1 “Sis, can I come over tonight?” Caleb’s strong arms wrapped around my waist, pinning me. He buried his head in the crook of my neck, deliberately lowering his voice to a playful whine. I chuckled, patting his back: “Next time.” Caleb lifted his head, his wounded gaze expressing his displeasure. “When’s next time? Tomorrow or next year?” I was about to answer when my peripheral vision caught sight of a black car stopped at the intersection, waiting for the green light. I nudged Caleb’s shoulder: “Be a good boy, let go. My husband’s here to pick me up.” … “You owe me a big one next time, Sis.” Caleb huffed lightly, reluctantly releasing me. “Mm, get going.” With that, I subtly widened the distance between us. Under my urging gaze, Caleb left, glancing back every few steps. No sooner had he gone than Adrian pulled up. Adrian seemed to have witnessed my interaction with Caleb. His face was somber as he asked, “Who was that? Fiona, are you two close?” My expression remained unchanged: “Just a colleague.” “Really?” Adrian remained suspicious but didn’t press further. It seemed he hadn’t seen Caleb and me embracing. I inexplicably breathed a sigh of relief. “Fiona, guess what I brought for you?” A sweet aroma wafted towards me. I looked down to see Adrian holding a bag of my favorite roasted chestnuts. He peeled one open and popped it into my mouth: “Good?” I nodded, savoring the sweet, soft chestnut melting in my mouth. A warm cup of milk tea was suddenly placed in my hand, dispelling the chill from my body. Adrian led me to the car, thoughtfully opening the door for me. He never allowed anyone to eat in his car; I was the sole exception. Adrian drove, not forgetting to spare me some attention. “Fiona, tomorrow is our tenth anniversary. Is there anywhere you’d like to go?” I leaned against the car window. Hearing his words, I was momentarily lost in thought. So, we’d been together for ten years. Adrian was incredibly good to me. He woke up at 5:30 every morning, just to make me breakfast. No matter how busy he was, he would pick me up from and drop me off at work. He sent me flowers every week, each bouquet meticulously chosen by him. He never missed any anniversary. Yet, this seemingly perfect husband had already cheated. In our seventh year of marriage. Adrian, the cheater, showed no signs of abnormality. He continued to care for me meticulously, treating me well. If I hadn’t seen that message three years ago. Every winter, my hands and feet would be ice cold, no matter how many layers I wore, I couldn’t get warm. Adrian bought over a dozen hot water bottles and placed them on the bed. Since the hot water bottles couldn’t stay warm all night, Adrian set alarms. As soon as an alarm went off, he would crawl out of our warm bed to refill them with hot water. Two years ago, Adrian was busy day and night striving for a professorship, yet still worried about me in the evenings. I couldn’t bear it. I quietly turned off his alarm and tiptoed out of the room. I intended to boil and change the water myself, but an accident occurred. The kettle suddenly burst, and Adrian, startled awake from his sleep, saw the messy scene. He trembled as he rushed me, scalded, to the hospital. I was diagnosed with second-degree burns. Thirty-year-old Adrian lay by my hospital bed, crying without a shred of self-consciousness. “Fiona, does it hurt? Why didn’t you call me to change the water? I’d rather it was me who got burned.” I chuckled, wiping away his tears, my voice hoarse: “It doesn’t hurt.” He refused to go to school, taking a full month off. He stayed by my side all day, changing my clothes, applying medicine. Even when I had to use the restroom, he would carefully carry me, afraid of hurting me. He knew I valued my appearance, so to prevent scars, he started researching beauty broths. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, I felt nothing but heartache. It seemed I only ever caused him trouble. I forcibly pulled him onto the bed, and under his surprised gaze, I lifted my hand to cover his eyes: “Get some sleep.” He was exhausted and soon drifted off to sleep. His phone, carelessly left on the nightstand, suddenly lit up. I initially didn’t want to bother, but the screen lit up several times in a row. All of Adrian’s passwords were related to me. I just didn’t expect Adrian’s phone to have two separate spaces. As soon as I unlocked the phone, a message popped up. Chloe: [I learned a new trick. Coming over tonight?] My head buzzed, my body tensed like stone. What did this mean? I swiped up, and photos of a girl in skimpy lingerie filled my vision. The girl was Adrian’s student. Her chat history with Adrian was explicit. So, even Adrian, a man so traditional and rule-bound, could flirt. I saw a different Adrian. Dominant, assertive, fiercely possessive. But not towards me. My mind was a blank. Cold sweat streamed down my back, soaking my clothes. What should I do? I was a coward. I dared not wake Adrian and demand an explanation. I was afraid of losing him. I prayed and waited for Adrian to cut ties with the girl on his own. This wait lasted two years. By the third year, I couldn’t wait anymore. “Fiona, Fiona, what are you thinking about?” The car had stopped at some point. Adrian wiggled a finger in front of my eyes. I snapped back, answering his question: “I’m just tired. Let’s just celebrate our anniversary at home.” Adrian never contradicted me, never disappointed me. Even celebrating at home, Adrian’s anniversary preparations were perfect. Gifts, flowers, candlelight dinner—nothing was missed. Adrian placed the sliced steak onto my plate. He sought praise: “Fiona, have my cooking skills improved? Shouldn’t I get a reward?” He gently tapped his cheek with his index finger. The candlelight flickered, dancing on his jade-like face, just as when we first met. The first time Adrian cooked for me, he couldn’t tell the difference between chives and green onions. But that day, his braised fish was truly delicious. I remembered it for a very, very long time, and still haven’t forgotten. If I could, I wanted to eat his cooking for the rest of my life. Adrian saw I wasn’t moving, so he proactively moved closer to me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. Our noses touched; I could even feel his breath. “Fiona, am I not attractive to you anymore? You’re always spaced out lately.” Hearing his jocular words, Caleb’s face inexplicably popped into my mind. Caleb was very similar to him, yet different. Caleb was just as thoughtful, just as gentle with me. But Caleb would get jealous, would act playful. I had never felt these emotions from Adrian. A sudden, jarring ringtone broke my thoughts. 2 Adrian glanced at the caller ID and hastily hung up. His actions were quick, but I saw his reluctance and hesitation. The only person who could make Adrian show a different expression was Chloe. “If it’s an important call, just take it.” Adrian shook his head: “Today is our anniversary. Nothing is more important than being with you.” Since he himself refused, I said nothing further. But the phone’s ringtone, like a death knell, repeatedly interrupted Adrian’s and my conversation. I grew a little annoyed: “Just answer it.” Adrian gave me an apologetic look, then hurried to the balcony and picked up the call. I didn’t know what Chloe said to him, but his eyes changed instantly, seeming sharp yet also intrigued. A quarter of an hour later, Adrian returned. He stood before me, full of remorse: “Fiona, something came up at school. I have to go.” I toyed with the phone in my pocket, asking, “Will you be back tonight?” Adrian looked troubled: “I don’t know when I’ll be able to finish. If I don’t come back tonight, you should go to sleep first.” With that, he gently kissed my forehead. “Okay.” Having received my answer, he left in a hurry. I didn’t actually care if he came back or not; I just wanted to confirm. Because Caleb had texted me. He said he wanted to take me on a date. When I got home, Adrian hadn’t returned yet. He came back from outside after I had taken a shower. He must have drunk a lot, his eyes hazy. Seeing me, his lips immediately curved upwards, and he flung himself at me, his voice tender: “Fiona, I miss you so much.” If he didn’t reek of cloying perfume, his words would be more convincing. Adrian clearly realized this too, immediately springing up from me, hastily explaining. “Fiona, don’t misunderstand, the smell on me…” He stared fixedly at my neck, pointing at a red mark there, and asked through gritted teeth, “What’s this?!” I instinctively raised my hand to touch it; it was probably just a lipstick stain I accidentally brushed on. But my expression was calm, as if this was just a trivial matter: “It’s a hickey. Don’t you recognize it?” It was the first time I had ever seen Adrian wear a “the sky is falling” expression. It was both novel and amusing. I brushed over the spot: “Is it that strange? Adrian, haven’t you done these things to Chloe too?” Adrian felt as if his neck was tightly squeezed by a pair of large hands. He forced a sentence through gritted teeth: “You… you knew?” “Mm.” Adrian visibly panicked: “When?” His trembling pupils told me he was afraid. I revealed the truth: “Three years ago, when you and she first got entangled, I knew.” Adrian suddenly remembered something. Three years ago, when Chloe texted him, why did he read it but not reply? He thought he had simply forgotten to reply, but it turned out I had seen it. I asked: “I showed no abnormalities, so you thought I hadn’t found out, right?” No one knew how heartbroken I was then. My heart felt as if it had been ripped from my body, a living hell. Yet I had to hide my emotions, so Adrian wouldn’t discover them. Three years had almost worn away all my love and hatred. I didn’t want to continue like this. “Adrian, let’s get a divorce.” Adrian could no longer maintain his usual gentle demeanor; he practically roared, “I don’t agree!” I couldn’t help but frown: “Then can you break it off with Chloe?” Adrian hesitated. I gave him a knowing look: “See? You can’t let her go, Adrian. Your heart isn’t with me anymore.” “I just…” Adrian tried to explain, but I cut him off. “Adrian, do you know? Chloe actually came to see me.” That conversation with Chloe was what made me truly decide to let go of Adrian.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416972”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Declan Martin, to save his terminally ill darling, made a deal with a mysterious system. The terms of the deal were brutal: he had to kill me, Nina Thorne, ninety-nine times, by various means, so his beloved could extend her life. The first time, it was in our marital home. He strangled me with his own hands. The twelfth time, we were hiking, and he deliberately orchestrated an accident, pushing me off a mountain. I fell to my death. He hired people to abduct me, then burned me alive. That was the thirty-sixth time. And the ninety-ninth time, I chose to end my own life. This time, I never woke up again. His darling finally recovered, but he didn’t go to see her. He knelt beside my cold corpse like a madman, hoarsely begging me to come back. I really wanted to ask him, isn’t your beloved perfectly fine now? Why are you unhappy instead? 1 Declan Martin’ ninety-eighth kill was to slit my wrists and then hold me down in a bathtub, drowning me alive. When I woke up this time, my face was blank. I gripped the edge of the tub, slowly pulling myself to my feet. Blood still swirled down the drain in the mirror. My skin was terrifyingly pale, only my eyes still holding a flicker of life. Declan had said the system indicated Clara’s heart needed a strong surge of life force. So, as he held the razor blade to my veins, his expression was devoid of emotion, intent only on quickly dispatching me, this nuisance. His gaze didn’t even linger on my face. I pulled the bathtub plug and watched the blood drain away. Then I picked up the showerhead, rinsing my body, as if cleaning a crime scene I wasn’t involved in. My life was merely a line item on Clara’s life-extension ledger, to be crossed out and rewritten at any time, until the damned ninety-nine deaths were complete. The system was as thoughtful as ever; upon rebirth, my wrist bore no trace of the wound. But the memories of my deaths became increasingly vivid in my mind. I walked out of the bathroom, put on clean clothes. Outside, dawn was breaking. A new day had begun, and so had my death countdown. The ninety-ninth time, what method would it be? A car crash? A fall from a building? Or something more novel? I was a little curious, a little numb. After all, repeating something ninety-eight times, no matter how painful, became a habit. My phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was a message from Declan. [Clara wants to go for a walk today. Get ready to accompany her to West Ridge Park.] His tone was like instructing a servant. When my sacrifice wasn’t needed, he didn’t treat me like a wife either. I replied with a single word: [Okay.] Then I tossed the phone back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. My heart was riddled with a dense ache. I suddenly yearned to know, when the ninety-ninth time arrived, would I truly be free? 2 Three years ago, Clara had a car accident. When I rushed to the hospital, Declan was kneeling outside the operating room. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was grabbing the doctor’s white coat, roaring, “Save her! Whatever the cost, save her!” The doctor merely shook his head helplessly. Declan’s back slumped, and he crumpled into a defeated heap. Only then did I realize that he valued his beloved more than me, more even than his own life. But before I could even leave, a cold, mechanical voice simultaneously sounded in both our minds. [Detecting strong life prayer.] [Life Transaction System activated.] [Contract target: Clara Thorne.] [Contract condition: In exchange for the designated subject Nina Thorne’s ninety-nine deaths, the life signs of Clara Thorne will be restored and maintained.] I was utterly stunned. What system? What transaction? Declan abruptly looked up, as if clutching a final lifeline. He confirmed almost impatiently, “You mean, as long as Nina dies ninety-nine times, Clara can live?” The system responded coldly: [Yes.] “I agree!” He roared the words, without a hint of hesitation, not even glancing at me, as if afraid the system would back out a second later. In that moment, colder than the operating room lights, was my heart. I didn’t even have time to protest before the system’s voice sounded again: [Contract generated. Phase one: Restore Clara Thorne’s critical life signs. Requires Nina Thorne’s first life sacrifice.] [Execution method: Suffocation.] [Executor: Declan Martin.] I was frozen, backing away involuntarily. “Declan, listen to me, the system is nonsense, don’t believe its lies, don’t…” But Declan was beyond my pleas. His eyes were bloodshot, stained with an almost insane stubbornness. “Nina…” He walked towards me step by step, cornering me against the wall. “I’m sorry.” He reached out and choked me. Suffocation instantly overwhelmed me. I struggled desperately, looking at his face so close to mine. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he choked out, “I can’t lose Clara… I truly can’t…” My mouth was open, but no sound came out. My vision began to blur, and the air was sucked from my lungs. I stared fixedly at him. I wanted to ask, why me? Declan seemed to understand my gaze; he avoided my eyes. “The system chose you. This is your fate.” He didn’t dare look into my eyes, only increasing the force of his hands. That was my first death, accompanied by his tears and that fleeting ‘I’m sorry.’ When I woke up, I found myself in my bed at home. Declan was sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing at me gently, as if the person who had strangled me last night was just a hallucination. At the time, I still harbored a foolish hope, believing it was just a nightmare. Until a few days later, news came that Clara was out of danger. And the system’s voice sounded again, reminding Declan that Clara’s body still needed subsequent life force maintenance, requiring a second sacrifice. This time, it was in our basement. He tied me to a chair and turned on the gas valve. His hands still trembled slightly, but his gaze was already much calmer. And later. The third time, he drove me to the beach, then crashed me into the sea. The fourth time, he poisoned my dinner. The fifth time, he pushed me from the top floor of the company, making it look like a suicide. … The twentieth time… The fiftieth time… His actions became more practiced, his eyes growing colder. From an initial apology, to later silence, and now to outright impatience. Each sacrifice’s reason was connected to Clara’s condition. “Clara’s heart is rejecting, needs life force to suppress it.” “Clara has a lung infection, needs life force to purify it.” “Clara needs stronger life force to fully stabilize…” And I was the sacrifice providing that life force. Ninety-nine times, like a curse, etched into my soul. I couldn’t break free, couldn’t escape. I could only hope to quickly complete these ninety-nine tasks, and finally be free… 3 On the tenth day after the ninety-eighth death, according to the usual pattern, Clara’s body was due for another small setback. Declan should also have received the system’s mission notification. The ninety-ninth time was almost upon me. I even started preparing in advance. I checked the gas pipes in the basement to ensure they were clear, loosened the screws on the balcony railing, and sharpened a dagger. This was so that if he found it inconvenient to act, I wouldn’t have to struggle fiercely and suffer more before I died. After doing all this, I looked at the withered flowers on the balcony, and for some reason, tears blurred my eyes. This was once the garden he and I had built together. But now it was somber and lifeless. I simply pulled out all the roses by their roots, threw them all away, along with all my personal belongings, discarding everything. Anyway, there was only one more time, and I would be free. Better to leave cleanly, without a trace. He returned, smelling of alcohol. Seeing the unusually empty and neat house, he was momentarily taken aback. “That dress… I remember you were as happy as a child when you received that gift.” I gazed at the brief moment of tenderness in his eyes, feeling a strange sense of unreality. The light blue dress I was wearing was indeed the first gift he had given me. Back then, he wasn’t yet the monster who would cruelly murder me for his beloved. “Really? I don’t remember.” “Nina, are you still sulking?” “Can’t you be a little more sensible? Clara only gets one life, and you’ve died ninety-eight times and you’re fine, aren’t you? One more time won’t matter.” “Just one more time. Once Clara fully recovers, I’ll compensate you properly. Then, whatever you want to do, I’ll be there with you.” Ha, how ridiculous. “Declan Martin, how can you kill someone ninety-eight times and still remain so unfazed, without a flicker of guilt?” I calmly threw the ring he gave me when we got married out the window. Watching the sparkling diamond disappear from sight, Declan suddenly felt a strange unease. Ninety-eight times, and Nina had never thrown away their wedding ring, but today she was so uncharacteristically defiant. He suddenly felt an emptiness in his heart, as if something important was being stripped from his life. He didn’t seem as decisive as he had been in the previous ninety-eight times he killed me. “Nina, maybe there’s another way to save Clara…” “It’s already the last time. You’re saying this now? It’s too late.” My unusual calmness unsettled him. He suddenly took a step forward, grabbing my wrist, staring intently into my eyes. “The last time. Do it.” He didn’t make a move, just impatiently tore off his tie and threw it on the floor. His grip on my hand was painfully tight. “Are you really so willing to die?” His voice held a hidden mix of reluctance and frenzy. I suddenly laughed. What was he so reluctant about? Three years ago, the first time he choked me, I begged, I questioned. I asked him why me, what our relationship meant, pleaded with him to let me go. But his eyes only saw Clara. Later, I tried to escape, to get away from them, away from this damned system! Yet no matter where I fled, even overseas, Declan would find me, bringing me back to this cage-like home. He wouldn’t allow me to leave without his permission, as I was tied to Clara’s health and the Martin family’s decade of kindness to me. So I compromised. At first, I still held onto hope, even if it wasn’t love, even if it was for that tiny bit of childhood sweetheart affection, hoping he might show me some pity. But now, with over ninety deaths accumulated, those questions, tears, and affection had long since vanished. 4 Seeing Nina in such a stubborn, broken state, Declan’s heart suddenly felt like it was crushed by a massive stone, muffled, unable to breathe. Just as he was about to say something more, the door suddenly opened. It was Clara. She wore a pristine white dress, her face flushed with health, looking perfectly recovered. Seeing the argument between Declan and me, she walked over in her high heels, gently removing Declan’s hand from my wrist, and softly whined, “Declan, don’t be so rough. Girls need to be cherished.” Then, with a radiant smile, she looked at me: “Nina, please don’t be angry with Declan, don’t blame him. Blame me instead.” “It’s all because of my poor health that Declan showed me more care. But don’t worry, he and I are just old school friends. I would never disrupt your relationship.” “And thank you for always taking care of Declan. He always tells me how wonderful you are. You two must stay strong together.” Seeing the irrepressible triumph in her eyes, I only felt cynical. Her words on my phone, “the unloved one is the home-wrecker,” were still fresh in my memory. What was she trying to act out for me? Declan, however, was blind. With his darling by his side, his gaze instantly softened. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Clara’s forehead, his tone a tenderness I had never heard: “Silly girl, why aren’t you resting at the sanatorium? What are you doing coming to find me in this cold wind?” Clara clutched her chest, her voice faint: “Declan, I… I feel a little tight in my chest. I couldn’t bear it anymore, so I asked the driver to bring me to you.” “I… I was just afraid I wouldn’t see you one last time.” This act, performed ninety-nine times, still didn’t tire Declan. But I was already scarred and exhausted, and I refused to play along any longer. I picked up the dagger I had prepared, placed it against my neck closest to the carotid artery, and gave him one last look. “Declan Martin, from this moment on, we are even.” Under Declan’s horrified gaze, I plunged the blade. The instant the knife sliced through my skin, blood spurted. Declan immediately flung Clara aside, rushing towards me, utterly desperate. I even saw a flicker of panic in his eyes. “No!” The system’s mechanical voice sounded again: [Contract complete.] [Target Clara Thorne’s life signs permanently stabilized.] Declan, congratulations. Your Clara is finally fully recovered. And I, at last, am free.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416971”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’m a voice-over enthusiast, and I recently started an online relationship. The day we were finally supposed to meet in person was fast approaching when my roommate suddenly approached me. With a serious expression, she tried to talk me out of it, saying men with good voices usually weren’t much to look at. She even worried about me going alone and offered to go meet him in my place. Just then, some strange text appeared before my eyes, like comments on a movie scene. The text said things like, “The female lead is so smart, she just snatched the perfect male lead,” and scoffed, “The supporting female character was too scared to go herself, so the female lead got her chance.” It even mentioned later how “the clownish supporting character regretted it when she saw the handsome guy, but the male lead completely ignored her.” Seeing my roommate’s determined look, an idea sparked in my mind. I quietly messaged my online boyfriend: “Change of plans, could you come tomorrow instead?” 1. “Sweetheart, I’ve already booked my ticket.” My online boyfriend suddenly sent me a message, along with a picture of his flight arriving near A University this afternoon. “Sweetheart, remember to pick me up.” I tapped the voice message, and the man’s deep, captivating voice instantly flowed into my left ear, a tingling sensation that shot straight to my brain. So good to hear. Lisa’s voice was just too perfect. My face involuntarily flushed. I hurried to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. As I looked up, I saw my plain face in the mirror. Not ugly, exactly. Just not pretty, very ordinary-looking. A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. Would Lisa… look down on me? Find me unattractive? My gut told me he wasn’t that kind of person. But thinking of his incredible voice, I felt a pang of inadequacy. For a moment, I wavered. I didn’t reply to Lisa’s message immediately. Normally, we’d reply to each other in an instant. Nothing was ever left for later. So, Lisa quickly sensed something was off. He tentatively asked, “Sweetheart, are you not ready yet?” “It’s okay.” “Just being yourself is perfect, don’t be scared.” Afraid I’d feel guilty, Lisa quickly added that last bit. Just then, my roommate, Ashley Hayes, walked into the dorm, laden with gifts. Our eyes met, and sparks flew. I knew she’d heard. “Summer Brooks, have I ever told you that online relationships are unreliable and you should break up with him already?” Ashley frowned, her beautiful brows furrowed, staring at me with displeasure. She really lived up to her reputation as the campus queen. Even when she was angry, she looked stunning. But I wasn’t like her; I didn’t have a string of admirers. My social anxiety was severe, making me afraid to even step outside. Remembering how good Lisa was, I instinctively tried to defend him, “Lisa, he…” “Don’t you know how many female students get kidnapped because of online dating? Besides, a guy with a nice voice doesn’t necessarily mean he’s handsome, why are you so obsessed?” She impatiently cut me off, then, as if an idea struck her, she blinked her pretty eyes, “How about this, I’ll go meet him in your place today and see if he’s a demon or an angel!” In truth, no matter what Lisa looked like, I wouldn’t break up with him. But I wasn’t sure if he’d accept me. After all, not everyone was a voice-over enthusiast. As I was pondering the credibility of her words, text suddenly flashed before my eyes: “Tsk, this supporting character is so dramatic, online dating but too scared to meet up, isn’t she just messing with him?” “Hehehe, no worries, no worries, our female lead is super smart, after she goes to meet him, she’ll fall in love at first sight with the male lead and easily reel him in~” “Well, our female lead is a magnet for men~ Even the school’s top jock fell for her, let alone some small-time streamer.” “LOL, the supporting character will regret it once she knows how handsome the male lead is, she’ll beg the female lead to give her boyfriend back, but the male lead won’t even bat an eye at her, what a clown!” Seeing those negative comments pop up, I couldn’t help but freeze. My mind was a jumble. 2. Six months ago. I met Lisa in a game. That day, I had a seven-game losing streak and my lane was even stolen. I was simultaneously crying hysterically and cursing up a storm. I hadn’t noticed, though, that my voice chat was open to the entire team. Everyone listened to me rage for a whole game. “Waaah, waaaah, can’t you see I pre-picked? What are you stealing for, you jerk?” “So eager to die, do you want me to help you?” There were many more unpleasant things I said. But when the mid-lane fell into danger, my hands moved faster than my brain. Even as teammates spammed the ‘retreat’ signal, I instinctively rushed to save him. The mid-laner immediately got a penta-kill against the enemy. I suddenly fell silent, no longer cursing. But he opened his mic and chuckled softly, “Support, your voice is quite nice.” “Can I add you as a friend?” At that moment, all I wanted to do was post on Reddit asking, “What do you do when you fall in love with your arch-nemesis?” Lisa’s voice was inexplicably captivating. I, as if possessed, accepted his friend request and added him on Messenger. From then on, he would flirt with me constantly. “Can I invite you to a game?” “I just sang a song, want to hear it?” “Don’t misunderstand, it’s just a song exclusively for you.” “The weather’s great today. I mean, how are you? Or rather, can I be your boyfriend?” Later, I learned he was a faceless voice-over streamer on TikTok. He had tens of thousands of followers. Many people adored him. I was practically invisible at school, with only Ashley as a close friend. How could I resist such blatant pursuit? I instantly fell in love. I had thought about meeting him in person, but in Lisa’s social media, his university was a top-tier institution. He participated in academic competitions every month. He was too exceptional. It always made him feel unreal to me. Until today, I finally understood everything. This was a cheesy romance novel with a ‘magnet for men’ as the protagonist. The female lead was my roommate, Ashley Hayes, who could captivate hearts with every move. My existence was merely a bridge for her to meet Lisa. Because of my insecurity and timidity, Ashley would go meet him in my place this afternoon, then fall in love at first sight with the pure-hearted male lead, Lisa, and use all her charm to win the handsome man over. And I, out of jealousy, would cyberbully the female lead, demanding she give Lisa back to me. Constantly making a fool of myself and digging my own grave. Ultimately, I would meet a tragic end, despised by all. “Why is this supporting character still pretending to be noble? Didn’t the female lead say she’d go first to scout out the male lead for her?” “Relax~ Our female lead is so beautiful, she’s naturally afraid her boyfriend will be charmed away~” “Serves her right, not going to the meetup herself and letting someone else snag a great catch.” “The moment the supporting character gave up on meeting, the male lead was already in our female lead’s pocket~” I lowered my gaze, staring at the text. My hands clenched into tight fists. The next second, I forced a smile, my voice natural, “Okay, then you can go in my place!” “Have fun~” 3. I hadn’t given up on Lisa. I was the one who had spent hundreds of days and nights with him. I was still the one who had helped him win thousands of game matches. Such a long-standing relationship, it couldn’t just crumble overnight. Similarly, I wouldn’t abandon my love because of a few baseless comments. Watching Lisa send me the rescheduled flight ticket, a warmth slowly spread through my body. No matter how unreasonable or irritable I was, he always managed to calm me down immediately. Patiently waiting for my explanation. He was so good, I really shouldn’t have hesitated. After some thought, I turned to look at Ashley, who was changing dresses in front of the mirror. She hummed softly, trying on one dress after another. Finally, she settled on a pure white gown that perfectly matched her makeup. No embellishments. Making Ashley appear even more elegant and pristine. A silver necklace just barely concealed a faint red mark on her collarbone. The comments were all praising her: “Our female lead is so beautiful~ drool.jpg, no wonder she can even win over the aloof male lead!” “This magnet-for-men female lead is awesome! All the excellent men should be hers!” “Handsome guys should be with beautiful girls, right? How dare the supporting character, looking like that, even dream of our male lead?” “LOL, the supporting character was scared the male lead would be ugly and didn’t dare go, but turns out she’s the ugliest one.” Hearing these familiar comments, my heart no longer stirred. Normally, I had no friends. Only Ashley was willing to approach me, exuding kindness. But I knew she was merely trying to highlight her own goodness and beauty. Walking with her, everyone would instinctively look at the more beautiful Ashley. My secret crush would also be drawn to her, becoming one of her many admirers. I could let her have anything. Except Lisa. Before leaving, Ashley’s gaze lingered on me, subtly mixed with a hint of disdain. Yet her voice was soft and gentle, “Summer, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. I’ll ask you one last time, do you want me to go in your place?” I sat up, pressing my glowing phone screen, “Of course not, you’re so pretty, Lisa will be amazed when he sees you!” “Oh, I forgot to tell you, I never told Lisa my real name. When you pick him up, you need to shout out my online alias, okay?” “Tsk.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Ashley’s beautiful eyes, and she rolled them, “You online daters are such a pain, not even daring to say your real name, afraid he’ll secretly look up your photos?” “I hate you online dating types the most. You wave the banner of pure love and say you’re looking for a soulmate, but as soon as you send a photo, you’re nowhere to be found.” I was about to open my mouth to explain something when she abruptly cut me off, “Alright, alright, I’m leaving. Don’t waste my time.” 4. Only after watching Ashley leave did I continue to open Messenger. On the white chat background, the man’s skin was pale, his features delicate, and his attractive almond-shaped eyes had a faint redness at the corners. This was the only photo Lisa had ever actively sent me. This picture was also my phone’s wallpaper. So, I was very sure, that the ‘love at first sight’ the comments spoke of between Ashley and Lisa was a lie. Because she had already seen Lisa. Today’s charade was merely a performance for me. To shift all the blame onto me, and then brazenly start a new relationship with my online boyfriend. But I didn’t want to let her have her way. “Sweetheart, remember to pick me up tomorrow.” Lisa sent another voice message, making my heart flutter. My face turned red involuntarily, and I stammered, “I… I know.” Afterward, we both opened the game. About five matches later, the sunset outside the window disappeared, giving way to hints of black. My roommate, Ashley, finally pushed open the door with an explosive temper, her exquisite hairstyle disheveled and quite a mess. She was like a madwoman, “Summer Brooks! How dare you trick me?!” “I waited all afternoon, there was no online boyfriend of yours!” Saying this, she extended her newly manicured hand, poised to grab me. I retreated in fear, quickly squeezing out a few tears from my eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be like this.” “Lisa’s flight was delayed, I just found out too. See, I called you.” I forcefully placed my phone in front of her. It accidentally brushed against Ashley’s expensive earring, and she irritably pushed it away, “Alright, alright, so when is he actually arriving?!” I thought for a moment and replied, “Tomorrow.” “Lisa said tomorrow noon.” “Fine.” Ashley went back to her bed, about to rest for a bit, when something suddenly occurred to her, and she stared at me with a dark expression. “This time, you won’t stand me up again, will you?” “No, no, never.” The comments reappeared: “Is the supporting character an idiot? She said she’d let the female lead go for her, but didn’t tell her the flight was cancelled? Is she doing this on purpose to mess with the female lead?” “How could she? The supporting character is so dumb, only our female lead can play her, she’ll get her prize tomorrow, just be patient~” “The supporting character is truly speechless, making the female lead wait all afternoon for nothing, and delaying the male and female leads’ meeting again. She can’t sacrifice our female lead’s happiness for her own love, can she?” “Seriously biased, when will this annoying supporting character log off?!” Ignoring these sour comments, I lay down listening to the love song Lisa had specially recorded for me. And drifted off to sleep beautifully. 5. The next day. Ashley woke up early to do her makeup, and unlike yesterday, she wore a captivating smoky eye, a black fitted top, and a mini skirt. As she was about to leave, I slowly got out of bed and called out to her, my voice laced with hesitation, “Ashley, I think, I think you’re right. Meeting someone from online dating, of course, I should go myself. It’s the least respect I can show them.” “It was really out of line for me to ask you to go in my place!” After saying that, I quickly washed up and changed into clothes suitable for moving around. “You?” Ashley’s face turned green. Her fists clenched, knuckles cracking. To meet the legendary male lead, she gritted her teeth and started to manipulate me again, “Well then, why don’t I go with you? That way, we’ll have each other’s backs.” After a moment of hesitation, I accepted her suggestion. Lisa was punctual. He got off the plane at 11:45 AM. At 11:47 AM, I saw him walking towards me, pulling a suitcase, with his long, straight legs. Judging by his height, he must have been around six feet one. Suddenly seeing him in person, I felt shy and resisted the urge to rush forward. But Ashley, standing beside me, smiled brightly at Lisa and said in a natural tone, “You must be Lisa, right? I’m ‘Little Pig Who Eats Thirty Pounds of Feed and Never Gets Fat’~ your online girlfriend!” “Little Pig Who Eats Thirty Pounds of Feed and Never Gets Fat” was my alternate account’s online name. It seemed she remembered what I said yesterday very clearly. Lisa, having never seen her before, instinctively glanced in my direction. His eyes showed confusion. He seemed unable to recognize either of us. The comments quickly chimed in: “Tsk tsk tsk, the male lead is stunned, isn’t he! The elegant and alluring beauty is right in front of you, his eyes are glued~” “The male lead must be thinking, why is one so beautiful, and the other looks like an elementary schooler, flat-chested.” “Even a blind person would know which one to choose, right?” “Hehehe, soon we’ll get to see the juicy bits~” “Countdown to the clownish supporting character logging off!” But the next second, Lisa merely gave her a distant nod and continued walking towards me. “Summer, have you been waiting long?” His voice was just as pleasant as it was over the phone. He casually took my cheap handbag and slung it over his shoulder. The corners of his mouth curved into a slight smile. He was about to lead me away. Ashley’s outstretched hand and her smile froze on her face. Perhaps she didn’t understand why. So, I kindly reminded her, my tone sincere. “Ashley, thank you. You’re right, I should not only come to pick up Lisa myself, but also tell him what I look like earlier. I thought about it a lot last night and finally decided to send him my selfie.” “Thank you, really.” Instantly, countless “Btch, you f*ing btch!” comments flashed before my eyes. Unfortunately, they were blocked by something. She turned around, a fake smile on her face, “It’s nothing, lovers always find a way~ I guess I did a good deed~ But you, next time, don’t play around like this, okay? Lisa came all this way, and you made me pick him up, how rude of you~” As she spoke, she kept glancing at Lisa opposite her. I nodded seriously, “Ashley, you’re absolutely right.” “If you hadn’t suggested going in my place, I wouldn’t have realized how much I truly like Lisa.” This time, the comments were fuming again, spewing profanity.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416970”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

That day, I decided to sleep apart from my wife after confirming her betrayal. For three months, I quietly gathered evidence. When I entered her room again, she hid her phone and pretended to sleep, her voice nervous: “I’m tired, I want to sleep.” I sat calmly on the bed. “We need to talk.” She replied impatiently: “What’s there to talk about? Go find someone else if you want. I’m just not in the mood.” I stayed calm: “If I did, what would you be here for? Have you ever shared the household expenses? Have you ever given me emotional support? I handle everything here. What do I need you for if I found someone else?” Victoria turned sharply: “What do you want?” “A divorce,” I answered directly. She sat up, stunned. “Daniel Huie, you’d divorce me just because I won’t let you touch me?” She grew louder: “You say I don’t contribute financially or emotionally—but whose child is this? Did he just appear out of thin air?” I looked straight at her and said clearly: “Save that ‘child’ excuse for the real father. “Do you think I am?” … “Daniel Huie, you bastard!” Victoria threw a pillow at me. “You’re insulting my character.” “Victoria, we’re both adults. We have to take responsibility for our actions.” “Do you think I’d spread rumors and shame myself without any proof?” “Fine, then show me the proof. If you can, I’ll agree to a divorce.” I slapped the paternity test report onto her face, “Open your damn eyes and see for yourself.” Victoria turned on the light, looking at the paternity test report. “Daniel, you actually did a paternity test on the child behind my back. You don’t trust me that much?” I glanced at her, “Go wash your face, calm down and rephrase your words. I don’t think what you’re saying right now makes any sense.” “You have absolutely no trust in me, so there’s really no point in continuing this marriage.” Victoria angrily began packing her things. About fifteen minutes later, she slammed the door shut and left. This wasn’t uncommon; in the past, no matter what the argument was about, she would leave home. She might be gone for a day, or two or three days. Blocking all contact, her emotional outbursts were maddening. To maintain this family, I was always careful, afraid of doing anything that might displease her. Even intimate matters between us, I endured again and again. But today, the moment she walked out, I immediately blocked and deleted all her contact information. Go look for her? No way. We’ll see if she comes back first to agree to a divorce, or if my court summons for divorce reaches her first. Not long after she left, I woke the child. I knew the child was innocent, but the moment I learned the truth, I couldn’t help but see him differently. There was no way I could continue pretending nothing happened and raise someone else’s child. I tried my best to control my emotions, made up an excuse for the child, and sent him to his grandma’s house that very night. My mother-in-law asked, “Daniel, the child has school tomorrow, why are you sending him over in the middle of the night?” I said nothing, merely dropping a paternity test report. Tonight, Victoria’s family home would likely not be peaceful. 2. The next morning, as soon as I got up, Victoria was already busy in the kitchen. Seven years of marriage, and it was the first time I’d seen her cook. When she brought breakfast to the table, it was clear this was far from her first time cooking. It looked and smelled delicious, I just wondered for whom she’d displayed her culinary skills before. She wore a chef’s apron and sat by the table, waiting, but I didn’t take my seat. After washing up, I placed the divorce agreement on the dining table. She grabbed my hand, “Honey, aren’t you going to ask me where I was last night?” “I only care about the whereabouts of the person I love. You’re not that person.” She started to cry, silently weeping, looking genuinely pitiful. I used to fall for this, but now my heart was completely unmoved. “Must it be a divorce?” “Yes.” “Honey, yesterday I went to my mom’s. When I got back in the middle of the night, my dad almost had an attack just suspecting we had an argument.” “If he knew I was divorcing, his health couldn’t take it.” “What does that have to do with me?” “How can you be so heartless?” Seeing Victoria still putting on an act in front of me, I directly exposed her lie. “Haven’t you noticed the child isn’t home? Yesterday I sent him to your mom’s, didn’t you see him?” Victoria’s expression froze, “I didn’t know how to tell my family, but my dad’s health is a fact, he can’t handle stress, that’s why I didn’t dare go home in the middle of the night.” She complained a bit, “You know he’s not well, how could you send the child over in the middle of the night?” I looked at her, “Think before you speak. You’re the one who cheated. Your cheating led to me sending the child over. You’re the real culprit causing your dad’s distress.” “What? Did you think your dad would be okay with it when you were cheating?” “I didn’t cheat.” Victoria cried even harder, “You can’t accuse me falsely.” “You know whether you’re falsely accused or not. I’ll give you three days to think. If you don’t agree to a consensual divorce, I’ll file a lawsuit.” “Also, pack your things and move out today. I find you disgusting.” Ignoring Victoria’s weeping, I got up and left. I had more important things to do today. Christopher Vance, an overseas master’s graduate, Director of Planning at Starstream Media Group. The man who put horns on my head. Today, I was going to confront him. Neither the adulterous dog nor the unfaithful bitch should be spared in this battle. To see this busy man required an appointment. I had the front desk contact Christopher, only mentioning my name, and he agreed to meet. In Christopher’s office, I looked at him, “Do I need to introduce myself?” “Anyone who doesn’t know Daniel Huie, the legendary Operations Director of Lux Media Group, doesn’t belong in this industry.” Christopher extended his hand, “Mr. Huie, I hope you’re here to discuss a partnership this time.” I didn’t shake his hand, “Have you sensed my intention?” Christopher gave an awkward laugh, “With your status, Mr. Huie, you certainly aren’t short of women. Is this really necessary?” “Then let me have some fun with your wife.” Christopher’s face darkened. He leaned back in his chair, “I admit it’s immoral to mess with a married woman.” He narrowed his eyes at me, “But… is it against the law?” “Mr. Huie, your business acumen in the industry is well-known. You’re this good?” He gave me a thumbs up. “However, when it comes to marriage, you’re this.” He pointed his pinky finger downwards, “Victoria learned a lot of tricks from me. Has she tried any on you?” 3. “Do you really want to hit me?” “Too bad for you, being with your wife isn’t against the law, but hitting someone is.” Christopher smirked, but didn’t actually laugh. Yet this silent provocation and mockery was clearly more infuriating. Unfortunately, he didn’t detect any anger on my face. I calmly took out a USB drive and pushed it towards him, “Take a look first. I believe you’ll change your tone when you talk to me.” I don’t fight battles I’m not sure of. I came here not to humiliate myself. I first saw Christopher three months ago at a business summit. At the time, I felt he looked very much like my son, more and more so the longer I looked. Afterward, I did a paternity test, confirming the child wasn’t mine. I used these three months to conduct extensive investigations. I had thoroughly gathered Christopher’s information. He and Victoria were high school classmates; he later studied overseas. After returning to the country, he married into the Hayes family, becoming a live-in son-in-law to a wealthy family. Ava Hayes, the heiress of Starstream Media Group, was Christopher’s wife. And he wasn’t just having an inappropriate relationship with Victoria; the USB drive held the evidence. Some of the videos were perfectly filmed, clearly documenting Christopher’s entire affair. Christopher’s face grew paler and paler. “If Ms. Hayes sees these videos, what do you think her reaction will be?” Christopher wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Daniel, it takes two to tango. I admit I’m a scumbag, but Victoria is no angel either.” “She was the one who contacted me first.” “We’re both men, you should understand it’s hard to refuse a woman throwing herself at you.” I asked, “Since we’re both men, don’t you understand what it feels like to be cheated on?” Christopher’s face grew even darker; he understood. Because he was a live-in son-in-law, he couldn’t control Ava Hayes. Ava had many lovers, but reality was cruel, their status and position were unequal. Ava could play around outside, but he couldn’t. Perhaps they had an agreement to live separate lives, but with the videos in my hands, things were different. If I exposed these videos, it would be a slap in Ava’s face, and she would have to react. Christopher clearly understood this. “Daniel, name your price, anything within my capabilities, I’ll definitely compensate.” I glanced at the teacup; he hastily poured water. “I’ve been reading a lot of CEO romance novels lately, and though I’m not a CEO, I want to experience what it’s like to have someone kneel at my feet.” Christopher’s face was grim, but he still knelt. Slap, slap, slap… I hit Christopher several times with both hands, “Mr. Vance, is it against the law for me to hit someone?” 4. Christopher forced a smile, “It’s illegal for others to hit me, but for you, Daniel, to hit me, that means you respect me.” “Well said, here are a few more for you.” Slap, slap, slap… Christopher dared not dodge, enduring several slaps. I looked down at him, “Now let’s talk business. I checked Victoria’s bank statements. Over the years, she’s transferred a total of one million and six thousand to you. Does that sound right?” Christopher’s face was grim, “That’s right.” “I won’t ask for much interest, just round it up to one point two million. Any problem?” “No problem, absolutely no problem.” Christopher answered quickly. “How long will it take to transfer?” “Three days, three days at most.” “Such a good boy, I almost can’t bear to hit you.” I said, giving him a few more slaps before getting up and walking out. “Daniel, the videos…” I turned back, “Depends on your performance.” Christopher’s face was grim, but he could only watch me leave. Leaving Christopher’s office, I rushed to work. Any anger I had was spent the day I discovered my son wasn’t mine. Now it was about recovering my financial losses and getting my life back on track. Victoria was destined to be a thing of the past. But I didn’t expect Victoria to still be at home after work that day. Not only her, but my parents and her parents were all there. Both sets of parents had prepared a lavish meal, with two good bottles of wine on the table. Victoria’s eyes were red, indicating she had cried for a long time. “Daniel, we’ve just been waiting for you.” Victoria hurried towards me, wanting to help me take off my coat. I disdainfully avoided her. It seemed she had called both sets of parents together. I was curious about what was to come; I wanted to see what she intended to do by bringing everyone together. I went over, greeted both sets of parents, and took my seat. Victoria quickly came and sat beside me. She picked up a piece of braised pork intestine and put it in my bowl, “This is your favorite, try it.” I directly threw the bowl, along with its contents, onto the floor. The atmosphere instantly became tense. My dad glared at me, “Is this never going to end?” Victoria quickly interjected, “Dad, it’s my fault, don’t blame Daniel, it’s all my fault.” She said this while wiping away tears, as if she had suffered a great injustice. “Daniel, Victoria told us everything.” My mom looked at me and continued, “This isn’t Victoria’s fault.” “Your parents understand you’re upset, but Victoria is the victim. You’re her husband, you should be more understanding.” “Victim?” I looked at Victoria in surprise, “I’m a bit confused, can you tell me what she said?” My mom looked at Victoria, “Victoria, haven’t you told Daniel yet?” “I… I…” Victoria looked at me then lowered her head, “I don’t know how to tell him, and I’m afraid he won’t believe me if I do.” “Don’t worry, your dad and I know you’re a good child.” My mom comforted her, “Since you’re uncomfortable saying it, I’ll tell him.” “Daniel, the child is indeed not yours, but it wasn’t Victoria’s intention.” “The year you got married, her classmates all attended the wedding, and afterward she gathered with her classmates again.” “As a result, some beast took the opportunity to get her drunk. Victoria was violated after drinking.” “Victoria had just married you; she was afraid to face this, and even more afraid to tell you. No one expected her to get pregnant with the other man’s child.” My mother’s expression was not good when she spoke, clearly she also found it hard to accept. She continued, “No one wants something like this to happen, and it’s understandable that Victoria was afraid to tell you then.” I stared at Victoria with a grim face. Victoria’s tears flowed even harder, “Daniel, I’m truly sorry, but I was really too scared at the time, afraid that if I told you, you’d divorce me.” I asked coldly, “Who was that beast?” Both sets of parents also looked at Victoria. I spoke again, “I have the right to know who that beast who hurt you was. If possible, I’d like to use my current connections to make him pay.” My mother-in-law quickly said, “Victoria, Daniel has a lot of connections now. Tell Daniel, maybe he can really help you get revenge.” “I… I…” Victoria stammered, her crying growing louder. “You won’t say, are you trying to protect him?” “Daniel, how can you say that?” My dad slammed the table. “Victoria doesn’t want to recall that past, it’s understandable.” My mom quickly intervened, “Let’s eat first, we can talk when Victoria is ready.” I said nothing, quietly took out my phone and called Christopher Vance. “Come to my place. I don’t need to tell you the address, do I?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416969”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My company suddenly lost millions because an intern mistakenly priced a $388 item at $3.88. Facing this situation, she actually pushed the blame onto me, claiming her poor eyesight prevented her from seeing the correct price, while I, with my 20/15 vision, failed to spot the error. She was the first to dare to dump such a huge responsibility on me in front of the boss. Bear in mind, I was a veteran employee, the core of the business; bothering me was simply asking for trouble. Besides, linking products was never my job. Yet, the boss listened to her words, nodded in agreement, and even asked if I admitted my mistake. I was about to protest when the boss handed me my payslip, saying he would punish my carelessness by shifting a decimal point in my salary. I looked down to see my original monthly salary of thirty-eight thousand now reduced to three dollars and eighty cents. … “Mr. Robertson, this is unreasonable.” I slapped the payslip back at him. “Listing products is an intern’s job. My responsibilities include introducing products, controlling the livestream’s pace, and replying to viewer comments, all of which already take a lot of energy.” “As for the link, the moment I saw it, I immediately notified Summer to take it down. But she was chatting with the floor manager at the time and didn’t take it seriously.” “That’s a lie!” Summer interrupted me, “Ms. Lin, you made the mistake yourself, how can you dump all the blame on an intern like me?” She sniffled, her voice tearful. “Skylar Lin, you can’t just take advantage of being a senior employee to brazenly bully a new hire, can you?!” “Besides, my intern salary is three thousand eight hundred. After paying rent and utilities, I only have money left for food and commuting. But you have a house, a car, and savings, do you really need to quibble over one month’s salary with me?” Summer looked frail, but she was quite adept at playing the sympathy card. Even Mr. Robertson was moved by her tears, quickly reaching out to offer her a tissue. “There, there, new interns are bound to make mistakes. These are all minor things, don’t cry. What would other colleagues think if they saw you like this?” Listening to Mr. Robertson comforting the intern, I inwardly scoffed. When the livestream just started gaining traction, one day I had a stomachache and wasn’t feeling well, so I misread a brand’s slogan. He immediately changed his expression. After the broadcast, he fined me five thousand dollars and told me that if I ever made such a basic mistake again, all my year-end bonus would be deducted, and I could forget about any share of the livestream profits. But now, Mr. Robertson was so lenient with the intern, not even pursuing such a major error. However, his leniency didn’t mean mine. I coldly brought out yesterday’s livestream replay and fast-forwarded to the moment the wrong link was posted. The scene of Summer chatting with the floor manager was clearly captured. “Mr. Robertson, it’s crystal clear who’s actually trying to shift blame.” 2. “Skylar, why are you so petty?” The boss pushed my phone back. “The young lady has it tough, there’s no need to be so aggressive.” “Alright, Summer will be docked three hundred eighty-eight dollars as a lesson, no more dozing off during livestreams next time.” Millions in company losses, and the boss dismisses it with a mere three hundred eighty-eight dollar deduction. How generous. “As for Skylar, please stay, I have something to say to you.” After Summer left, the boss closed his office door. “The weather’s getting warmer lately, your liver heat is too high, you should drink more loofah soup to cool down.” “And when you talk to your subordinates, you need to be mindful of boundaries. In this company, good performance doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.” My heart sank. What was the boss implying? “Look at Summer. When it’s hot, she knows to bring me lemon water. When it rains, she knows to bring me an umbrella.” “What about you? All day long, you just stare at your livestream. What contribution have you made to the company besides your performance?” “How to build a team, how to win people’s hearts—have you ever thought about these issues?” “You’ve been with the company for five years, and you’re still not as considerate as an intern.” The boss’s contemptuous gaze came over, and looking at his expression, I suddenly understood everything. What he wanted was an employee who could provide him with emotional value. Not an employee who could make money. “Mr. Robertson, I understand, I’ll reflect on it.” I stood up and pushed my chair in. Mr. Robertson picked up the teacup on his desk, took a sip of strong tea, and revealed a satisfied smile. “It’s good that you understand. This old tea always feels like it’s missing something, but luckily, the new tea will be on the market soon.” “New leaves, they’re much more flavorful.” Leaving Mr. Robertson’s office, I immediately went to hold a review meeting. Halfway through, Summer finally arrived, tardy. “Sorry, Skylar, my phone was on silent, I didn’t see the notification.” “These are milk teas for everyone, a small token of my appreciation.” There were ten people present, but only nine cups of milk tea, none for me. “Oh, Skylar, I clearly ordered ten cups, but I don’t know why there are only nine.” “You can have my cup, please don’t be mad.” I hadn’t said anything yet, and the intern already slapped the label of “being mad” on me. Her eyes held a hint of flattery, looking pitiful, and some of my colleagues couldn’t sit still. “Skylar, she’s just a kid, it wasn’t intentional, don’t be so hard on her.” “Yeah, you usually watch your sugar anyway, you wouldn’t like this, just give it back to her.” “Exactly, exactly, don’t bully her.” Listening to everyone’s accusations, a chill ran down my spine. In the eyes of my colleagues I spent every day with, was I really such an unreasonable person? Mr. Robertson’s words from earlier echoed in my mind, and I began to doubt myself. I took a deep breath, handed the milk tea back to the intern, and reminded her, “Summer, pay more attention to your work from now on.” Summer obediently agreed. Seeing her docile appearance, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been too harsh on the intern. After the review meeting, I asked Summer to stay behind, wanting to have a heart-to-heart with her. To my surprise, she refused. “Skylar, the boss put me in charge of the Spring Special Livestream, I have too many things to prepare, no time for idle chat.” 3. She emphasized the words “idle chat,” her eyes full of self-satisfaction. The boss actually put an intern in charge of the Spring Special Livestream? That was a project worth hundreds of millions. There was a good chance the company would lose a fortune due to dismal sales. “Are you sure Mr. Robertson put you in charge of this project?” “Yes, he said my cooperation with the brothers and sisters in the team was good, and after a bit of getting used to it, livestream sales would definitely achieve results.” “I took the opportunity to seize this chance from him.” The intern changed her tone, saying, “Oh, I forgot that usually these special events are handled by you, Skylar.” “Skylar, you won’t blame me for stealing your thunder, will you?” I looked at Summer, reeking of ‘green tea’ vibes, and scoffed internally. Her intentions were glaringly obvious: she wanted to shine in the Spring Special and thus replace me. But unfortunately, all her schemes would be in vain. For a company like this, I had no intention of staying. “You prepare well for the Spring Special. I’m going to relax and travel.” The intern’s face changed. “Skylar, you’re not participating in the Spring Special?” I smiled, “It’s your special event now. There’s no point in me coming.” “If you don’t understand something, ask the boss. If that doesn’t work, buy him a few more cups of milk tea, he’ll definitely help you.” As soon as my leave request was submitted, my best friend Anna and I boarded a flight to Dali that very night. Muting work notifications, I began to enjoy my vacation. When Anna learned about my ordeal at the company, she erupted in anger. “Everyone in your company is so ungrateful!” “You worked diligently for three years, and you’re no match for an intern’s few cups of milk tea? The money you made for the company last month alone is probably worth their annual salaries, isn’t it?” “Skylar, please don’t tell me you still want to work for a company like that!” Watching Anna passionately defend me, I reassured her. “Don’t worry, I’ll submit my resignation to Mr. Robertson after the holiday.” “Didn’t you just open an e-commerce company and are looking for partners? I’m volunteering.” Anna’s eyes lit up instantly when she heard my words. “Skylar, are you really coming to our company?” I nodded, “If it weren’t for our years of friendship, I would have wanted to leave the company long ago. Now Mr. Robertson just found my successor, so I’m taking the easy way out and fulfilling his wish.” “That’s great! A top streamer like you joining my team is a godsend!” Seeing Anna’s joyous expression, I offered the only sincere smile I’d worn in days. Unfortunately, my vacation only lasted one day before brand partners almost blew up my phone. “Skylar, what happened with your company’s livestream yesterday! Why did you replace the host with a mute? Only a dozen products sold! We paid two million for the slot! How does your company plan to compensate us for this loss?” “Liam, how did the product link get messed up yesterday? A $158 product was listed as $15.8, and viewers placed hundreds of thousands of orders. The company sent me to find you. How are we going to resolve this?” “Ms. Lin, yesterday’s order volume was too embarrassing. The company says you took leave and weren’t in charge of the livestream, so they had to let an intern step in. Is that true?” I listened to the accusations on the other end of the line, a cold laugh escaping me. That bunch in the company sure were old hands at shifting blame and twisting facts. It was clearly their insistence on having an intern replace me, yet in the end, they claimed I deliberately threw a tantrum and neglected the livestream, indirectly causing massive losses for the brand. Collecting myself, I said, “I’ll explain everything in person at the celebration party after the special event.” After each special event, the company would hold a celebration party with the brand to strengthen their cooperation. Normally, these celebration parties were for renewing contracts. I wondered if anyone would still be willing to partner with the company this time, and if Mr. Robertson would still be in the mood to celebrate. 4. Hanging up the phone, I opened Messenger and saw the intern had posted on her social media. “My first livestream was so nerve-wracking, I made a small mistake, but everyone in the company, the older brothers and sisters, are so kind and understanding.” It was accompanied by two selfies. Below were a string of likes from people in the department team. The boss’s comment was mixed in. “Newcomers are bound to make mistakes, keep up the good work, believe in yourself.” I saw that message and instantly felt a lump in my throat. Back then, fresh out of college, I jumped jobs a few times before landing at this e-commerce company, which at the time only had two people. Mr. Robertson was very enthusiastic then, introducing me to the company’s situation and promising a substantial bonus. In the beginning, the company struggled, products weren’t selling, so I focused on volume, livestreaming for over ten hours a day. I talked until my throat was dry and my voice was hoarse, but I kept working. I didn’t dare ask for leave even when I was sick, pushing myself until I was hospitalized, without a single complaint. Every year, I sacrificed holiday gatherings with my family, and I was almost always present for every livestream. Through this kind of relentless effort, my livestream audience grew from dozens of people to eventually a hundred thousand, with every sales event a hit, breaking sales records of tens of millions. The boss made a fortune, while my physical and mental state deteriorated. In such circumstances, I asked the boss for leave, but was dismissed as being overly sensitive. “Who in the company isn’t tired? You’re earning such a high salary every day, you should be thinking about how to earn that salary, not always about taking leave and being lazy.” “You should think more about the company, contribute more. If you take one day off, the company loses millions. Can you live with that?” “And your team, how will they work if you’re not there? Several brands have come knocking again recently, if you leave, who will handle this mess?” Under the boss’s scathing rebuke, I withdrew my leave request. But my heart was utterly exhausted. Later, at my repeated insistence, the boss finally agreed to assign me an intern to help with my livestream work. But to my surprise, he repeatedly suppressed my value, promoting the inexperienced intern. Perhaps, in his eyes, I was just a worn-out old tool that had lost its usefulness. And fresher tools needed more careful nurturing. In the blink of an eye, my vacation ended, and I returned to the company, just in time for the celebration party. At the party, the intern wore a lavish long gown, standing beside the boss, as if she were the star of the entire event. The boss also spoke highly of her, constantly recommending her to the brand partners. “This is our rising star host, Summer, an intern under Skylar Lin. She has a steady demeanor, outstanding sales results, and is a promising talent we’re committed to nurturing.” The brand partners, upon hearing Summer was my intern, couldn’t help but show a bit more respect. But their expressions were a little awkward, seemingly still recovering from the nightmare of the last Spring Special. After introducing Summer to the brand partners, the boss turned his gaze to me. He led a toast, telling me: “Skylar, you should learn more from the intern.” Me, a million-dollar sales host, learning from an intern? The boss saw my look of surprise and handed me a bowl of pork rib and corn soup. “Don’t be indignant. After all these years, you should also learn to be grateful and give back to the company.” “Look at Summer. All the dishes at this celebration party were made by her, she said it was to save the company money.” “Drink more of this soup, and really think about what I’ve told you today.” At these words, the brand representatives at the table detected something unusual. This celebration party, it seemed, was a trap set just for me. And looking at the pork rib soup in front of me, I smiled faintly: “Mr. Robertson, I understand.” “The company doesn’t lack sales hosts; it lacks cafeteria aunties.” “I’ll submit my resignation tonight. Please make sure to approve it.” After saying that, I turned my gaze to the astonished brand partners. “I, Skylar Lin, officially withdraw from Vista Company today, and have decided to start my own livestream business. Bosses with ideas for cooperation, feel free to contact me.” I downed the wine on the table in one gulp. Just as I was about to turn and leave, I heard a furious growl from across the table. “Skylar Lin, the company diligently nurtured you for three years! Is this how you repay the company?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416968”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Two years ago, I ended a failed marriage. It all stemmed from that impulsive cross-country surprise. I had planned to surprise my wife, Evelyn Hayes, who was living abroad, only to find her cohabiting with my best friend. My heart turned to ice, and I didn’t hesitate to file for divorce. Later, I accepted an arranged marriage from my family, and life slowly got back on track. This day, I had just come out of a department store, carrying lingerie I’d bought for my fiancée. A familiar figure suddenly rushed over—it was Evelyn, who had just returned from abroad. She snatched the bag from my hand and immediately launched into a tirade: “Larry Bayer, how dare you find someone else?” … 1 I sneered, “We’re divorced. You have no right to meddle in my relationships.” Evelyn grabbed my wrist. “I never signed any papers with you, so how can we be divorced? You’re still my husband.” Standing next to her, Gary Davies indignantly said, “Evelyn, you worried about him suffering while you were abroad, and he’s been with another woman behind your back.” Then he looked at me, “Larry, Evelyn loves you so much, how could you do something like this?” I cursed without mercy, “Shut up, you shameless homewrecker!” Evelyn slapped me across the face. “You bastard, cheating while I was away and then having the nerve to curse Gary?” Blood instantly welled up at the corner of my lip. “Evelyn, what is wrong with you? Two years ago, I filed for a forced divorce, and the divorce certificate was given to your parents.” Evelyn didn’t believe me. “Don’t lie to me, I never received a divorce certificate.” Her gaze at me was as if she wanted to tear me apart. “Whose slutty underwear is this?” I looked at her coldly, “It’s none of your business whose it is.” Two years ago, I flew abroad to find Evelyn, only to unexpectedly discover her living with Gary Davies. I was deeply disappointed. I took the evidence of Evelyn’s infidelity to a lawyer and filed for a forced divorce. Later, I accepted an arranged match from my family, Kate Franco. After marrying her, I’ve been very happy. Last night, she said her lingerie was a bit small, so I came to the mall to buy her some new sets, never expecting to run into Evelyn. I didn’t want to get further entangled with them. I was about to leave, but Evelyn blocked me. I frowned and said, “Evelyn, we have no connection whatsoever. If you keep this up, I’m calling the police.” Gary said, “Evelyn, he’s just trying to scare you. If he really called the police, everyone would know he cheated. He might not care about losing face, but his parents certainly would.” “I think he wants to have multiple wives and use your money to support other women.” That last remark completely ignited Evelyn’s fury. She kicked me in the abdomen. “You cheat, and you still want to use my money to support your mistress!” Evelyn had trained in kickboxing and taekwondo. I doubled over, too much in pain to speak. She dragged me to a nearby alley like a madwoman. I struggled desperately but was no match for her strength. Unable to bear it any longer, I pulled out my phone to call the police. Unexpectedly, Evelyn snatched my phone and smashed it on the ground. Seeing my shattered phone, my heart sank. Gary looked at me, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. “Evelyn, if people in our circle found out you were cheated on, they’d definitely laugh at you.” I turned to run, but just as I took a step, Evelyn grabbed me by the nape of the neck. She slammed my head against the wall. My head was cut open and bleeding. Evelyn cursed, “How long have I been gone, and you can’t stand the loneliness? Tell me, who is that slut?” I lay on the ground, my pale face mixed with blood, a shocking sight. “I forbid you from calling Kate a slut.” Evelyn paused, then lifted her foot and stepped on me. “You’re terrible at making up excuses when you lie to me.” “Who in all of Ashton doesn’t know Kate Franco is in a vegetative state, still lying in the hospital?” 2. Kate Franco was the wealthiest and most influential heiress in Ashton. Five years ago, due to a car accident, she became a vegetable. But after Evelyn and I divorced, she woke up. My parents always liked her and encouraged us to get together. However, the internal affairs of the Franco family were complicated, so for safety reasons, Kate’s awakening had not been publicly announced. I shook my head, “I’m not lying to you, my wife is Kate Franco. We’re married, legally husband and wife.” “If you call her now, you’ll know I’m not lying.” Evelyn glared at me. “Call her? Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to find someone to impersonate Kate to fool me!” I urgently said, “No, I swear, what I’m saying is true.” Gary handed his phone to Evelyn. “I checked, Kate Franco hasn’t woken up yet. Besides, with her status, if she were married, there’s no way there wouldn’t be any news online.” “Larry, if you’re going to lie to us, at least pick someone else.” The news of Kate’s awakening couldn’t be revealed yet, so we had to keep our marriage private. The rumors about her online were still five years old, so of course, they wouldn’t find anything. My heart was burning with anxiety. I suddenly remembered I had our marriage certificate in my bag, quickly pulled it out, and handed it to Evelyn. “This is our marriage certificate.” Evelyn fell silent immediately upon seeing my and Kate’s marriage certificate. I breathed a sigh of relief, “Now you believe me, can you let me go?” “Wait.” Gary glanced at my marriage certificate. “This marriage certificate is fake, Evelyn, don’t let him trick you.” Evelyn reacted, kicking me several times. “You bastard, to make it easier to cheat, you even forged a marriage certificate? Do you think I’m an idiot?” Saying this, she tore my marriage certificate to shreds. I hadn’t expected Evelyn to be so foolish, believing everything Gary said. Just then, someone passed by, and I cried out for help, shouting: “Please, help me!” One of the women stopped and looked at me, probably feeling pity and wanting to help. Like a drowning man grasping at a straw, I pleaded with her: “I’m injured, please send me to the hospital.” The woman was about to reach out to help me when Evelyn pushed her away. She pointed at my face and said, “He’s my husband, he cheated while I was away, I’m teaching him a lesson, don’t interfere.” I shook my head, denying it, “I’m not her husband! I’m not!” Evelyn pulled out our old wedding photos and showed them to the people present. “These are our wedding photos, he is my husband, the real deal.” I explained, “It’s not like that. Two years ago, I found out she cheated, so I divorced her.” The woman who had wanted to help me asked, “You say you’re divorced, do you have proof?” I looked at my shattered phone on the ground, my heart completely cold. Even if I had proof, there was no way to show it to her now. “My phone’s broken. Please help me call my wife, she can prove what I’m saying. Her number is…” “Don’t believe him, he’s trying to call for backup to save him.” Evelyn interrupted me. At this, the onlookers gave me disgusted looks. “No wonder he got beaten so badly, turns out he was caught cheating by his wife. Serves him right.” “They should really teach men who can’t control their lower halves a lesson. See if he dares to cheat again!” “This guy looks quite decent, but I never expected him to be such a playboy.” Gary scoffed, “Those who look decent on the outside are usually no good on the inside. They get restless if they don’t find a woman for a day.” “He usually likes to mess around with different women.” I wanted to rush up and hit Gary, but I couldn’t muster any strength. “Gary Davies, you were clearly the homewrecker, interfering in my marriage with Evelyn, which is why I divorced her.” Gary looked at me with an aggrieved expression, “Larry, don’t talk nonsense and ruin my reputation. Evelyn and I are just friends.” A flicker of guilt crossed Evelyn’s eyes, and she raised her voice, “You shameless jerk, you cheated on me and now you’re trying to slander Gary and me.” They played off each other, painting me as a philandering scumbag. Evelyn found a wooden stick from somewhere, her tone vicious. “You like playing with women so much, I’ll just cripple you!” 3 I gasped, my eyes wide with terror, “Evelyn, have you lost your mind?” Evelyn glared at me fiercely, “You dared to cheat on me, you should have expected the consequences!” “We’ve been divorced for ages, there’s no such thing as cheating!” “Still trying to argue!” Seeing Evelyn so deranged, I was terrified. I desperately tried to crawl forward, but the next second, Evelyn and Gary dragged me back. “Don’t run!” I never expected her to be this crazy. I desperately grabbed the wooden stick with both hands, trying to stop her. “Evelyn, if you let me go now, I promise I won’t hold what you did against you.” Evelyn sneered. “It’s only right that I hit you for cheating. Later, I’m going to go find your parents and ask them how they could have raised a son like you!” Evelyn continued speaking while telling Gary to hold me down. She savagely beat me with the wooden stick. I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, trembling uncontrollably. “Evelyn, stop hitting me.” Gary stoked the flames from the side, “Evelyn worked hard abroad, hoping to reunite with you soon, and you betrayed her!” Gary’s words enraged Evelyn even further. She hit me with even more fervor, as if trying to beat me to death! I curled up on the ground, powerless to resist, gritting my teeth, “Evelyn, stop hitting me, or you’ll regret it.” Kate loved me very much. If she found out I was beaten like this, Evelyn would surely be dead meat. Evelyn even told Gary to record a video next to us, to send to my parents later. Gary excitedly said, “I’ll post it online, let everyone see what this scumbag looks like.” Evelyn raised the stick, aimed it at my lower body, and brought it down hard. “Ah!” I cried out in agony, feeling something snap. “Evelyn Hayes, Gary Davies, I will make you pay for this.” I never hated Evelyn even when I discovered her infidelity, but at this moment, I truly hated her. I wished I could kill them! Gary recorded the video, pointing at me. “Evelyn, look, he’s still being stubborn, clearly doesn’t know he’s wrong yet.” Evelyn swung the stick at my head. “Larry, do you know you’re wrong?” I was dizzy from the beating. Evelyn looked at me, covered in blood, and suddenly panicked. “Gary, he’s bleeding so much, what if he dies?” Gary chuckled. “What’s there to be afraid of? He’s your husband. If anything happens, it’s just considered domestic violence, no big deal.” “His parents wouldn’t dare do anything even if they knew, after all, Larry wronged you first. Maybe they’d even support you in disciplining their son.” Hearing Gary say this, Evelyn suddenly felt emboldened. “That’s right, his parents should thank me.” I was barely clinging to life, gritting my teeth and forcing out, “Evelyn Hayes, you’ll die a miserable death!” Gary said, “Evelyn, look, he still hasn’t realized his mistake. He might even cheat again in the future.” Evelyn nodded. “He won’t shed tears until he sees the coffin. Let’s strip him naked and parade him through the streets to teach him a lesson!” “I refuse to believe I can’t handle him!” With that, she and Gary furiously started stripping off my clothes. I trembled with rage. “Evelyn Hayes, Gary Davies, you two beasts will get your comeuppance!” I desperately clung to my clothes, not letting them succeed. But my jacket was still torn off, and the clothes underneath were also ripped. I had never felt such humiliation in my life. If I had a knife in my hand right now, I would have stabbed them without hesitation. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and finally, I passed out… 4 When I woke up, all I saw was white. I turned to the nurse and nervously asked, “How is my body?” “Your injuries are very severe. You likely won’t be able to have children in the future.” I closed my eyes and cried. Although I had already guessed, hearing it confirmed was still incredibly painful. The nurse looked at my distress and sighed. “I heard it was because your wife caught you cheating, and she beat you like this. If you had just lived a chaste life, none of this would have happened.” I emphasized, “She’s not my wife!” The nurse shook her head, “Don’t lie. Your wife posted your video online. Now the whole internet knows you cheated and got beaten.” Saying this, she handed me her phone. It turned out that after I passed out, someone who couldn’t stand it any longer rushed me to the hospital. At the same time, the video of me being beaten was circulating widely online, and many netizens were cursing me. Before I could clarify anything, I heard a commotion outside the hospital room. Enduring the pain, I got out of bed. The nurse anxiously said, “You just had surgery, you shouldn’t move around.” I ignored her, opened the door, and saw Evelyn holding up her phone, livestreaming. “Sisters, thank you for your support. Like and follow me.” “When the livestream reaches a hundred thousand viewers, I’ll go into the room and continue beating that scumbag.” A crowd of curious patients and their families also gathered, pointing and whispering about me. I clenched my fists, picked up a glass water cup, and hurled it at Evelyn. Gary’s sharp eyes spotted me. “Evelyn, look out!” Warned by Gary, Evelyn dodged, and the water cup missed her. “You bastard, how dare you throw something at me?” Gary glanced at me. “Evelyn, the lesson we gave him was too light; that’s why he’s so reckless.” Looking at their malicious faces, and thinking of my body, my anger surged wildly in my chest. Evelyn handed her phone to Gary to continue livestreaming, then she strode menacingly towards me, saying to the camera: “Sisters, don’t go easy on cheating men, and never forgive them.” She raised her hand, just about to hit me, when a cold voice cut through the air. “Who dares to touch my husband!” From the crowd, a beautiful figure suddenly appeared. Kate Franco rushed to my side. “Larry.” Seeing Kate, my nose tingled, my accumulated grievances magnified infinitely, and tears streamed down my face. Seeing me so distraught, Kate’s heart ached. She reached out and embraced me, comforting me: “I know everything, don’t cry.” She had been worried when she couldn’t reach me, and then seeing my video online, she immediately rushed to the hospital to find me. Evelyn hadn’t seen Kate before, didn’t recognize her face. “Oh, good. I was just about to look for you, you mistress. I didn’t expect you to come to me.” Kate’s sharp gaze swept over Evelyn, and she angrily retorted, “Are you tired of living?” “You bitch, you stole my husband and you’re still so arrogant. I’ll kill you!” Evelyn swung her fist at Kate, but before she could even touch Kate’s clothing, she was pushed away. Kate’s eyes were as cold and sharp as ice. “Evelyn Hayes, who gave you the nerve to lay a hand on my husband?” Everyone believed Kate Franco to be gentle and virtuous, but only I knew that as warm as she appeared on the surface, she was just as ruthless deep down. Evelyn fell to the ground, quickly got up on her arms, and said to the phone camera, “Look, everyone, this slut is my husband’s mistress!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416967”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The bald head reflected in the mirror completely sent me over the edge. This was the sight that greeted me the morning before my wedding, as I woke from a deep sleep. The culprit, Chelsea, was primping her eye-catching curly hair, sticking out her tongue and saying casually, “Just a slip of the hand, no hard feelings, right, Lena?” She even exaggeratedly covered her mouth. “Oh no, poor Lena! The bride’s going to be bald!” But Roman acted as if nothing had happened, reaching out to playfully tap her nose, laughing it off. “Just wear a wig, problem solved.” He even twisted the knife. “It’ll all be the same under the veil, anyway. And honestly, you look so much better than her.” The air in the room seemed to freeze. Everyone stared at me, the soon-to-be bride, waiting for me to go ballistic like I usually would. But then I smiled, calmly slipping the diamond ring off my ring finger. I pressed the ring into Chelsea’s hand, watching her stunned expression. “Save everyone the trouble. You can be the bride. After all, under a veil, who can tell the difference?” Only later did I learn that Roman had put sleeping pills in my milk before I went to bed, allowing his childhood friend to commit this cruel act. 1. My unexpected magnanimity caught everyone off guard. “I just wanted to help you with a new hairstyle, Lena, but my hand slipped… Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” Chelsea flung herself into Roman’s arms, her eyes glistening with tears as she looked at me. The others present exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, clearly uncomfortable, forced himself to smooth things over. “You’ve got it all wrong, Lena. We’re all friends with Chelsea and Roman. But you’re his one and only bride.” Roman finally caught on and chimed in defensively, “Chelsea just has a playful personality, she didn’t mean any harm.” Shaving the bride’s head the day before the wedding. Mouth full of apologies, yet not forgetting to snap grinning photos of my “ugly state” for keepsakes. Every single detail screamed malice. How was that “no harm”? What a flimsy excuse. I met Roman’s protective gaze with a mocking smile. “What if she gets another playful whim and decides she wants to be the bride? Maybe I should just graciously step aside now.” Roman’s face darkened instantly, his expression stormy enough to wring water from. “Lena, have you made enough of a scene?” “Chelsea just has the personality of a child, she’s mischievous and playful. Do you really have to hold it against a kid?” At his words, everyone present fell into an awkward silence again. Not only was I half a year younger than Chelsea, but even if she were a child, no child would do something as absurd as shaving the bride’s head the day before the wedding! I watched, stone-faced, as Roman shielded Chelsea behind him. So cautiously, so meticulously. Yet once upon a time, I was the one he protected. “Lena, I was wrong. Please don’t blame Roman. If you’re really angry, just hit me or scold me, I won’t fight back!” Chelsea peeked out from behind Roman, timidly looking at me. She furrowed her brows, looking fragile and vulnerable. But her eyes held a blatant challenge. Roman’s features softened. “How could this be your fault? I gave you the sleeping pills, so I’m the one to blame.” “Don’t mind her. It’s all my fault for spoiling her, letting her get out of hand and throw tantrums over every little thing!” A knot of anger tightened in my chest. Roman once promised he’d protect me forever. He said I could be wild and free, never suffer any wrong. Now, Chelsea was clearly the one in the wrong. But in his words, I was making a scene. He murmured soft reassurances to Chelsea. The thick, intertwining love in his eyes was something I had never received. I watched the scene with self-mockery. In the past, I would have torn the place apart, demanding justice for myself. But now, I felt nothing. In this relationship, I had already lost everything. 2. Roman himself has probably forgotten. He was the one who pursued me, who first confessed his feelings. We met through a blind date, and quickly discovered we shared many interests. Roman was handsome, refined, and articulate; it was hard not to fall for him. So, we naturally became a couple. He would send me good morning and goodnight texts every day, lovingly bring me hot ginger tea during my period, and never skimped on surprise flower bouquets for every occasion. Back then, I thought I would be the happiest person in the world. That was until Chelsea, Roman’s childhood friend, returned from abroad as we began discussing marriage. The usually calm and composed Roman seemed to transform into a different person. All the tenderness he once showed me was now showered upon Chelsea. He stopped chatting with me about daily happenings and interesting things, instead staying up late to hike and watch the sunrise with Chelsea. When I was sick with a high fever, he was busy at a concert with Chelsea. He even forgot my birthday. He was too preoccupied helping Chelsea deliver her puppy, leaving me alone in a restaurant. It was from that day on that I never received flowers from Roman again. All because Chelsea was allergic to pollen. “Chelsea would be jealous and unhappy if she knew. I don’t want to make her sad!” For the past six months, we had countless arguments over this. Each time, Roman would confidently declare: “I only treat Chelsea like a sister; why do you have to be so jealous and possessive?” “The fact that I can openly mention her proves there’s nothing going on between us!” I, his fiancée, was always the discarded option. I finally saw things clearly. Love can’t be hidden, and neither can the lack of it. Roman, he might never have loved me. And I, who so desperately wanted a future with him, was nothing but a pathetic joke. 3. Chelsea pouted, claiming she wanted to apologize to me. “Lena, I really didn’t mean to humiliate you. I’ll even cut my own hair as an apology….” Her eyes were red, her expression sincere. I chuckled softly. “Alright, then go ahead.” Chelsea’s expression froze instantly. “As long as you don’t fight with Roman and hurt your relationship because of me, I’ll do anything…” She looked on the verge of tears. Yet the scissors in her hand remained still. Her pitiful demeanor clearly tugged at Roman’s heartstrings. He immediately shot me a glare, as if I were a mortal enemy. “Lena, whatever your issue is, take it out on me!” “Chelsea is my sister; we grew up together. Are you, as my partner, deliberately trying to embarrass her?” I stopped abruptly, a faint pang of pain in my chest. Sure enough, Chelsea was his eternal favorite, the one he would always protect. I forced a bitter smile and stood up to leave. From behind me, Roman’s angry voice cut through the air. “It’s just a bit of hair! If you want to storm off, go ahead, no one’s putting up with your crappy attitude!” He’d forgotten, apparently. Before I met Roman, I’d always kept my hair in a neat, short style. It was his casual remark, “I want to see you walk down the aisle with long, flowing hair,” that changed everything. I had grown out my hair, meticulously caring for it, wanting to look my absolute best when I married him. Now, it was all ruined. Laughter and joyous chatter drifted through the closed door. I should have been crying in pain, feeling depressed and shattered. Like countless times before, when Roman’s coldness had left me choking with agony, trembling and unable to breathe. But now, I felt not a speck of sadness. I raised a hand to my face, but there was no coldness, no tears. And in that moment, I was finally freed from this self-made prison of a relationship. I pulled out my phone, intending to call a cab home. But then I saw a message from my professor. Once again, he was trying to persuade me to join the national scientific expedition team. I’d actually received this invitation last year. But I’d turned it down. Because joining meant at least three years of constant travel, and I couldn’t bear to be apart from Roman. When he learned my reason, my professor had been furious. “Men won’t be moved by you giving up your career for them, Lena. They’ll just think you’re easier to manipulate! You’ll regret it!” At the time, I was confident in my choice. I believed in Roman’s love, and all I wanted was a simple, happy life with him. Who knew his words would prove prophetic, leaving me utterly humiliated? So this time, I wouldn’t make the wrong choice again. When my professor on the other end of the line heard I’d agreed to join the expedition team, he immediately sent over the relevant documents. He even called specifically to remind me to expedite the paperwork. “The expedition team is officially departing in half a month. Will you have enough time for everything?” I smiled into the phone. “I won’t hold up the main group.” That was enough time to cancel a wedding. 4. I spent the entire night preparing documents and paperwork. I was so focused that I didn’t even notice when Roman came home. It wasn’t until he stood in front of me that I looked up at him briefly. Then I quickly lowered my head and continued with my work. Roman’s face instantly turned cold. “Lena!” Before, when he came home, I would rush to him immediately. But this time, I just kept typing away. He assumed I was deliberately giving him the cold shoulder, his expression hardening. I didn’t stop what I was doing, offering a perfunctory reply. “Oh, you’re back.” Roman was momentarily stunned. He had never been treated so coldly by me, and his expression quickly turned to anger. I didn’t understand why he was mad. Was it because I wasn’t questioning him about his late return, or throwing a tantrum like before? “Lena, why do you have to be so petty? It was just a bit of hair shaved off, why are you still clinging to such a small matter….” I was scolded without reason. In the past, I would have argued with Roman. But now, I just smiled softly. “You’ve got it wrong. I’m not angry, I’m just busy with work.” Roman’s unfinished words were cut off by my reply. He pursed his lips and, for once, offered an explanation. “I was a bit late because I had to take Chelsea home. She was drunk, and it’s not safe for a girl to be out alone at night. Don’t be silly and get jealous.” I frowned, looking at Roman. “I’m genuinely not angry, and you don’t need to explain it to me.” Roman froze for a moment. “You… you’re really not angry?” I chuckled softly. “You two are childhood friends; it’s normal to help each other out.” For a split second, a rare look of confusion crossed Roman’s face. But I didn’t pay much attention. I walked straight past Roman. Just as I reached the study door, Roman’s angry voice rang out behind me. “Lena, what are you doing?” “I’ve been trying to explain nicely, and you’re still throwing a fit!” I looked back at him, utterly bewildered. “What did I do now?” I just wanted to go into the study to grab some documents. But Roman seemed absolutely furious. “Lena, I thought you had really changed your ways. It seems I misjudged you!” “You stay home and reflect properly. Until you admit your mistakes, don’t even think about marrying me!” There wouldn’t be a wedding. I couldn’t count how many times Roman and I had planned a wedding. Yet it never successfully took place. The first time, on the eve of the wedding, Chelsea burned her hand. Roman, in his haste to care for her, canceled the wedding without a second thought. The second time, Chelsea deliberately fed me a cake laced with mango, causing me to have an allergic reaction and collapse, throwing the entire ceremony into chaos. The third time, Chelsea “accidentally” shredded my wedding dress again, forcing another delay… … In the end. I was completely numb. So when Roman mentioned the wedding again this time, I instinctively didn’t book a venue or inform any friends or family. Sure enough, my choice was correct. Roman sneered now, but didn’t leave. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he slammed the front door shut and stormed out. I knew why he was angry. He had offered an olive branch, a rare thing. And I hadn’t taken it. I smiled calmly. After organizing all the documents, I prepared to send them to my professor for confirmation. I accidentally slipped and scrolled into Chelsea’s social media feed. Just moments ago, she had updated her status. The video showed Chelsea straddling Roman’s lap, their postures intimate, as they drank linked arms. Her red lips were just inches from Roman’s. The caption read: “Drink my wine, and you’re mine.” Below, Roman had “liked” it. Their mutual friends were even cheering them on with congratulatory messages. At that moment, I felt like an objective observer, surprisingly calm. I lightly tapped the screen, offering a sincere wish: “Remember to save me a seat at the wedding banquet.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416966”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In our seventh year of marriage, I walked into Mercy General Hospital with an insulated thermos of hot soup, just like I did every other week. Passing by the doctors’ lounge, I heard the boisterous laughter of his colleagues. One of the surgical residents was loudly referring to a female patient as “Graham’s better half” and “the wifey.” I stopped dead in my tracks. I listened closely, waiting for Graham to correct them. Instead, he just chuckled, silently accepting the title with a hint of amusement. In that single moment, I quietly set the thermos down on the receptionist’s desk and walked away without looking back. He chased after me into the parking lot, his voice echoing with frustration as he scolded me for being completely unreasonable. “Savannah just got out of open-heart surgery. She is emotionally fragile, and any spike in her heart rate could be dangerous. I was just playing along with the guys to keep her calm!” “I am a surgeon. As my wife, can’t you be a little more understanding of my job?” In the past, a stunt like this would have made me completely lose my mind. I would have screamed, cried, and turned the entire hospital upside down until I got an apology. But standing there today, my heart felt absolutely hollow. All that hysterical, agonizing desperation I used to feel had simply evaporated into thin air. 1 Graham got home late that night. I was already lying in bed. He texted me the night before, claiming his stomach was acting up and he was going to sleep in the on-call room. When I tried to call him, his phone went straight to voicemail. That was why I woke up at the crack of dawn today, spending hours simmering a rich bone broth to bring to the hospital. If I hadn’t caught him looking perfectly healthy and flirting shamelessly with Savannah, I probably would have still been making excuses for him. The mattress dipped under his familiar weight. Graham wrapped a heavy arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. “Baby, why didn’t you wait up for me?” A few months ago, I would have immediately wrapped my arms around his neck and eagerly melted into his touch. Tonight, all I wanted to do was sleep. When I didn’t answer, he gently picked up my left hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “The soup was amazing. I finished every last drop. Just be careful next time, okay? You burned your hand.” “Let me put some ointment on it for you.” The cooling sensation of the burn cream quickly spread across my palm. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of my hand, then grabbed his towel and headed for the shower. While the water ran, his phone started buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, Graham frequently got emergency calls in the middle of the night. Afraid he was missing a critical page, I reached over and hit answer. Before I could even say hello, a sickeningly sweet voice floated through the speaker. “Dr. Ashford. Did you like the dinner I sent over today? I just learned a new recipe. I’m making you Coq au Vin tomorrow.” Before I could process her words, the phone was violently snatched right out of my hand. “Haven’t I told you a thousand times never to answer my phone?” In his aggressive haste, his fingers dug directly into my fresh burn. The sheer force of his grip peeled the blistered skin right off my hand. Blood immediately welled up, dripping onto the pristine white sheets. I sucked in a sharp breath, clutching my bleeding hand. Graham quickly muttered into the phone that he would call her back later and hung up. He grabbed my wrist, glaring down at me. “You are so stubborn. You can barely cook, yet you insisted on making that complicated soup. Now look at you. You hurt yourself for absolutely no reason.” “Sit down. I need to clean this up again.” It was the middle of summer. If a raw wound like this wasn’t disinfected properly, it would get severely infected. I sat silently on the edge of the bed. He pulled a first-aid kit from his study and knelt on one knee in front of me to redress the wound. He let out a heavy sigh, his tone softening dramatically. “Does it hurt, baby?” I didn’t answer him. I just stared blankly at the wall, feeling his grip loosen. He gently blew cool air over the raw skin to ease the sting. As he stood up to put the medical supplies away, a small object slipped out of his laptop bag and clattered onto the floor. I picked it up. It was a custom acrylic keychain featuring a cartoon dog and a little cat. Etched at the bottom was a tiny inscription. “To my protective guard dog, Graham. From your little kitten, Savannah.” I placed the keychain flat on the nightstand, my voice completely level. “That was very thoughtful of her.” The air in the bedroom seemed to freeze solid. Graham stared at me, his eyes wide with utter confusion. “You want me to keep it? You aren’t going to throw it away?” I looked up at him, feigning genuine puzzlement. “Why would I want you to throw it away? It is a sign of a wonderful doctor-patient relationship. I should be happy for you.” His shock was entirely justified. The old Ruby would have exploded in a jealous rage and purged the apartment of anything breathing another woman’s name. But tonight, these pathetic little mind games couldn’t even trigger a ripple in my chest. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a deafening crack of thunder shook the building. The lights flickered and completely died. The power was out. 2 I involuntarily flinched. He instantly pulled me into his arms, petting my hair. “Don’t be scared. I am right here. Your husband is right here.” I had terrible night blindness and a crippling fear of the dark. Graham kept murmuring sweet reassurances while feeling around the drawers for the emergency candles. Right at that moment, his phone lit up the dark room. Savannah’s hysterical, sobbing voice was piercingly loud in the silent bedroom. “Dr. Ashford, the power just went out in my building. I am so terrified. My chest is tight. I feel like I can’t breathe.” Graham instantly dropped the unlit candle on the dresser, snatched his car keys, and sprinted for the door. “Savannah is having heart palpitations. I need to go check on her. I will be right back. Just light the candle yourself.” His phone went with him, plunging the room back into pitch blackness. I blindly groped the surface of the dresser, finally locating the candle and his silver lighter. But the candle was totally defective. The wick was buried in the wax. It wouldn’t catch fire. In my rising panic, I tripped over the rug and slammed my waist violently into the sharp corner of the oak nightstand. A blinding, agonizing pain shot through my entire body. As my legs gave out, I instinctively threw my hands out to catch my fall. My freshly burned and bandaged hand took the full impact against the hardwood floor. The wound ruptured again. I lay there on the cold wood, curling into a tight ball, gasping for air like a dying fish. The storm outside raged on. I pulled myself up and sat silently on the living room sofa for three straight hours. Graham never came back. Early the next morning, he finally walked through the front door, looking completely exhausted. Smeared just below his collar was a faint, powdery pink lipstick stain. He frowned the second he saw me. “I forgot my keys last night. I knocked for twenty minutes. Why didn’t you open the door?” The torrential rain had hammered against the windows all night. I had been wide awake, staring into the dark, and there hadn’t been a single knock. “The bed at that cheap hotel was like a slab of concrete. My back is killing me.” If this were the past, hearing him complain about back pain would have had me instantly rushing over to give him a massage. Today, I just sat at the dining table, taking slow, methodical bites of my cereal. I didn’t even spare him a glance. He walked over to the table, clearly trying to smooth things over. “I swear I just slept at the hotel right across the street. Look, I even brought you that greasy bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich from the corner deli. You haven’t had this in forever.” I glanced at the foil-wrapped sandwich but didn’t reach for it. He was right. It used to be my favorite. When Graham and I first got married, we were broke. We were both working entry-level jobs and drowning in a massive mortgage. That cheap, greasy deli sandwich was all we could afford. I ate it almost every morning for seven years. My phone screen suddenly lit up with an Instagram notification. Savannah had just posted a photo of a luxurious candlelight dinner with a sprawling city view. The caption read: “A 6’2″ cardiothoracic surgeon who saves lives by day and cooks for me by night. The best guard dog in the entire world.” I calmly locked my phone and set it face down. Graham picked up a piece of crispy bacon from the sandwich and held it right up to my lips. “Eat it while it is hot, baby. It tastes awful when it gets cold.” The heavy scent of grease and butter invaded my nose, turning my stomach. I instinctively swatted his hand away. The bacon hit the floor. Graham slammed his hand flat against the table, a cold sneer forming on his lips. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum just because I left you alone for a few hours? I literally left you the candles. Are you five years old?” “I am a doctor. I have an ethical obligation to my patients. If Savannah had gone into cardiac arrest last night, the guilt would have destroyed both of us!” I picked the bacon off the floor, dropped it into the trash can, and walked toward the bedroom without looking back. “I completely respect your profession. I am not upset.” Graham refused to let it go. He stormed after me and grabbed my wrist. “We have been married for seven years, Ruby. Playing hard to get is a pathetic game for teenagers. You need to stop watching those toxic reality shows. They are rotting your brain.” When I was younger, I loved watching romantic dramas, crying and laughing over fictional love stories. Graham always sat next to me, mocking me, calling me a brainless romantic who lived in a fantasy world. Now that I was older, anytime I didn’t cater to his exact mood, he accused me of acting out a script. If I ever dressed up to go out, he would look me up and down with absolute disdain and say, “Bright pink? Really? How old do you think you are?” He would stand there with his arms crossed, watching me scrub my makeup off and change back into oversized sweatpants before he finally looked satisfied. Hearing these familiar, cutting words used to slice my heart to ribbons. Today, it felt like absolute static. I gave him a look of pure pity, like I was staring at an absolute idiot. I walked straight to my closet, pulled out a sleek, black V-neck cocktail dress, spritzed on my most expensive Tom Ford perfume, grabbed my designer clutch, and headed for the door. “Where exactly do you think you are going?” His angry voice snapped behind me. “I have plans.” 3 The old Graham never bothered asking where I was going. In his arrogant mind, he fully believed that no matter how far I wandered, I would always come crawling back to his side. But today, he was suddenly acting completely out of character, demanding answers. I ignored him entirely, took the elevator down to the garage, and didn’t find peace until my tires were peeling out onto the main road. Harper, my best friend from college, was launching her new high-end fashion boutique today. She had invited me for the ribbon-cutting ceremony and the celebratory champagne brunch. Her eyes lit up the second I walked through the glass doors. “Oh my god. It has been years since I saw you looking this fierce. Is your controlling husband not going to throw a fit?” I laughed, handing her a thick red envelope as a congratulatory gift. “It is my body. I will wear whatever I want. He doesn’t own me.” She grabbed the envelope with a massive, greedy grin. “Exactly! And you are looking like an absolute knockout.” We spent the afternoon drinking expensive champagne and mingling with local socialites. It hit me just how incredibly long it had been since I allowed myself to genuinely relax and have fun. Meanwhile, my phone, safely tucked away on silent mode, was buzzing a hole through my clutch. Harper, whose cheeks were flushed pink from the alcohol, nudged me. “Twelve missed calls. I am pretty sure your husband is having a total meltdown.” I flipped the phone face down on the marble bar and signaled the bartender for another pour. Hours later, the party finally died down. I walked out to the neon-lit street to wait for my Uber. Standing right there under the streetlamp, radiating pure fury, was Graham. “Ruby Westwood, you are unbelievable. You ignore my calls for hours to come out here and get blackout drunk? Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He aggressively waved my Uber driver away, practically threw me over his shoulder, and dumped me into the backseat of his SUV. In the cramped, suffocating space of the car, he pinned my wrists down. His dark eyes were burning with that familiar, possessive hunger I used to crave. He lowered his head, pressing his lips toward mine. I immediately turned my face away and shoved hard against his chest. “Are you done throwing this little tantrum? You are my wife. Am I not allowed to touch my own wife anymore?” The alcohol buzz instantly vanished from my system. I sat up perfectly straight, calmly smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress. My voice was ice-cold. “Start the car and drive.” Graham’s job was exhausting, so whenever he actually had a night off at home, I always craved physical affection. When he used to sit on the couch reading his medical journals, I would lean in for a kiss. He would push me away with the exact same freezing rejection I just gave him. He used to pour buckets of ice water over my desperate need for love. Now, the tables were finally turning. Seeing the absolute, unyielding rejection in my eyes, he froze for a long moment. Finally, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, aggressively threw the car into gear, and sped off into the night. When we got back to the apartment, I walked into the bedroom, gathered his pillows and blankets, and dumped them in the guest room. “I drank a lot today, and I am a light sleeper. Since you have to operate tomorrow, you should sleep in here so I don’t wake you.” Hearing my flat, undeniable tone, Graham’s face darkened into a furious scowl. He didn’t say a single word, just aggressively marched into the guest room and slammed the door shut. Lying alone in the middle of my massive king-sized bed, I remembered how I used to cling to his side all night. Now, I realized that having the entire bed to myself was pure luxury. When I woke up the next morning, Graham was already gone. Sitting on the kitchen island was a paper bag with a cold deli sandwich and a lukewarm coffee. More greasy bacon and eggs. I was so incredibly sick of it. I tossed the entire bag into the trash, grabbed some cat food, and headed downstairs to feed the strays. While waiting for the elevator, I scrolled through LinkedIn and saw a job posting from the corporate marketing firm I used to work for. Three years ago, when Graham was promoted to Vice Chief of Surgery, I sacrificed my own rising career to stay home and make sure his life was perfectly managed. I immediately typed out a message to my old boss, who used to highly value my work. He replied almost instantly with an invitation to chat. Right as I smiled at the screen, my mother’s contact photo flashed. I answered, and her booming voice practically shattered my eardrum. “Ruby! I am at Mercy General right now. I just saw Graham hugging some sickly-looking girl in the hallway.” “And your mother-in-law is here feeding her homemade soup! Get down here right now. I am going to tear them apart!” The second my mom hung up, Graham’s number popped up on the screen. His voice was panicked and rushed. “Baby, your mom totally misunderstood what she saw. Whatever she just told you, please don’t be mad.” 4 Through his speaker, I could hear my mother screaming obscenities in the background, mixed with his mother’s frantic, desperate apologies. By the time I arrived at the hospital, it was lunch hour. Graham had booked a private VIP dining room near the cafeteria. Standing right outside the door, I saw my mother with her hands on her hips, aggressively pointing her finger at Graham and his mother. “How do you two sleep at night? How can you treat my daughter like this?” My mother-in-law frantically waved her hands. “Please, please calm down! I just saw this poor girl, all alone, an orphan with a failing heart. I felt bad for her, so I cooked her a meal. You are completely misunderstanding the situation!” My mom was a force of nature. She immediately pivoted her rage back to Graham. “And what about you? Is hugging your patients part of their medical treatment now? If I hadn’t walked around that corner, how much longer were you going to hold her?” Graham rubbed his temples, looking completely exhausted. “She just finished a grueling treatment. She lost her balance, and I just caught her. That is it.” My mom scoffed loudly. “Oh, how convenient! You two have all the perfect excuses, so my daughter and I are just the crazy villains here, right?” My mother-in-law finally noticed me standing by the door. She practically sprinted over and grabbed my hands. “Ruby, sweetheart, please don’t misunderstand…” I smiled warmly at her. “I don’t misunderstand at all. And I am not angry. This is exactly what a dedicated doctor and his supportive family should do.” Seeing the completely genuine smile on my face, my mother-in-law blinked in absolute shock. She couldn’t force a single word out. After all, I used to run to her house in tears, begging her to talk sense into her son. She stared at me for a long, unsettling minute before quietly retreating to her chair, utterly silent. I grabbed my mom’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze, silently telling her to back down. Just then, the door to the private room swung open. A group of Graham’s surgical colleagues walked in, flanking Savannah and joking loudly. “Come on, Graham, you can’t just leave the wifey waiting outside the room! That is just bad manners.” Several of these doctors had literally attended our wedding. When they finally registered my face standing right there in the doorway, their arrogant smiles froze instantly. Savannah stepped gracefully into the room, playing the perfect, innocent angel. “You must be Ruby. Please don’t take anything they say out of context. They are just making silly jokes. Dr. Ashford is just a brilliant, compassionate man who hates seeing his patients suffer.” I knew this script entirely too well. Two years ago, another obsessed patient pulled the exact same stunt. She called Graham in a panic during the worst blizzard of the decade. That night, I was eight months pregnant, trapped in my freezing car on a blocked overpass. Graham was less than a mile away from me. But instead of coming to get me, he turned his car around to “save” that female patient from a fake panic attack. The baby I was supposed to welcome into the world never drew its first breath. When Graham finally showed up at the emergency room hours later, he offered zero comfort. Instead, he stood over my hospital bed and screamed at me. “You were eight months pregnant! Why the hell were you even out driving? You brought this on yourself!” “I am a doctor. My patients’ lives will always come first. You are married to a surgeon, do you seriously have zero common sense?” The memory of that agonizing tragedy used to make me want to rip my own heart out. But looking at the man standing in front of me now, I didn’t even feel hatred. I just felt nothing. I had completely, thoroughly stopped caring. I linked my arm through my mom’s, ready to walk away. But Savannah suddenly reached out and grabbed my sleeve. “Ruby, you can be mad at me, but please don’t take this out on Dr. Ashford.” My eyes immediately dropped to her wrist. Strapped to her pale arm was the exact same limited-edition luxury watch I had bought for Graham last month for his birthday. A flash of genuine panic crossed Graham’s eyes. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “The store had a buy-one-get-one promotion! I figured you didn’t need two identical watches, so I just handed the spare to her.” I didn’t even bother looking at his face. I just hummed a vague acknowledgment and forcefully yanked my arm away from both of them. As I pulled away, Savannah let out a theatrical, piercing gasp. “Oh my god! Dr. Ashford, I am so sorry. Your pendant!” I looked down at the floor. Shattered into pieces on the linoleum was a priceless antique jade pendant. It was an heirloom left by Graham’s late father. He guarded it with his life and never let anyone touch it. Not even me. But the braided red silk cord that had held the pendant was currently hanging directly around Savannah’s neck. The bright red thread was glaringly obvious. Graham completely lost his composure. Panicking, he reached out, desperately trying to grab my hand. I avoided his touch and turned to the crowd, my voice echoing in the dead silent room.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416965”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Now, the new house had two lunatics. My mother sat slumped on the floor, eyes blank, muttering, “My soul was sucked into the toilet…” Beside her, my brother wore the same vacant look, repeating the same eerie words. Just last night, my mother had been normal. Obsessively, she had retraced every step my brother took before he fell ill, trying to find the cause—until she used that same toilet late at night. It all went back to the first time my brother used the toilet in the new house. When he came out, it was as if his soul had been drained, leaving him deranged. My parents’ world collapsed. They took him to every top psychiatric hospital in the country, but no expert could explain it. Nothing helped. As my parents grew more worn down, older relatives quietly suggested the house might be unlucky—they should get a spiritual master to check. But my parents always refused such things outright. Science had no answers; superstition was rejected. In desperation, my mother made that fatal choice—to relive my brother’s steps. She never expected that when the toilet flushed late that night, the same vortex that stole my brother’s soul would take hers, too. 1 My father realized the gravity of the situation. He put on a stern face and borrowed a hefty sum from relatives, friends, and the bank. He planned to take my brother and mother out of state for treatment first thing this morning. Before leaving, my father sealed all the bathrooms in the house with red bricks and cement, forbidding me from using them. I wanted to go with them, worried that my father couldn’t manage on his own. But my father told me gravely, “You’re about to take your final exams. The family’s entire hope rests on you. Don’t disappoint us.” My legs were frozen in the doorway; I dared not take another step, only watching their figures recede further and further. He was right, the family’s hope rested entirely on me. My father used to be a construction contractor. He had made a tidy sum a few days prior, capitalizing on the booming economy. To give me a better educational environment, he had bought a house in the city. But scarcely had we moved in when this happened. This sudden turn of events completely shattered our peaceful and harmonious little family. By the time I reacted, their backs had already disappeared down the stairwell. I returned to the living room, slumping onto the sofa, staring blankly at the empty room. It was then that a bone-chilling cold washed over me. The house didn’t get much light; every corner I looked at was shrouded in a dull grey. It was strange, but every time I came home, I felt incredibly sleepy. And now, an unstoppable drowsiness was creeping over me. In a state between sleep and wakefulness, I heard the toilet flushing in the bathroom. But the bathroom door had clearly been sealed with red bricks and cement by my father; no one could possibly be using it. How could I hear such a distinct sound of rushing water? To confirm I wasn’t dreaming, I forced myself to sit up, but found I couldn’t move at all. I knew I was experiencing sleep paralysis. When I was studying in the countryside, I often heard my classmates tell stories like this. Back then, I thought they were making it up, but now I believed them. My blood ran cold, my limbs pinned to the sofa, unable to move. Though my eyes were closed, I could clearly perceive everything happening around me. A black, legless figure emerged from the bathroom and floated towards me. When it reached the sofa, it simply collapsed onto my body. I screamed with all my might, struggling until I rolled onto the floor, waking up covered in sweat. The terrifying experience still left me shaken, and then, the rushing sound of the toilet flushing came from the bathroom again. I slowly approached the red brick wall, so nervous I almost forgot to breathe. My ear was pressed tightly against the cold wall when a sudden tapping sound echoed. I jumped back immediately, my heart pounding in my throat. 2 The tapping continued, and that’s when I realized someone was knocking at the door. I took a deep breath, scolding myself for scaring myself. After calming my thoughts, I walked to the door and opened it. A man in a property management vest stood at the doorway, handing me a utility bill. “Are your parents not home?” I nodded. “Well, you’d better contact your parents. Your utility usage is way too high. Pay it as soon as possible.” He mumbled as he turned and went downstairs. I stared at the utility bill, completely bewildered. Our family had been living here for less than half a month. How could we have accumulated such a high water bill? I immediately tried to contact my father, but his phone was constantly unreachable. I didn’t know who else to turn to; all our relatives were back in our hometown. In this city, I had no family, no connections. The living allowance my father left me was only enough for this month. There was nothing I could do; I could only pretend not to see that bill. But it was like a thorn embedded under my skin. During this time, my head was constantly in a daze; I was rarely fully awake. Since transferring to the city school, I had always stayed in the top ten in all my exams. This time, my monthly exam scores even dropped out of the top hundred in the entire school. My homeroom teacher had also noticed something was off with me and had spoken to me several times. But I actually kept dozing off in the teacher’s office. Finally, my homeroom teacher angrily dialed my father’s number. The result was the same; she couldn’t reach my father either. After evening self-study that day, I returned home and looked at the roughly built red brick wall, a deep sense of unease in my heart. I tried my best to use the school restrooms daily, but tonight, my stomach suddenly hurt terribly. I had no choice but to fumble in the dark to the public toilet next to the complex. It was 2:30 AM, the world utterly silent, save for the occasional honk of a passing truck. But it sounded like there were other people in the public toilet. “Why is this person using the toilet here so late at night? Doesn’t he have a bathroom at home?” “I don’t know, maybe the toilet in his house also sucks souls.” “Does he think he’s safe just by coming here?” “How about we drag him down to join us?” … My heart seized up. The voices were coming from the squat toilet beneath me. Now I was truly panicked. I didn’t even stop to wipe myself, quickly pulled up my pants, and rushed out of that public toilet. Back home, the sound of the toilet flushing in my bathroom grew increasingly distinct. I told myself it was coming from next door, forcing myself to try and sleep. But tonight seemed destined to be restless. Just as I was drifting off, from the other side of the cement wall, I heard my brother and mother calling out to me for help. “Leo, Leo, help us.” 3 I struggled to sit up in bed, carefully trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Leaving my bedroom, I walked into the living room. That pitch-black brick wall still stood out starkly in the darkness. “Leo, help me…” My brother’s voice echoed again, sending a shiver down my spine. I slowly, tremblingly, approached the bathroom. A grating, piercing sound filled the air, like fingers clawing at the wall, tearing flesh until only bone collided with the cold cement. Slowly, a human figure began to emerge on the wall. On its black face, two rows of pristine white teeth were remarkably prominent, gnawing rapidly like a rodent. Soon, it had gnawed a hole in the wall. I thought I was dreaming and quickly rubbed my eyes. When I suddenly opened them, I found it had opened its mouth wide and was aiming for my throat. Instinctively, I swung my fist, punching it hard in the mouth. When my fist slammed against the cold wall, the pain in my hand brought me back to reality. Everything returned to normal. I realized I had been sleepwalking and returned to my room to rest. Because I hadn’t slept well the night before, I dozed off in class today. The teacher once again called me into the office and lectured me. She told me, heartbroken, that if I continued this way, I wouldn’t even get into a decent college. I knew this couldn’t go on, but I just couldn’t control my muddled brain. Since moving into the new house, my life had become a mess. Every time I remembered the distraught, panicked expressions of my mother and brother, tears of heartache would unconsciously fall. Could all of this be caused by the bathroom toilet? Before they lost their minds, they had indeed both used that toilet. If there was nothing wrong with it, my father wouldn’t have sealed it with red bricks and cement. But I had used that bathroom too, hadn’t I? Why was I fine? I had asked my father, but he had stammered and refused to tell me the truth. I thought about it all through evening study and decided to find the answers myself. On the way home from school, I passed a hardware store, went in, and bought a large sledgehammer specifically for demolishing walls. I carried it all the way, attracting many curious glances from passersby. As soon as I got home, I eagerly picked up the sledgehammer and slammed it against the wall, again and again. However, after only a few swings, a neighbor complained to the property management, saying I was disturbing the peace. Under the property management’s interference, I had to postpone my plan. But those few hits weren’t entirely useless; if you looked closely, a crooked crack had appeared in the wall. I found my toolbox and grabbed a suitable tool to widen the crack. Our bathroom window faced the street, and the tall streetlights shone directly into the bathroom, so I didn’t even need to turn on the light when using it at night. I don’t remember how long I picked at it, but piles of cement dust and brick fragments had accumulated on the floor. Until, a beam of light penetrated through the narrow slit. I squinted, looking inside through the crack. What I saw next sent a chill down my spine and is forever etched in my memory. 4 A translucent figure of my mother appeared in the bathroom. Her face was expressionless and pale, devoid of any living aura. She was mechanically moving back and forth between the toilet and the vanity, the sound of the toilet flushing echoing as usual with each press of the flush button. Suddenly, she stopped, stood still, and turned to look at me. Her lips moved, as if speaking, but no sound emerged. After our eyes met, she abruptly vanished. My gut told me something terrible had happened to my mother. The sudden surge of longing brought tears to my eyes. I used to have a happy family, loving parents, and a harmonious relationship with my brother, but all of it had vanished overnight. The more I thought about it, the more enraged I became. All of this was because we moved into this new house. All of this was because of this bathroom. I wiped the tears from my face, then once again swung the sledgehammer, furiously smashing the wall, roaring as I broke every piece of furniture in the house. Soon, the property’s security guards once again knocked on my door in the middle of the night. Three burly men broke in and found me hysterically wielding the sledgehammer, acting like a madman. Before I could calm down, they quickly subdued me on the floor. I struggled fiercely but was injected with a tranquilizer. In my dream, the image of my mother turning her head and whispering kept repeating. I opened my eyes wide, trying hard to see what my mother wanted to tell me. But then she suddenly leaned close to my face. I woke up, startled. As soon as I regained consciousness, I smelled a pungent disinfectant. I struggled to open my eyes, and a blank, idiotic face was pressed against the tip of my nose. “Ah!!!” I screamed, pushing him away! It was then that I realized. The ward was filled with psychiatric patients in blue and white striped uniforms. At that moment, my mind went blank. I wasn’t sick, but I had been confined to a psychiatric hospital. I frantically jumped out of bed, not even bothering to put on my shoes, and rushed to the door, desperately pounding on the locked ward door. “Let me out!” “I’m not sick! Let me out!” A nurse heard the commotion, walked over, opened a small iron window on the door, and yelled inside. “Stop shouting! Everyone locked in here says they’re not sick.” I quickly retorted, “Who sent me in? I can confront them!” “Your guardian, of course! Otherwise, our hospital wouldn’t admit you.” I froze. Could my father have returned? I wanted to ask more questions, but the nurse slammed the small iron window shut and walked away without looking back. I sank to the floor, burying my hands in my hair and rubbing it agitatedly. No, I can’t be held here for no reason. I have to get out! I need to find my family! I stood up and frantically tugged at the door, then lifted a chair and smashed the glass window, intending to jump out. In an instant, the ward became a chaotic mess, and several curious patients who had gathered were injured in the process. Soon, five or six medical staff members entered through the door, pinned me to the ground, and gave me another tranquilizer. After the medication wore off, I woke up again to find myself confined in an iron cage, my ankles shackled. A male doctor in a white coat approached me, holding a record book. His ID badge read, Dr. Miles Hamm, Chief Psychiatrist. “Your manic episode has flared up. Until your condition is under control, you’ll have to remain in here.” I gripped the iron bars tightly, pleading with him as if they were a lifeline. “Dr. Hamm, I’m truly not sick. I’ve been misdiagnosed. My emotions were indeed very agitated just now, but that was because I was scared.” Dr. Hamm adjusted his glasses, saying calmly, “Every patient with mania has said that.” Hearing that, my vision blurred. Dr. Hamm jotted down a few things, then turned to leave. I quickly called out, “Dr. Hamm, at least tell me, who sent me here? Who signed the admission papers?” Dr. Hamm paused but didn’t turn around. “Your father.” My heart, like the doctor’s fading footsteps, gradually sank into an icy abyss. Because I had trashed the ward, I was “rewarded” with a solitary cage, and the noise around me lessened considerably. I lay on the simple hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. Perhaps it was due to having slept, but my mind was much clearer now than when I was at home. Previously blurred memories gradually became distinct. Perhaps, my father had been acting strangely even then. When my mother and brother went to the bathroom late at night, the light on the balcony was on, and my father wasn’t asleep. The balcony and my bedroom were on the same side, so if the balcony light was on, it shone into my room. I got up, intending to pull the curtains shut, when a waft of smoke reached me on the breeze. Then I heard my father speaking softly on the phone. “Why are you in such a hurry? I promised you I wouldn’t say anything.” “But my youngest son, he doesn’t know anything…” I heard my father mention me. Just as I was about to stick my head out to listen carefully, my head accidentally bumped the screen window, making a sound, and my father’s voice abruptly stopped. Moreover, since my mother and brother fell ill, he had kept the matter hidden, using other excuses to borrow money. There were too many suspicious points about my father. Only by finding him could I understand the whole story and the truth. I walked to the ward window, looking at the hospital’s towering outer walls and strict guards. The urgent matter at hand was to escape from here first. But if my father was the one who put me in here, and he was determined to keep me locked up, paying the hospital on time, then there was no way I could get out. Even if I wasn’t sick, they would say I was. Unless I made a big scene.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416964”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Opening my eyes, I was back in my childhood bedroom. I had returned to the day my father lied about having terminal brain cancer. This time, I saw through him. In my past life, he had fabricated the illness to steal the college fund my late mother left me. He vanished for a year, while I survived on instant noodles and menial jobs, fearing his medical expenses. He returned with a new wife and a baby boy, claiming she had funded his “recovery.” I was forced into servitude as their live-in maid, catering to my pampered brother. Years later, when that brother needed a heart transplant, my father forged my signature on a donation form. To harvest my heart, he pushed me from a balcony to stage my “accidental” death. 1 I was sitting on the living room rug pretending to do my math homework when the front door swung open. My father stumbled inside, massaging his temples. He collapsed onto the carpet, clutching his head and groaning in theatrical agony. “Massiel, help me,” he wheezed. “Get the painkillers from my drawer.” Watching this familiar, pathetic performance, I did not burst into panicked tears like I had in my previous life. Honestly, I found it almost hilarious. When I did not immediately rush to his side, he started rolling around on the floor, cranking up the volume of his wails. “Massiel, please! My head is going to explode!” In my past life, his Oscar-worthy acting had completely shattered the fragile psyche of a ten-year-old girl. I had cried until my eyes swelled shut, running to fetch my mother’s debit card. I had shoved it into his trembling hands, begging him to take the money, go to a private clinic in Switzerland, and listen to the doctors. I remembered him sitting in a wheelchair at the airport, gently patting my head. He had looked at me with such fake tenderness. “Be a good girl while I am gone, Massiel. Call me if you miss me.” I had watched his cab pull away, sobbing so hard I actually passed out on the sidewalk. A neighbor had to carry me inside. Every morning, I had clutched my mother’s silver locket, praying to God to save him. During the entire year he was gone, he sent me a fifty-dollar grocery card in the first month and then absolutely nothing. I was so fiercely loyal that I never complained. I thought he needed every penny to survive. So, I starved. I wore shoes with holes in the soles, worked illegal hours at a sweaty local laundromat, and wired whatever scraps I saved straight into his account. And my reward? He walked through the front door a year later with Sarah and her fat baby, Oliver. I was so young and naive back then. I actually thanked Sarah for saving my dad’s life. I let her push me around. She hoarded all the good food and expensive toys for Oliver, turning him into a spoiled, overweight tyrant. Meanwhile, I was severely malnourished. I did all the heavy lifting around the house and barely grew an inch. Kids at school used to joke that I looked like a walking twig. I tried to complain to my father once. I just wanted a fair share of the groceries. At first, he gave me a condescending lecture about how older sisters need to make sacrifices. When I pushed the issue, he slapped me across the face. He gave his romance to Sarah, his fatherly love to Oliver, and his explosive rage to me. Because of the endless chores and the emotional abuse, my grades tanked. I never made it to college. Sarah forced me to take a full-time job at a local canning factory. Every Friday, she confiscated my paycheck to fund Oliver’s private school tuition and his brand-new car. Then came Oliver’s heart failure. To save his life, my father pushed me to my death. I was so obedient. I was so desperate for his love. Being murdered by my own flesh and blood for being too compliant was the sickest joke of all. Now that I had a second chance, the blindfold was off. I did not want this toxic, cold-blooded excuse for a family anymore. Of course, directly calling out his lies right now was a terrible move. I was only ten years old. The law would not be on my side. So, I decided to play along. I ran to the drawer, grabbed his aspirin, and rushed to his side, my face masked in perfect concern. “Dad, why are these headaches getting worse?” He swallowed a pill dry and let out a long, tragic sigh. “Massiel, the doctors found a tumor in my brain. The only place that can treat it is a specialized clinic overseas. But I just cannot bear the thought of leaving you alone.” I forced a loud, dramatic sob. “Dad, you have to go! Do not worry about me. I am a big girl. I can take care of myself!” The only difference was that my tears last time were born of sheer terror. Today, I was forcing them out just to hurry the plot along. “Ah, forget it,” he sighed again, laying it on thick. “We just do not have the money for that kind of treatment.” He was waiting for me to offer the debit card. I just kept my head down, crying loudly into my hands, pretending I did not hear the hint. He did not bring it up again. I thought I had dodged the bullet, but when I came home from school the next afternoon, there was a sticky note on the kitchen counter. “Massiel, I am going to Europe for my treatment. I bought you three bulk boxes of instant macaroni. Take care of yourself. Wait for me to come home.” Panic spiked in my chest. I sprinted to my bedroom, dropped to my knees, and pried open the loose floorboard where I kept my mother’s debit card. The space was completely empty. I wiped a dry tear from my cheek, letting out a hollow laugh. What a fantastic father. When his guilt trip failed, he just robbed his own kid blind. Just like my past life, he only left enough cash to cover the water bill for a month. He barely ever called. But this time, I did not wait by the phone. I did not waste a single second worrying about his health. I threw myself into my textbooks. Getting a full-ride scholarship to a top-tier university was my only ticket out of this hellhole. When I ran out of food money, I did my classmates’ science projects for cash and went back to sweeping floors at the bakery. I already knew the drill. A year later, right around Halloween, the front door unlocked. My father stepped into the hallway, looking healthier than ever. Right beside him stood Sarah, rocking a baby boy in her arms. “Come say hi to your new mom,” my father beamed, his face flushed with pride. “And this is your little brother.” I stood at the edge of the hallway, my voice deadpan. “I only have one mother, and she is buried in the cemetery.” His smile instantly hardened into a scowl. “What is wrong with you?” he snapped, stepping forward. “If Sarah had not paid for my medical bills, I would be in a coffin right now. You need to show some respect and be grateful.” I spun on my heel and walked straight to my bedroom. Paid for his bills? What a joke. He took my mother’s life insurance money, rented a nice apartment across town, played house with his mistress, and had a kid. All while I was surviving on instant macaroni and tap water. “You ungrateful little brat!” He chased after me, pounding his fists against my bedroom door. “I have clearly spoiled you! Where are your manners? Is this the garbage they teach you at school?” I stood on the other side of the thin wood, screaming back. “You want to talk about manners? My mother was barely cold in her grave before you went out and knocked up some random woman!” A real tear slipped down my cheek when I said that. I genuinely missed my mom. Instead of backing down, my father lost his mind. “Who gave you the right to speak to me like that? Are you even my daughter?” He delivered a brutal kick to the door, splintering the frame. I could hear Sarah’s sugary, fake voice trying to soothe him. “Let it go, honey. She is just a child. We have plenty of time. A little discipline, and she will learn her place.” A shiver ran down my spine. I knew exactly what her version of discipline looked like. It meant treating me like a pack mule, forcing me to do the laundry, scrub the toilets, and eat whatever scraps they left on their plates. In my past life, there was a day I was so exhausted from doing their chores that I fell asleep at the kitchen table before starting dinner. Sarah had grabbed a wooden flyswatter and whipped my legs raw, then cried to my father, claiming I had attacked her. He had grounded me without even asking for my side of the story. Sure enough, a few days later, Sarah decided to establish her dominance. She cornered me in the kitchen, crossing her arms. “Listen up. From now on, you cook breakfast and dinner. You do the laundry. You mop the floors. And from midnight to three in the morning, you stay awake to feed Oliver so I can sleep.” She offered a sickly sweet smile. “I will also find you a weekend job at the diner downtown. You need to bring in some cash to help out. Your father’s health is delicate, and I have a baby to raise. It is the least you can do.” She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with malice. “If your dad sees how helpful you are, I am sure he will finally love you.” “I am ten,” I replied coldly. “My only job is to study.” In my past life, I had swallowed my pride and agreed, hoping for crumbs of affection. They only took advantage of me. This time, I looked her dead in the eye and refused. Her fake smile vanished. “Excuse me?” She snatched a heavy wooden spoon from the counter and swung it hard against my calf. Pain flared up my leg, making me bite my lip to keep from screaming. I shook my head, refusing to back down. She raised the spoon higher, her face twisting in rage. My survival instincts kicked in. I dodged the swing, threw open the front door, and bolted onto the front lawn. She chased right after me, completely unhinged. I sucked in a massive breath and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help! Please stop hitting me! Do not hurt me, Sarah! Help!” My shrieks echoed through the quiet suburban street. Doors flew open. Neighbors rushed out of their houses, stepping between me and a furious Sarah. Several women from the neighborhood watch immediately scolded her for chasing a terrified child with a makeshift weapon. Someone actually called Child Protective Services. A social worker showed up with a police officer, forcing my father and Sarah to sign a formal warning file right in our living room. Once the authorities left, the house fell into a terrifying silence. My father glared at me, his eyes filled with disgust. “Are you insane? Kids get spanked, it is completely normal! Plus, you are a girl. If you do not learn how to clean a house now, no man is ever going to marry you.” “I thought you said my education was the most important thing?” I shot back. He stammered, caught in his own hypocrisy. Finally, he just muttered that I was a nuisance and sent me to bed without dinner. I locked my door and chewed on a dry pack of ramen, washing it down with tap water. Sarah did not dare hit me again, but the psychological warfare escalated. She would deliberately serve me plain boiled potatoes while she and my father ate roasted chicken. One night, I overheard them drinking wine in the kitchen. My father laughed, “That miserable girl is getting way too rebellious. We just need to break her spirit. Thank God I have a son now. Oliver is going to be a real man someday.” Even though I knew exactly who he was, hearing those words still felt like a knife twisting in my ribs. Tears pooled in my eyes. Did he ever remember holding my mother’s hand on her deathbed, swearing to God he would protect me? He probably erased it from his memory the moment she died. Three blank lines Will Massiel survive the rising tide? What price will her toxic family pay for their cruelty? Unlock the next chapters to read her ultimate revenge! Three blank lines When Oliver turned one, Sarah demanded a family portrait by the ocean. We drove out to a rocky cove. They told me to wait on a jagged rock outcropping while they walked down the shoreline to take pictures with the baby. The wind was biting. I sat there, hugging my knees, watching them smile and pose in the distance. They looked like a picture-perfect family in a magazine. I just wanted to be part of it. Every time I tried to walk over, my father would wave his hand dismissively, yelling at me to stay put. Eventually, they walked so far down the beach that they disappeared behind a cliff. This had happened in my past life too. Eventually, my dad had driven back to pick me up. I wondered if he would do the same this time. I curled up on the cold stone, letting my exhaustion take over. Before my mother died, he used to treat me like a princess. We used to build sandcastles right on this very beach. The memory lulled me into a restless sleep. I woke up shivering violently. The sky was pitch black. The roar of the ocean was deafening. I bolted upright and realized the tide had come in. The ocean had completely swallowed the sand path. I was trapped on a tiny island of rock, surrounded by freezing, violent black water. Panic seized my chest. Did he leave me here to die because I refused to be their slave this time? Tears of pure terror streamed down my face. I cursed myself for holding onto a shred of hope that my father actually cared. Just as the water started splashing over my sneakers, a bright spotlight cut through the fog. A small motorized boat was tearing through the waves toward me. It was the Harbor Patrol. I waved my arms wildly, sobbing in relief. They pulled me onto the boat, wrapping me in a thick thermal blanket. The police called my father. He strolled into the coastal precinct an hour later. When he saw me wrapped in the blanket, sipping hot cocoa, a flash of pure annoyance crossed his face. He marched over and yanked my arm. “I told you to stay exactly where you were! Why did you wander off? You made me search everywhere and wasted police resources!” He was trying to flip the script, pinning the blame on a ten-year-old before dragging me out the door. “Hold it right there,” the desk sergeant barked, stepping out from behind the counter. “You are a grown man. Do not stand in my station and lie to cover your tracks.” The officer glared at my dad. “Do you know how we found her? A local fisherman called it in. He said he saw a little girl sitting on that rock for six straight hours. She never moved an inch, even when the tide came up. He thought she was trying to end her own life.” “So do not tell me she wandered off,” the officer growled. My father’s face turned beet red. He stood there, completely humiliated, unable to form a sentence. “It is the twenty-first century,” the cop continued, his voice dripping with contempt. “You do not get to treat your daughter like garbage just because you finally got a son. Take her home and do your damn job. Because if she makes something of herself one day, she is never going to look back.” “Right, right, of course. I understand completely. I will take better care of her,” my father stammered, forcing a polite smile. The second we stepped out of the precinct into the parking lot, his polite mask dissolved into pure fury. “You useless burden! You could not see us, so you just sat there? Did you do this on purpose to humiliate me in front of the cops? Do you know how bad this makes me look?” He raised his hand, balling his fingers into a fist. I stood my ground, my hands curled into tight fists at my sides. “Did you leave me there hoping the ocean would wash me away?” His hand froze in mid-air. He stared at me for several agonizing seconds, his breathing ragged. He did not say a word. But his silence was the loudest confession I had ever heard.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416963”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel