding now, it might upset her. So I was thinking… maybe we could just get the marriage license and postpone the ceremony until next year?” Jane looked at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You’ve clearly already made up your mind. Why are you even asking for my opinion?” William sighed deeply. “Jane, you’ve always been the understanding one.” “Just think of her as a child throwing a tantrum for candy. Don’t take it personally.” Jane stood there in silence for a long time before finally speaking. “William, do you remember what you said to me when you first encouraged me to leave my family?” William froze, caught off guard. “What did I say?” “You said the loudest child always gets the most attention. That Summer was too good at crying, too good at demanding, and that I couldn’t keep backing down.” Jane’s tone was calm, but every word cut deep. “And now, you’re asking me to be the one who compromises,” she added. William looked at her, confused. “What are you trying to say?” Jane didn’t have the energy to explain anymore. She simply shook her head. “Forget it. Do whatever you want.” William thought she was giving him permission and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for understanding, Jane.” But Jane’s silence wasn’t understanding. It was resignation. That evening, William drove Jane home before returning to the hospital. Before leaving, he rolled down the car window and reminded her, “Don’t forget—Summer’s surgery is at 8 a.m. the day after tomorrow. Make sure you’re there in case she needs a transfusion during the operation.” “I probably won’t have time to pick you up, so call a cab. And could you bring some soup? She’ll need something soft to eat after the surgery.” Jane simply nodded. “Got it.” As William drove away, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Jane’s figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. For a moment, a strange feeling of emptiness settled over him. She was right there, standing still. So why did it feel like she was slipping further and further away? William shook off the thought, pressing the gas pedal as he headed back to the hospital. The day before Summer’s surgery, Jane quietly took care of everything. She arranged for her body to be donated. The forged cancer diagnosis and death certificate were handed over to the agency. Every asset she owned was transferred to a new offshore account. At 8 a.m. on the day of Summer’s surgery, Jane boarded a plane in disguise, her face hidden beneath a hat and sunglasses. As the plane taxied down the runway, a text came through from William’s mother: “Where are you? Why aren’t you here yet? Are you seriously going to let your sister die?” “Get to the hospital NOW!” Moments later, William’s calls and messages began flooding in one after another: “Jane, where are you? Stop messing around and get here.” “Summer needs a transfusion. Are you really going to just stand by and watch her die?” Jane scrolled through the messages calmly, then composed one final text: “William, this is the 45th day since I was diagnosed with cancer. I’ve realized I can’t continue anymore. Physically and emotionally, I’ve been fighting this battle alone.” “I’ve decided to stop treatment. Don’t bother looking for me.” “Goodbye. I hope you and Summer find happiness.” She snapped her SIM card in half without hesitation. She knew that in ten days, the agency would deliver her death certificate and a forged letter to William. Jane, as they knew her, would cease to exist.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295376”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #玄幻Fantsy #重生Reborn

## For three years, I was nothing more than the secret lover of Lucas Stone, the most powerful and stoic CEO in Silvergate City. And then, I got pregnant. Lucas made it clear from the start—he didn’t like kids. Worse, he was already planning to marry a socialite from one of the wealthiest families in the city, someone “suitable” for his status. But I wasn’t giving up my baby. So, I packed my things, emptied my savings, and disappeared into the night. Four years later, I was living a quiet life in a small town with my son, Leo. Life wasn’t easy, but we managed. Leo was smart, cheerful—and heartbreakingly handsome. Too handsome, in fact. One day, a photo of him went viral online. People couldn’t get enough of his piercing blue eyes and mischievous smile. Seeing an opportunity, I started a livestreaming channel featuring Leo. To my surprise, our little corner of the internet blew up, and I built a career out of it. But with popularity came scrutiny. It didn’t take long for people to figure out I was a single mom. To protect my privacy—and avoid awkward questions—I told everyone the same story: “I’m divorced. My husband passed away.” The narrative worked. My audience loved it. I became a symbol of independent motherhood, a beacon of strength for women everywhere. Life was good. Until one day, I noticed something strange. My top supporter on the platform—a user who consistently sent generous donations—had a profile picture and location eerily familiar to me. No. It couldn’t be. Lucas Stone? The man who wouldn’t know what a livestream was if it hit him in the face? No way. But before I could make sense of it, my doorbell rang. I opened it to find Lucas standing there, towering over me, his dark eyes burning with anger. He didn’t say a word—just pushed me against the wall, his voice low and dangerous. “Widowed?” he growled, his lips curling in a sneer. “Funny, because I don’t remember dying.” Before I could respond, he grabbed Leo’s shirt collar with one hand, lifting him up effortlessly. His gaze turned even darker as he looked at me, his voice dripping with fury. “And this?” he snarled, pointing at Leo. “Care to explain this?”

My Name is Lily Hart, and I Was the Secret Mistress of Silvergate’s Cold-Hearted CEO, Lucas Stone For the past three years, I’ve been Lucas Stone’s hidden lover. Our arrangement has always been simple: no strings, no complications, just business. Until today. Clutching my pregnancy report, I felt both nervous and excited as I walked into his company. Lucas was still in a meeting, so his secretary asked me to wait in his office. That’s when I noticed it—a wedding catalog sitting casually by his computer. Lucas Stone, looking at wedding dresses? For a brief moment, my heart soared. Could it be because of something I’d said? I had once mentioned wanting to take some bridal-style photos, just for fun. Maybe he remembered. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as insignificant to him as I thought. But my fragile hope shattered in the next instant. Through the glass wall, I saw Lucas walking down the hallway. He wasn’t alone. A tall, elegant woman clung to his arm, laughing softly as they walked together. I recognized her immediately. She was the woman I’d seen in his private photo album—the one he once called his “white moonlight.” His first love. I lowered my head and let out a bitter laugh. Of course. Why would Lucas Stone ever care about me? His long-lost love had returned. He was looking at wedding dresses because they were getting engaged. I was nothing more than a convenient distraction—a woman he could discard when the real thing came back. I grew up in a broken home. My mom passed away when I was little, and my dad remarried, starting a new family without me. I was left to live with my grandfather in a rural town. When he suffered a stroke and became bedridden, I was the one who covered his medical bills. By the time I got to college, I was juggling classes and part-time jobs just to pay for tuition and keep my grandfather’s treatments going. Then, during my junior year, I heard that working as a waitress at a nightclub paid four times more than my café job. Desperate, I applied. That’s where I met Lucas Stone. He was drunk that night, drowning in heartbreak from a failed relationship. I was unlucky enough to be assigned to his private room. Before I knew it, he’d pulled me into his suite. The next morning, I could barely stand. My legs were so weak that my manager noticed I hadn’t finished my assigned work and fired me on the spot. I couldn’t explain what had happened. I didn’t dare. All I could do was demand that Lucas compensate me for the job I’d lost. To my surprise, he didn’t just agree—he offered me something else. “A high-paying job,” he said casually. “Take care of me, and you’ll make more than enough.” It was degrading, but I couldn’t say no. I’d already given him my first night. What was the point of holding onto my pride now? And Lucas Stone wasn’t exactly a bad deal. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with abs that looked like they belonged in a movie. His tanned skin and sharp jawline made him look like he’d stepped off the cover of a luxury magazine. Sleeping with him wasn’t exactly a sacrifice. After two seconds of hesitation, I agreed. We signed an agreement: $30,000 a month, on the condition that I would be on call whenever he needed me. When we finalized the deal, he looked me in the eye and said, “Don’t fall for me. I won’t take responsibility.” He didn’t believe in love. And I pretended I didn’t either. For three years, I played my part perfectly. I never asked for more than what we agreed upon. But now his first love was back. He was getting married. Our arrangement was coming to an end. And to make things worse, I was pregnant. This baby couldn’t have come at a worse time. I slipped the ultrasound report back into my bag, my heart sinking. Just then, the office door opened. Lucas walked in, his tailored suit sharp and immaculate, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. He sat down at his desk, glancing at me briefly. “What do you need?” I hesitated. For a moment, I wanted to tell him about the pregnancy. But what was the point? He was about to get engaged. The moment our arrangement ended, he’d never think of me or this baby again. And I couldn’t let that happen. This child was all I had, my only family in the world. I couldn’t lose them. So instead, I walked over to him with a smile and poured him a glass of water. “I saw a jewelry set I liked,” I said casually, making up an excuse. Lucas leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes studying me. “What kind of jewelry? Didn’t I just buy you some last month?” “There’s a new jade and diamond necklace from Orlvis. It’s not too expensive—just a little over $20,000. I thought it might look nice on me.” He chuckled softly, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “I’ll have my secretary take you to buy it later.” Feigning excitement, I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Lucas.” For a moment, his usually cold features softened. He reached out to brush his thumb across my cheek, his voice dropping an octave. “That’s all you have for me?” he murmured, his dark eyes flicking to my lips. A good mistress always knows how to read her benefactor. I immediately understood what he wanted. Smiling shyly, I climbed onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. Tilting my head, I leaned in to kiss him, my heart pounding. Even sitting still, Lucas had an overwhelming presence. His lips were cool at first, but the kiss quickly deepened. Before I knew it, he had taken control, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist. His breath was hot against my skin, the scent of cedarwood filling the space between us. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me into the private lounge attached to his office. But just as he pressed me down onto the couch, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. Panic jolted through me, and I instinctively pushed him away. Lucas frowned, his frustration evident. “What’s wrong?” “I… I got my period,” I stammered, clutching my stomach protectively. “Isn’t it supposed to be next week?” Lucas’s sharp gaze locked onto me, his brows slightly furrowed as though he already knew I was lying. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stay calm and put on a strong front. “I’ve been staying up late a lot recently. My hormones are all over the place. Is that a problem?” He leaned back slightly, his weight lifting off me as a rare note of irritation crept into his voice. “And yet you still thought it was a good idea to come and tease me?” Lucas sat up, straightened his tie, and adjusted his suit, which had been rumpled during our earlier… struggle. Taking the chance, I quickly got up as well, smoothing down my clothes. But I couldn’t let go of my lingering frustration, so I asked, “Lucas, do you even like kids?” “No,” he answered bluntly, without hesitation. Of course. The icy finality in his tone hit me harder than I expected, and I felt my heart sink. Then, as if sensing something, he turned to look at me. “Why are you suddenly asking?” I forced a laugh, keeping my tone light and casual. “Oh, no reason. I just saw a little boy down in the apartment lobby earlier. He was lost, and he was so cute.” Lucas narrowed his eyes, studying me. “You want a kid?” “What? No way,” I replied quickly, waving my hand dismissively. “I just thought he was adorable. Honestly, if it were me, I don’t think I’d ever want to go through the trouble of having one.” “Good,” Lucas said curtly, his tone as cold as ever. He stood, adjusted his cufflinks, and opened the door to the lounge without sparing me another glance. I followed him out, my steps quick to match his. As I left his office building, my resolve solidified. I had to leave. I checked my bank account balance: $50,000. It wasn’t enough. Not even close. My grandfather was still in the hospital, and I was responsible for his medical bills. Even if I left Silvergate for a while, I had to make sure he was taken care of. That $50,000 would have to go to him. And then there was the baby. I’d need at least a year to give birth and raise my child before I could return to see my grandfather. But right now, I didn’t have enough money to cover both my pregnancy and his medical expenses. I needed more. I didn’t have much time left. Sooner or later, my pregnancy would start showing, and Lucas would notice. After a lot of thought, I decided to sell every piece of jewelry, every designer bag, and every luxury gift Lucas had ever given me. It was the only way. At the pawnshop, I watched as the store owner carefully inspected each item. Finally, he came back with a total: $50,000. I stared at him, stunned. “That’s it? These are designer pieces—some of them are limited edition! Lucas spent hundreds of thousands on these!” The man sighed and explained patiently, “Luxury items lose value the moment they’re secondhand. They’re not like gold. This is the best I can offer.” Disappointed, I handed over my bank details and waited for the money to transfer. As I turned to leave, a voice stopped me in my tracks. “Well, well, Lily. Is money so tight these days?” I froze, recognizing the voice immediately. Turning around, I found myself face-to-face with a sophisticated middle-aged woman dressed in elegant designer clothing. Her presence radiated authority and wealth. It was Lucas’s mother, Helen Stone. Panic gripped me. “No, Mrs. Stone,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Her sharp gaze and air of superiority made it impossible to meet her eyes. I instinctively took a step back, wanting to escape. “Wait,” she said coldly. “I have something to discuss with you.” We ended up in a nearby café. Helen sat across from me, her expression calm yet undeniably condescending. Without a word, she slid a check across the table. “One million dollars,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Leave Lucas. He’s getting engaged soon, and I don’t need you interfering.” For a moment, I was stunned. Then, joy surged through me. One million dollars. With the money I’d just made from selling my things, I’d now have $1.05 million—more than enough to take care of my baby and my grandfather for years. I picked up the check eagerly, unable to hide the excitement in my eyes. Helen raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by how quickly I accepted. Her look of disdain deepened. “That’s all it takes? A million dollars? I thought you’d try to ask for more.” I didn’t care what she thought of me. All that mattered was the check in my hand. With this money, I could finally leave Lucas behind. “Thank you, Mrs. Stone,” I said sincerely. “I promise I’ll honor our agreement. I won’t have anything to do with your son again.” But before I could even finish my sentence, a familiar voice cut through the air like ice. “Won’t have anything to do with me?” I froze. Slowly, I turned my head, and there he was—Lucas Stone. He stood just a few feet away, his piercing gaze locked onto me. His face was as breathtaking as ever, but his expression was cold and unreadable. I felt my blood run cold. “What deal are we discussing here?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes flicked to the check in my hand, the corners of his mouth tightening. I lowered my head quickly, avoiding his gaze. My hands trembled as I tried to hide the check, but it was too late. Lucas’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes darkened as he stepped closer, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. I didn’t dare say a word.

Helen’s voice was smug as she said, “See, Lucas? This woman is nothing but a gold digger. A million dollars, and she’d walk away without a second thought. All she cares about is our family’s money.” Lucas let out a sharp, icy laugh, grabbing my wrist with force and dragging me toward his car. Once inside, his cold, piercing gaze pinned me in place. “The check,” he demanded. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I carefully handed it over. He snatched it, and without hesitation, tore it into tiny pieces. My heart sank as I watched the check disintegrate, every shred of paper a painful reminder of the money I so desperately needed. But I didn’t dare protest. His eyes bore into mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. “Heartbroken, Lily? Is that it? You think I’m only worth a million dollars to you?” My breath hitched. I had no idea who he was putting on this show of wounded pride for. Was this the same man who, three years ago, made it explicitly clear that we were to keep things strictly transactional? The same man who told me never to fall for him? Now he was the one acting betrayed? And let’s not forget—he’s the one who’s getting engaged. I didn’t answer his question. A million dollars might be nothing to him, but for someone like me, it was everything. Despite the frustration bubbling up inside me, I knew I couldn’t afford to antagonize him. Not yet. Not when I still needed his money. So, I lowered my tone, my voice soft and trembling. “You’re getting engaged, aren’t you?” Tears welled up in my eyes, making me look fragile and heartbroken. For a moment, Lucas’s cold demeanor faltered. His gaze softened, guilt flickering across his face. After a long pause, he finally muttered, “Maybe.” Maybe? What a joke. He was clearly getting engaged, yet he had the audacity to look at me like this—as if he were some tragic hero torn between duty and desire. Still, I played my part. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as I whispered, “We’ve been together for three years. I never thought I’d feel this much for you, but… I respect your decision. I just hope you’ll be happy.” Now it was my turn to take the moral high ground. Lucas’s guilt deepened, and his grip on my hand tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. I knew I had him. He sighed, his voice low and heavy with remorse. “I know it was my mother who forced you to leave. I’ll transfer the million dollars to your account myself. If anyone should compensate you, it should be me.” Bingo. Relief flooded through me. The million dollars was still within reach, and I could finally breathe again. For a while, neither of us spoke. Then, Lucas lifted his head, his expression conflicted, his voice hesitant. “We… we’ll end things next month.” Next month? Seriously? What, is he scheduling a breakup like it’s a business meeting? I was furious, but now wasn’t the time to show it. The money hadn’t hit my account yet, and I couldn’t risk blowing everything now. So, instead, I leaned into his chest, pretending to be the perfect, heartbroken girlfriend. “Although it hurts,” I said softly, “I’ll do what you say. I’ll listen to you.” Lucas seemed even more guilt-ridden at my response. He cupped my face gently, his voice warm and tender. “I’m sorry, Lily. I really am.”

For the Next Few Days I had to pretend as if nothing had happened, going about my days catering to Lucas’s every need like usual. Today was his birthday. Lucas is picky—a man with a taste for exclusivity. He only eats custom cakes from Crown Heights Bakery, a private, high-end patisserie. A while back, I wanted to surprise him. So, I enrolled in a private baking class with one of their top pastry chefs, just so I could make him a cake myself. This morning, I went to the bakery bright and early, determined to make him a cake he’d remember. But fate had other plans. As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, I ran into her. Chloe Young. Lucas’s ture love. I froze, instinctively wanting to avoid her. But to my surprise, she recognized me immediately. “Lily, isn’t it?” There was no point in hiding now. She was a born-and-bred socialite, with access to every whisper and secret in the city. Of course, she’d know who I was. “I didn’t expect Miss Young to know me,” I replied casually, keeping my tone polite. I grabbed the baking tools and ingredients, pretending to be completely unfazed by her presence. “Are you making a cake for Lucas?” Her tone was clipped, as though offended by my indifference. “Hm,” I hummed nonchalantly, keeping my focus on the task at hand. “Well,” she scoffed, “I’ve already ordered his birthday cake. There’s no need for you to bother. It’ll just go to waste—no one’s going to eat what you make anyway.” Her words stung, but I wasn’t about to let her see it. I shot her a sharp glance and replied with a sweet, mocking smile, “Oh, don’t worry. Lucas can have your cake during the day, and mine at night. After all, he spends every night at my place. I’d say our relationship is far more… intimate than yours.” Her face flushed with anger, her composure slipping. “How vulgar!” “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” I shrugged, turning back to my work. Seething, Chloe stormed out of the kitchen, her heels clicking furiously against the tiled floor. For the past three years, I’ve been the one celebrating Lucas’s birthdays with him. But now that Chloe’s back in the picture, I guess I’m no longer needed. That’s fine. If he doesn’t want the cake, I’ll eat it myself. I’ve been craving cake anyway. Making the cake wasn’t easy. My frosting skills were terrible, and it took me over ten tries to get it right. But I enjoyed the process. The chef was patient, walking me through each mistake until I finally produced something presentable. By the time I finished and brought the cake home, it was already afternoon. Exhausted from the morning’s effort—and from my pregnancy—I collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke up, the sky outside was already dark. A strange sense of loneliness crept over me as I lay there in the empty house. The silence was suffocating, and a wave of sadness washed over me. Lucas hadn’t come home. Of course, he hadn’t. Chloe was the one who mattered to him. He was probably with her now, blowing out candles and celebrating his birthday. I closed my eyes, trying to force myself back to sleep. But then, the mattress shifted beside me. The faint scent of cedarwood filled the air, familiar and comforting. I opened my eyes to find Lucas sitting next to me, his dark eyes warm with amusement. His voice was soft, almost teasing. “Awake now? Were you not planning to celebrate my birthday with me?” I stared up at him, my emotions suddenly overwhelming me. Tears welled up as I felt a lump in my throat. “You’re back so late,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. Lucas raised an eyebrow. “I left work at four-thirty and came straight home. I’ve been waiting for you—for hours.” I blinked, confused. “I thought… I thought you wouldn’t come back.” “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, his tone light. “Didn’t you say you had a surprise for me? Don’t tell me you forgot.” I quickly wiped my tears and sat up. “Oh! I didn’t forget!” Hurrying to the kitchen, I retrieved the cake from the fridge and carried it out to him. “Ta-da!” I said, presenting it with a big grin. “This is your surprise! I made it myself. Is it a good one?” Lucas smiled, a rare, genuine expression. “You put a lot of effort into this,” he said, his voice soft. “Of course I did! So… what’s my reward?” I teased, batting my eyelashes. He chuckled and pulled me close, his voice low and indulgent. “I’ll have my secretary transfer a million dollars to your account—and throw in the deed to this house.” I froze for a moment, stunned by the unexpected generosity. My heart raced, but I quickly composed myself, putting on a show of reluctance. “Lucas, I don’t care about money or property.” He cupped my face gently, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But I care. I want to make sure you’re taken care of.” We ate the cake together on the couch, watching a show. Lucas usually only eats a single slice, but tonight he had several. I rested my head on his lap, gazing up at his sharp jawline. He wasn’t a good man—not by any stretch. But God, he was beautiful. I placed a hand on my stomach, thinking about the baby. If they inherited even half of Lucas’s looks, they’d grow up to be stunning. Then a thought occurred to me. Lucas had said he came straight home after work. Did that mean he hadn’t celebrated with Chloe? Was it possible that, deep down, I still meant something to him? Unable to stop myself, I called his name softly. He didn’t look away from the screen, but his voice was warm. “Yeah?” “If I… if I were pregnant, would you want the baby?” That got his attention. His head snapped down, and his hand instinctively rested on my stomach. His gaze was serious, searching. “Are you pregnant?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. I hesitated, my heart pounding. “No… I mean, what if I were?” Lucas thought for a moment, his hand still on my stomach. “I don’t like kids. Never have. But if there was a baby…” I held my breath, waiting for him to finish. But before he could, his phone rang. The ringtone was familiar, and so was the name on the screen. Chloe. Lucas hesitated, then answered the call. I couldn’t make out her words, but her voice was soft and sweet. Lucas’s tone, however, remained neutral, and the call ended quickly. When he hung up, he turned to me. “I have to go back to the estate. Don’t wait up—get some rest.” I nodded quietly, watching him leave. The door clicked shut, and the emptiness of the house returned. I knew where he was going. Back to Chloe.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295375”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #玄幻Fantsy #重生Reborn