After graduation, the senior I had a crush on got married. However, I heard he wasn’t very happy. His wife cheated on him with a toy boy, and they are currently discussing divorce. I was hesitating whether to take the initiative to comfort him, but I never expected him to come find me first. “Sign the divorce agreement. I get custody of the child.” I was stunned. The person he married… couldn’t possibly be me, right? 01 Three years after graduation, while dining at a restaurant with a friend, I unexpectedly ran into Caleb. He hadn’t changed at all, still as handsome as ever. Caleb stood at the restroom entrance, and beside him stood a little munchkin who looked exactly like him. It seemed the two were waiting for someone. He was already married? I had liked him for seven years, and now, running into him again, he was already a father. Suppressing the sourness in my heart, I took the initiative to greet him: “Senior, what a coincidence. Is this your little one? So cute.” Saying that, I crouched down: “Sweetie, call me Auntie.” The next second, Caleb bent down and picked up the little munchkin, his voice as if dipped in ice. “Miss Smith, you really are good at switching roles. One second you’re asking for a divorce, and the next you don’t even recognize your own son.” I stared at the little munchkin lying on Caleb’s chest, blinking his big eyes at me, completely stunned. What did he mean by that? What did this little munchkin… have to do with me? At this moment, I realized the environment around me seemed a little different. I didn’t come to a Mexican restaurant, it had now become… a Thai restaurant. Also, where did the friend I was eating with go?! My eyes gradually filled with horror as I grabbed Caleb’s arm. “Senior, your name is Caleb Wright, right? Graduated from Johns Hopkins Medical School in 2019, correct?” Caleb looked at me as if looking at a psychopath, completely ignored me, and turned to walk away with the little munchkin in his arms. The little munchkin was quite cooperative, waving at me and saying in a milky voice: “Bye-bye, Mommy.” 02 It sounds absurd. I went to the restroom after a meal, and somehow accomplished the two major life events of marriage and having a child. If I wasn’t crazy, then it was highly likely Caleb was. “Senior, wait a moment.” I grabbed Caleb. His gaze swept over the hand holding him, freezing cold. I was so scared I quickly let go. “Senior, although I don’t know where the problem lies, I truly don’t know anything right now, I…” “Are you trying to say you have amnesia?” Amnesia? That wasn’t impossible. I nodded vigorously. Caleb’s smile turned cold. He handed me the manila envelope in his hand: “Inside is the divorce agreement. Go back and review the terms. If you have no objections, sign it.” I opened my mouth but was completely unable to find the words to reply. Finally, I could only squeeze out: “It’s not good to talk about this in front of the child. How about we talk later?” “When you brought a man home, why didn’t you think it was bad in front of the child?” This sentence exploded in my head like a thunderbolt. I looked at the little bean in disbelief, attempting to find the correct answer from a child. Unfortunately, the little munchkin completely ignored me, resting on Caleb’s shoulder, looking pitiful. The amount of information was too much. I crashed. 03 It took me about a whole day to figure out my current situation. I seemed to have accidentally entered a parallel universe. Here, I was still me. Caleb was still Caleb. The only difference was, we were married. And had a baby. But obviously, there was a problem with our current marriage. I seemed to have… cheated. But where the “me” of this universe went, whether we accidentally swapped places in the restroom, I had absolutely no way of knowing. “Mommy.” A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. The door opened a sliver, and a small head peeked in: “Daddy says he needs to use the study.” I reached out and called the little munchkin in. The boy hesitated outside the door for a moment before shyly running in. I held him on my lap and observed him carefully. His eyes and brows resembled Caleb’s, but his face shape was like mine. This was my and Caleb’s son. Unable to control the satisfaction in my heart, I kissed the little munchkin’s cheek hard. As a result, this kid’s face flushed red instantly. He flailed a couple of times in my arms, then quieted down, whispering: “Mommy smells nice.” What kind of angelic baby was this? I was holding the little munchkin and was just about to say something when the door was pushed open from the outside again. A tall figure immediately filled the entire door frame. “Daddy!” The little munchkin immediately broke free from me, ran to Caleb, and hugged his thigh. Caleb had already taken a shower. His hair was still damp, water droplets trailing down his neck into his collar, then disappearing. The person I liked was right in front of me. My heart beat wildly. However, Caleb’s next words shattered my fantasy. “Miss Smith, don’t you think it’s a bit late to relive maternal affection now?” “I wasn’t, I…” Now it seemed whatever I said would be wrong. Finally, I simply gave up. “Never mind, you work first. I’m going to take a shower.” When I walked out the door, the little munchkin glanced at me, but he still clung to Caleb. I felt slightly disappointed. It seemed that besides my husband not loving me, my son didn’t love me either. I couldn’t help but wonder, why did we get married in the first place, and why did we have a child? The moon outside still hung high in the sky, the cicadas deep in the branches screamed themselves hoarse. Everything seemed unchanged. Yet everything had changed. 04 The master bedroom only had one large bed. The monotonous gray bedsheets were so smooth there wasn’t a single wrinkle. The clothes in the walk-in closet were sorted sequentially from dark to light. The entire room had the word “boring” written all over it. Except, I rummaged through all the cabinets and surprisingly didn’t find any of my clothes. Forced by circumstance, I knocked on the study door. “Seni… Husband, sorry to bother you for a second.” Caleb looked up. The gold-rimmed glasses on his face hadn’t been taken off yet, giving him an air of ascetic refinement. “Could you tell me where my pajamas are? The walk-in closet seems to only have your clothes.” Caleb stared at me for a few seconds. Just when I thought he wouldn’t tell me, he suddenly got up and walked towards me. Stopping at a distance less than a fist away from me, the corners of his mouth lifted: “Amnesia, huh?” For a moment, I honestly didn’t know which was more convincing: amnesia or a parallel universe. Fortunately, Caleb didn’t press the issue, turned, and went out the door. I stood frozen in place, at a loss for what to do. He glanced at me: “Not coming?” Was he leading the way? “Th-thanks.” However, a minute later, when I opened the closet door, I immediately slammed it shut. My face flushed bright red. “These are mine…” Caleb crossed his arms, leaning against the bedroom door looking at me, a hint of a mocking smile on his lips. An expression of “keep acting.” I swallowed my question, opened the closet door again. The sheer scale of the clothes inside made me think I had entered the dressing room for an adult film. I mean, in this universe, was I really… that OPEN?! I tried my best to ignore Caleb’s gaze. I dug around for a long time but couldn’t pick out a single decent piece of clothing. Finally, not knowing what I was thinking, I turned my head and asked the man watching the show: “Husband, which one… do you like?” Then, I distinctly felt Caleb’s eyes darken. He didn’t answer me, turned his head, and walked out. The door was slammed shut with a bang. Did that make him angry? I couldn’t help but guess, could the reason we were getting a divorce be because of an unharmonious sex life? After taking a shower, I went to the little munchkin’s room. He was already asleep, clutching a small doll in his arms. I took out the hand he had in his mouth and tucked the little guy in. For the first time, I felt the realness of being a mother. It was embarrassing to say, but up until now, I didn’t even know what this child’s name was or how old he was. I had looked at my marriage certificate with Caleb; the date was three years ago. So the little munchkin should be about two years old. After staying for a while, I gently closed the door and had just walked out when I unsuspectingly bumped into a man’s chest. I was so startled I almost screamed. Looking up, it was actually Caleb. I still couldn’t adapt well to the fact that I was married to my crush. After all, the person I had always looked up to was now standing right in front of me, within arm’s reach. My heart was beating unreasonably fast. “Done?” “Yeah.” I didn’t know what to say: “Then… sleep?” Caleb didn’t move. I wrapped the coat I had draped over myself tighter, trying to keep the excessively revealing sleepwear inside from showing: “I’ll go in first.” Saying that, I walked into the master bedroom. Not knowing which side Caleb usually slept on, I casually lay down, pulled the covers over myself, and lay there properly. A moment later, Caleb walked in. Seeing me, his footsteps paused, and he stared straight at me. I felt numb from being stared at. “Which side are you used to sleeping on?” He stopped talking again. Why did I feel that in this space, apart from the huge change in “my” personality, the senior’s personality had also changed significantly? I simply sat up: “Then you pick first, okay?” Why so petty? This time Caleb moved. He lay down on the other side. I breathed a sigh of relief and lay back down too. The night was quiet. The curtains in the room blocked the light well, plunging the entire room into pitch darkness where you couldn’t see your fingers. My mind was a mess, and I couldn’t sleep at all. I was already agitated, and the coat digging into my back made it hurt. Feeling the breathing beside me gradually even out, I quietly lifted my body and began to take off the clothes. I successfully took off the coat, dropped it on the floor, and was still rejoicing that the person next to me hadn’t been woken up when suddenly, my entire body was pinned down. The sleeping person had woken up at some point, leaning over to look at me. The tip of my nose could even feel his breath. “Senior, you’re not asleep?” I was so scared I forgot to call him “Husband.” “What exactly do you want to do?” “Huh?” “You proposed the marriage, you proposed the divorce, and now you’re seducing me in the dark. What else do you want to do? Just say it.” “Se… seducing?” My eyes widened. I suddenly felt a breeze on my chest. I had forgotten how “revealing” the clothes I was wearing were. Thank goodness the darkness hid my blushing face. “I didn’t want to, sor… sorry.” Saying that, my hands frantically reached down, trying to retrieve the clothes. The more anxious I got, the clumsier I was, and I accidentally pushed the clothes further away. I was terrified Caleb would hate me. My voice was already choked with tears. Finally, Caleb was the first to pull away from me. He sat straight up, his voice freezing cold. “Stella, I don’t care what tricks you’re playing, I’m not falling for them anymore. I hope you return to normal tomorrow. Don’t play the amnesia card again, it’s boring.” “Tonight I’m going to Miles’s room. Do as you please.” Caleb left. I realized belatedly. So my son’s name was Miles. 05 Sleepless all night. I stared blankly until dawn. Around seven o’clock, I heard washing sounds outside, and the sound of Caleb talking with someone. She must be the nanny hired to take care of Miles. After a while, the door opened and closed. Caleb left. I lay on the bed thinking about life. I had always been dull when it came to relationships between men and women, otherwise I wouldn’t have liked Caleb for so many years without daring to confess. I always fantasized about becoming Caleb’s wife, thinking I would definitely treat him very, very well. But facts proved that low EQ is low EQ. Even though I possessed this marriage, it was still a complete mess. As my thoughts ran wild, the bedroom door was suddenly opened. A chubby auntie appeared at the door, hastily apologizing: “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be inside.” “It’s okay, I was about to get up anyway.” The auntie breathed a sigh of relief and walked in: “I thought you were resting in your own room. When Mr. Wright left just now, he didn’t mention you were resting in his room.” My own room? I suddenly remembered the guest bedroom Caleb took me to yesterday to find clothes. It seemed there was indeed a bed inside. Could it be that all along we were… sleeping in separate rooms?! No wonder he insisted I was seducing him yesterday. I covered my face and wailed twice. Miles must have heard my voice, as he ran over barefoot with a “pitter-patter,” standing timidly at the door, not daring to come in. “Miles.” I called out tentatively, then beckoned him with my hand. The little guy seemed to receive some kind of permission, charging in like a little firecracker, instantly rolling onto my bed, revealing three teeth: “Mommy!” Two dark eyes like black grapes were shining brightly. My heart melted looking at him. Regardless of my relationship with Caleb, I wanted to treat Miles as well as possible. I greeted the nanny and took him to the mall. On one hand, I planned to buy him some toys, and on the other, I wanted to buy myself a couple of pieces of clothing. The “my” fashion taste in this universe was so trendy I really couldn’t handle it. Along the way, I subtly asked Miles what his mommy was like before. The little kid thought for a long time before shaking his head and saying: “She ignored Miles.” Then he added softly: “Fierce.” Kids don’t lie. If it was really like this, then the difference between the me of the two universes was too big. Not only in fashion taste, but also in every other aspect. I couldn’t help but wonder, why did Caleb marry me? Did he just like me this way? His tastes were quite hardcore! “Mommy, I want to eat that.” Suddenly, the little guy next to me tugged at my hem. I looked over and sure enough, it was McDonald’s, which every kid can’t resist. Miles looked at me, his eyes radiating a Shin-chan-like gleam. I: “…Buy!” However, half an hour later, Miles and I were sitting with our heads bowed in front of Caleb’s office, like two egregious sinners. And the “culprit” was the unopened box of Chicken McNuggets and fries in the bag. 06 The origin was that after I bought the McDonald’s for Miles, the kid wanted to share it with his dad. The hospital Caleb worked at was nearby. I figured this could be an opportunity to repair our marital relationship, so I took the little guy to the clinic. I never expected that when this man saw the things in my hand, his brows would furrow so tightly they could wrap around the earth. He opened his mouth and asked: “Why would you buy Miles this kind of junk food?” I was dumbfounded and quickly tried to cover up: “I bought it for myself, not for Miles.” “So you think there’s no problem if you eat it yourself?” Caleb’s brows furrowed so tightly they could knit a sweater on the spot. “Fried food causes the body’s pH value to drop rapidly, creating an acidic constitution. A normal person’s body fluid pH is between 7.35 and 7.45, but if it drops to 6.8, cancer cells will spread rapidly.” I didn’t understand: “So?” “The risk of cancer will increase.” My brain did a 180-degree turn before realizing he seemed to be caring about me. That was quite subtle. Miles was unhappy, clenching his little fists: “I wanted to buy it for Mommy! Daddy, meanie!” After he said that, Caleb laughed. A barely visible dimple rippled at the corner of his mouth. This was the first time I saw Caleb smile since I accidentally entered this universe. He flicked Miles’s forehead: “A meal of McDonald’s bought you over?” Then he looked at me: “I still have some work for now. You guys go wait for me in the break room inside.” He glanced at the McDonald’s bag again: “You’re only allowed to eat two pieces. Don’t let it happen again.” He didn’t kick me out, was this… a good sign? Breathing a sigh of relief: “Thank you, Senior!” After I finished speaking, Caleb’s expression seemed to daze for a moment before he gave an “Mhm” and lowered his eyes, avoiding my gaze. Just as Miles and I entered the break room, someone knocked on Caleb’s office door. “Do you have time now? I’ve been feeling unwell lately. Could you check my pulse?” Looking out through the crack in the door, the figure was somewhat familiar. It wasn’t until I heard her voice that I confirmed it was Audrey. At the time, Audrey and Caleb could be considered “prominent figures” at our school. Excellent looks, brilliant grades. Not just the medical school, they were the face of our entire university. But in my memory, Audrey was a very strong-willed person, and her relationship with Caleb wasn’t good at all, even having a bit of a tit-for-tat rivalry. Because she couldn’t stand the existence of someone better than her, and Caleb was a bit aloof, I rarely saw them in the same frame. But here, they were friends and worked at the same hospital? Caleb’s voice was clear and cold: “Deficient Qi and blood. Make sure to rest.” “How can I rest? There are so many surgeries lately, and the hospital is short-staffed.” Audrey complained coquettishly, pausing for a moment before saying: “I heard from your mom before that you’re preparing for a divorce? What’s going on between you and that junior… she is a junior, right?” I covered my mouth. Oh my god, why did her whiny tone reek so much of a two-faced manipulator? The seniors from the two universes were too different. Obviously, Caleb also caught the scent of her fakeness: “I didn’t know when you became so gossipy.” “After all, you suddenly announced your marriage before, scaring us all. When I was in school, I didn’t even notice that girl.” Audrey laughed dryly: “But I think it’s better to divorce early. You and her were never on the same path anyway. Your mom said she’s an influencer? How many decent people are in that industry? If not for yourself, consider Miles. Leading by example…” Before she could finish, Caleb’s fountain pen was placed heavily on his notebook: “Audrey, you’ve crossed the line.” Audrey stayed silent for two seconds, then apologized charmingly: “Sorry, I was just feeling it was unfair to you, thinking you deserve better.” “I know what’s good for me. From now on, I don’t want to hear anyone talking about my family in front of me.” “Okay.” Audrey stood up. “I bought some new clothes and pants for Miles. I’ll give them to you after work.” Audrey left, and the entire office grew quiet. Miles was still burying his head, eating hard, his hands and around his mouth covered in grease. Seeing I wasn’t moving, he very generously handed the half-bitten chicken nugget to me: “Mommy, eat.” “Miles, eat it yourself.” I had completely lost my appetite. Piecing together Audrey’s words, I roughly knew I seemed to be an influencer. Associating it with the clothes in the closet, I gasped. Saying I wasn’t on the same path as Caleb, saying my behavior brought bad influence to Miles, could it be that I was an… adult webcam model? Caleb was a traditional young doctor, and his wife was an adult webcam model? No wonder his mother despised me so much, no wonder we were getting a divorce. I started to feel uncertain. If I was really in this profession, then the “cheating” Caleb mentioned didn’t seem impossible. What should I do now? Continue to pretend I don’t know, or… “Stella.” Caleb’s voice disrupted my wild thoughts. I looked up and found Caleb had already taken off his white coat and was wearing casual private clothes. He looked exceptionally handsome. I finally reacted: “You’re off work?” “To be precise, I’ve been off work for 3 minutes and 20 seconds.” Caleb looked at me. “Which means, you spaced out for exactly 3 minutes and 20 seconds.” I blinked. My first reaction was, so the former top student and current social elite also counted the time exactly to get off work. I thought only losers like me did that. For some unknown reason, the distance between Caleb and me suddenly didn’t seem so far. 07 Caleb drove on the way back. Miles had a designated car seat. I hesitated back and forth for a long time, not knowing where it was appropriate for me to sit. If it had been the day before yesterday, I would have unhesitatingly sat in the passenger seat, but now I wasn’t sure. Finally, I sighed and still opened the back door. “Are you planning to treat me like a chauffeur?” Just as I was about to climb in, Caleb’s words floated over leisurely. I silently retracted my leg: “No, I was just… testing if the back door is easy to open.” Caleb glanced at me, evidently speechless at my brainless reply. Miles was exhausted from playing all day and fell asleep. Caleb and I were speechless all the way, and awkwardness spread in the space. After a long time, I finally spoke: “Senior, if I told you that I’m actually not me, but another person, would you believe it?” “You’re not you? Yesterday you said you had amnesia, and today you’re planning to claim you’ve been possessed?” I pursed my lips: “No, I’m saying, do you believe there are… parallel universes in this world?” After I finished, Caleb was silent for two seconds, then smiled: “If you can logically convince me, I’d be willing to cooperate and believe you.” I couldn’t explain it. “Never mind.” My shoulders slumped. After a long while, I spoke again: “Senior, why did you agree to marry me in the first place?” He clearly had better options, why did he agree to marry me? After a long time, so long I thought Caleb wouldn’t answer, he finally spoke: “Does asking this now still have any meaning?” My heart sank. Right, it had no meaning anymore. We were getting a divorce. As soon as we got home, Caleb went to the study, leaving Miles and me outside. I thought he probably wanted to avoid being alone with me. It wasn’t until night, after I washed up, that Caleb finally opened the study door. “Is Miles asleep?” “Mhm.” I held a bath towel, feeling a bit awkward. “You should rest early too. I’m going to sleep first.” Saying that, I walked towards the guest room, but was pulled back by Caleb: “Where are you going?” “The gue… guest room.” Caleb frowned: “We haven’t divorced yet, and Miss Smith already intends to sleep in separate beds from me?” “No, the nanny said we always…” “The nanny said? You don’t remember what it was like before yourself, and you had to ask the nanny?” This sentence completely confused me. I just didn’t know! But from Caleb’s meaning, did I misunderstand? Could it be we used to sleep together? So I silently rolled back to the master bedroom hugging my pillow. This was the second time I shared a bed with Caleb. I was so nervous I felt like I was going to throw up. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. The image of Caleb taking a shower involuntarily surfaced in my mind, and my cheeks gradually grew hot. This was deadly! I got up and planned to slip away. Just then, the bathroom door opened. As if on purpose, this man just tied a bath towel around his waist. He wasn’t wearing anything on top, and his firm abdominal muscles were faintly exposed. I swallowed hard, quickly lay back down, and covered my head with the quilt: “Sleepwalking!” A low chuckle came from outside, the sound making my face burn again. After a while, the mattress on the other side sank slightly. It must be Caleb lying down. “Sleeping with the covers over your head is bad for your health.” The quilt was suddenly lifted by Caleb. Before I could even react, I was already pulled into his arms: “Go to sleep.” My breathing stopped, my limbs went stiff. The distance between Caleb and me was so close I could even feel his heartbeat. “Just… sleep like this?” “Otherwise, what else do you want to do?” My whole body shuddered: “I’m already asleep.” Then I squeezed my eyes shut tight, not daring to move. I hadn’t slept at all the night before. After closing my eyes, I found I actually felt sleepy. There was a calming scent on Caleb. Gradually, my consciousness also began to slowly drift away. Before completely losing consciousness, my last thought was: This sleeping posture doesn’t feel like we’re getting a divorce…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414041”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

[Breaking: Rumor has it the CEO’s daughter is doing an undercover internship in our department!!!] The message popped up in our department’s Slack channel. I watched as my true identity was supposedly “exposed.” Then, Harper Sterling replied in the chat, dripping with fake humility: “Since I’m undercover, I really just want to keep a low profile and prove my own abilities. Let’s all just focus on our work, okay? Instantly, my coworkers—including my own boyfriend—started kissing up to her. Me, the actual CEO’s daughter: … 1 Every year before the company’s Winter Holiday Gala, employee bonuses included limited-edition blind box figures. Right before the holidays, our department’s group chat was buzzing with speculation about this year’s theme. Mid-conversation, Harper dropped a photo into the chat: “This year’s theme is The Olympian Gods. Don’t leak this to anyone outside the department, guys!” I stared at the screen, stunned. That kind of internal mock-up was restricted to the executive admin team. Harper was just an accounting intern like me. How did she get it? Britney Hayes was the first to reply: “OMG! Only top-floor executives get intel like this early! Harper, confess! How long is a billionaire heiress like you planning to play undercover with us peasants?” “Holy crap, so the rumors about the CEO’s daughter interning here are true?!” “The signs were all there! Harper’s last name is Sterling, and our CEO is Mr. Sterling!” “I knew Harper was built different. That canvas tote bag she carries every day? It looks so chic, totally not something us corporate slaves could afford.” I glanced at the plain, unbranded canvas bag on Harper’s desk. We had a dozen of those at my house—they were complimentary dust bags from luxury boutiques that our maids used to carry groceries. The coworkers were blowing this way out of proportion. I figured Harper would step up and clarify the misunderstanding. After all, the Sterling family had produced nothing but boys for three generations. I was my dad’s only precious daughter. Besides me, there was absolutely no other “CEO’s daughter” in this company. My dad adored my mom. When I was born, my mom insisted I take her maiden name, Bennett. My dad agreed without a second thought. So, I was Chloe Bennett. Sure enough, Harper replied a minute later. However, her response was: “Since it’s an undercover stint, I just want to keep a low profile and prove my worth. Let’s not discuss this anymore, guys. Let’s just do our jobs! Me: … Talk about gaslighting. That non-denial was practically a megaphone. As soon as she sent that, the chat went wild. Coworker A: “Princess! I really want the Athena figure! Mercury is in retrograde and my luck is awful. Could you pull some strings and get me one? I’ll carry your bags for a month! puppy dog eyes” Coworker B: “Princess Harper! I want one too! I’ll buy your coffee every day!” Britney: “Back off, guys! Princess Harper, I want the whole Olympian set! Hahahaha!” “I’d die for the full set! Princess, I will be your loyal servant for life!” I read the messages and held back a laugh, assuming Harper wouldn’t dare respond. My dad’s corporation was massive, and the rules were incredibly strict. The whole point of the blind boxes was for employees to enjoy the thrill of the draw. Because of that, even family members like me didn’t get special privileges to bypass the system, let alone a mere intern. But Harper responded, shattering my expectations of just how bottomless her vanity was. “Alright,” she typed. “I’ll see what I can do. But just for you guys! The company rules are super strict, so keep it on the down-low.” I actually laughed out loud. She knew the rules were strict, yet she still made a promise she couldn’t keep. People calling her “Heiress” and “Princess” had clearly made her delusional. Sitting across from me, Harper looked up, a smug smile on her face. “Chloe, do you want a figure too?” I smiled back. “Can you really get company blind boxes early?” Britney’s sharp voice cut in. “Chloe, what kind of question is that? Are you doubting the CEO’s daughter? Typical try-hard charity case. You got a scholarship out of the boondocks and think you’re hot stuff, but you’ll never understand the superiority of someone born in Rome. Princess Harper, ignore her. Let’s go get lunch.” Harper didn’t address me or my question. Instead, she picked up a stack of files, looking distressed. “But the Director told me to organize these spreadsheets by noon, and I’m only half done…” Britney snatched the files and slammed them down on my desk. “Chloe, finish organizing these for Harper.” I tossed them right back at her. “Do your own work.” Britney threw them back at me, barking a command. “Harper is the Princess of this company! Don’t you try-hards love showing off? Letting you do the Princess’s work is doing you a favor. Got it?” I threw the files back one last time, muttered “Psychopath,” and stood up to leave for my lunch break. Britney shrieked behind me. “Don’t be an ungrateful bitch, Chloe! You think passing a few exams makes you special? Harper’s family owns this place! One word to her dad, and your chances of a full-time offer are dead!” I could have died laughing. The only one dreaming here was Harper. I was in a rush to meet my boyfriend for lunch and couldn’t be bothered to argue. I walked out, hearing several coworkers swarming Harper to brown-nose her, eagerly volunteering to do her spreadsheets. 2 My boyfriend, Derek Vance, and I had just sat down at a nice Italian place downstairs. Suddenly, Britney and a cluster of coworkers walked in, surrounding Harper like she was Beyoncé. Derek, who was usually indifferent to other women, suddenly stood up. He walked over to an empty table near us, pulled out a chair, and gave Harper a warm, charming smile. “Harper, there are empty seats here. You guys can sit.” Harper smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you, Derek.” Derek’s smile grew even softer. “Anytime.” I sat there, dumbfounded, staring at him. He hadn’t pulled my chair out for me when we arrived. Derek sat back down, leaned over the table, and whispered, “Harper is the CEO’s daughter.” I frowned. “So what?” Word traveled fast. Within a single morning, even Derek in the Engineering department knew. “She’s a big deal,” Derek said defensively. “If I get on her good side, it benefits both of us.” He then shot me a look of annoyance. “You shared a dorm with Harper for three years in college. How did you never tell me something this huge?” I was getting annoyed. “Even if she was the CEO’s daughter, what difference would it make?” Just then, the garlic butter shrimp Harper ordered arrived at her table. Derek stood up again. He leaned in, gritted his teeth, and whispered to me, “You are so dense it’s actually painful.” Then, abandoning his actual girlfriend, he scurried over to their table and started peeling shrimp for Harper. I swallowed my anger and called his name twice. He ignored me. Harper spoke up, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Thank you, Derek. But Chloe looks really mad. I know it’s no big deal that you’re helping me, but if she throws a tantrum, you’ll have to be the one to coax her. I don’t want you to get tired because of me. You should go back.” Derek wanted to stay, but a few male coworkers, eager to suck up to the “heiress,” aggressively nudged him out of the way. When Derek returned to our table, he glared at me like he wanted to stab me. I let out a cold laugh. “Derek, did you ever stop to think that if she isn’t the CEO’s daughter, your pathetic, gold-digging brown-nosing today is going to look incredibly embarrassing?” Derek’s face darkened. “I’m a gold-digger? You think I’m embarrassing? The only embarrassing one here is you! You’re dead broke, yet you strut around carrying a fake fifty-thousand-dollar Hermès Birkin! God knows what shady things you did to get that knockoff!” For safety reasons, I usually wore unbranded custom clothing and bags made by my family’s private designers. But one morning, I was running late for a major college lecture, panicked, and grabbed a custom, logo-less Hermès bag my mom had casually bought at a Paris runway show and left on the sofa. I didn’t expect Derek to recognize the silhouette. So his whole “I don’t care about material things” persona was a complete act. My affection and respect for him plummeted to absolute zero. I stood up with a cold face and left. I had completely lost my appetite. I had originally thought he was a talented engineer and was planning to recommend him to my dad for a promotion. Now, I realized that was entirely unnecessary. 3 Derek called me. Thinking he wanted to apologize, I answered. He didn’t apologize. Instead, he asked to borrow money. I hung up immediately. After work, he was waiting for me outside the office building. He pulled me into a quiet corner. The six-foot-tall man slumped his shoulders, looking pathetic. “It’s a family emergency. I really need $15,000 right now.” I shot back, “You’re friends with the ‘CEO’s daughter’ now. Go borrow it from her.” Derek looked even more pitiful. “Chloe, why can’t you understand me? Do you think I wanted to suck up to Harper? I did it for our future! If we make friends with the CEO’s daughter, wouldn’t our lives at the company be so much easier? Chloe, you’re the only one who can help me. If you don’t… my mom is screwed. If you don’t have the cash, that fake Hermès bag you have… give it to me. I can sell it, it should cover the cost…” I had met Derek’s mother. She was a hardworking, kind country woman. I had a good impression of her, and it was her kindness that had initially made me think highly of Derek. Hearing it was a medical emergency for his mom, I didn’t think twice. I told him he didn’t need to sell my bag, I would get the cash. I transferred him the $15,000. A day later, I got a call from one of my wealthy socialite friends. She said she saw my handsome boyfriend at an exclusive boutique buying a limited-edition designer dress. When buying it, he told the sales associate it was an anniversary gift for his girlfriend. It cost $12,000. My friend snapped a photo of the dress and sent it to me. She could tell I had no idea, so she said enviously, “Tsk, couldn’t tell your stoic little boyfriend was such a romantic! He bought your exact size. Just play dumb and get ready for the surprise!” I honestly didn’t know how to describe what I was feeling. Derek was usually incredibly stingy. Spending $12,000 was astronomical for him. I never imagined he would use his mother’s fake “medical emergency” to borrow $15,000 from me, just to buy a $12,000 dress. However, when our anniversary actually arrived, Derek didn’t even give me a greeting card. Instead, I saw the $12,000 limited-edition dress on Harper. 4 I shoved the photo my friend took directly into Derek’s face. “Is this what you meant by your mother having an emergency and needing cash?!” Derek turned beet red and stammered, “Harper… she thinks highly of me. She invited me to the movies the other night. I wanted to give her a gift in return. She’s rich, so she definitely wouldn’t care about a cheap gift… That’s why I borrowed the money from you…” I never expected that Harper, aside from being vain and manipulative, was also top-tier at stealing other people’s boyfriends behind their backs. I sneered. “So to you, the CEO’s daughter is your mother now? By that logic, Derek, don’t you have too many ‘mothers’ to keep track of?” “Chloe, that’s enough!” Derek roared, cutting me off. “We’re breaking up.” My heart stung for a second. It hurt a little. But I didn’t let it hurt for long. I was glad I discovered his true colors before revealing my real identity. I clenched my fists and looked him dead in the eye. “Fine. We’re done. I hope you never regret this. And even if you do, don’t you dare come crawling back to me begging for another chance!” “Look at your attitude! A woman should either have money or be submissive! You? You’re dead broke, and your personality is like a brick wall! Let me tell you, no man could stand your foul temper! I was blind to be with you, but now my vision is restored. Don’t even talk about this lifetime, I wouldn’t regret dumping you in eight lifetimes!” “Great. Please remember what you said today. Also, give me back the $15,000 you borrowed.” To a scumbag like him, giving him a single cent felt like an insult to my money. “You want to talk about money?!” He threw a small notebook at me. “Pay me back for all of this first!” I caught it and flipped through. Inside were line-by-line records of every single expense from our dates over the past few months. When my shoelace broke on the street and he bought me a two-dollar replacement, he logged it. Every meal, every cup of coffee—nothing was missed. The grand total was $200. The spare change on a single pen I had gifted him cost more than that, yet he logged every penny. I laughed out of sheer anger. “Fine. Deduct the $200 from the $15,000 you owe me. But the gifts I gave you—the designer belts, the fountain pens, the tailored shirts—you return all of them.” Derek scoffed disdainfully. “Those fake knockoffs? I threw them all in the trash the night Harper and I went to the movies.” “Then pay me back for their value. I have the receipts for everything. I’ll send them to you, and you will write me an IOU.” For once, Derek was eager about money. “Fine, I’ll write it! The cost of a single bag from my Harper’s closet will cover it. Don’t try to forge the receipts, I’ll have them verified.” Just a minute ago it was “Harper,” now it was “his Harper.” Pathetic. 5 I don’t know what methods she used, but Harper actually managed to get a set of the Olympian Gods figures. After that, her status in the department skyrocketed. An intern who hadn’t even been at the company for long suddenly received a private office—a perk reserved only for senior accountants. Brand new office supplies, a top-tier computer setup, you name it. Her desk was piled high with expensive lattes and snacks bought by our coworkers. Correspondingly, because I refused to worship her, I became the perfect target for contrast. I was relocated to a desk right next to the bathrooms. All the most tedious, awful tasks were dumped on me. In the breakroom, I accidentally overheard the gossip. This was all the “hard work” of VP Marcus Thorne. Britney looked at me, bossing me around arrogantly. “Chloe, go brew a cup of coffee for Harper. Make sure it’s pour-over. Harper is doing you a favor by specifically asking for you to make it.” “Where did this rat turd come from? Do you have a death wish? How dare you order our Chlo—” That arrogant voice belonged to my third brother, Luke Sterling. I acted fast, slapping a hand over his mouth and dragging him out of the breakroom. My dad named him Luke to be a beacon of light for the company. But aside from business, Luke was a master at partying and goofing off. Because of that, my dad “exiled” him to our department to do grunt work and gain some grounded experience alongside me. Everyone in our family spoiled me to death. Luke was no exception. Hearing me being ordered around, he looked ready to commit murder. But I had my own plans. I wanted to use this opportunity to smoke out all the rats in the company and genuinely do something useful for my dad’s business. Seeing my determination, Luke was moved. He agreed to team up with me to catch the rats. Luke asked about my boyfriend, mentioning that our second brother, Leo, was having a concert soon. He handed me three VIP tickets so I could take my boyfriend. I casually shoved the tickets into my pocket. Before I could tell Luke I had dumped the cheating loser, Britney followed us out, demanding I go make Harper’s coffee. Luke stepped right in front of her. At over six-foot-two, with a furious scowl, he looked terrifying. Britney glared at me but didn’t dare push it. She went to make the coffee herself. Barely a few steps away, she suddenly let out a deafening, groundhog-like shriek. “AHHHHHH! TICKETS TO LEO STERLING’S CONCERT!” Everyone turned to look. A few nearby coworkers ran over to see the tickets in her hand. Britney ignored them, sprinting straight into Harper’s office and giving her a massive bear hug. “Princess Harper! These Leo Sterling tickets must have dropped from your pocket, right?! You’re the CEO’s daughter, Leo Sterling is your actual biological brother, right?! There are two tickets—can I please have one?! I’m his biggest fan! Take me with you, and I will be your literal slave for life!” Harper only froze for a single second before her calm, arrogant facade returned. She smoothly took the two tickets Britney had “found.” “Sure, we can go together. It’s perfect since there are two tickets.” Watching this absurd play unfold, I blinked and reached into my pocket. That’s when I realized the concert tickets my brother had just given me were gone. I started walking straight toward Harper and Britney. 6 Luke followed right behind me. “I’m right here. You don’t even need to lift a finger. Just say the word, and I’ll wipe these rats off the face of the earth.” I held back my impulsive brother and gave him a specific instruction. “You got it.” Luke went off to do as I asked. Harper’s office was packed. Britney and several other coworkers were squeezed inside, all lured in by the holy grail of tickets to the global pop star’s sold-out concert. I walked into the office and asked her, “Harper, how do you know these tickets are yours?” Before Harper could answer, her loyal foot soldier, Britney, fired back. “Duh! If they aren’t Harper’s, are they yours, Chloe?!” Following her mockery, a few people chuckled. I raised an eyebrow and replied calmly, “Yes. They’re mine.” The office fell dead silent for three seconds. Then Britney burst into hysterical laughter. “Yours?! Hahaha! Chloe, has Princess Harper’s natural superiority finally driven you insane? A broke intern claims that VIP tickets to Leo Sterling—which cost over a thousand bucks each—are hers?” Harper smiled tactfully, but her words were far more vicious. “Chloe, it’s normal to want to see my brother Leo’s concert. But how can you claim things that aren’t yours? I think your obsession with Leo is making you delusional. Do you want me to recommend a good psychiatrist?” I didn’t waste any more breath on them. I called Luke to bring the evidence over. There was a security camera right outside the breakroom in the hallway. I had sent Luke to pull the security footage. Luke was ruthless. He wheeled in a projector and cast the security footage onto the large white wall in the accounting office. On the screen, it clearly showed the tickets falling out of my pocket, and Britney picking them up. The entire sequence was crystal clear. The laughter in the office died. Coworkers began whispering. “Holy crap, they really are Chloe’s.” “But Britney swore they were Harper’s?” “Yeah, and when Chloe asked Harper, Harper didn’t even deny it. She acted exactly like they were hers.” “The CEO’s daughter tried to steal an intern’s concert tickets? What the hell?” … Harper’s face was completely blank. She gripped the tickets so tightly her knuckles turned white, looking like she wanted to crush them into dust. Britney’s expression was the definition of mortification. She stood frozen for a moment, then turned to look at Harper. Harboring a bit of resentment, yet too afraid to be too aggressive, Britney asked carefully, “Harper… are these tickets… not yours?” Harper turned her head away, shifting the blame onto her. “When did I ever say the ones you picked up were mine?” Britney: “But…” Harper smoothly downplayed it: “I do have tickets, but I put them in my bag. You brought these over, and I just assumed they were the ones I dropped. It was just a misunderstanding.” Luke scoffed. “A misunderstanding? Alright, you said your tickets are in your bag. Take them out right now and show everyone, prove your innocence.” All eyes in the office locked onto Harper. 7 Harper began pretending to rummage through her bag, furrowing her perfectly manicured brows. “Looks like I left them at home. It’s just a concert. If I want to go, it’s just a matter of making one phone call.” Seeing the lingering doubt in everyone’s eyes, Harper smiled softly. “Whoever wants to go, just let me know. I’ll take you all backstage when the time comes.” Britney was the first to hug her and squeal. “AHHHH! I want to go! I knew I couldn’t be wrong! It’s Princess Harper’s own brother’s concert, she doesn’t even need tickets to get in!” Several other coworkers who desperately wanted to go instantly switched back to smiling faces, begging to be taken along. Harper agreed to all of them. No one questioned her anymore; the room erupted in cheers. People are basically like this—in the face of benefits and perks, right and wrong become irrelevant. Harper looked at me, her eyes full of provocation. “Like I said, it was a misunderstanding. For something like this, I have absolutely no reason to lie. You, on the other hand, Chloe… are you doing this on purpose because you think Derek broke up with you for me? Let me clarify, Derek and I are nothing but friends. But honestly, we’re all adults here. Your jealousy is so petty. No wonder Derek doesn’t like you anymore.” Derek’s furious voice suddenly rang out from behind me. “Chloe, are you psycho?! What does our breakup have to do with Harper? What right do you have to target her?!” I didn’t even know when Derek had arrived. He was holding a massive bouquet of fresh red roses. My eyes stung for a brief second. I said coldly, “Who is ‘our’? Remember, you are you, and I am me. Stop flattering yourself.” I didn’t forget to snatch my tickets back from Harper’s tight grip. I chuckled. “Alright, since you’re so capable, I’ll see you at the concert.” Last time, her loyal “grandson” bought her that limited-edition dress. I couldn’t wait to see which of her loyal “grandsons” was going to miraculously conjure up sold-out VIP concert tickets for her this time. Derek’s sudden appearance in our department was to celebrate Harper getting her own private office. He had come specifically to gift her the flowers. Luke looked at Derek, realizing something belatedly. He asked me, “Is this that—” Although I had broken up with Derek before getting the chance to introduce him to my family, I had shown them a photo of him when he first started pursuing me. I said briefly, “We broke up. He’s currently busy licking the boots of the ‘CEO’s daughter’ in there.” Luke’s mouth twitched. “He has zero taste.” I had already moved on and shrugged indifferently. “Everyone meets a few scumbags when they’re young.” Luke wanted to punch him. I held him back. The person this scumbag wanted to suck up to was the CEO’s daughter. Harper was a fake. It wouldn’t be long before her true colors were exposed. When that time came, the scumbag would realize that being a gold-digging bootlicker leaves you with absolutely nothing. There was no need for my brother to dirty his hands. 8 The concert started at 8 PM. Luke and I planned to head straight there after clocking out. My eldest brother, Liam, had called. He organized a fleet of cars to escort me to the concert. Liam loved cars. He managed auto-investments and was a race car driver himself. His private garage in the city alone held over a hundred luxury vehicles. The convoy he arranged to escort me consisted of eight cars and ten bodyguards. The bodyguards were handpicked by my parents from a top-tier private security firm. Because it was my first time attending Leo’s concert, they were worried about the massive crowds and didn’t trust Leo or Luke to protect me properly. That evening, waiting at the elevators, Luke and I bumped into Harper, Britney, Derek, and their entourage. Britney, acting like a human megaphone, intentionally raised her voice to show off. “Listen up, guys! Princess Harper’s dad sent a luxury convoy to pick us up! They’re all top-tier luxury cars worth millions! Unlike some people who maxed out their credit cards just to buy a ticket to show off, and will spend the next few months paying off loans. Forget a taxi, they’ll probably have to borrow money just to ride the smelly bus! Hahaha!” She stared straight at me, sneering. “Some people need to learn that getting good grades in school is useless. First of all, you need self-awareness. You need to recognize your status and fix your attitude. Otherwise, you deserve to eat dirt and be poor for the rest of your life.” I chuckled. “You definitely have self-awareness. You’ve positioned your status perfectly—especially how flawlessly you play the role of a groveling lapdog.” Luke gave me a thumbs up. We walked over to take a different elevator. Behind us, a slow-to-react Britney shrieked, “Who are you calling a lapdog?!” Derek, who previously complained to me that Britney was like a rabid dog that bit everyone, was now actually comforting her. “Britney, don’t stoop to Chloe’s level. She’s jealous of Harper. She’s so insanely jealous she’s acting like a porcupine, trying to stab anyone she sees.” Harper’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “People like porcupines are so scary. I’m so glad you broke up with her, Derek.” Heh. I was the one who was glad! 9 Luke and I reached the ground floor. Harper’s group had arrived just before us. Led by Harper, the group of coworkers was crowded around a line of eight top-tier luxury cars, screaming in excitement. The fleet was led by a Rolls-Royce Phantom, followed by Bentleys, Ferraris, Maybachs, and Lamborghinis. It was basically a high-end auto show. Harper, Britney, and Derek were worshippers of vanity; of course they recognized the cars. No wonder they were going crazy. Harper’s eyes were practically glowing, but she tried hard to maintain a reserved, elegant posture. “These are just the everyday cars my family uses. Sit wherever you want, guys. Get in.” Derek was flushed with excitement. Using a tone reserved for worshipping deities, he asked Harper carefully, “Harper, can I ride in the same car as you? I want to stay by your side every second, to watch over you and protect you.” “Mhm, okay. Thank you, Derek. You’re so sweet.” Harper and Derek walked toward the extended Rolls-Royce at the front. Derek played the gentleman, reaching out to open the door for her. Before his hand even touched the handle, the driver and the bodyguard in the passenger seat stepped out simultaneously and blocked him. “Who are you?” Derek awkwardly pulled his hand back, revealing Harper behind him. Harper swayed her hips, stepped forward, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and commanded arrogantly, “My brother sent you, right? I’m Harper Sterling. Open the door for me. Oh, and these are my coworkers going to the concert with me. Tell the drivers in the back to open their doors too. My coworkers need to get in.” The driver and the bodyguard exchanged glances, completely baffled. The drivers and bodyguards from the seven cars behind them also stepped out. Soon, their Captain spotted me and immediately marched over with large strides, preparing to respectfully greet me. Luke and I simultaneously raised a hand to stop him. We wanted to watch the show. Harper was already throwing a tantrum. “Hey! I told you to open the doors, are you deaf?! Where are you going?! I didn’t say those two could ride in my cars!” The drivers and bodyguards were all bewildered. I nudged Luke, signaling it was his turn to take the stage. Luke caught on, strolled over, looked down at Harper, and spoke with supreme arrogance. “These cars—” Harper cut him off immediately. “What? You want to hitch a ride too? Sorry, step aside. There are no seats for you in my cars!” Luke let out a cold laugh. “Get the fuck out of here with your fake flexing. You’re the one who needs to step aside. Every single one of these cars belongs to my family.” Harper turned to look at him, sneering. “You? Hah! An intern? You think you’re worthy?” She turned back to yell at the driver. “Hurry up and open the door, didn’t you hear me?! If my brother finds out you disrespected me like this, you’ll all be fired!” No one paid her any attention. “Harper Sterling, right? Open your blind eyes and look closely.” Luke raised a hand in a signal. Instantly, the driver pulled open the rear door of the Rolls-Royce and bowed respectfully. “Young Master Luke, please get in.” Harper: “…” Britney, Derek, and the crowd of coworkers: “???” Luke: “See clearly now? If you see clearly, then get the hell out of my way!” Harper was in disbelief. She didn’t even care about the humiliation. She grabbed her phone and ran to a secluded corner to make a call. I followed her quietly and turned on my phone’s voice recorder. I heard her call the person on the other end “Kevin” and ask about the cars. I couldn’t hear what the other person said. Harper’s voice suddenly grew loud. “You didn’t send cars?! What am I supposed to do if you don’t send cars?! I already promised my coworkers!” “You can’t get a Rolls-Royce? Then rent me a few Bentleys, Maybachs, or sports cars! Hurry up, okay?! If you don’t, I’m going to be completely humiliated, Kevin!” “No sports cars either?! Then… then a Mercedes or a BMW! …Still no?! Then what am I supposed to do?! Kevin, you HAVE to get them here. If you don’t, and I lose face, I can’t guarantee I won’t leak all your dirty secrets onto the company portal!” After Harper’s desperate threats, the voice on the other end of the phone suddenly boomed so loudly I could hear it. “You little bitch, you dare threaten me?! Do you have any idea how much money and how many favors it cost me to get you those tickets from the Second Young Master’s team?! I paid a hundred times the premium just to secure one ticket, and now you want me to get you ten luxury cars?! Luxury my ass! You want to ruin me?! Fine! Go ahead and post it! If I get ruined at the company, you’re going down with me, you stupid bitch!” The man hung up. Harper was trembling with rage. I sent the recording to my dad’s assistant for investigation…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414040”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Transported back to age eighteen, I was forced to drop out of school and ended up tightening screws in a factory.In the middle of the noisy factory floor, the owner’s son stood with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked around with a reckless, arrogant smirk. “I’m starting my own tech company,” he announced. “Who’s crazy enough to come with me?” Dead silence. Then, one hand went up. Mine. My coworkers said my brain was fried. My cousin laughed at my delusions. My parents screamed that I just needed to shut up and keep screwing bolts for minimum wage. I just smiled. They didn’t know anything. Twenty years later, that arrogant guy would be sitting at the top of the Forbes billionaire list. 1 I was eighteen again, and I had just been handed my expulsion papers. In our cramped living room, my father’s roaring voice was deafening. “Stealing from other students! You’ve completely dragged our family name through the mud!” My mother chimed in, equally furious. “You couldn’t just go to school and be normal? Look at your cousin Emily. Thank God she put in a good word for you, or you’d be sitting in a jail cell right now!” The memories of my past life rushed back. I had been framed for theft by a classmate. The teachers didn’t care about the truth; they pinned it on me and dragged me to the principal’s office. The school was having a crackdown on stealing, and the principal wanted to make an example out of me. He threatened to call the cops. That was when my cousin, Emily Carter, stepped in with tears in her eyes, begging for mercy on my behalf. In the end, the principal let it go—on the condition that I voluntarily withdraw from the school. Back then, I treated Emily like my savior. It wasn’t until years later, when I was working a dead-end retail job and ran into an old classmate, that I found out the truth: the entire setup was orchestrated by Emily from the start. Seeing me space out, my dad raised his hand. I didn’t dodge. I took the heavy slap straight across the face. My whole body ached. This wasn’t the first time they had hit me today. “Pack your bags and get out tomorrow morning!” my dad yelled. “Whether you live or die out there is your own damn problem!” I nodded, silently turning and walking back to my “room.” It was barely a room—just a tiny, partitioned closet next to the kitchen. The light was dim. I had zero privacy. Right on the other side of the thin wall was my brother Kyle’s room. He had a massive bed and, a true luxury for a working-class family in the late 90s, a brand-new desktop computer. A birthday gift from our parents. Sitting on my cot, the reality of my rebirth finally washed over me. In my past life, I always thought that if I could just go back in time, I’d fight tooth and nail to prove my innocence and stay in high school. But the damage was already done. Right now, I had no money, no power, and no way to fight back against awful people. But that was fine. School wasn’t the only way out. Early the next morning, I left “home.” I had one duffel bag and twenty bucks I had scraped together. I hopped on a Greyhound bus heading straight for the industrial side of the city. In my previous life, after I was expelled, I was weak and defeated. My parents beat me and berated me daily until they got sick of looking at me and found me a job. Emily’s mother, my Aunt Susan, worked as an accountant at a local manufacturing plant. She dragged me in to be a factory girl, screwing bolts on the assembly line all day with room and board included. That soul-crushing, repetitive, dirt-cheap labor stole four years of my youth. This time, I didn’t wait for her introduction. I went straight to the factory myself. Following behind the floor manager, I pulled on a pair of work gloves, grabbed my tools, and walked onto the familiar, deafening assembly floor. Because in this life, I had a very specific target. “Damn it, who the hell stepped on me?!” The low, annoyed growl made me jump. I quickly pulled my foot back. I had left a dusty boot print right on top of a perfectly shined leather shoe. I followed the shoe up to the face, and my breath hitched. The young man had frosted blonde tips, a dragon tattoo winding down his forearm, and a furious scowl on his face. He looked like a thug. But I wasn’t scared. I had seen him in financial magazines, wearing tailored suits, his eyes sharp and his smile warm. The contrast with the guy standing in front of me was jarring. “Boss,” the manager said, turning to me nervously. “She’s new… apologize, now!” I looked right into his eyes. “Sorry.” He stared back. After a few seconds of dead silence, he asked, “You aren’t scared of me?” I shook my head. “Interesting.” Caleb Vance ran his tongue over his teeth. “Little factory girl, you’d do well to stay out of my way.” He turned on his heel to leave. “I’m not a factory girl,” I called out to his arrogant back. “My name is Chloe.” 2 Working the line was brutal. Two days in, I had three massive blisters on my hands. Worse, Aunt Susan spotted me. She put on a fake, overly warm smile. “Well, look who it is! Your parents didn’t even tell me you came down here. You should have said something, sweetie, I could have found you a decent position.” I sneered internally. Wasn’t this the exact “decent position” you threw me into in my last life? But I kept my face blank. “I wouldn’t want to bother you, Aunt Susan. We can catch up later.” I didn’t expect to see Emily the very next day. “Chloe! Where have you been hiding? I was so worried about you.” She grabbed my hands. Her fake sincerity was even more polished than her mother’s. I really couldn’t blame my past self for not seeing through her. “Screwing bolts,” I said flatly. “Oh, I really don’t know much about that… I just came to share some good news! I scored in the top thirty on the state mock exams. My guidance counselor says if I keep this up, I’m guaranteed a spot at a top-tier university!” She came all the way to the factory just to rub this in my face. How “sweet.” “Is that so?” I smiled faintly. “Have you figured out your major yet? If you pick the wrong one, even a fancy degree won’t get you a good job.” Emily bristled. “That’s impossible!” “Why is it impossible?” I shot back. “Look at Mr. Henderson from our neighborhood. He went to a big state school, and now he’s running a dusty corner store. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up—” “It’s still better than being a factory rat!” Wow, the mask slipped fast. Her face turned ugly. She paused, threw down a sharp “I have to go,” and spun around to storm off. “Damn it!” That familiar low growl echoed. I looked up to see Emily had crashed right into someone’s chest. She stumbled back. “S-sorry…” Caleb stood there, looking absolutely murderous. Emily squeaked in terror and practically jogged away. Caleb crossed his arms, tilting his head to look at me. “You know about college majors?” “A little.” He seemed amused. “Alright then. What major guarantees a good job?” “Computer Science.” It was the late 90s. The internet boom was just a faint rumble in the distance, but Caleb would be diving into the tech world very soon. His eyes lit up. But he quickly masked it with a lazy smirk. “The little factory girl has some vision.” I looked at him squarely. “My name is Chloe.” He chuckled. The fierce, thuggish aura melted away instantly, leaving something much softer. “Got it, little factory girl.” He stared at me, his eyes brimming with amusement. He was definitely teasing me. Suddenly, he reached out and flicked me right on the forehead. “I’m Caleb.” 3 After that, whenever I had free time, I found myself looking for Caleb around the plant. I vaguely remembered from my past life that Caleb had left the factory to start a business not long after I arrived. He had tried to recruit from the floor, but because he looked like a gangster and acted like a slacker, nobody wanted to follow him. But I knew that the handful of outsiders he eventually hired ended up incredibly wealthy. Reborn, I didn’t care about becoming a billionaire. I just wanted to catch the wind of the era so I wouldn’t have to scrape by in my middle age. After watching him, I realized Caleb wasn’t the deadbeat he pretended to be. Most of the time, he was sitting in front of a heavy CRT monitor, reading thick books and typing lines of code. The factory workers didn’t know anything about computers; they all assumed he was playing video games. People loved to gossip with me. “Don’t let Caleb’s attitude fool you. He acts tough, but when his older brother comes back from studying abroad, Marcus is taking over the company. Caleb will be left with nothing.” It was true. Caleb had an older brother. In my past life, everyone—myself included—thought Caleb was going to end up a tragic washout. But I knew better now. “No,” I argued back. “He’s going to be untouchable.” One night after my shift, I intentionally dragged my feet, taking the long way around past Caleb’s office. The light was still on. He was typing away. I watched for a moment, then turned to leave. Suddenly, footsteps echoed behind me. “Hey.” I froze. In the dim hallway, Caleb was leaning lazily against the wall, head tilted. “The dorms are the other way. You don’t need to pass through here.” Caught in the act, I panicked. I dropped my gaze, scrambling for an excuse. Caleb walked toward me, stopping when he was dangerously close. I could smell a clean, masculine scent mixed with faint tobacco. I instinctively looked up. His eyes were smiling. His handsome face was relaxed, completely free of the aggression he wore during the day. In the low light, he suddenly leaned down, his lips hovering right next to my ear. “This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you sneaking around, kid,” he whispered. His voice was husky, a low vibration in his chest. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on me.” 4 I stumbled back. “N-no. I don’t.” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes dancing with mischief. I awkwardly looked away. “I was just curious about what you were doing…” “Is that right?” He stood up straight. “And did you figure it out?” I shook my head. He smiled again. For some reason, he seemed to smile a lot tonight. He jutted his chin toward his office. “Well, I guess I’ll be generous. Come on in.” I obediently followed him. The monitor was glowing, surrounded by stacks of programming textbooks. “What kind of books are these?” I asked, playing dumb. Honestly, I was genuinely curious. With Caleb’s intelligence, he could have easily gone to a top university. There was no reason for him to stay stuck in a factory teaching himself, letting everyone look down on him. He leaned against the desk, picking up one of the books. “If you went to college for Computer Science, this is the stuff they’d make you read.” I stared at him. He let out a soft scoff. “You used to be a straight-A student, didn’t you?” I blinked, surprised. “Yeah.” “So why’d you quit?” I bit my lip. I hadn’t planned on hiding it. After a moment of silence, I told him everything—the framing, the expulsion, the betrayal. He didn’t get dramatically angry. He didn’t demand I go fight for my honor or seek revenge. He just listened quietly. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Then he let out a low, self-deprecating laugh. “When no one believes you, everything you say is wrong.” The warm yellow bulb overhead flickered. Caleb leaned by the window, the shadows hiding his expression. I really wanted to say something. Something like, I believe you. Or, When are you starting your company? Can you take me with you? Before I could speak, he crushed his cigarette in an ashtray. The arrogant, reckless aura snapped back into place. “Little factory girl,” he said, looking at me. “I’m giving you half the day off tomorrow. You’re coming with me.” I opened my mouth to correct him about my name, but he cut me off. For the first time, he used my real name. “Chloe.” Even though his face looked impatient and awkward, I found it kind of endearing. Even without knowing where we were going, I smiled. “Okay.” 5 It was almost lights-out by the time I got back to the dorm. Jessica Miller, the girl on the bottom bunk, suddenly spoke up. “Where were you?” “Just walking around.” She was a few years older than me, an assembly line veteran. She had a massive ego and almost never spoke to me. She paused for a few seconds. “Why do I keep seeing you sneaking around the boss’s office?” I froze. I refused to give her anything. “You must have seen wrong.” “You better hope I did.” Jessica snapped her bed curtains shut. After the lights went out, her words echoed in my head. In my past life, I hadn’t interacted with her much, so I didn’t understand what her problem was until I was drifting off to sleep. Then it hit me. When Caleb’s older brother, Marcus, came back from overseas, Jessica wasted no time hooking up with him and moving out of the dorms. Everyone thought she was going to marry him, but even up until I left the factory, they were just messing around. Later, I heard Marcus married a wealthy executive’s daughter but kept Jessica on the side. Eventually, the rich wife found out. She forgave her husband, but absolutely destroyed Jessica’s life… Thinking of that, I understood why she hated me. She probably thought we were the same kind of people. She saw me as competition for the Vance family fortune. So now, she was taking every opportunity to tear me down. But I didn’t feel the need to jump out of bed and defend myself. Caleb was right. When no one believes you, everything you say is wrong. I was going to leave this place soon anyway. My history with these people would end here. I rolled over. The girls on the bottom bunk suddenly went quiet. I sneered internally and closed my eyes. 6 The next day, I only worked a half shift. Caleb must have tipped off the foreman, because the second I asked for leave, he waved me off. I hadn’t brought many clothes from home. I stripped off my greasy uniform and threw on a simple cotton dress. Walking out of the factory gates, I spotted Caleb waiting in the distance. He was dressed sharp today—a green bomber jacket, dark jeans, his frosted hair styled. He looked like a movie star. Seeing me, he paused, looking me up and down with a roguish grin. “Well, look at you. Playing the schoolgirl today?” I nervously twisted the hem of my dress. He stomped out his cigarette. “Let’s go.” We got on a city bus. It was mostly empty. He sat one row behind me, leaning across the aisle. I stared out the window, keeping quiet. About twenty minutes later, Caleb draped his arm over the back of my seat. “Kid.” I looked back. He was squinting, wearing that same dangerous look from the hallway last night. “Aren’t you going to ask where I’m taking you?” I kept a straight face. “Where are we going?” He leaned closer. I caught the faint smell of tobacco. His husky voice was right next to my ear. “A motel.” My brain short-circuited. My first reaction was No way. But then I remembered how unhinged and unpredictable he acted. Would he actually… “We’re here.” His eyes were crinkling with suppressed laughter. I shot up out of my seat and looked out the window. It was early summer. The breeze rustled through the lush green trees lining the street. We weren’t at a motel. We were standing in front of the grand iron gates of the state’s most prestigious university. 7 I never expected Caleb to bring me to a college campus. Stepping off the bus, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked forward like he owned the place. The security guard at the gate took one look at him and clearly decided he didn’t belong. He stepped in Caleb’s way. Caleb casually pulled something out of his pocket. The guard checked it, nodded, and waved him through. Caleb looked back, signaling me to follow. The guard didn’t even look at me. “What did you just show him?” I asked. He tossed it to me. “A student ID?” I stared at the plastic card. It had his photo and his name. I was stunned. “You’re a student here?!” “Kid, don’t be so gullible.” He smirked. “I paid a guy ten bucks under an overpass to print that.” “…” Fine. Caleb clearly knew his way around. He led me through a maze of pathways and into a massive brick building. Just as he was about to push open a set of double doors, I grabbed his arm. “We’re going in there?” He nodded. Seeing my hesitation, he smiled. “Aren’t you curious what a real college lecture looks like?” Of course I was. Whether in my past life or this one, I had never set foot inside a university. I took a deep breath and followed him in. College in the 90s wasn’t exactly high-tech. The wooden desks, the chalkboards, the faded posters on the walls—it felt vintage. But to me, it was bright, expansive, and brimming with the hopeful energy of youth. No one paid attention to us. Everyone was doing their own thing. It was an atmosphere of open-minded freedom I had never experienced. Even when the professor walked in, I was still stuck in a daze. That was when I noticed Caleb pulling a book out of his bag. It was the exact same textbook the other students had on their desks. The same book he kept in his factory office. So what he was studying every day… was the actual university curriculum? For the next hour, aside from the professor’s opening joke, I didn’t understand a single word. Caleb, on the other hand, was dead focused. It was a rare look of total seriousness. The sunlight caught the edge of his desk. In that moment, he seemed to be glowing. When class ended, I followed him out. “So…” I couldn’t help but ask. “You’re just… crashing their classes?” Caleb looked back at me. “Kid, don’t make it sound so cheap,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I had to buy a lot of beers to get these guys to let me copy their syllabuses.” Honestly, I didn’t like it when he called me ‘kid’. It made me feel like just another naive girl in his orbit. I lowered my head and walked silently ahead of him. “What’s wrong?” He caught up effortlessly, his tone casual. “You don’t look too thrilled, ki—” “My name is Chloe.” I stopped and looked up at him. He froze. Then, he smiled. He smiled a lot around me, but this was the first time it looked genuine. Not teasing. Not a smirk. Just a real smile. “My mistake.” He raised an eyebrow. “So, would you do me the honor of grabbing some dinner?” He paused, his lips curving up. “Chloe.” 8 We ate in the city and caught the last bus back to the factory. I knew absolutely nothing about computers, but I shamelessly asked to borrow his textbooks. If he was going to conquer the internet boom, I wanted to build my own value so I could ride the wave with him. Caleb looked amused, tossing me a couple of thick manuals. “These are just the basics, but they’re dense. Don’t come crying to me when your brain hurts.” I rolled my eyes. Whether he was calling me “factory girl” or “kid,” this guy still treated me like a child. But regardless, we were getting close. After that, whenever I wasn’t on the clock, I found a quiet corner to read, and whenever I had a chance, I used the computer in his office. Even though it was just basic programming, every little step of progress made me incredibly happy. But inevitably, rumors about me and Caleb started spreading through the factory. The first time I heard them was in my own dorm. I had terrible cramps that day and called out sick, lying curled up in my bunk. My roommates came back. Thinking the room was empty, they sat down and started gossiping. The topic bounced around the factory before landing on me. “Has Chloe been spending a lot of time with the boss lately?” someone asked. “A blind man could see it,” Jessica Miller scoffed. “I called her out on it and she played dumb.” “What’s her endgame?” another girl asked. “The factory owner hates him. Once his brother comes back, Caleb is nothing. With that slacker attitude, what kind of future does he have?” Jessica laughed coldly. “Who knows? She probably doesn’t know the inside scoop. Just a pathetic girl trying to marry rich.” I stared at the ceiling, listening to them tear us down. I didn’t jump down and yell at them. Caleb was right. When no one believes you, everything you say is wrong. I’d be leaving this place soon enough. I rolled over, making the mattress creak. The voices below instantly vanished. I smirked in the dark and went back to sleep.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414039”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment Caleb’s cold fingers touched me, a burning heat spread from my cheeks all the way to the tips of my ears! Caleb frowned slightly, a hint of concern in his eyes: “Chloe, is this how you take care of yourself?” 1 I was pulling an all-nighter, grinding through product documentation, when a sharp, stabbing pain hit my left breast. Thinking back, this had been happening for almost a month. Panicking, I quickly opened the hospital app and booked an appointment with a breast specialist at St. Jude’s Medical Center. When my number was called, I rushed eagerly into the consultation room. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze. Caleb Wright was sitting in front of the computer, his eyes glued to an X-ray, occasionally explaining something to the seven or eight stylishly dressed medical residents gathered around him. I tried desperately to recall the name of the doctor I had booked. It was 100% not Caleb Wright! St. Jude’s had the best breast surgery department in the city, and despite his young age, Caleb had already become its top surgeon. Getting an appointment with him was harder than winning the lottery. Of course, I would never have booked an appointment with him on purpose. Because Caleb Wright was my ex-boyfriend. The doctor I had originally booked, a man around forty with black-rimmed glasses, saw me come in and beamed. “You’re in luck today, young lady! Dr. Wright is here reviewing scans. Come on, tell us, what’s bothering you?” Caleb stretched his neck, lifted his gaze, and looked at me. His dark eyes still sparkled like stars. His clear, soothing voice came through his surgical mask: “Chloe Bennett, right? What seems to be the problem?” Seeing him again, I almost drowned in those clear, deep eyes of his. I stared blankly for three seconds before snapping myself out of his mesmerizing spell. “Um… well… I felt a lump on the left side…” This. Was. So. Awkward! He typed my symptoms into the medical record with practiced ease, asking methodically, “Does it hurt?” “No.” “How long has it been like this?” “About a month.” “Dr. Patel, could you perform a physical exam on her?” He turned to the female doctor sitting next to him, then turned back to the computer screen. I lay down on the examination bed, letting the female doctor… After examining me for a while, her brow remained tightly furrowed. My heart instantly sank. Whenever a doctor frowns, it’s never a good sign. She turned to Caleb. “Dr. Wright, you should take a look at this.” I’m doomed. She actually called Caleb over to check? Do I have a terminal illness? Hearing her, Caleb walked over, followed closely by his trailing gaggle of medical residents. A whole crowd of people, including one or two men? You’ve got to be kidding me. Was my lovely figure going to be exposed to all these people? Even if I was just a piece of meat in their professional eyes, I still had my modesty, okay?! Sob… Caleb approached with his long strides, shot a cold glare at the people behind him, and with a swift sweep of his long arm, smoothly pulled the privacy curtain shut. Thank God! “Pull your shirt up,” he said, his voice low. His eyes were downcast, not looking at me. Whatever. I shouldn’t care so much. My life was more important. I quickly pulled up my shirt. Damn it. Of course I was wearing the lingerie set I had bought for his birthday. This was too embarrassing… 2 I was with Caleb for three years, and I had lusted after him for five. But he had never laid a hand on me. For his birthday last year—well, technically just three months ago—I specially bought a black lace set. Extremely confident in my figure, I was thrilled, thinking tonight was the night I’d finally say goodbye to my innocence. So, after taking a shower, I rushed to his room. When I poked my head in and saw he didn’t object, I boldly slipped under the covers. The result? His thick brows furrowed slightly. He quickly grabbed his jacket, wrapped me up tight like a burrito, effortlessly slung me over his shoulder, tossed me back into my own room, and left me with one sentence: “Have you no shame, Chloe?” For a while, I seriously wondered if he had some unspeakable medical condition. So, the next day, I tried to trick him into visiting a men’s health clinic. Of course, it didn’t work. How could my petty tricks fool a top-tier medical professional? Refusing to give up, I bought a bunch of “supplements” online. The result was that half an hour after drinking a cup of black coffee I’d personally brewed for him, he came looking for me, cup in hand, while I was petting my cat. Holding the cup, his face was dark, his eyes terrifyingly gloomy. His voice was deep and grave: “Chloe, what did you put in this coffee?” I felt incredibly guilty. I pretended to groom Meatball, who was sprawled out comfortably, and answered with forced casualness: “Nothing! Just put a little more sugar than usual. You work so hard, I wanted you to have something sweet!” After saying that, I flashed him an innocent, sweet smile. He set the cup down, stepped forward, and with one sweeping motion, scooped me up in a princess carry and laid me on the bed. Then, he leaned over me. His firm, muscular chest pressed against mine. At that moment, his lips were less than two inches from mine. His captivating, peach-blossom eyes stared intently at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Oh God, I can’t take it. Yes, please! After a long pause, he said in a low voice: “Chloe, you’ve crossed the line.” I was over the moon, my heart racing, plotting to buy more of that “supplement” because clearly, it worked wonders. But, as it turned out, I was overthinking it. This position lasted for exactly three minutes before Caleb got up, straightened his clothes, and walked out. Just like that, he walked out… Plan failed. In a fit of rage, I threw all the supplements away. Which Meatball ended up eating. He spent the next few nights howling at my window. Unable to bear the noise, I ruthlessly took Meatball to the vet and had him neutered. A cold touch brought me back to the present. My cheeks and ears burned intensely. Before, I had racked my brain trying to get him to touch me, and he refused. Now, I was getting my wish under these circumstances. It seemed my charm level really wasn’t high enough to arouse the stoic, ascetic Dr. Caleb Wright. His fingers moved gently as he asked in a low voice: “Tell me if it hurts.” “Mhm.” I responded softly, pretending to be calm, but in reality, I was so nervous my nails were digging into my palms, stinging with pain. He paused for a few seconds when he pinched the lump, then withdrew his hand. He took a shallow breath, frowning at me: “Chloe, is this how you take care of yourself?” I pursed my lips and asked tentatively, “Dr. Wright, is it… is it really bad?” He stood to the side, his brow still furrowed, his voice heavy: “We need to do a core needle biopsy. I’ll go with you. Right now.” For Caleb to frown, the situation must really be bad. I had already started drafting my will in my head, wondering who I could entrust my arrogant cat to. After all, my mom really disliked my cat. Caleb strode forward, and I jogged to keep up with him. He was tall and walked like the wind. Even in a white coat, he stood out in the crowd. 3 This scene suddenly made me a little sad, reminding me of how I used to tirelessly follow Caleb around at Johns Hopkins. He was the unattainable “flower on the high peak” at Hopkins. Rumor had it he was an exceptional talent, specially selected by the university. He published a paper that shocked the medical community at 18 and was admitted to Hopkins before even taking his final exams. Caleb was also an immovable iceberg. Since he enrolled, the number of girls chasing him was as numerous as hairs on a cow, but he rejected every single one of them. Everyone rumored that Caleb didn’t like women. When did I start liking Caleb? It was probably when I saw him speaking eloquently at a podium. The cool, immensely confident demeanor of that young man instantly crashed into my heart. Or maybe it was on the way back from class, his tall, slender figure in a black trench coat and that handsome, ascetic face that instantly bewitched my teenage heart. Later, I decided it was when he stood at the classroom door and asked, “Who is Chloe Bennett?” And then casually pointed out an error in my notes: “In your pharmacology notes, the diagram for the mechanism of local anesthesia on page ten is wrong.” How could a young girl experiencing her first crush resist that? That night, I boldly declared on the university forum: “Chloe Bennett will win Caleb Wright’s heart!” The forum exploded that night. “Good luck!” “Brave!” “Grabbing my popcorn!” “If you catch Caleb, I’ll live-stream myself singing!” On a starry midsummer night, I stopped Caleb after he finished anatomy class. Mustering all my courage, I looked up at his sharply defined jawline and said, “Caleb, I’m going to pursue you!” He frowned slightly, shot me a cold glance, and parted his thin lips: “Don’t block my way.” This was an expected outcome. However, I didn’t lose heart. I was 100% confident in my looks, and I believed the old saying that a girl chasing a boy is as easy as piercing a veil. What everyone saw after that was Chloe Bennett tirelessly trailing behind Caleb Wright. From spring to summer, and then from summer to winter. During meals, I’d shamelessly sit next to Caleb. He would frown slightly, but strangely, he never told me to leave. During his presentations, I always went out of my way to get a front-row seat. He would speak clearly on stage, and I would cheer loudly for him from the audience. When his clear, spring-water-like eyes swept over the audience and landed on me, even if only for a second, I’d be excited all night. I brought him homemade iced lattes when it was hot, knitted him a scarf when it was cold, bought him medicine when he was sick… I used every highly-rated chasing tactic on the forum. Even though he always said coldly, “I don’t drink this,” or “I don’t need it.” But I remained tireless. Even I found myself annoying, but thankfully, Caleb never blocked me. He said, “Chloe, don’t waste your time on me.” “Chloe, the lattes you make don’t taste good. Stop bringing them.” “Chloe, focus on your studies.” “Chloe, I don’t like you.” I thought to myself, just persist a little longer. The current Caleb was willing to talk to me, which was a small achievement. The love of youth surges like a massive wave, accompanied by a brave, stubborn refusal to turn back until hitting a brick wall. Caleb’s clear voice pulled me back to reality: “This will hurt a little. Bear with it.” When the needle pierced my skin, he gripped my hand tightly. “Put a rush on these results for me,” he told the doctor performing the biopsy. When we left the room, he had his hands in his coat pockets and instructed me: “Go home for now. I’ll notify you when the results are out. Be careful not to massage the area forcefully.” Me: … Why would I massage it forcefully… This medical advice was truly embarrassing. Out of politeness, I thanked him. He turned his face away slightly: “No need. Professional habit.” After saying that, he strode away. 4 See? Breaking up was the right decision. Caleb simply didn’t like me, just as he had told me five years ago. It still hurt a lot, though, even if I was the one who initiated the breakup. Two months ago, he told me he was going on a business trip. But he actually went to a hotel. He forgot to delete a text message before leaving, and I saw it. The content was: “Hey handsome, I’m at the Bellagio Hotel.” The moment I saw that message, my heart clenched, and I could barely breathe. I followed him to the hotel. He stayed inside all night. The next morning, he came out with a gorgeous, glamorous young woman. My chest spasmed continuously, my throat felt blocked, and I didn’t even realize I had dug my nails into my palms until they bled. I didn’t have the courage to confront him. Wearing a mask, I hid behind the hotel wall. After they left, I took a cab to my apartment building and bought two coffees and some bagels. I called him and asked, “Are you back? I’m waiting for you to have breakfast.” He answered casually and relaxed, “You eat first. I’m on my way, I’ll be there in half an hour.” How could Caleb, who was always meticulous, forget to delete a text message? Perhaps he truly didn’t care about me at all, so he didn’t feel the need to hide it. That afternoon, when Caleb pushed open the apartment door, I was on the balcony hanging laundry. He walked up to me and took a delicate box out of his bag. His long fingers opened the velvet box, revealing a delicate dolphin necklace. The dolphin’s eyes were set with two diamonds, sparkling with fine light, just like his eyes. Caleb’s eyes were full of a gentleness I had never seen before. In the past, his eyes always carried a faint sense of detachment. He said, “This is for you, Chloe.” During our three years together, Caleb actually gave me things often. It’s just that he never gave them to me in person. He would always just have them shipped to the apartment and then coolly inform me: “Chloe, your gift arrived. Go get it.” The things I received were always the latest season’s releases, and coincidentally, they were exactly the styles I liked. Holding a limited-edition Chanel bag, I’d run up to him acting all cute, blinking my starry eyes, and saying in a sweet voice: “Oh my god, did you pick this out yourself? I love it, love it, love it! You’re so, so, so thoughtful!” Caleb’s fingers would fly across his keyboard without even looking up at me. He’d part his thin lips and throw out a sentence: “The personal shopper picked it. Glad you like it.” I’d pout, drape my arms over his shoulders, and say coquettishly: “Well, you gave it to me, so I’m happy.” His fingers would pause for a few seconds before he said softly: “Alright, I still have things to take care of. You go to sleep first.” Then he would go back to furiously typing on the keyboard. But this time, he personally picked out the gift and personally handed it to me. I should have been happy, but why did my heart feel like it was being pricked by needles? Caleb went out and spent the night with another woman, and suddenly his personality changed. Was he feeling guilty? I tossed and turned in bed late into the night, reading through many forums, and finally came to a conclusion: “Being a simp leaves you with nothing. Cut your losses early.” 5 Then I sent a message to Caleb in the next room: “Caleb, let’s break up.” I didn’t expect him to reply instantly. The content was infuriatingly indifferent: “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Go to sleep.” Caleb really didn’t love me; he didn’t even care about breaking up. I listened to sad love songs under the covers and cried for most of the night. Looking at the time, I only had two hours before I had to get up. I rushed to the kitchen to grab an ice pack. I didn’t want to go to work the next day with eyes swollen like puffy pastries. My major was Pharmacology, and my current job was in pharmaceutical R&D at a drug company. Unlike Caleb, I got into this major entirely through years of hard studying. Lacking natural talent, I had to put in 100% effort later on. At such a young age, Caleb had already secured the position of Chief of Breast Surgery at the best hospital in the city thanks to his exceptional skills. But me? I was still a nobody in the industry. After icing my eyes, I went back to the bedroom to catch an hour of sleep. When I got up, Caleb was leaning against the doorway waiting for me. He was wearing a gray trench coat that day. He stared at me intently, his voice a little hoarse: “Let’s go. You’re going to be late.” “Okay.” If you ask me why I dated Caleb for so long, the reason was that he never failed to do the things a boyfriend should do. Once, I scraped someone’s car while driving to work. I called him, and he said in a deep voice: “Don’t get out of the car. I’ll be right there.” Ten minutes later, he arrived at the scene. After he helped me handle everything, I thought he was going to scold me. Instead, he just rubbed my hair and said softly, “It’s okay. From now on, I’ll drive you.” And then he drove me, rain or shine, for two years. Whenever I felt like he didn’t care about me, the things he did would give me the illusion that he did. He could accurately remember my menstrual cycle. My period was never very regular, but every time he reminded me, it would arrive a day or two later. Sometimes when we were out and my period arrived suddenly, he would surprisingly pull a pad out of my bag, perfectly solving my awkwardness. I frowned and asked him: “When did you put that in there?” He took a sip of his coffee, lowered his head, and said coldly: “When it needed to be put in there.” Birthday and holiday gifts and flowers were never late. But I still felt that there seemed to be a sense of detachment between us. He didn’t seem as intimately close with me as other couples were. When my best friend Lily found out that after three years with Caleb, I was still an “unopened rose,” she gave me advice. She said it must be because I hadn’t completely conquered Caleb yet. So, I launched a passionate courtship campaign against Caleb. The result was that Caleb kissed me even less… The car parked downstairs at my company. After a long while, he spoke in a low voice: “Chloe, why do you want to break up?” My fingers were already on the door handle. I froze for a moment at his question, but quickly adjusted my state. I took a deep breath and answered him casually: “Caleb, I just don’t like you anymore. Is that okay?” He fell silent. The narrow interior of the car instantly became dead quiet, with only the sound of our breathing rising and falling. After a long while, his slightly hoarse voice came through: “Take good care of yourself.” He lifted his gaze to look at me, the emotions in his eyes dark and unclear. “Mhm.” I pulled the car door open and walked straight upstairs. Three days later, Caleb cleanly moved out of my apartment. Looking at the room he used to live in, large tears rolled down my cheeks. 6 I don’t know why Caleb moved in with me after I graduated and started working. He had never mentioned his family to me. Nor had he ever invited me to meet his parents. After he graduated, I was still in college. Back then, he often leaned against the big tree at the campus gate waiting for me to finish class, or he would wait for me with a bouquet of flowers. At that time, I really felt like the envy of every girl in the university. Whenever I asked questions about his family, he would deliberately change the subject. I guessed maybe he had a particularly pitiful background, an inspirational young man who relied on his super-high IQ to counterattack and achieve a perfect life. If he didn’t want to talk about it, then I wouldn’t ask. I didn’t want to make him unhappy. It didn’t matter; we were both ordinary people. As long as we worked hard, life wouldn’t be bad. Besides, it looked like he was being treated very well. After the breakup, I was depressed for a while. Lily looked at me with a heartbroken expression and said: “Chloe, tell me, you managed to pluck that ‘flower on the high peak,’ why were you willing to let go at this point? Tsk, tsk, that’s a very high-quality stock with great potential.” “Think about all the hardships you went through to chase Caleb down! When it was time to reap the harvest, you just threw the whole pot out with the flower.” I tilted my head back and drank the remaining half bottle of beer in my hand, answering in a low voice: “A flower on a high peak is just that. Even if I picked it, it still doesn’t belong to me. Maybe only the moon hanging high in the sky is worthy of him.” I still didn’t tell Lily the real reason for the breakup. That night, I opened the university forum that had been dusty for years. That year, Caleb agreeing to date Chloe Bennett made the forum boil over again. After trailing Caleb like a puppy for two years, he remained lukewarm. I always thought there was no hope, and besides, he was about to leave soon. The Dean of St. Jude’s had personally come to the university to recruit him. That day, golden-orange sunset clouds covered the sky. I couldn’t find him in the study hall. I originally wanted to say goodbye to him. Perhaps to Caleb, whether I said goodbye or not didn’t matter. Just as I was about to leave the study hall, Caleb appeared in the last row of the classroom. The afterglow of the setting sun poured down from above him, plating him with a layer of golden light. His white shirt was so white it was dazzling, blinding my eyes for a moment. He spoke in a low, clear, and bright voice: “Chloe, come here.” I walked timidly towards him, the little deer in my heart constantly bumping around, as if it would break through my chest the next second, impatient to throw itself onto Caleb. When I walked up to him, Caleb suddenly reached out his long arms and pulled me into his embrace. What followed was his tender, lingering kiss. His lips were soft and sweet, sweet to the core of my heart. Only the coldness of his nose tip allowed me to regain a little bit of rationality. My limbs felt like they were filled with lead, unable to move, but the heat wave in my body surged tirelessly, making my ears and cheeks burn. His fingers supported the back of my head, slipping into my hair and gently running through it. I could feel the temperature of his fingertips, icy cold. He took out his phone, snapped a picture, and then let me go. “Chloe, make me a cup of your homemade iced latte tomorrow.” He leaned against the desk, his expression lazy and content. His dark eyes seemed to hold a galaxy of stars; if I wasn’t careful, I would drown in them. I was so excited I was incoherent, hurriedly agreeing: “O-okay.” I knew that the star in the sky had taken root in my heart from then on. That night, this photo appeared on Caleb’s social media page. In less than two minutes, my notifications exploded. This photo was pushed to the top trending topic at Hopkins. I still remember the top comments today: “The flower on the high peak has finally been picked.” “Alright, live streaming tonight, I’ll sing a song, welcome everyone to send me rockets.” “Blessings, the goddess finally melted the iceberg.” “Envious and jealous, my male god is now a taken man.” My finger kept swiping on the screen, finally stopping on Caleb’s page. That photo was still pinned to the top. The kiss under the sunset, beautiful and brief, just like our relationship. Perhaps at that time, Caleb was only moved by my two years of persistence. After the breakup, Caleb actually came looking for me. He leaned against the stairwell, a spark of fire at his fingertips. He lifted his eyes through the smoke, his voice a bit hoarse: “Chloe, are we really not going to continue?” I was surprised. When did he start smoking? I remembered he didn’t smoke. So much so that I ignored his question. He spoke again: “Chloe, do you really want to leave?” My fingers tightened around my bag strap. At this moment, I had to be tough. I looked firmly into his eyes: “Yes.” I thought he would say something else, even if it was just asking, “Why?” But he turned straight around and left, his back looking free and easy. 6 Two weeks ago, while I was organizing things at home, I found a document of Caleb’s that he hadn’t taken away. I opened it and found it was a real estate purchase contract. The owner was listed as “Sarah.” I looked at the invoice, and the payer clearly said “Caleb Wright.” My mind went completely blank. Caleb had bought a house for that woman, and paid in full. Yet I, his girlfriend of three years, didn’t even know anything about his family situation. It felt like there were thousands of threads in my heart, densely tangled together, impossible to untie or sort out. I decided to go to the hospital and return it to him. Actually, I still wanted to hear how he would explain it, even though I knew I was very likely just going to humiliate myself. But I wanted to give my many years of love a clear period. Without making an appointment in advance, I went straight to his office. Walking into the office, a girl was standing beside Caleb. They seemed to be chatting. The girl’s laughter was like a silver bell, his expression was gentle. I called out coldly: “Caleb, you forgot your things.” Hearing this, they both turned around. When I saw the girl’s face, my heart felt like it had taken a heavy blow, aching to the bone. Wasn’t that girl the same one who came out of the hotel with him last time? As beautiful as a doll. Caleb saw me, a flash of light passed through his eyes for a moment, then dimmed again. He spoke flatly: “What are you doing here?” “Caleb, so this is the kind of person you are.” I threw the documents in my hand onto his desk. The girl looked shocked and stood timidly to the side. Caleb frowned tightly after hearing this: “Chloe, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.” “Stop pretending. You’ve even brought a girl to the hospital.” Caleb waved his hand helplessly, explaining: “She’s my sister.” Of course she’s a sister. A sister with a different last name, a sister who spends the night in a hotel with you! Listening to his ridiculous explanation, I let out a deep breath. I didn’t want to continue arguing with him about this embarrassing matter in the hospital. I still didn’t have the courage to hear him say it himself, so I turned and walked out of the office. As the old saying goes, good fortune never comes in pairs, and misfortunes never come singly. Just after walking out the door, I ran into family members causing a scene at the hospital. Actually, as soon as I walked out the door, I heard what sounded like people arguing ahead. I thought it was normal to have arguments in a place like a hospital. Suddenly, a man holding a fruit knife rushed out of the crowd. Behind him, two security guards chased him with riot forks. The crowd began to riot, and people started screaming. When I realized the danger, the man was already swinging the knife and stabbing towards me. I quickly raised my bag to block it, my body falling backwards uncontrollably, smashing heavily against the stainless steel chairs behind me. Just when I thought I was done for, Caleb blocked in front of me with a beautiful right kick. The man fell to the ground with a thud, and the knife in his hand dropped onto the pristine white floor, making a crisp sound. After the man was taken away by security, Caleb bent down, picked me up, and ran wildly down the hallway. That girl seemed to be following behind him the whole time. My right wrist had somehow been slashed by the knife at some point, and blood kept flowing out. The bag I pushed out to block was also slashed with a huge gash. My poor Chanel… Inside the office, Caleb’s brow was tightly furrowed, his eyes filled with bottomless anger. The hand holding the tweezers trembled slightly. After some manipulation, he bandaged my wound. The girl on the side looked like she was also badly frightened and didn’t dare to speak. He lifted his eyes to look at me, residual anger still in his eyes, but he tried his best to lower his voice: “Didn’t I tell you not to come to the hospital?” “Thank God you’re okay today.” My heart felt terribly blocked. I didn’t respond to his words, coldly thanked him, then stood up and walked out. He reached out and blocked my way, his tone firm: “I’ll take you home.” For the next few days, Caleb would come and change my dressing before I went to work, until my wound was completely healed. Every day before he left, he instructed me: “Don’t come looking for me at the hospital anymore. If something happens, call me.” I wouldn’t go. I would never go again. To avoid seeing them and feeling sad. I didn’t ask him directly about the house either. I didn’t want to hear the heart-piercing result again. The facts had already proven it, hadn’t they? There was no need to go humiliate myself again. As adults, a breakup should be decent.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414038”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I haven’t been very happy lately. The problem is, my favorite celebrity “little brother” totally crashed and burned. Getting caught in a scandal is one thing, but lying to me when all the evidence was out there, just to get me to spend more money to bail him out? That was the last straw. In a fit of rage, I dumped all my considerable resources, connections, and hype onto his biggest rival—some indie nobody in the same agency. I didn’t expect the kid to have so much fight in him. He exploded overnight. Superstar status. Just as I was about to retire, happy with my revenge, and looking to sponsor some new young talent, he grabbed me. “Haven’t I performed well enough for you yet, Chloe? How about you stop being a fan and start being mine?” 1 I used to be obsessed with a rising star named Tyler. He was the definition of the “golden retriever boyfriend” aesthetic. Sweet, innocent face. To be honest, his actual talent—singing, acting—was mediocre at best. But he had a face that checked every single one of my boxes, and he knew exactly how to work me with that charming, vulnerable act. Apart from making a ridiculous amount of money, I didn’t have many hobbies. Sponsoring young idols was my stress relief. When he dropped a new single, I dropped serious cash to game the Billboard charts for him. When he couldn’t land a brand deal, I personally spent fifty grand on a designer wardrobe just so he could look the part at high-profile events. Late at night, he’d call me, sounding so sweet and pathetic, complaining about how hard it was being low on the Hollywood totem pole and how badly he was treated. My heart would break for the kid. I’d use my connections, call in favors with producer friends, and get him gigs. What I didn’t expect was for my “investment” to grow up and get a secret girlfriend. Fine. Whatever. They all do. But this girl was a complete clout-chaser. She posted a photo on Instagram, not just announcing the relationship, but claiming that I—his biggest sponsor—was trying to sexually harass her boyfriend. Her proof? Highly curated, out-of-context screenshots of our texts. Within an hour, it was the number one trending topic on Twitter. Fortunately, netizens aren’t entirely stupid. The top comments were savage, just not toward me: “Hold on, are these two serious? Looking at these texts, any idiot can see it’s just Tyler playing the ‘woe is me’ card to manipulate rich women into giving him free stuff.” “I’ve seen videos of him live. His talent is a total train wreck. Without this sponsor lady, he’d be waiting tables at Denny’s. If I had a sugar mommy this rich, I’d be on my knees thanking God every day.” Within ten minutes, the hashtag #JusticeForChloe was trending. Damn it. As a self-made businesswoman, the thing I hate most is being pitied. And this idiot just caused the entire internet to pity me into the spotlight. The public was still eating it up, placing bets: “I bet $100 he’s currently typing up a manic, desperate apology text to her right now.” “$200 says agreed.” They were right. My phone was currently blowing up with over a dozen missed calls, all from Tyler. Then came the texts: “Chloe, babe, I swear this is a huge misunderstanding. That girl is just a stalker. Those photos are photoshopped. They mean nothing.” “Chloe, please let me explain. You’re truly the only one I care about.” “Chloe, send me your location. I’m canceling everything to come see you right now.” Canceling everything. I was the one who curated his schedule; I knew exactly how few gigs he actually had. Eventually, I got bored of the notifications and just blocked his number. I had sponsored Tyler for two years. I knew his real character better than anyone. He hadn’t learned a single ounce of professional craft, but he had mastered the arts of lying and flirting with impressionable girls. Initially, I would have lectured him. Later, I stopped caring. He wasn’t my son, so who gives a damn? To me, he was just a disposable stress-relief toy that happened to look good. While I was thinking, my phone buzzed again. It was my producer friend. “Hey, the marketing team at Peroni finally got back to us. The celebrity endorsement deal is on the table. How do you want to handle it? Do we still give the contract to your little boy toy?” Give it to him? For what? To help him promote the ‘naive, innocent victim’ brand in front of the public after he made me look like a fool? I was annoyed. I was about to tell my friend to just apologize to the brand and cancel the pitch. Suddenly, a digital ad popped up on my laptop for a high-end streetwear brand. The male model looked vaguely familiar. I realized he was with the same talent agency as Tyler—one of those indies with zero resources and terrible management. I only knew about him because Tyler had bitched about him to me several times, calling him ‘brooding’ and ‘uncooperative.’ Out of curiosity, I had looked him up a few times. His look wasn’t my usual type—he wasn’t the sweet ‘golden retriever’ kind—so I hadn’t paid him much attention. I thought about it. Tyler hated this guy. “Don’t give it to Tyler,” I told my friend over the phone. “Peroni wants a model? I have someone else.” “Who?” I switched to tabs on my computer, quickly Googling the kid’s name again. “Ethan. Ethan Reed.” “Who the hell is that?” “Tyler’s rival at the agency.” My friend was silent for a few seconds before responding. “Classic. That is so you.” 2 Unsurprisingly, once Ethan got the Peroni endorsement deal, Tyler, having heard the news, couldn’t sit still. I wasn’t taking his calls. So, he did what any desperate Z-list celebrity does: he posted a notes-app, tear-jerking essay on Twitter. It was the same exact script he tried on me. He claimed the girl was a crazed stalker, purely delusional. He insisted there was no actual relationship, and the photos were fake. The girl, furious at being painted as a lunatic, went nuclear. She immediately leaked the explicit, intimate photos. Then she leaked audio recordings of Tyler attempting to negotiate a cash settlement to make her disappear. Listening to it, I actually felt a moment of pity for Tyler. Truly, he was a massive, drooling idiot. While Tyler was busy destroying his own life with his private dramas, he stopped bothering me. But, getting over a celebrity obsession is oddly similar to a breakup. Even though I never loved Tyler romantically, I had invested real time, emotion, and hard work into him. Without an idol to promote, I was stuck at home at night, completely bored. Life suddenly felt flat. Then, out of the blue, I got a call from an unknown number. “Hello? This is Ethan Reed.” His voice was deep, resonant—completely different from Tyler’s always-on, high-energy persona. It took me a second to figure out who he was. “Can I help you, Ethan?” “My agent told me about the endorsement deal. Peroni. I just wanted to call and say thank you.” “Oh, it’s fine. It was nothing.” Actually, that deal had taken a significant amount of my time and leverage to secure, but that didn’t matter now. Ethan was clearly not the charming, talkative type. After I spoke, silence stretched over the line. Only the faint static of the connection remained. I hate awkward silences and was about to hang up when he spoke again. “I have a showcase gig this Saturday at a small festival. I’m singing a song. Would you… be willing to come watch?” That was a lot to ask of someone who wasn’t actually a fan. I was about to reject him when he said, “If you don’t have time, it’s okay. Honestly, I’m used to playing to an empty room.” That was a low blow. He totally manipulated my nurturing instinct. “I have time,” I said, suppressing a sigh. “I’ll be there.” He let out a huge breath on the other end, sounding totally relieved. “Thank you.” After hanging up, I immediately regretted it. It was going to be so hot this Saturday… whatever. It’s not like I haven’t done this before. I’d act as his personal photographer, get some high-quality headshots, edit them, and post them online. Think of it as his payment for helping me get revenge on Tyler. 3 Saturday came, and I dragged myself, along with my professional camera gear, to Ethan’s event. When I arrived, I realized just how well Ethan had “marketed” this to me. “Showcase gig…” It was basically a performance at a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new big-box grocery store in the suburbs. But I had to hand it to him; the scene was packed. Crowds of senior citizens and families were standing around, eager for free samples. I found Ethan waiting backstage. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans. To be fair, he was incredibly handsome in person. Brooding, sharp jawline. I pointed my lens at him, intending to snap a couple of test shots, but something felt off. I walked over. “You’re not wearing makeup?” Seeing me, Ethan looked confused for a second before realizing who I was. “You… you must be Chloe. It’s just two songs. I didn’t want to make a fuss.” “This isn’t about making a fuss. I’m going to be taking high-resolution professional photos. You need to at least look alive.” Ethan looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. No one has ever come to take professional photos of me before.” My heart broke for the kid again. I figured a guy like him probably didn’t carry a makeup kit around. “Where’s your agent? Call him over. Tell him to get you a mirror and some basics.” Ethan’s expression somehow managed to get even more awkward. “I came alone.” “Our agency resources are pretty low. The gigs don’t pay much. My agent… he actually started a side business as a drop-shipper to make ends meet. He’s away at a warehouse seminar today.” My god. What kind of garbage management was this? Honestly, Ethan was even… more pathetic than I imagined. Years ago, I had spent a king’s ransom on Tyler. I had curated countless high-end opportunities for him. If I had given even a tenth of that to Ethan, it probably would have sustained him for a year. It was a shame. Tyler was such a waste of space—no matter how hard I pushed him, he never gained any real traction. And what he just did to us, his core fanbase, was unforgivable. Thinking about Tyler just made me feel even more pity for Ethan. I rolled up my sleeves. “Whatever. Sit down. I’ll do it.” Ethan didn’t say a word. He just obediently tilted his head back, waiting for me to work on his face. That was when I noticed his skin was incredible. Naturally smooth. His bone structure was perfect, too. All he needed was some foundation to even things out and it was flawless. When it came time for lip balm, I realized I only had my own. Since I had already used it, I just swiped some onto my fingertip. “Do you mind if I just use my hands?” Ethan shook his head. I squatted down so we were eye-level. My finger lightly brushed against his lips, making sure it was even. Satisfied, I stood up. “Done.” But the kid didn’t move. I looked down and realized he was staring straight up at me, his eyes wide, and the tips of his ears were a deep, undeniable red. “You’re good to go,” I repeated. “Check the mirror?” Ethan snapped out of his daze, flustered. He looked away instantly, lowered his head, and murmured, “Thank you.” Oh my god. Was this kid actually blushing? Are there actually male celebrities left in this industry who still have a pulse and blush?! I had to suppress a laugh. “Get going. Break a leg.” I had originally planned to take a few photos and leave. I wasn’t actually a fan of Ethan, after all. I didn’t expect that when Ethan started singing, his talent would be undeniable. Even the grandpas and grandmas who were jostling for free eggs stopped what they were doing and began clapping along to the rhythm. It was no wonder that even though Ethan was buried at the bottom of the B-list, Tyler was still obsessed with constantly talking trash about him. This kid was a real threat. I just didn’t understand why the agency wouldn’t promote a real asset like Ethan, preferring to pour resources into useless trust-fund kids who couldn’t sing to save their lives. I wasn’t insulting my past choices, of course. Just an objective observation. They say the best way to get over an old love is to find a new one. Ethan was a stock that was about to blow up. I was thinking that maybe I could become his manager, or at least his top sponsor. It wasn’t a bad idea. At least the probability of him having a hidden girlfriend scandal was low right now. But I usually prefer the sweet, cute types, and he… wasn’t. So, should I invest or not? While I was debating, the song ended. Ethan instinctively looked toward me, lightly biting his lip. He gave a shy, almost sheepish smile. His eyes were shining, silently begging for approval, just like a golden retriever puppy. Holy hell! That’s my exact weakness. Fine. I’m investing. He’s mine! 4 I had over ten years of experience as a high-end fansite admin and celebrity promoter. The photos I took were as good as any professional magazine spread. When I got home, I selected the best shots, edited them to perfection, and posted them as a set of nine on my main account. Purely based on aesthetics, these photos of Ethan were flawless. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Since Ethan was so obscure he didn’t even have a dedicated fansite community, I applied to create one for him, then posted all nine photos into the newly created forum. The caption: “A lone ship in a sea of stars. You are the only island where I wish to dock. @EthanReed” The moment it was posted, the comments started flooding in. “Wait, isn’t this Tyler’s former top fansite admin? She’s supporting someone new already?” “Holy shit, this guy is stunning. If these are unedited, I need a name, right now.” “Say what you want, but this lady is truly the GOAT of publicists. Her content quality is insane. Honestly, Tyler is going to regret this. He had a winning hand and threw it all away.” I have to admit, being publicly pitied by the entire internet had its perks. Five minutes after I posted, the likes broke 10,000. I hadn’t even paid for sponsored trends yet. I was getting ready to edit a highlight video of his singing to keep the momentum going when my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I picked up, but all I heard on the other end was quiet, hitching sobbing. Someone was crying. I asked “Who is this?” a few times, but no one responded. I was just about to hang up when I heard, “Chloe… do you really not want me anymore?” It was Tyler. I truly did not understand where this boy found the audicity to call me. “Chloe,” he choked out, “I know you and Ethan always hated each other. Did you post those photos just to hurt me? You can’t actually be over me.” Me: ? On the other end of the line, he intentionally dropped his voice, trying to use that deep, breathy “bad boy” tone to beg for mercy. “I really messed up this time. Just give me one more chance. Let me come over to your place tonight, okay?” Late at night. Coming over. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was implying. How does a kid who just debuted, who used to look like a sweet idiot on camera, turn this slimy and pathetic in just two years? “Honey, I have absolutely zero interest in you,” I said, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice. “I sponsored you for a long time, so I’ll give you one piece of advice: don’t think you’re more important than you actually are.” After hanging up, I took a few seconds to calm down. Then I finished editing the video of Ethan singing and posted that online, too. Around nightfall, Ethan contacted me. “Chloe, my agent just got an email. A director saw the photos you posted and wants me to audition for a small role.” I didn’t expect results to come this fast. I was excited. “That’s amazing news.” Ethan was stammering, and I got worried. “What’s wrong?” “It’s just… I haven’t gotten an audition invite in so long. I’m nervous. I don’t have anyone here to help me prepare. If you have time… would you be willing to run lines with me?” He truly treated me like his manager now. I didn’t have anything else to do, so I agreed. We agreed to meet in the lobby of his agency’s building. I knew the place well. Back when I supported Tyler, a group of us fans would wait here every single day. Mostly, we were there to get “paparazzi style” candid shots of him walking to his car. When I arrived, Ethan was already waiting by the entrance. Seeing me, he jogged over. “I’ll take you up.” “Up to your agency?” I was surprised. I had been here hundreds of times, and not once had I been allowed inside. There is a natural barrier between fans and their idols, even for a fansite admin like me who had spent millions on the guy. Seeing my shock, Ethan assumed I didn’t want to go. “Our… our breakdown room has really good snacks.” His words made me struggle with whether or not to tell him: “Look, honey, as a celebrity, you need to maintain a little mystery. Don’t act like a fan is your best friend.” But then I thought of Tyler and decided to let it go. If Ethan actually turned into a diva one day, that would be a different kind of problem. What I didn’t expect was that the moment we entered the main floor, we ran face-to-face with Tyler. Seeing me, Tyler’s eyes lit up. He ran over in three long strides. “Chloe! Are you here to see me?” Before I could say a word, Ethan’s face next to me darkened. “No,” Ethan said, his voice cold. “As of right now, she’s with me.” 5 Having said his piece, Ethan dragged me toward his agency’s elevator like a victorious rooster. He left Tyler standing there, looking utterly pathetic. Honestly, I wanted to tell them both: I’m just a fan, not either of your girlfriends. It really wasn’t necessary to make this into a cheesy teen drama. But looking at Ethan’s proud face, I kept my mouth shut. The kid had zero actual fans, so my sudden appearance and support probably caused a legitimate emotional reaction. It was normal. However, speaking of resources, Ethan’s situation was truly abysmal. It was like the agency had completely abandoned him. But strangely, despite being such an indie nobody, he somehow had his own dedicated breakdown office in the building. Most B-listers didn’t even get that luxury. “I don’t get many gigs, so I spend most of my time at the office. This room was originally for me and my agent, but he’s busier than me and is hardly ever here, so I just took it over.” That explanation actually made sense. I had been associated with Ethan for a little while now, and I had never actually seen his agent. The man was always either picking up shipments or delivering packages to customers. His side business was clearly more important than his main career. The man was a marketing genius. “Has the agency not considered giving you a new agent?” “No other agents are willing to take me on.” And I was sold again. Being an idol to someone this obscure was a nightmare. The agent was useless, the agency didn’t care. The only one suffering was the fan (me). So I couldn’t help myself. I started using my own connections to get him gigs. I started vetting his schedule. Fortunately, Ethan was incredibly obedient. Whatever job I told him to take, he took. Whatever gig I told him to reject, he rejected. He just did whatever I said. His compliance gave me a weird sense of mission. It felt like if he didn’t become a superstar, it was purely my fault. So, apart from my real job, my whole day started revolving around Ethan. Finally, even my business partner, Liam, couldn’t stand it. He called me into his office. “Are you taking this celebrity thing a little too far lately? Before, you just spent money, fine. But now I’m hearing you’re practically working for the guy. How much is his agency paying you to be his manager?” “Nothing. I just feel bad for the kid.” Liam clearly didn’t believe me. “Chloe, how many years have we been business partners? I know exactly who you are. Keep it professional. Don’t get emotionally involved.” “Relax. I know what I’m doing.” Celebrities were like dolls in a display case. I could spend an absurd amount of money to dress them up and make them look pretty, but I would never mix them up with my actual private life. That was exactly why I could detach from Tyler so easily, despite all the money I spent on him. But as fate would have it, things didn’t go according to plan. In the morning, I had been giving Liam my solemn oath that I knew what I was doing, that I was keeping my boundaries. That very evening, my ‘boundaries’ showed up at my front door. I was stunned when I opened the door and saw Ethan standing there. “What did you say? You need a place to stay?” “My career isn’t making money, and the agency took back my company apartment. I thought through everyone I knew, and… I don’t have anyone else. Is it okay if I stay with you for a few days? As soon as I get paid, I’ll move out.” Lately, I had gotten Ethan some gigs, but those contracts were net-30 or net-60 for payment, so the money was slow to arrive. But having him stay at my place, this was… “You’re a celebrity, sort of. If paparazzi catch you here, it won’t look good.” After I said that, Ethan tilted his head. “Paparazzi? Following me?” That was a fair point. Highly unlikely. Seeing my hesitation, Ethan didn’t push it. “It’s okay. I understand. It was unfair of me to ask.” He shouldered his backpack and started walking back to the elevator. “Where are you going?” “I’ll just sleep on the agency breakdown room floor. I’ll find a corner.” Hearing that, my heart broke. Again. Everyone goes through hard times. When I first graduated, I was completely broke. I relied heavily on Liam to support me. I bit my lip. “Whatever, whatever. Just stay here for a few days. I’ll try to expedite your payments.” Ethan immediately walked back into the apartment. “Thank you. Truly. This is a huge help.” 6 To be honest, at this point, I didn’t even know if I was still a fansite admin. The real question was: whose favorite celebrity crashes on their fansite admin’s couch? This afternoon at the office, Liam suddenly stopped me. “We haven’t hung out in ages. Dinner tonight?” “Maybe another time. I have something to do tonight.” Liam frowned. “Going to another gig?” “Family stuff.” Tonight, Ethan was insisting on cooking dinner as a thank-you for letting him stay. Liam’s expression relaxed. “Alright. Another time.” By the time I got home, Ethan had most of the meal finished. As his fansite admin and part-time manager, I automatically pulled out my camera to start taking photos of him. Ethan set the last dish on the table and looked at my camera, confused. “Do you take that thing with you everywhere you go?” “Force of habit.” I set the camera down. “You should post a status update later. Right now, the trend for male idols is ‘relatable boyfriend’ aesthetic. Candid, lifestyle photos get way more engagement.” Ethan usually followed any advice I gave him without question. This was the first time he just looked at me and said, “Are you sure?” “Is there a problem?” Ethan smiled, a tiny, almost invisible dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth. “I’d be more than happy to.” About thirty minutes later, I understood why Ethan had asked that question. The first call was from my producer friend. “Girl, your idol just posted some candid ‘at home’ photos. Why does his kitchen look exactly like yours? Holy shit, are you sleeping with him?” Then she paused, thinking about it. “He’s so indie, he probably doesn’t have the leverage to force you. Which one of you is sleeping with who?” I barely finished explaining and hung up when Liam’s call came through. He sounded serious. More serious than I had ever heard him. “I’m ten minutes away from your apartment.” “What? What are you coming to my apartment for?” Liam let out a cold laugh. “To see exactly how far you’ve lost your mind.” Liam and I had been friends for over ten years. Technically he was my business partner, but he was family. The marketing firm we currently ran was something we had co-founded after we both left our last job. It was growing, and we were making a name for ourselves in the industry. For the last few years, since things were stable, I had picked up this celebrity hobby. Liam usually didn’t interfere. The only time he had was when Tyler’s scandal hit and he called to ask if I needed help handling the fallout. It was a small issue, so I had rejected his help. He had never sounded this serious before. Ethan saw my grim expression. “Did I cause trouble? I can delete the post.” I saw the comments flooding in. I shook my head. “Don’t. Leave it up.” Liam arrived quickly. As someone who had navigated high-stakes business deals, he had adjusted his emotions by the time I opened the door. He walked in, saw Ethan, and even greeted him politely. Liam sat on the sofa and looked at Ethan. “Chloe has mentioned you. She said she admires your talent and she’s gotten you quite a few contracts.” “Chloe has been a huge help. I wouldn’t say she admires my talent; I think it’s more that I’m determined to work for her.” Liam let out a cold scoff. “I don’t care what your relationship is. A grown man staying at a single woman’s apartment is never appropriate. Especially since you’re a celebrity—your status could cause serious trouble for Chloe. You’re new to the industry, so it’s normal to be struggling. Peroni has a new project launching, and I’m a major investor. I can get you attached to the project immediately, and I can have them advance you the payment. The condition is that you move out of this apartment. Tonight.” The director for this project was one of the biggest names in the industry. Countless actors were desperate for a chance to work with him. Even B-listers didn’t always get an opportunity like this. Liam’s offer was basically handing Ethan a ladder to the A-list. I was about to speak up, but Ethan didn’t even look up. He rejected it instantly. “No thank you.” I stared at him, stunned. Ethan flashed a perfect, innocent smile. “An obscure nobody like me wouldn’t want to embarrass Mr. Vance by ruining his project.” In the end, I had to be the one to escort Liam out. He leaned against his car in the parking lot and lit a cigarette. “You like this hobby of yours. I never stepped in. I figured you were just spending money to buy happiness. But this Ethan guy… his intentions toward you aren’t professional.” “So what?” I looked at Liam and wanted to laugh. “Whose intentions toward me are professional? Yours?” Liam frowned. “Chloe, I—” “Enough. Go home. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414037”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, I sat outside the hospital clutching a positive pregnancy test, staring blankly for a very long time. My phone buzzed. It was Julian, my boyfriend of eight years. “Lily, about getting the marriage license… can we hold off for a bit? Give me some time to think it over?” “Sure.” “It’s not that I don’t want to marry you—” He paused, clearly stunned that I had agreed so easily and without a fight. He quickly added that he wouldn’t be home for dinner and hastily hung up. 1 Julian and I had been dating for eight years. We were supposed to be getting married soon. We started our own business right after college, and last year, it finally took off. We bought a car, put a down payment on a new house, and were getting ready to renovate. If I hadn’t gotten this disease, maybe next year I would have had a soft, sweet little baby sleeping in my arms. Since Julian wasn’t coming home for dinner, I made myself a simple bowl of vegetable noodle soup, hesitating over how to tell him the news tonight. After all, we had agreed last year that we would get our marriage license by the end of this year. My doctor was a young woman, only a few years older than me. She gently advised me not to keep the baby and to focus on aggressive treatment. She told me not to be afraid—I was young, and the cure rate should be high. Honestly, I wasn’t that afraid. Because I had Julian. He would always be by my side. The doorbell rang. I wondered why Julian was ringing the bell instead of using his keys. When I opened the door, Julian was standing there, heavily intoxicated. Supporting him was Mia, a new hire from our PR department—a fresh college grad. “Hey, Lily. We were out entertaining clients, and Mr. Vance had a bit too much to drink. His car is parked downstairs,” Mia said. She was wearing a cute, floral slip dress, her cheeks slightly flushed, as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I just brought him up. I’ll catch an Uber back.” Julian, eyes glazed over with alcohol, stumbled onto the couch and immediately fell asleep. I took his suit jacket from her. It carried the faint, sweet scent of orange blossom perfume—Mia’s perfume. “Thanks, Mia,” I smiled. “It’s too late. Let me drive you home.” Mia politely declined at first, but I insisted. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting a young girl like you take an Uber alone at this hour.” “So, Lily, when are you and Mr. Vance tying the knot?” On the drive, Mia asked the question tentatively. I froze for a second, thinking of the phone call from Julian earlier that afternoon. I forced an awkward smile. “We’re going to wait until the company is a bit more stable for another year or two.” …Wait until my condition stabilizes. “Oh, I see…” Mia looked out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Suddenly, she lowered her head and smiled sweetly. “Got it.” After dropping Mia off, I parked the car. I suddenly remembered that I had left a bottle of Vitamin E supplements I bought last time in the passenger-side glove compartment. I opened the passenger door, but my eyes caught something wedged in the gap of the seatbelt buckle. It was a torn, small, square wrapper. Oil from the wrapper seeped onto my fingers. I froze. Suddenly, I thought of Mia’s slip dress and her flushed cheeks when I opened the door. I thought of Julian’s phone call that afternoon, and how he used his drunkenness to look away, avoiding my eyes. I sat blankly in the passenger seat. So many things had happened in a single day. For a moment, I didn’t even know where to begin. 2 Julian and I started dating during our freshman year of college. He pursued me. At the time, I was working part-time at a local pho shop near campus to earn tuition money. Julian fell in love with me at first sight. To woo me, Julian—a bona fide trust-fund kid—ate pho every single day for a solid year. On the day I finally agreed to date him, he got so sick of the food that he threw up violently right there in the shop. To this day, he still can’t stand the smell of pho broth. Knowing I was proud and wouldn’t accept handouts, he ate at the cheap dining halls with me. He would buy fruit and milk and forcefully shove them into my hands: “What if my future wife gets malnourished?” Knowing I hated the smell of smoke, he quit smoking cold turkey. Once, when the cravings hit him hard, he braved the bewildered stares of his rich frat-boy friends, pulled out a lollipop, and stuck it in his mouth, his face red as he tried to save his ego: “Psh, what do you guys know? This is what family men do.” Honestly, I never really knew why Julian liked me. He was 6’2″, handsome, and wealthy. But Julian didn’t care. He said if he liked me, he fucking liked me. He was incredibly stubborn. Once he set his mind on a path, he would walk it to the very end. I saw that clearly the time he took me home to meet his parents on Christmas Eve. I stood awkwardly in front of his parents, holding a modest fruit basket I had bought. His parents hosted me with frigid politeness. While the maid was clearing the dining table, his mother coughed lightly and gave Julian a look, gesturing for him to step aside to talk with her. The chandelier in the villa was so blindingly bright it was almost harsher than the August sun, making me unable to lift my head. Its light cast a harsh glare on my worn-out puffer jacket and faded jeans. And those were actually my best clothes. I sat on the European-style sofa with my legs pressed tightly together, trying my best to shrink my presence. The maids’ gazes drifted over me, accompanied by faint, muffled snickers that scraped against my pride like knives. I heard his mother’s hysterical voice carrying from the other room: “She definitely knows you have money, right?!” “She has no parents! What can she possibly offer you in the future?!” My heart felt like it was being brutally stomped on. It hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. My head dropped lower and lower. I pinched my arm hard, telling myself not to cry. The next second, I heard the sound of Julian slamming a door. His face was dark with anger as he stormed toward me. He grabbed my hand where I sat with my head bowed on the sofa: “We’re leaving!” “Julian Vance! If you walk out that door, don’t ever call me your mother again!” her voice echoed from behind. “We won’t give you a single cent!” Hearing his mother’s threat, Julian’s steps faltered. Before his mother could look smug, Julian turned back and snatched the fruit basket I had brought: “You don’t deserve this!” It was Christmas Eve. The streets were practically empty of pedestrians and cars, and even the subway had stopped running. We had no choice but to walk to a hotel. As we crossed an overpass, the wind howled through my hair. The quiet city was lit up with thousands of lights from homes celebrating the holiday, looking like a sea of stars in the distance. But not a single one of those lights belonged to me. I didn’t turn around. I just kept my head down and said very, very softly: “Julian, let’s break up.” He didn’t say a word. “Julian, we—” He unzipped his winter coat and wrapped his arms around me from behind, engulfing me entirely in his embrace. He held me in silence, hugging me so tightly, as if afraid I would disappear if he let go even a little. The silence dragged on. He buried his face in my neck, holding me for a very long time. Suddenly, he spoke. His voice was soft, but incredibly firm: “Lily, I’ll give you a home.” 3 When I got back inside, Julian was fast asleep on the couch. I gently draped a blanket over him. His phone lit up. Two unread messages. They were from Mia. “I got her home safe and sound! Don’t worry, Boss!” Followed by a cute sticker of a little girl winking and saying goodnight. I knew I shouldn’t be snooping, but I couldn’t resist scrolling up to read their chat history. “What did Boss Vance have for lunch today? A bento box she made for you?” “Yeah.” “Ugh, so unfair. You should eat takeout with us single dogs sometimes, Boss.” “Maybe tomorrow.” The date was the day before yesterday. I remembered the next day Julian specifically told me I didn’t need to wake up early to make him lunch. When I asked why, he hugged me from behind, kissed my neck softly, and said he didn’t want me to work so hard, giving me a “day off.” “Boss, when are you guys getting married?” Attached was a sticker of a little girl wiping tears. Unlike his previous instant replies, this time he took ten minutes to respond: “I don’t know.” He said he didn’t know. I put the phone down. I didn’t scroll any further. There was no need. There were no explicit messages. Just Julian replying to Mia as instantly as he did to me, with Mia referring to me simply as “she” in every sentence. But in the vibe of their conversation, it felt like I was the third wheel intruding on them. I put his phone back, stood up, and placed my medical records and the pregnancy test in the bottom drawer of the study desk, right next to our joint savings passbook. The wind had picked up outside. It had just rained a little, and the wind blew a damp, warm breeze into the room. I closed the door and sat blankly at the desk. Honestly, when I got the diagnosis, saying I wasn’t afraid would be a lie. I sat at the hospital entrance back then, watching the busy traffic, trying desperately to think for a very long time. I wondered how I could say it casually. How I could break the news without making him too sad. I planned to tell him with a smile. Julian, I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first? If he wants the good news, I’ll tell him he’s going to be a dad. If he wants the bad news, I’ll say I was just kidding about the dad part. Then he would definitely flick my forehead, and then I’d tell him about the cancer. He would definitely hug me tightly from behind like he did back then, telling me not to be afraid. I’d comfort him back, tease him for being so nervous, and tell him I wasn’t scared at all. Or maybe I’d cry and tell him the truth. Tell him I was terrified. I was afraid of the pain, afraid it couldn’t be cured. I was afraid chemotherapy would make me bald, that I wouldn’t be able to wear a ponytail or look pretty in dresses anymore. Tell him how much I couldn’t bear to lose this baby. We had left a wall in the nursery of our new house for Lego displays. He had said that if we had a daughter, he would build Legos with her and buy her lots of pretty dresses. Then he would definitely say the cheesiest romantic things. He would say that in his heart, I would always be the most beautiful woman in the world. That we would have lots of kids in the future, and if this one was too impatient to wait, we wouldn’t want it anyway. But before I could figure out what to say, his call came through. On the phone, he said he wanted to hold off on getting the marriage license. I agreed almost without hesitation. He loved me so much. How could I tie him down for the rest of his life when he had given up everything for me? At that moment, I even hoped he didn’t love me anymore. That way, he wouldn’t be so sad. Maybe right then, a passing deity looked down at the mortal world and heard my wish. He really didn’t love me as much as he used to. I really wanted to live, too. But I didn’t know if staying alive would be more painful than chemotherapy. 4 I sat in the study, letting the wind blow over me all night, still unable to figure out what to do. Julian woke up around seven o’clock. He rubbed his temples and pushed open the study door. Wearing dress pants and a light blue dress shirt, his broad shoulders and narrow waist were accentuated. I was never one to obsess over looks, but I was still often caught off guard by how handsome he was. Seeing me sitting there, he paused and asked what was wrong. I shook my head: “Nothing. I’m planning to ask for some time off from the company.” Julian smiled and reached out to ruffle my hair: “You can just quit if you want. It’s not like I can’t support you.” I gently dodged his hand. Julian’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air before he retracted it, looking a bit unnatural: “Why the time off?” “I’m just tired lately.” It was a valid excuse for a working adult. I had been grinding for nine years; it was about time I felt tired. I had been working part-time since freshman year of college. When we first graduated, I was the one supporting Julian. Back then, Julian had cut ties with his family to start a business with his best friend. We were renting a tiny apartment and living paycheck to paycheck. To save fifty dollars on rent, I took a subway commute that was an hour longer. For an 8 AM shift, I had to wake up at 5:45 AM. When I worked overtime until 9 PM, by the time I got home and washed up, it was already past 11 PM. I would fall asleep the second my head hit the pillow. Back then, we had neither time nor money. At our most extreme, Julian and I went an entire week without speaking a single word to each other. But no matter how late, he always came home. Once, he forgot his keys. I woke up in the middle of the night, realized he wasn’t beside me, checked my phone messages, and opened the door to find him asleep outside. He was afraid knocking would wake me, so he just decided to catch some sleep out in the hall. Our poorest time was the winter of our first year out of college. My company delayed my salary for two months, and by the end of the year, we were genuinely broke. That day, Julian came to pick me up at the subway station. We walked across the overpass from the station. A new hot pot place had just opened underneath. Spicy beef tallow broth was their signature dish. There was a long line, and the steaming, fragrant mist hit you right in the soul. Julian said that when we had money, our very first meal would be hot pot, right at that place. We’d order a split pot—mild beef tallow and tomato broth—and ten plates of sliced lamb. “Why ten plates?” “Five to look at, five to eat,” he said. “Gross. I refuse to eat hot pot with someone who orders a split pot.” “How can you be so prejudiced against half-and-half broth? I don’t even judge people who put pineapple on pizza…” Before Julian could finish, he choked on his own saliva and started coughing violently. I panicked and patted his back. While I was patting him, our eyes met. We suddenly started laughing. We laughed so hard we doubled over, drawing stares from people passing by. Thinking back now, I don’t even know what was so funny. We were probably just finding joy in our misery. Later, we finally had some money, but that hot pot place had closed down. We never got to eat there. Once you start reminiscing, it’s hard to stop. Thinking about the past, my eyes suddenly welled up with tears. “Why are you crying?” Julian suddenly panicked, hurriedly wiping my tears. “Don’t cry.” “It’s nothing. I just don’t want to go to work. I’m too tired.” I leaned against him. “Be good. You rest up. If management doesn’t approve your leave, we’ll just quit, okay?” Julian crouched down and looked at me very seriously. The gentleness in his eyes was almost overflowing. Eight years had passed. The impulsive, reckless rich kid had grown into a mature man. I knew I shouldn’t, but looking at his face, I couldn’t bear to let go. I hesitated, but still reached out and tugged his shirt slightly: “Julian… could you stay with me today…?” I thought to myself, If he stays with me, I’ll lay everything out and explain it to him clearly. Whether we break up or stay together. We’ve been together for eight years; there has to be a resolution. “I have a very important meeting today, but I’ll come back early. You catch up on sleep, binge a show, read a book, and I’ll be back before you know it, okay?” I let go of his shirt. Julian tucked me in, kissed my forehead just like he always did: “Be good and get some sleep. I’ll do all the dishes this month, deal? Next month is your birthday, I’ll buy you whatever you want, okay?” I nodded, and Julian finally relaxed. I watched him gently close the bedroom door, followed by the sound of the front door closing. I was alone again. 5 “I agree.” I looked down, signed my name, and pushed the organ donation registry form toward the female doctor. The doctor’s last name was Anderson. She had a pale complexion and looked only a few years older than me. She asked me with deep concern: “Do your family members agree? If your family disagrees when the time comes, they can revoke it on your behalf.” “I don’t have any family.” I smiled. “Donate whatever is usable.” If I donated, at least someone would visit my grave periodically. I looked at her, keenly catching the fleeting flash of pity on her face. “Don’t worry about it. It’s really fine.” “…Actually, your situation isn’t entirely hopeless. You need to stay optimistic. Mood greatly affects the illness.” She seemed even more anxious than I was. “Chemotherapy and targeted therapy will affect the fetus, so I don’t recommend…” “I know.” I had Googled it. If it was early-stage, I could try to save it—maybe both mother and child would survive. But for late-stage cancer, doctors strongly advise against keeping the baby. If I had family with me, the doctor might have played along with them and told me my illness was actually very mild. I read on a forum yesterday that sometimes, if you lie to patients and keep their spirits up, miracles really do happen. Unfortunately, I had no one to lie to me. I couldn’t just leave a child alone in this world, isolated like me. “…At seven weeks pregnant, roughly how big is the baby?” I lowered my head and smiled. “Actually, I haven’t felt a thing.” “It has a heartbeat.” “So its heart is really beating?” “Yes.” Dr. Anderson must have really loved children; she couldn’t help but smile softly when she said it. “That’s so nice.” I did the math. If everything had gone smoothly, the baby would have been born next May. If everything had gone smoothly. Seeing my expression, she hesitated, then wrote down a note and handed it to me: “This is my phone number, my WhatsApp is the same. If anything happens, contact me directly.” “Thank you so much, Dr. Anderson.” The bus ride back was very crowded. I sat in my seat and sent Dr. Anderson a message: “Hi Dr. Anderson, I looked it up online. They said pregnancy nausea is similar to late-stage symptoms. I can’t eat anything. I can’t really tell the difference.” While waiting for Dr. Anderson’s reply, someone suddenly shoved me: “Young lady, these seats are for the elderly, disabled, and pregnant. Get up and let this gentleman sit.” An elderly man with gray hair but a sturdy build stood in front of me, flanked by a self-righteous middle-aged woman. “Young folks are strong and healthy, standing for a bit won’t kill you.” The rest of the bus chimed in, echoing her sentiment. I pulled out my medical record book and smiled: “I’m pregnant and have stage-four stomach cancer. I’m dying soon. Can I sit for a little while?” The entire bus went dead silent. In that moment, I felt like the collective conscience of everyone on board had just been put on trial. I didn’t know why, but saying those words out loud suddenly made me feel incredibly liberated. Right. I was going to die soon anyway. What was there left to be afraid of? 6 “I want hot pot.” From the bubbling, spicy beef tallow broth, Julian fished out a slice of beef tripe after fifteen seconds and placed it in my bowl. I took a small bite. It was very crisp and tender. But I couldn’t swallow it. Since two days ago, I noticed that swallowing had become incredibly difficult. My stomach had started hurting half a year ago, and occasionally I’d feel nauseous. I thought it was just because I often skipped breakfast and had irregular eating habits. When I was in college, I ate whenever I could, never at consistent times. My body had been giving me warnings for a long time, but I never paid attention. Pretending to wipe my mouth, I secretly spit the tripe into a napkin. “I still prefer the non-spicy broth.” I said that just to let Julian tease me for contradicting my past self. Suddenly, his phone screen lit up. He looked down and quickly replied to the message, a faint smile on his face that he didn’t even notice. I propped my chin on my hands and watched him. Sometimes I wondered, why did I have to be the one to get sick? Why do people who hurt others get to live long, healthy lives? The birthday song started playing. The Haidilao staff were already walking over, pushing a cake and carrying LED signs. He lit the candles for me, put down his phone, and watched me make a wish. Julian, you have to live a long, long life. “Do you like the gift? I really did my research.” Julian started fishing for compliments. It was a horn comb, smooth and elegant. “I love it.” I smiled and nodded. “Julian, after dinner, I want to go see our new house.” “Okay. It’s your birthday today, whatever you want.” Julian leaned over to buckle my seatbelt. When he brushed against my arm, he frowned: “Why are you so skinny? Are you dieting? I told you I don’t mind if you gain weight.” “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.” How should I put it? Sometimes he was actually quite oblivious. Over these past two months together, I hadn’t told him my period was here so we couldn’t be intimate. I hadn’t curled up in bed groaning about cramps either. And he had completely forgotten to ask. I thought of the WhatsApp message Mia sent him, one of them was asking for time off for period cramps. “Boss Vance, tummy hurts.” “What’s wrong?” “Girl problems, I can’t tell you!” The sticker was a little cat rolling around on its stomach. Julian approved two days off for her, and she happily replied with a “Love you!” Julian didn’t reply again. The car window was cracked open slightly. The evening breeze, carrying the scent of camphor trees, blew past my ear. Outside was the colorful neon nightscape of the city. Honestly, I didn’t believe Julian would actually cheat, because the evidence was too flimsy. The manipulative, try-hard tactics of a fresh college grad were transparent to me. The torn wrapper might have been placed there deliberately. Delaying the marriage license might not have even been because of Mia. He didn’t necessarily fall in love with Mia, but when it came to his love for me, he was definitely wavering. He could have chosen a male colleague to drive him home. He could have politely shut down her boundary-crossing texts. He could have chosen not to reply instantly. He could have loved me just a little bit more firmly. Just like that Christmas Eve. If he had hesitated for even a single second when I was being humiliated, I would never have left with him. Love is a firm choice. Love doesn’t waver. Once it wavers, taking that step across the line is only a matter of time. It was the perfect time for an evening stroll. Walking into our new building complex, we saw many neighbors and noisy children running around. One little boy was running too fast and crashed into me. I instinctively shielded my stomach. “I’m so sorry! Leo Smith! Get over here and apologize right now!” The boy’s mother dragged the little boy over to apologize to me. “The lady is so thin, what if you knocked her over?!” The mother had a booming voice that instantly cowed the boy. “If you bump into someone elderly, frail, sick, or disabled, the police will lock you up…” The boy wilted, keeping his head down and staying silent. “It’s totally fine.” I quickly crouched down to comfort him. “I’m not hurt.” “Do you guys live upstairs?” the mother asked. “Yeah. We haven’t finalized the renovations yet, so we’re not in a rush.” “So you guys are getting married soon?” I froze and looked up at Julian. Before Julian could answer, the elevator doors opened, interrupting the conversation. The apartment was still bare concrete. We originally chose it because of the great natural light. Across the street was a kindergarten, and two blocks away were an elementary and middle school. I opened the windows and turned on the lights. The gentle evening breeze filled the room, suddenly bringing a bit of life to the empty space. I held Julian’s hand, smiling as I pointed to the school across the street: “Do you remember? When we bought this place, you told me that if we get called in for parent-teacher conferences, it would be super convenient. You said we’d play rock-paper-scissors, and the loser would go get yelled at.” Hearing me say that, Julian suddenly laughed. “I remember. You even asked why it had to be a scolding.” “And then what did I say?” “You said that if the kid was like you, they’d definitely be winning awards, and we’d be speaking as ‘Outstanding Parents.’” “The bedroom is big enough to put up a partition for two desks. When you were a sophomore, you had to stop gaming because of space. I always felt bad for you.” “The kitchen needs a good exhaust fan. You’ll definitely want to have hot pot at home.” “You said we could build a Lego wall here. To build Legos with our daughter in the future.” I stood beside him, smiling as I watched him open the Pandora’s box of memories. All those moments of loving me—he actually remembered them. But when did the hand that once held mine so tightly let go? In a daze, the suited, mature man in front of me slowly overlapped with the reckless, arrogant boy who had grabbed my hand and run into the night on that Christmas Eve. They looked alike, yet so different. I didn’t want to cry, but tears suddenly started falling. Julian froze, frantically trying to wipe away my tears: “Why are you always crying lately? Are you overthinking things again?” I rested my head on his shoulder. After a long pause, I said in a muffled voice: “Julian, I really want to go back to the past…” “The past? You mean when we were broke? What was so good about that? Starving and swallowing our pride every day. It’s nothing like now. We can eat hot pot whenever we want, you can take ten days or half a month off work…” He was right. We were so poor back then. We starved and suffered every day. What was so good about it? But why did I miss it so much?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414036”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my wedding day, the company was hit with a massive tax evasion scandal. To save our future—to save him—I stepped forward. I confessed to crimes I didn’t commit and took the fall for Bennett Sterling. I went to prison so he could stay free. Ten years later, I walked out of those gates a free woman, only to find that Bennett had built a life without me. He had a home, a wife, and a brood of children. When I confronted him, trembling with a decade’s worth of suppressed rage, asking him how he could betray me so completely, he didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “I needed an heir,” he said, as if he were discussing a business merger. “I needed to carry on the family name.” The world blurred. My eyes burned with hot, stinging tears as the shouting match began. But I wasn’t just fighting him; I was fighting a wall of indifference. My in-laws tried to “soothe” me with poison. “Even if Bennett had children with someone else, you’re still the mistress of the Sterling estate. Just be graceful about it. A comfortable life is better than pride, isn’t it?” Even my own parents, the people who were supposed to be my sanctuary, turned their backs. “Nora, Bennett took care of us while you were behind bars. The Sterling line is old and prestigious; he couldn’t just let the bloodline end while waiting for you.” “Besides,” my mother added, her voice dropping to a cold, clinical whisper, “you’re a felon now. You have a record. You should be grateful Bennett isn’t divorcing you outright.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. “And how exactly do you see this working, Bennett? What is our ‘relationship’ supposed to be?” Bennett took a slow, nonchalant sip of his tea. “As long as you stay in your lane and don’t cause a scene, I won’t divorce you. But the Sterling empire? That goes to Hunter and his five siblings. They’ll take care of you when you’re old. Consider them your own.” The last flicker of hope in my chest died then. A single tear escaped, tracing a cold path down my cheek. I was done. “I don’t need them,” I said, my voice finally finding a terrifying, quiet clarity. “Bennett, I want a divorce.” I turned on my heel and left. The first call I made was to the woman I’d met in the yard—the woman who ran the cell block and, as it turned out, half the city’s underground. … 1 “Divorce?! Absolutely not!” My father was the one who erupted first. Before I could react, his hand lashed out, catching me across the face. The sting was sharp, but the shock was deeper. “How did I raise such a petty, selfish brat?” “Bennett is a man of status,” he sneered. “In another era, he’d have a dozen wives and no one would blink. He’s offering to keep you, despite your shame, and you’re throwing a tantrum over a few kids?” My brother, Tyler, jumped up from the sofa, his face flushed with greed. “Nora, what the hell is wrong with you? My house, my car, the down payment for my wedding—it all came from Bennett. So what if there are kids? It’s not a big deal!” “If it bothers you so much, just have one of your own with him. It’s not like he can’t afford another mouth to feed.” Blood is thicker than water, they say. But in the face of a direct deposit, my family was more than happy to let mine spill. Bennett, who hadn’t looked me in the eye since I’d been processed out, finally looked up. A flicker of something—maybe panic, maybe just annoyance—crossed his face. “Nora, don’t be dramatic. You’re my wife. That hasn’t changed.” A chill settled into my bones. I let out a dry, hollow laugh. “Do you even remember what you said to me? Right before I walked into that courtroom to lie for you?” Bennett froze. He looked at me for a long beat, his expression shifting from confusion to a defensive, ugly scowl. “Are you really going to hold that over me now?” he snapped. “I spent ten years taking care of your family, playing the dutiful son-in-law. I don’t expect a ‘thank you,’ but my parents are getting old. They wanted grandkids. I wanted to give them that. So… Hunter and the others happened. Can’t you show a little compassion? A little understanding?” He spoke of his “sacrifices” as if he were the one who had spent a decade staring at a grey concrete ceiling. He listed my faults as if I were the one who had broken a vow. I tilted my head back, forcing the tears back into their ducts. I grew up in a house where I was always second-best to my brother. Bennett had been my escape. He’d pursued me with a frantic, desperate passion, telling me I was the only thing that mattered. I’d fallen for it. I’d walked away from a high-paying career to build his dream from the dirt up. He told me he hated the “fake” corporate world, so I became the face of the company. I did the dirty work, the late-night networking, the high-stakes negotiations. I drank until my stomach bled to land contracts. I miscarried twice because I couldn’t afford to stop moving. Three years of blood and sweat, and the company finally hit the big leagues. We got married. And then, on the day we were supposed to start our lives, the IRS came knocking. His parents had knelt at my feet. “Nora, Bennett can’t go to prison. He’s the only son. A felony would destroy the family legacy. You helped build the company—just say the decisions were yours. You’re a woman; people will be more lenient. We won’t judge you. Just save him. Please.” Bennett had grabbed my hands, his eyes wet with tears as he shouted at his parents. “Don’t pressure her! She’s my everything! I’ll respect whatever she chooses!” Then he looked at me, his voice a broken whisper. “Honey, if you do this for me, I swear on my life, I will never betray you. If I ever break this vow, may I lose everything I hold dear.” I believed the performance. I took the fall. For ten years, the thought of our “happily ever after” was the only thing that kept me from breaking. And now, the promise was just a ghost, and bringing it up was treated like a crime. I had walked through fire for love, only to realize I was the only one burning. “Pay them off,” I said, my voice cold. “Get them out of our lives, or I’m filing for divorce.” The room went dead silent. My in-laws’ faces twisted with sudden, sharp malice. “Absolutely not!” my mother-in-law shrieked. “We finally have our grandsons! Why should a barren woman like you get to kick them out?” I kept my eyes on Bennett. This was ten years of obsession speaking. I wanted to give him one last chance to be the man he promised he was—and give myself one last reason to stay. He looked miserable, his brow furrowed in a tight knot of frustration. “Nora, does it have to be like this? On the day we’re finally back together, you’re really going to tear this marriage apart with your own hands?” 2 When I didn’t flinch, his tone shifted to something patronizing. “You just got out. You’re overwhelmed. You aren’t thinking straight.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that nonsense. I’ll give you time to adjust, but Nora, my patience isn’t infinite.” A laugh bubbled up in my throat, sharp and hysterical. He was the one who cheated. He was the one asking me to pay for his sins. And yet, he was the one “granting” me a chance? I didn’t bother arguing. I turned and walked out the door. If this wasn’t a home anymore, I wasn’t going to haunt it like a ghost. As I reached the curb, a black Rolls-Royce pulled up. The window rolled down to reveal Roxy. We’d met in the yard; she was a powerhouse who’d ended up inside after “protecting her interests” a little too aggressively. She’d been released the day before me. “Hey, girl! I went to the gate to pick you up, but you’d already vanished!” Roxy hopped out, her eyes scanning my face and seeing the wreckage underneath. “I figured you’d be here at the Sterling place. Listen, I did some digging. That husband of yours? He’s not the pining widower you thought he was. While you were doing time, he was busy playing house with some gold-digger. Six kids, Nora. They’ve been busier than a farm in spring.” Roxy, who had been stabbed in the back by her own ex-husband, was vibrating with indignant fury. She pulled a thick manila folder from the backseat. “This prick? If we were back in the day, he’d be at the bottom of a lake.” I took the file. My heart hammered against my ribs. Inside were records of Bennett accompanying a woman named Melanie to prenatal checkups. Six kids in ten years. The oldest was eleven. I did the math, and the world tilted. He’d been with her before we even got married. There were insurance policies worth millions for each of them. Seven villas. Transfer records that could fund a small country. And at the back, a photo of a wedding—Bennett and Melanie, looking radiant. A family of eight, with my parents and his parents in the background, all of them smiling. I had traded my freedom for a lie. I had carried his shame so they could play house. I closed the folder. The fire in my heart went out, replaced by a cold, hard stone. “Roxy,” I said, my voice steady. “Help me get my case reopened. I’m going to clear my name.” “And after that… I’m coming with you. Let’s see what we can build in the private sector.” Roxy was a shark who’d been trying to recruit me since my third year inside. She grinned, a predatory, beautiful thing. “About damn time. Men—especially the trashy ones—are just overhead we don’t need.” The day of my brother’s wedding arrived. To no one’s surprise, Melanie and her six children were the guests of honor. She was wearing a sleek, crimson designer gown that hugged a figure that showed no signs of six pregnancies. The kids were dressed in miniature tuxedos and matching silk dresses. The boys were clones of Bennett; the girls had Melanie’s sharp, hungry eyes. Bennett was in a deep navy suit that perfectly complemented Melanie’s dress. I felt a bitter pang of irony. Bennett used to tell me he hated matching outfits—said they were tacky. It turns out he just didn’t want to match with me. My in-laws were hovering over the children, doting and frantic. They were sweating through their clothes, chasing toddlers, but they looked happier than I’d ever seen them. Melanie handed my brother an envelope. “A little something for the honeymoon. A hundred thousand to get you started.” My mother’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs as she snatched it. “So generous! It’s no wonder the Sterlings are so blessed with children!” She threw a sideways glance at me. “Unlike some people. Family, my foot. A ‘felon’s discount’ gift of eight hundred bucks? Talk about a cheapskate.” Tyler took my red envelope, pulled out the cash, and dropped the paper on the floor, grinding it into the carpet with his heel. “Pocket change. Who does she think she’s impressing?” I watched them, a profound sense of nausea rising. That money was all I had. I’d earned it cents at a time, working the laundry and the kitchen in prison, saving every scrap for years. I had less than a hundred dollars left to my name. I said nothing. The oldest boy, Hunter, walked up to me. He stared at me for a long minute before letting out a sharp, practiced sneer. “Are you the woman from jail?” “You’re ugly. And you’re trying to steal my daddy. You have no shame.” He turned to the other kids, waving them over. “Look, guys! It’s the bad lady who makes everyone say we’re ‘illegitimate’!” Melanie rushed over, putting a hand over Hunter’s mouth with a dramatic sigh. “Hunter! That’s enough! Tell the lady you’re sorry.” She scolded him, but her eyes were dancing with triumph. It was a performance designed to trigger my in-laws’ protective instincts—and it worked. They immediately began coddling the boy and glaring at me. Bennett heard the commotion and walked over. He ruffled Hunter’s hair, his face softening with a fatherly concern I’d never seen. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s Daddy’s fault for letting people whisper.” Then he looked at me, his voice firm. “But from now on, legally, Nora will be your mother. No one will ever call you that word again.” 3 The next oldest boy, Parker, burst into tears. My mother-in-law immediately scooped him up. “What’s wrong, my angel? What’s hurting you?” Parker pointed a trembling finger at me, his face red and blotchy. “My teacher said people in jail are bad! I don’t want a bad lady to be my mommy! I want my real mommy!” That set off a chain reaction. Within seconds, the room was filled with the wails of six children. It was a symphony of chaos. “Don’t cry, sweetheart! The bad lady isn’t going to be your mommy, Grandpa and Grandma promise!” Hunter, the eldest, shot me a look of pure, calculated malice before squeezing out a few crocodile tears. “Grandma, you can’t promise that. I heard people say Mom can’t be the real Mrs. Sterling because Daddy won’t let her.” My in-laws spun around to face Bennett. “Bennett! Say something! If my grandson cries himself hoarse, I’ll never forgive you!” Bennett looked at me, then at the crying children. He looked caught, performative, and finally, resolute. “Stop crying,” he said, his voice carrying over the din. “I’ll give you the result you want. A man doesn’t cry; he takes care of his family. You have to be a role model for your siblings.” The crying stopped instantly. Melanie’s eyes welled up with “emotional” tears. “Bennett… do you mean it? Is this real?” Bennett remained silent, but he wouldn’t look at me. Suddenly, Parker—who was barely nine but easily weighed a solid 150 pounds—charged at me. “Get away from my daddy! Die, you bad lady! Die!” He was a heavy kid, and he was coming at me like a freight train. Instinct took over. I stepped to the side. He overbalanced, missing me entirely, and slammed face-first into the wainscoting of the wall. His nose erupted in blood, and a second later, a scream ripped through the room that sounded like a siren. “My baby!” Melanie shrieked, rushing to him. Then she turned on me, her face a mask of fury. “Ms. Shen, I know it’s been hard for you, watching me take your place all these years. If you have a problem, take it out on me! Parker is a child! How could you be so cruel?” I was speechless at the sheer audacity. Before I could get a word out—CRACK. Bennett’s hand moved faster than I could see. My head snapped to the side, the world spinning as the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. “I thought you just needed time to adjust,” Bennett hissed, his eyes cold and murderous. “But you’re actually laying hands on a child?” He had hit me with everything he had. My cheek felt like it was on fire. “I told you,” he snarled, “these children are the future of the Sterling name. They are the masters of this house. And you? You’re a leech. You’re a convicted felon whose parents live off my charity. Who the hell do you think you are?” Three-year-old Mia toddled over, hugging Bennett’s leg. “Don’t be sad, Daddy. I’ll help you hit the bad lady.” She balled up her tiny fist and shook it at me. Bennett picked her up, kissing her cheek. “My little angel. A princess shouldn’t have to do dirty work like that.” He gestured for Melanie to take the kids, and the eight of them began to walk toward the exit. My in-laws followed like obedient dogs, pausing only to spit toward me. “Pathetic, ungrateful bitch!” Once they were gone, my parents’ faces turned black with rage. “You ruined the wedding!” my father yelled. “You should have stayed in that cell for the rest of your life!” Tyler was even worse. The “humiliation” of his ruined day had pushed him over the edge. He rolled up his sleeves and lunged at me, his fists raining down on my head and shoulders. “You bitch! Why won’t you just die?” He grabbed me by the hair and began dragging me toward the door. The strength difference was too much; the more I fought, the more he tore at me. Bennett and the others stopped to watch. The kids clapped their hands, cheering. “Look, Daddy! The bad lady is losing!” “Uncle Tyler is a superhero!” My in-laws nodded approvingly. “See, babies? That’s what happens to bad people.” My head was ringing. My body was a map of blooming bruises. Everyone was watching the show, and Bennett’s cold, detached gaze was the sharpest blade of all. As Tyler raised his hand for another blow, I curled into a ball, closing my eyes and waiting for the end. Hate, hot and thick as tar, began to flood my heart. And then, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom swung open. A familiar, raspy voice boomed through the hall. “Who the hell gave you permission to touch her?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414035”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Maxwell Prescott’s memory resets every ninety days. Every three months, he returns to the day he hated me most. Like clockwork, he’d break my spirit—and sometimes my bones—to avenge his ward’s honor. Then, after a hundred nights of penance, he would propose to me under a canopy of fireflies, only for the cycle to restart the next morning. I lived through the loop, over and over, waiting for the day his memory would finally hold. I believed my love was a tether that would eventually pull him back to reality. Until I heard him through the cracked door of a private lounge at the club. “Max, how long are you going to keep this up?” It was one of his inner circle laughing. “The ‘memory reset’ thing? Only a delusional girl like Daisy would buy it. Every time, she’s on her knees begging us to help her ‘remind’ you of your love, desperate to marry you.” “Three days until the next ‘reset,’ right? Which round is this?” “The ninth,” Maxwell’s voice replied. It was deep, cool, and devastatingly clear. “Daisy’s pathetic little catering mistake poisoned Maisie and ruined her debutante ball. This is just the interest on the debt she owes.” I heard the soft rustle of fabric—him ruffling Maisie’s hair. “Nobody messes with my girl,” he added, his voice dropping into a register of tenderness he had never once used with me without the shroud of ‘amnesia.’ The betrayal was a physical blade between my ribs. My “devotion” was nothing more than the punchline to a cruel, year-long prank. I wiped my face, the salt of my tears stinging my chapped skin, and summoned the Interface in my mind. Negotiations are over, I told the cold, mechanical voice. In three days, when the mission fails, wipe every trace of Maxwell Prescott from my mind. … [Host, are you certain?] Before I could answer, the voices in the lounge drifted out again. “I heard if Daisy’s hand gets broken one more time, she’ll never be able to hold a paintbrush again.” The speaker sounded hesitant. “Max, isn’t the punishment… enough?” The clink of a wine glass stopped. I pictured Maxwell’s lips thinning into that hard, aristocratic line. Maisie lowered her head, her fingers tracing the custom diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist. “Uncle Max, I love this birthday gift. The debutante ball was just a formality… it doesn’t matter that it was ruined.” Her voice was soft, performatively sweet. Every word was designed to sound like a grace note while hitting like a hammer. Maxwell’s temper flared instantly. I heard the thud of a boot hitting a chair. “Since when do you tell me how to handle my business?” He took Maisie’s hand in his, treating her like a piece of priceless Ming porcelain. “Even if Daisy loses her hand, it wouldn’t compensate for what you lost. A street-food cook thinking she can be a fine artist? It’s pathetic. She’s a moth reaching for a star she doesn’t deserve.” A sharp, mocking huff escaped his nose. It felt like a thousand needles piercing my heart. I remembered when I lost that scholarship competition. I wanted to give up on my dreams, but he was the one who held me. He told me I was a “Sunflower”—that no matter how dark it got, I had to keep my head up and face the light. But the light was a lie. In his eyes, I wasn’t a sunflower. I was a nuisance. Laughter erupted in the room. “She’s got some talent, though,” someone joked. “If Max hadn’t called the judges beforehand, she actually would’ve taken first place.” The world went silent. My fingers began to shake uncontrollably. I had poured my soul into that competition. It was my one ticket out of poverty, my one chance to stand beside him as an equal. And he had crushed it with a single phone call. Are the dreams of the poor really that cheap? Just something for the elite to stomp on for sport? I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. [Host, I ask again: do you wish to proceed with the memory wipe?] the Interface chimed. [You previously traded ten years of your lifespan to extend this mission. Are you truly giving up?] A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. A month ago, I was terrified of losing him. I had begged the System for more time, desperate to save the man I thought was trapped in a cycle of trauma. What a joke. I closed my eyes, letting the hot tears spill over. I’m sure. Delete it all. Right then, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket. “Daisy, it’s your mom. There’s been an accident!” Kidney failure. The words on the medical report blurred. I looked at my mother, pale and fragile on the hospital bed. I had been so obsessed with “saving” Maxwell that I hadn’t noticed the shadow of death creeping over her face. Guilt crashed over me like a tidal wave. At the billing counter, my vision was swollen and red. I looked at the balance in my bank account—a number I could count on one hand. The nurse sighed, her gaze flickering with pity and impatience. “Ms. Mona, we need the deposit now.” “Can I just…” I started, my voice cracking. Then, the elevator dinned. Maxwell appeared, walking with that effortless, powerful stride. He was slightly out of breath. “Daisy, I heard about your mother…” Seeing my ruined face, he pulled my cold body into his chest. “It’s okay. I’m here.” The warmth. The scent of expensive cologne and cedarwood. He always did this. He always appeared at my lowest moments—car accidents, legal scares, every crisis. It was as if he had a sixth sense for my pain. I grew up without a father. I was starved for a protector. That was why, even after he broke my hand the first time, I forgave him. Because he knelt and apologized with such “sincerity.” Because he stayed by my side for weeks, enduring my anger without a word. I fell for a man twelve years my senior because his “warmth” was like top-shelf whiskey. One sip, and I was too drunk to find the exit. “Uncle Max!” Maisie’s voice cut through the air. Maxwell pushed me away instantly. The sudden coldness snapped me back to reality. I felt like a fool. I was still craving the comfort of a man who was actively destroying me. Maisie glanced at my phone screen, seeing the pathetic balance. She gasped, loud enough for the waiting room to turn their heads. “Daisy, is that all you have left? Doesn’t Uncle Max give you enough of an allowance?” The whispers started. To the strangers in the lobby, I was just a cheap mistress being scolded by the “real” family. Maxwell frowned, but he didn’t correct her. Instead, he leaned in and whispered, “Maisie didn’t mean it that way. I’ll talk to her at home. She’s sensitive, I can’t embarrass her in public.” So, for her pride, I had to wear the scarlet letter. Of course. How could a “sinner” like me compare to his precious ward? I looked at him, my eyes dead. “Give me five hundred thousand dollars.” Maxwell froze. I had never asked him for a dime in three years. But if I was going to be labeled a mistress, I might as well get the market rate. My mother needed that surgery. His expression darkened. “What did you say?” “The bags, the jewelry you bought to ‘apologize’ over the months… I never kept them. They’re worth more than half a million. Give me the cash.” Maxwell’s jaw tightened. “That’s different.” It was. Gifts to a pet are an act of mercy. A pet demanding payment is an act of rebellion. Maisie patted his arm, and he settled instantly, like a lion being tamed by a child. She smiled at me—a smile dripping with pure, unadulterated contempt. “Daisy, Uncle Max didn’t bring his cards in a hurry. I have five thousand in cash here. Take it for now.” She pulled a stack of bills from her designer bag and reached for my hand. But as she pressed the money into my palm, her sharp, manicured nails dug deep into my skin, drawing blood. I flinched, shoving her hand away. Maisie let out a theatrical shriek and collapsed onto the floor. The cash scattered like autumn leaves. “Daisy!” she sobbed, looking up with big, watery eyes. “Why did you push me? I just wanted to help. I didn’t mean to insult you!” Maxwell’s gaze turned to ice. “Is this how you ask for help, Daisy?” “She stabbed me—” I started, but he cut me off with a raised hand. “I know what you’re going to say. ‘She tripped herself.’ Spare me.” I closed my mouth. I was done explaining. I was done believing he’d ever choose the truth over her. I knelt on the dirty hospital floor, numbly picking up the bills one by one. This was my mother’s life. Suddenly, a heavy boot stepped on my hand, crushing it into the tile. Maxwell looked down at me from his height. “Apologize to Maisie.” The rubber sole of his shoe ground into my knuckles, crushing the last of my dignity. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Say it like you mean it.” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. I let my knees hit the floor with a heavy thud. “I am sorry.” I looked up at him, my face a mask of indifference. “Are we done?” His chest heaved. He sighed, a sound of weary disappointment, and knelt to help me pick up the rest of the money. “I know you’re stressed about your mother, but that’s no excuse to take it out on Maisie. Don’t let it happen again.” “It won’t,” I said softly. Because there wouldn’t be a next time. Maxwell used some of the cash to pay the immediate hospital fees and shoved the rest into my hand. “Take me to see her.” My mother hated Maxwell. Even with his billions, she saw him for what he was—a broken, dangerous man. She never gave him a kind word. But today, she was different. She held his hand and talked for a long time. I knew why. She was trying to entrust me to him. She was afraid that after she was gone, I’d be alone in this world. A suffocating bitterness rose in my throat. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the man she was pleading with was the wolf at our door. I didn’t break character. I needed his money for the treatment, and I needed his connections to find a donor. That night, he found a match. A kidney was being flown in. If it arrived by tomorrow, my mother would live. The next day, I waited. From dawn until dusk, I sat by her bed. But Maxwell never showed. The orange glow of the sunset hit my sleeping mother, making her look like a ghost already fading away. With trembling hands, I dialed his number for the hundredth time. Finally, someone picked up. It wasn’t Maxwell; it was his friend. “Oh, Daisy? Yeah, Max is busy. Maisie had a sudden migraine, and she was crying for him. He’s at the villa taking care of her.” He was with Maisie. And he had the transport documents for the kidney. I flew to his villa like a madwoman. I didn’t even look at the two of them on the bed—intertwined, mid-kiss. I grabbed the medical cooler tossed in the corner and bolted for the door. I had thirty minutes. If I could get to the hospital in thirty minutes, the organ would still be viable. But as I hailed a cab, Maxwell’s security team swarmed me. They dragged me back to the rooftop of the villa. Maisie was standing on the ledge, weeping beautifully. Maxwell, his face dark with rage, grabbed me by the collar and shoved me toward her. “Because you burst in like that, Maisie is traumatized! She thinks you’ve misunderstood everything, and now she’s suicidal!” he roared. “Tell her! Tell her you didn’t see anything!” I let out a jagged, hysterical laugh. “Misunderstood? Misunderstood that you’re two deviants masquerading as ‘family’ while you’re sleeping together?” Slap. The force of his hand sent my head spinning. “Shut your mouth!” Maxwell hissed, his voice shaking with fury. “If Maisie doesn’t step down from that ledge, you can forget about that kidney. And you can forget about any surgeon in this city touching your mother.” I stared at him, seeing the absolute coldness in his eyes. He meant it. He would let my mother die to soothe Maisie’s ego. My mother was waiting for me. “I didn’t see anything!” I screamed at the girl on the ledge. “You’re innocent! You’re a perfect, loving family! Just get down!” Maisie’s eyes glinted with triumph. She took her sweet time, lingering for several more minutes before finally stepping down. I sprinted back to the hospital, heart hammering against my ribs. But when I arrived, the surgeon looked at me with a heavy shake of his head. “It’s too late. The tissue is degraded. We missed the window by ten minutes.” I collapsed, the screams tearing out of my throat until I had no breath left. Later that night, a courier delivered a familiar, exquisite gift box. Then, Maxwell called. “Maisie is my best friend’s daughter. I couldn’t just let her jump, Daisy. We’ll find another donor…” I said nothing. He sighed, changing the subject. “You got the dress, right? Wear it tomorrow night. Meet me at our usual spot. I have something important to say.” I remembered then. Tomorrow was his ninth “proposal.” He still wanted to play the game. But Maxwell, I’m done playing. The next night, I didn’t go. The couture gown went into the trash. As I was signing the discharge papers to take my mother home for hospice, Maxwell’s friend appeared and forced me into a car. “Max has been waiting for hours! What’s wrong with you? This might be the time his memory actually stays—don’t throw it away now!” The field was filled with fireflies. I had seen this eight times before, and every time, I had cried with joy. I used to think I was his ultimate choice. Now I knew I was just his favorite victim. The lights weren’t magical anymore. They were blinding. I watched Maxwell, in the same suit, reciting the same vows. When he held out the diamond ring, I reached out and slapped it into the dirt. Maxwell froze. “Daisy? What… don’t you want to marry me?” “Maxwell,” I said, my voice like dry ice. “Stop acting—” Suddenly, his friend ran up, staring at his phone. He whispered something to Maxwell, and they both glanced at me. Maxwell tried to shove him away. “Not now! Can’t you see I’m busy? Get out!” A serpent of dread coiled in my gut. I snatched the phone from the friend’s hand. My heart stopped. It was a live stream. My mother was standing on the hospital rooftop. I ran. I flagged a taxi, my hands shaking so hard I could barely hold the phone. I spammed the chat in the live stream. Mom, please get down. I’m coming! The streamer, a young kid looking for clout, saw my comments and laughed into the camera. “Oh, you’re the daughter? Your mom is jumping because of you! She found out her daughter is a high-end hooker for some billionaire. She’s too ashamed to live!” The blood in my veins turned to slush. Then, my mother’s voice came through the speaker. She was talking to a nurse. “My Daisy… she’s a good girl. She shouldn’t have to sell her soul to pay for my life. Tell her… tell her she’s free now.” I gripped the phone, a scream of pure agony trapped in my chest. I reached the hospital just in time to hear the crowd below shouting. “Just jump already! Having a daughter like that is a failure anyway!” Then… Thud. A sickening, heavy sound. My mother bloomed like a red flower on the pavement right before my eyes. “No!” I threw myself onto her broken body, cradling her. My tears mixed with the blood on her face. I looked at the crowd, my mouth open, but no sound came out. Please. Help her. Somebody help her. [Host, the mission window has closed. You have failed.] [Beginning the wipe of all memories related to Maxwell Prescott…] … Maxwell intended to follow Daisy to the hospital, but Maisie called. Another headache. He hesitated, then turned the car around. He stayed with her through the night, eventually falling into a deep sleep by her bedside. When he woke up at noon, his group chat was blowing up. “Max, are you starting the ‘Reset’ act today? Round nine?” Maxwell stared at the screen for a long time. Beside him, Maisie stirred. He typed one word: Yeah. After showering, he sent his usual instructions to his security team: Go find Daisy. Break her hand. But an uneasy feeling was gnawing at him. Two hours later, the lead guard called back. “Sir… Ms. Mona is gone.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414034”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the gala celebrating my reunion with my biological parents, Bennett’s star student got “lost” again. He was ready to walk out on both our families before the first course was even served. I didn’t want to break my parents’ hearts on the night they finally went public with the daughter they’d spent a decade searching for, so I swallowed my pride and pleaded with him. “My parents have been waiting years for this moment, Bennett. If you leave now, what are they supposed to think?” Instead of staying, Bennett looked at me with a condescending pity that made my skin crawl. “Callie is alone in this city, June. She has no one. I’m her mentor—that’s a sacred bond. I can’t just abandon her when she’s panicking.” He adjusted his cuffs, his voice dropping to that smooth, professorial tone he used to win over lecture halls. “You grew up an orphan too. You of all people should empathize with her instead of being so petty.” A knot formed in my throat, the resentment I’d been stifling for months finally boiling over. “Are you really worried about a ‘student,’ Bennett? Or is it because that student is her?” He shot me a look so cold it felt like a physical slap. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the exit. I slammed my hand against the table, the silver rattling. “Bennett! If you walk out that door, we are done!” He froze. When he looked back at me over his shoulder, his eyes were like chips of ice. “You have a family now, June. But Callie only has me. Stay here and enjoy your parents.” He vanished into the night. Ten minutes later, Callie Brooks posted a new photo to her Instagram. [Doesn’t matter if you’re lost, as long as you’re with the person willing to find the romance in the sunset with you!] In the photo—taken by a passerby—the two of them were silhouetted against the orange sky, their hands joined to form a giant heart. The happiness radiating from the screen was a knife to my gut. … 1 The whispers of the guests felt like needles pricking my skin. My father’s face went from hurt to a terrifying, stony rage. He slammed his wine glass onto the tablecloth, the crystal shattering. “Enough! I spent ten years scouring the country for my little girl, only for her to be treated like an afterthought?” Bennett’s parents turned pale. They scrambled forward, their voices trembling as they tried to play peacemaker. “Charles, please, it’s all a misunderstanding! Bennett is just… he’s dedicated. He’s a professor; he feels a deep responsibility for his students. He’s just being a good man.” My mother’s face remained frozen. She took my hand in hers, her grip firm and protective, as she stared them down. “A good man? I don’t think so. That ‘student’ is a grown woman, isn’t she? If he has so little respect for his wife’s dignity that he’d run to another woman on a night like this, then we have nothing more to discuss.” A wave of warmth flooded my chest. For years, I had navigated the world alone, fighting for every scrap of affection. Now, someone was finally standing in the gap for me. I squeezed my mother’s hand, blinking back tears, and turned to the room with a voice like steel. “Mom, Dad… let’s continue the party. We have a lot to celebrate.” I paused, looking directly at Bennett’s parents. “And one more thing. I’m filing for divorce.” The room went deathly silent. Bennett’s parents looked like they’d been struck by lightning. The guests began to murmur, their eyes darting between my parents’ wealth and my sudden, cold resolve. I ignored them. My mind drifted back to our fifth anniversary, just a month ago. Bennett had invited all his colleagues and friends to witness our “perfect” life. But the moment the appetizers were served, his phone rang. He looked at me with that practiced expression of regret. “Honey, a few of my students got into some trouble at a bonfire. I have to go deal with the campus police. I’m so sorry.” I had urged him to go, thinking it was an emergency. I spent the rest of the night playing the perfect hostess, laughing off the pitying looks from his friends. The next day, I went to the campus infirmary with gift baskets for the “troubled students.” Instead of a group of kids, I found Bennett in a private room, his eyes dark with exhaustion, tenderly tucking a blanket around Callie Brooks. When I confronted him, he didn’t even flinch. “Callie went for a hike and got turned around,” he’d said. “You know she has no one else in this city, June.” The memory made my blood run cold. The rest of the gala was a blur of apologies from Bennett’s family. By the time I got back to our apartment, the adrenaline had faded, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. My phone buzzed. A text from Bennett. [Callie sprained her ankle. She’s terrified of hospitals, so I’m staying the night to watch over her. I’ll be back in the morning.] I stared at the text, then opened Instagram. Like clockwork, Callie had posted again. [A lonely night, but at least I have you.] The photo showed Bennett’s sharp profile, his head resting dangerously close to her lap as he sat by her bed. I knew she’d taken it while he was distracted, but the fact that he allowed her this level of intimacy—this constant, blurred line—was the real betrayal. My heart felt like it was being carved out by a dull blade. I had known Bennett and Callie for years. I couldn’t understand how it had come to this. I was the one who had encouraged him to mentor her. I was the one who had suggested we help fund her studies when she told us she was an orphan from a broken-down town in the Ozarks. And Bennett? He was the man who had once stayed by my side through a grueling health scare, promising he’d never let me be alone again. How did we get here? I picked up my phone and messaged my parents. [Dad, Mom… tell the University of Chicago I accept the visiting professorship. I’ve made up my mind. I’m moving back to the city to be with you.] 2 I finished packing my essentials just as the sun began to peek through the blinds. The front door opened. Bennett walked in, bringing with him the faint, cloying scent of Callie’s perfume. He climbed into bed, the mattress dipping as he tried to pull me toward him. “Still mad, babe? I know I sounded harsh yesterday. But we’ve watched Callie grow up. You know her background; you know how hard it is for her to trust people.” I kept my back to him, as rigid as a statue. He sighed, resting a warm palm on my hip. “Look, once things settle down at the department, I’ll take you to a nice dinner with your parents to apologize, okay?” “I understand,” I said, my voice flat. He paused, sounding relieved. “I knew you’d see reason. You’ve always been the bigger person, June. I bought you that necklace you wanted—it’s on the counter. I’m going to go jump in the shower.” After the bathroom door clicked shut, I went to the kitchen. The jewelry box was sitting there. I opened it to find a modest gold pendant. The receipt was tucked underneath: $450. My stomach turned. I grabbed Bennett’s phone from the counter—I still knew his passcode. I navigated to his banking app and looked at his “recently deleted” transactions. There they were. Series of transfers to Callie Brooks. $5,000. $8,000. $5,000. It all made sense now. I had been sending Callie a $500 monthly “stipend” out of my own pocket to help her with groceries. Meanwhile, she was sporting Chanel bags and Hermès scarves on her “student” budget. While I was taking the subway to save money for our future, she was driving a brand-new Lexus. Bennett was subsidizing her entire life while I balanced our household ledgers down to the cent. The pain was a physical weight in my chest. When Bennett came out of the shower, he leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispered. “Or good morning, I guess.” “Goodnight,” I replied, already counting down the hours until I could leave. The next morning, I went to the Dean’s office and handed in my resignation. Then, I headed to the year-end Academic Excellence Awards. I planned to accept my research grant and leave quietly, but as I finished my speech, Callie Brooks practically stormed the stage. She snatched the microphone from the stand, her ponytail swinging defiantly. “I have to respectfully disagree with Dr. Whittaker’s findings!” she announced to the crowded auditorium. “My own recent research shows that her theory is based on outdated data. It’s a shortcut, frankly. It’s not rigorous.” I didn’t look at her. I looked at Bennett, who was sitting in the front row, legs crossed, watching her with a look of immense pride. Callie rambled on, throwing out complex-sounding jargon that meant nothing. She finished with a triumphant smirk. “In fact, these new conclusions were reached through private lab sessions with Dr. Mitch. Isn’t that right, Bennett?” Bennett nodded, giving her a look that a father might give a precocious child. The room erupted into whispers. The predatory nature of the academic world took over instantly. “Wow, Callie’s got guts. Challenging a titan like Whittaker to her face?” “I don’t know, June’s been winning awards for years. Maybe she’s been coasting.” “Bennett is so objective. He won’t even take his wife’s side if the science isn’t there. That’s integrity.” I felt my nails digging into my palms. “And what exactly are you proposing, Callie?” Bennett stood up. As the most senior faculty member in the room, his word was law. “The methodology Callie is describing is indeed groundbreaking,” he said smoothly. “Given the overlap, I think it’s only fair that the grant for this project be transferred to her name.” The betrayal was total. It wasn’t just my marriage; he was trying to strip away my career. I felt a cold laugh bubble up in my throat. I grabbed the microphone back. “Dr. Mitch, I’m afraid I have to disagree with your… assessment.” Both their faces shifted. I didn’t give them a chance to speak. I tore Callie’s “logic” apart piece by piece, citing the very data she claimed was missing. I exposed the flaws in her “groundbreaking” theory with the surgical precision of someone who had spent twenty years in the field. By the time I was done, the room was silent. Callie was beet-red, her eyes welling with tears of humiliation. She turned and ran out of the hall. Bennett’s face darkened. He shot me a look of pure vitriol before rushing after her. The room broke into thunderous applause, but I didn’t feel like a winner. The trophy in my hand felt like a lead weight. After the ceremony, Bennett cornered me in a secluded hallway. His eyes were bloodshot. “June, what the hell was that?” he hissed. “You already have everything. You have the reputation, the tenure, the parents. Why couldn’t you just let her have this one win?” “Because it wasn’t hers to take, Bennett,” I said, my voice remarkably calm. “She’s your student, not mine. And for the record? I’m cutting off her stipend. Effective immediately.” Bennett’s frustration boiled over. “If you’re still punishing her because you’re jealous of my time, that’s one thing. But don’t sabotage her future just because you’re having a tantrum about your parents’ party!” I didn’t have the energy to argue. He didn’t even realize that every sentence he spoke began and ended with Callie. I turned to walk away, but a blood-curdling scream echoed through the quad. “Help! Someone help me!” 3 We ran toward the sound. Near the parking lot, Callie was being dragged toward a rusted-out van by three burly men in flannel shirts. One had a fist in her hair; another was pinning her arms. Bennett didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward. “Hey! Let her go!” The men looked up, their faces weathered and mean. “Back off, pal. This is family business. Callie owes the family back home in the holler. She’s supposed to be married to my brother, and we’re taking her back to finish the job.” Callie was hysterical. “Bennett, help me! I don’t want to go back there! I want to stay with you!” Looking at her, I saw the girl she used to be—the one who begged me for a chance to escape her past. I’ve taken self-defense and kickboxing for years; I was ready to step in. But then Bennett spoke, and the world stopped turning. “Let her go!” he shouted, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes for a split second, then pointed directly at me. “You’ve got the wrong girl! That’s Callie Brooks. The woman you’re holding is my wife!” The air left my lungs. My heart hammered against my ribs in a frantic, sickening rhythm. I couldn’t believe the words had actually left his mouth. The three men didn’t wait to check IDs. They shoved Callie aside and lunged for me. I wasn’t fast enough. A hand clamped over my mouth, and another yanked my hair so hard I felt my scalp tear. The pain was blinding. Before I could land a solid blow, they threw me into the back of the van. The doors slammed shut. Inside the dark space, it was a blur of violence. I fought like a cornered animal, using every ounce of my training, but three-on-one in a confined space were impossible odds. Ten minutes later, the back doors were kicked open. I crawled out, my arm dangling at a wrong angle, my face a mask of blood and bruises, my clothes torn. Inside the van, the three men were groaning on the floor, nursing broken noses and cracked ribs. I had held my own, but I was shattered. Bennett was a few yards away, kneeling on the grass, whispering sweet nothings to a sobbing Callie. When he saw me emerge, he stood up. He didn’t rush to me. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He spoke in a commanding, clipped tone. “June, stay here and look after Callie. I’m going to find the campus security.” He looked at my injuries like they were an inconvenience—an eyesore he didn’t want to deal with. I let out a ragged, wet laugh. My eyes locked onto Callie. The “damsel” act vanished for a second. She looked at me with a chillingly blank expression. “Did you see that, June?” she whispered so only I could hear. “He chose me. Even when it meant throwing you to the wolves. He’ll always choose me.” She wiped a fake tear away. “I’m not a girl who gets lost, June. Bennett is smart, but he sees what he wants to see. And he wants to see a girl who needs him.” I stared at her, my vision blurring. “Callie… I gave you everything. I treated you like a sister.” She scoffed. “And you have everything. Money, power, a family that actually wants you. You don’t know what it’s like to have to fight for survival. Bennett is my survival. And he’s mine. In this life and the next.” I shook my head. I wasn’t angry anymore; I was just profoundly disappointed. She had the brains to make it on her own, but she’d chosen to be a parasite. Suddenly, Callie’s face crumpled. She dropped to her knees and started slapping herself across the face, over and over. “I’m sorry! Dr. Whittaker, please! I’ll do better! Don’t hurt me!” “June!” Bennett roared, charging toward us. He shoved me aside. Because of my shoulder and my shredded leggings, I lost my balance and fell into a bed of rosebushes. The thorns tore into my skin, but I didn’t make a sound. “Are you bullying her again?” Bennett yelled, his face twisted with rage. I didn’t answer. I forced myself up, ignoring the stabs of pain, and began to walk toward the gates. Near the exit, a group of my graduate students and colleagues ran toward me, their faces full of horror. “Dr. Whittaker! My god, what happened?” “June, we heard you’re leaving for Chicago—please tell us it isn’t true!” I didn’t want them to see me like this. I mumbled a lie about a car accident and kept moving. But Bennett wasn’t done. He caught up to me, grabbing my bruised wrist. “June, Chicago? You’re actually leaving? Why didn’t you tell me?” I winced as his grip tightened on my injury. A white-hot fury sparked in my chest. “It’s none of your business.” “The hell it isn’t! I’m your husband! Chicago is cutthroat, June. You won’t survive there without my support.” I laughed—a sharp, jagged sound. I swung my good arm and slapped him across the face with every bit of strength I had left. “After you literally handed me over to kidnappers to save your mistress? You don’t get to talk about support. You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here.” I walked away. Behind me, Bennett shouted, his voice desperate. “You’re just throwing a tantrum! You want me to beg for your forgiveness? Fine, I’m apologizing! Is that what you want?” I didn’t look back. I didn’t need his apologies. I needed a bridge, and I was going to burn it with him on it. 4 On the Uber ride home, my phone blew up with texts from Bennett. [June, come back. Stop being dramatic.] [I’m sorry about Callie’s family. It was a split-second decision. I knew you could handle yourself.] [June, answer me! Don’t do this!] I blocked him. When I got to the apartment, my mother was already there. She had a suitcase open on the bed. Her face, usually so composed, was soft with concern. “June, honey… let’s go home.” I finally broke. I collapsed into her arms, sobbing for the girl I used to be—the orphan who thought she’d finally found safety in a man who turned out to be a coward. As we were walking out the door with my bags, Bennett and Callie pulled up in his car. “June, wait!” Callie cried, rushing toward us. “Please don’t go! It’s all my fault… I’ll go back to the Ozarks. I won’t bother you anymore. Just don’t let Dr. Mitch lose his wife because of me.” Bennett hurried to her side, looking at me with a scowl. “Callie, stop. I’m not letting you go back to that hellhole.” My mother stepped in front of Bennett. Before he could react, she delivered a stinging slap to his face. “You coward!” she hissed. “You knew what kind of place she came from, and you tried to send my daughter there instead? Her life is worth more than yours will ever be.” Bennett rubbed his jaw. “June knows how to fight. Callie doesn’t. It was a logical choice.” My mother’s face went pale with fury. She turned and slapped Callie, too. “And my daughter earned those skills through years of struggle! You don’t get to profit off her strength.” As Callie wailed and Bennett tried to shield her, we moved toward the black Rolls Royce waiting at the curb. But then, a roar of an engine cut through the air. A van screeched to a halt behind us. My mother shrieked as she was shoved aside. I was pushed to the pavement, my knees scraping against the gravel. When I looked up, my heart stopped. It was the men from the campus. And they brought friends. One of them swung a heavy wooden club. My mother, trying to protect me, took the blow. She slumped to the ground, blood blooming from her head. “MOM!” The world went red. I scrambled toward her, my hands shaking as I tried to stem the flow of blood. The lead man sneered. “Thought you could hide, Callie? You knocked out my brothers, but we got reinforcements now. You’re coming home to the village.” I looked at Bennett. He was standing by his car, frozen. “I’m not Callie!” I screamed, my voice raw with hatred. “She is! The woman behind you!” The men looked toward Callie. Bennett stepped forward, but when he saw the sheer number of armed men, he faltered. “Let them go,” Bennett stammered. “Sure. Just tell us which one is the real Callie Brooks, or we take ’em both.” I looked at Bennett, my eyes burning. “Bennett, tell them the truth. Give them what they want.” Callie stepped out from behind him, looking like a martyr. “It’s okay, Bennett. Let me go. I’d rather die than see you two unhappy.” Bennett’s eyes went wide. The manipulation worked perfectly. He looked at me, then at Callie, and his face hardened. He pointed at me—at my bleeding, broken mother and me. “She’s Callie. Take her.” The next few seconds were a nightmare. Rough, greasy hands grabbed my hair. My blouse was torn as they dragged me away. My mother was screaming, clutching my ankles, until they kicked her aside. I saw Bennett cover Callie’s eyes, holding her close, protecting her from the “tragedy” he had just authored. As they threw me and my unconscious mother into the back of the van, I managed to reach into my pocket for the burner phone my father had given me. I sent a GPS pin. “Dad,” I whispered into the receiver, my voice a jagged edge of ice. “Send the medevac. Send the security teams. And bring Bennett Mitch and Callie Brooks to me. I want to watch them burn.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414033”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Hudson had a “Core Four.” Three guys, one girl—an inseparable, airtight clique. My roommates begged me to stay away from them. They warned me that groups like that were toxic, a black hole of codependency and drama. I didn’t listen. I spent a year meticulously working my way into Hudson’s orbit, playing the long game until I finally secured the title of his girlfriend. Before he took me to meet them, Hudson gave me a final, stern warning. “Tinsley is the heart of our group. She’s like a sister to us. If you so much as breathe a mean word to her, we’re done. Instantly.” I nodded, looking as innocent and compliant as a Sunday school teacher. Inside, my heart was racing with pure, caffeinated adrenaline. Replacing the “clique queen”? That was exactly the kind of psychological warfare I lived for. 1 “Even though you’re my girlfriend, Tinsley comes first. She’s the priority.” Hudson was laying it on thick, delivering a speech so delusional it made my roommates want to scream. I reached over, physically covering one of my friend’s mouths before she could go off on him, and gave Hudson a bright, shimmering smile. “Of course, Hudson. Your friends are my friends. I’m sure Tinsley and I are going to be best sisters.” My roommate, Ruby, looked like she was going to have an aneurysm. She waited until Hudson stepped out to grab his car before she cornered me. “You’re the campus sweetheart, Jade. You have guys falling over themselves for you. Why are you debasing yourself for a guy in a cult-clique? You’re going to regret this.” I didn’t answer. I just adjusted my lip gloss, grabbed my designer clutch, and slipped into the passenger seat of Hudson’s Audi. “Let’s go,” I chirped. “I don’t want to keep them waiting.” When we walked into the private booth at the lounge, Tinsley was front and center. She was wearing a silk white slip dress, looking every bit the “pure, fragile angel” that men find irresistible. Two handsome guys were flanking her, their body language protective, almost territorial. I expected a spoiled brat. Instead, the second Tinsley saw me, she leaped up and grabbed my hands with terrifying warmth. “You must be Jade! Hudson’s new girl. Oh my god, you’re stunning.” She turned to the other two. “This is Bennett and Jax. Guys, stop being brooding statues and welcome the newest member of the family!” Bennett, the one with the wire-rimmed glasses and a sharp, intellectual vibe, gave me a polite but chillingly brief handshake. Jax, a guy with a buzzcut and a gym-rat build, didn’t even bother to uncross his arms. He stared at me with blatant, unwashed hostility. I licked my lips, my smile widening a fraction. I loved a challenge. Tinsley didn’t stop talking. “Seriously, you’re like a supermodel. How did a dork like Hudson land you?” Hudson laughed, an affectionate, practiced sound, and rubbed the top of Tinsley’s head. He took off his jacket and draped it over her chair before she even sat back down. “You’re on your period,” he whispered loudly enough for me to hear. “Keep your back warm.” Tinsley immediately looked at me, her eyes wide with faux-worry. “Oh no, Hudson, stop! Jade’s going to get the wrong idea. Are you trying to start a fight between us?” The room went silent. Hudson’s brow furrowed, his protective instinct already flaring. I just tilted my head, my expression a picture of pure grace. “Why would I be mad? Hudson already told me you’re the heart of the group. Seeing you in person, I totally get it. You’re so sweet and petite—of course they treat you like a little sister.” The tension in the air evaporated. The guys relaxed. Tinsley’s smile faltered for a microsecond—just long enough for me to register it—before she recovered. “You’re so different from the other girls,” she said, her voice dropping into a confiding tone. “Usually, Hudson’s flings get so… competitive with me. I try so hard to be friends, but they always end up hating me.” She let out a tiny, girlish sigh. “The guys actually stopped dating for a while just so I wouldn’t have to deal with the drama.” 2 She paused, casting a lingering, slightly mournful look at Hudson. “I can’t believe Hudson actually let you lock him down. You must have some really impressive… techniques.” I just smiled, letting the backhanded compliment slide off me like water. I could see exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t just “one of the boys”—she was the gatekeeper of their hearts. When the appetizers arrived, I felt the shift in the room. Tinsley was getting ready to make her move. I stayed still, waiting for the opening. Suddenly, Tinsley let out a sharp gasp. A bowl of soup—not boiling, but warm enough to cause a scene—sloshed over and drenched her white dress. She looked down at the stain, her face contorting into a mask of theatrical pain. I moved to help her, but before I could reach her, Hudson shoved me aside. Hard. I hit the floor with a thud. “I knew it!” Jax barked, his face turning an angry shade of red. “They’re all the same. Act nice for ten minutes and then show their claws. You did that on purpose!” Bennett pushed his glasses up his nose, his voice cold. “We told you, Hudson. No one touches Tinsley. Not even your girlfriend.” “Jade,” Hudson’s voice was low and dangerous. “Apologize. Now.” Tinsley was curled into the guys’ arms, looking up at me with a tiny, triumphant glint in her eyes that only I could see. If I were any other girl, I would have screamed, thrown my drink, and walked out. But I wasn’t any other girl. I let the tears well up instantly. My lower lip trembled, and I made sure my voice came out broken and breathless. “I’m so sorry, Tinsley… I thought you were handing me the bowl… I was just trying to help…” I turned my head slightly, showing the most vulnerable angle of my neck, letting a single tear track down my cheek. “I love Hudson so much, and I wanted so badly for us to be friends. You’re so kind, Tinsley… please tell me you don’t think I did this on purpose.” Tinsley froze. The guys froze. She had spent years perfecting the “victim” role, but I was currently out-victim-ing her in front of her own audience. “Of course,” Tinsley stammered, forced into a corner. “Guys, stop. It was an accident. Don’t be mean to Jade.” I sobbed quietly and threw myself into Hudson’s arms. I looked up at him through my lashes, my eyes full of hurt and longing. For the first time, Hudson looked genuinely guilty. He held me tight, but before he could speak, Tinsley jumped in. “Let’s just finish and go to the pool! Hudson, you promised to teach me that new stroke today. I even brought my new bikini.” Nobody cared if I’d actually eaten. They dropped their forks and stood up. The three of them swarmed Tinsley, treating her like a porcelain doll, leaving me to trail behind like a forgotten shadow. Hudson glanced back once, but Tinsley immediately leaned into him, whispering a question about swimming techniques. Jax snorted. “I’m a better swimmer than Hudson, Tinsley. Let me teach you.” Tinsley giggled. “One at a time, Jax. You’re next.” We arrived at the campus athletic center. Tinsley emerged from the locker room in a dainty, floral one-piece, her arm linked through Hudson’s. The moment her toe touched the water, she let out a tiny shriek and jumped into Hudson’s arms. I stepped out in my own suit—a sleek, midnight-blue bikini that left very little to the imagination. “Hudson?” I called out, my voice soft. “I’m actually not a very strong swimmer. Do you think you could help me too?” The three of them turned. The air seemed to leave the room. If you want to play the game of a “pick-me” girl, you need the hardware to back it up. I had it. Every guy in the pool area was staring. Hudson’s expression darkened with a sudden, sharp possessiveness. 3 He instinctively started to let go of Tinsley to come toward me. But Tinsley gripped his arm tighter, laughing. “Sorry, Jade! Hudson’s mine for the afternoon. I called dibs.” Hudson hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did promise her, Jade. Just hang out for a bit, okay?” They splashed into the water, Tinsley clinging to his chest like a barnacle. I sat on the edge, watching calmly, until a guy from the varsity swim team approached me. “Hey,” he said, flashing a confident grin. “You look like you need a coach. Want some pointers?” In the water, Hudson’s head snapped toward us. “She’s my girlfriend,” he called out, his voice echoing off the tile. “She doesn’t need your help.” The swimmer looked at Hudson, then at Tinsley, who was currently wrapped around Hudson’s waist. He gave a look of pure disgust. “Dude, you’ve got a girl in your arms and another on the hook? Learn some respect.” “She’s like my sister!” Hudson yelled, clearly stung. “Yeah, ‘sister.’ Right.” The swimmer rolled his eyes and looked back at me. “Beautiful, here’s my number. Give me a call when you realize you’re dating a clown.” He walked away, but not before Hudson’s ego was thoroughly bruised. Hudson swam to the edge, looking agitated. “Those guys are just trying to take advantage of you, Jade. Use your head.” I looked at him with big, watery eyes. “But I’m bored just sitting here. If you’re busy with Tinsley, maybe Jax or Bennett could help me? They’re your best friends, right? I’m sure I’d be safe with them.” Jax, who was sitting nearby, looked up. “I’m not going to ‘take advantage’ of you. I’m not that thirsty.” I gave him a sweet, challenging smile. “Then it’s settled. Teach me.” I practically forced them into the water. As they stood on either side of me, guiding me in, Tinsley’s voice turned sharp. “Hudson! Focus on me!” I glanced over and caught Hudson’s eye. He wasn’t looking at Tinsley anymore. He was watching Bennett’s hand on my waist as I lowered myself into the pool. I blinked, then suddenly let out a small cry. I “cramped” up, my body going limp as I tumbled directly into Jax’s chest. Jax froze like he’d been struck by lightning. “My leg… it hurts so much,” I whispered into Jax’s ear, my breath brushing his skin. I looked over his shoulder at Bennett with a look of pure, helpless distress. “I should have stretched. Can you help me?” Bennett hesitated, then reached underwater to massage my calf. “JAX!” Tinsley’s voice was almost a scream. Jax flinched and reflexively shoved me away to turn toward her. Without his support, I slipped under the surface, purposefully inhaling a bit of water to make it real. The panic of drowning is hard to fake. I clawed at the nearest body—Bennett—and as I broke the surface, coughing and gasping, I pressed my lips against his, desperately “searching for air.” Bennett’s pupils blown wide. He was paralyzed. I scrambled out of the pool, looking like a drowned, beautiful wreck. Bennett stared at the water, his face unreadable, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Tinsley stormed over to me, her face flushed with rage. “Jade! You’re Hudson’s girlfriend! How could you be so… disgusting? Kissing Bennett in front of everyone? Have you no shame?” 4 I looked like I was about to collapse. Before I could say a word, Bennett and Jax spoke up simultaneously. “Her leg gave out, Tinsley. She was drowning. It wasn’t on purpose.” “And honestly,” Jax added, his voice oddly defensive, “it’s not like there isn’t touching involved in swimming. You’ve been all over Hudson all day, and Jade didn’t say a word.” The silence that followed was deafening. Tinsley’s eyes welled with real tears of shock. “Are you… are you yelling at me? For her?” The guys looked stunned by their own words. They seemed confused as to why they were defending me. Jax immediately tried to backtrack, grabbing Tinsley’s hand. “No, no, Tinsley, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Hit me if you want, just don’t be mad.” Bennett reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek. “Tinsley, don’t cry.” Hudson, meanwhile, looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. “You guys are acting like she’s your girlfriend. I’m the one who’s supposed to be pissed here.” Bennett went quiet, looking guilty. Jax just blustered, “I don’t want a girlfriend. I only care about Tinsley.” It took ten minutes of them groveling before Tinsley finally “forgave” them. But then she turned her gaze on me. My internal “pick-me” radar went off like a siren. “Jade,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sadness. “I really thought we could be friends. But you’re just like the others. You came into this group just to drive a wedge between us.” She sighed, looking at the boys. “I guess she’s just better at it than the other girls. This is the first time you’ve ever been mean to me because of a stranger.” She looked at me, her head tilted. “Why? We’re both girls. Why can’t we just get along? Why do you have to be so… competitive?” I watched as Bennett’s expression turned cold and distant again. Jax’s hostility returned. Hudson’s face darkened. “Jade,” Hudson said. “Did you do that on purpose?” I had to hand it to her. She was good. She was the one constantly competing, yet she was framing me as the aggressor. No wonder these guys were single. Their “sister” was a psycho-gatekeeper. I blinked, letting tears overflow. “I’m so sorry, Tinsley. It’s just… Hudson was so busy with you, and I was lonely. I thought we were all friends. I didn’t realize I wasn’t actually part of the group. I was so stupid to think I belonged.” I looked at Hudson, my lips trembling. “We should break up.” Hudson’s eyes widened. “What? No. It’s not that big a deal, Jade. I didn’t say we were breaking up.” “You don’t get it,” I whispered, my voice thick with suppressed sobs. “Tinsley is right. She’s the priority. And she clearly doesn’t want me here. Neither do Jax or Bennett. I love you, Hudson, and I don’t want to make your life difficult. I’d rather lose you than make you choose.” I looked at Jax and Bennett. They looked away, shifting uncomfortably. “When Tinsley and the guys are actually ready to accept me… maybe then. But for now, goodbye.” I turned and walked away, perfectly poised even in my exit. The moment I got back to the dorm, I blocked Hudson on everything. 5 I didn’t see the “Core Four” again for two weeks. Not until the Greek Life Mixer.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “414032”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel