I was the Maddox family’s living good luck charm. If I so much as sneezed, the Maddox Corporation’s giant signboard would fall that very day. If a bracelet dug into my skin while I slept, the Maddox estate’s backyard would mysteriously catch fire that night. So, until I turned eighteen and discovered I was the unknowingly swapped fake heiress, I was cherished by the entire Maddox family, held as if I might melt in their hands, or disappear from their pockets. The Maddox family’s true bloodline was a pair of fraternal twins. On the first day the real heiress and heir returned home, the entire household was in a frenzy. Meanwhile, I was comfortably curled up in a garden swing chair, a premium coffee in my left hand, an ice cream cone in my right, and waved amiably towards their entrance. Helen Maddox caught sight of me, her face instantly darkening. Jane Maddox, seeing this, rushed over and knocked the ice cream from my hand. “A usurper and a fake, you dare to eat our family’s food?” “Now, we are the masters! You should be kneeling to welcome us, then licking that filth off the floor!” I blinked, a little confused. “But Mom and Dad said I never have to do things like that.” Helen viciously pinched my arm. “If you don’t know how, learn! From now on, we make the rules in this house!” As they shoved me towards the cleaning rags, my mother, miles away at the company, felt a sudden pang in her chest, a flicker of inexplicable unease, and turned to my father. “Honey, do you feel… like our company’s stock just shifted?” … “A fake is a fake. Mom and Dad kept you only for the Maddox family’s reputation.” “You stole eighteen years of our lives; making you do some chores is an honor.” Helen sneered in my ear as they shoved me towards the cleaning rags. My steps faltered, but I said nothing. Mom and Dad had specifically warned me before going to the company not to cause any big commotion if I got upset. I was always obedient. Mrs. Higgins, the housekeeper, looked on with a pained expression. “Miss Anna, Miss Helen, Master Jane, Miss Anna is…” “Is what? Do you want to keep your job here?” Jane’s face turned cold. Mrs. Higgins sighed, looking at me. I quietly shook my head at her. Jane’s face only softened when he watched me bend down and meticulously wipe away the ice cream he’d knocked to the floor. He gathered all the servants and announced, “Listen up, now that Helen and I are home, we’re in charge. If anyone dares to speak up for this imposter, Anna, pack your bags and leave immediately!” So, for the entire day, Jane and Helen watched as I poured tea and water, knelt to polish their shoes, and even made me jump into the pool to retrieve a bracelet Helen had deliberately thrown in. “Haven’t you lived in the Maddox house for eighteen years? Can’t you even do this little thing?” I said nothing, merely trembling as I wrapped myself in the towel Mrs. Higgins handed me. Mom and Dad told me that as long as I stayed happy, the “shadow” wouldn’t emerge. By evening, when Mom and Dad returned home, I was still damp, kneeling on the floor, scrubbing. “What’s going on here?” Mom’s voice cut through the silence, and the living room immediately hushed. Dad’s gaze quickly landed on me, his brows slightly furrowed. “Anna, what happened to you?” Before I could speak, Helen rushed forward, hugging Mom and whimpering, “Mommy, does Sister not want us back? Why has she been sulking all day? She even threw a gift I kindly gave her into the pool.” Jane chimed in, “I just asked her to retrieve Helen’s gift, and she acted all high and mighty.” I expected Mom to at least question me, but instead, she pushed Helen’s hands away and quickly walked towards me. “Anna, my sweet girl, you…” Her words trailed off as she spotted the blood seeping from my sleeve. Her face instantly changed. I instinctively tried to hide my hand, but she grasped it firmly, then summoned a servant to bring ointment and bandages, meticulously cleaning my wound. “How did you hurt your hand? Did they bully you?” Helen froze, instinctively retorting, “Mom, it was clearly her!” “Silence!” Dad’s voice was cold. “Before we brought you back, did I not tell you?” “Anna is our lucky star. As long as she’s happy, the Maddox family thrives.” “Anyone who makes Anna unhappy is jeopardizing the Maddox family’s fortune.” Helen’s face went completely white. Jane clenched his fists, emotions churning in his eyes, but he forcibly suppressed them, and was the first to speak to me. “Sister Anna, I’m sorry. Helen and I were wrong.” Helen, seeing Jane speak, quickly apologized to me, her eyes reddening. “I’m sorry…” I nodded, then curled my lips slightly. “It’s alright, I don’t blame you.” After dinner, just as I was about to go to my room to rest, Jane called out to me. “Mom and Dad said to tell you to go up to the attic. It seems they want to give you something special.” I didn’t think much of it and followed him to the attic. I didn’t see Mom or Dad, but he suddenly pushed me inside and locked the door. Jane’s voice, like a spectator, came from outside the door. “Since you’re so important.” “Then I’ll see if the Maddox family can survive without you.” “Jane…” My whole body stiffened, even making a sound was incredibly difficult. The attic was pitch dark, with only a thin sliver of dim light seeping through a narrow crack. The wooden door almost completely blocked out outside sounds, and the air seemed to thin instantly. “You, please open the door, alright?” I tapped lightly on the door, my voice trembling uncontrollably. Jane’s unhurried voice came from outside. “What, scared?” I swallowed hard, trying to calm myself. “I, I have claustrophobia. I was kidnapped as a child, and the doctor said I can’t be in confined spaces.” “Please let me out, alright? I promise I won’t say anything.” Silence fell for a few seconds outside the door. Just as I thought Jane might at least hesitate, he scoffed disdainfully. “Claustrophobia?” “Anna Maddox, you really know how to make things up.” His tone was filled with undisguised annoyance. “Stop with these pathetic tricks to manipulate people.” “I’d like to see if you can really scare yourself to death.” The footsteps gradually receded. I frantically banged on the door, but my throat felt as if it were being choked, my mouth open, yet no sound escaped. My breathing grew increasingly erratic, and my vision began to blacken. I slid to the floor, hugging myself tightly, then completely lost consciousness. When I woke up again, my body felt completely weak. As soon as I opened my eyes, an excited voice reached my ears. “Anna, is that Anna?” Before I could react, a pair of warm hands clasped mine tightly. “Mommy’s here.” Mom’s voice was clearly trembling, her eyes red, as if she was trying hard to suppress some emotion. Dad stood by the bed, his face also grim, but he let out a sigh of relief when he saw me wake up. The doctor beside him said gravely, “Fortunately, we found her in time, otherwise…” “Miss Anna cannot endure any more stress.” I slowly came back to my senses. My gaze shifted, and I saw Helen and Jane kneeling not far away. Mom helped me sit up, then glared at Jane. “Anna, did Jane lock you in? Mommy will make sure he pays.” Helen pouted, her voice very low. “Is it really that big a deal? It was just being locked in the attic for a bit.” “So delicate, it’s just too dramatic.” Jane said nothing, but his expression clearly echoed Helen’s sentiment. Slap! A crisp sound exploded in the room. Helen’s head snapped to the side from the force of the slap; she was completely stunned. Mom’s hand still hung in the air, her gaze coldly fixed on Helen. “Say that again?” Helen clutched her face, looking at her in disbelief. “Mom, I just…” Dad’s voice was heavy with suppressed anger. “Do you two have any idea that Anna almost died?” “If something serious had happened, how would you compensate us?” Jane’s face changed. He couldn’t help but argue. “Dad, isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?” “Anna is perfectly fine, isn’t she? We’re your biological children! Why are you treating me like this for an outsider?” “Besides, all this talk about ‘lucky stars’ is just…” “Enough!” Dad abruptly cut him off, his eyes colder than I had ever seen them. “I haven’t even settled the score with you for locking Anna in the attic.” “Now, kneel properly. Don’t force me to use the family disciplinary rod.” Jane bit his lip, then suddenly scoffed, his tone clearly defiant. “Dad, Mom, don’t you think this is too superstitious?” “She fainted once, and you’re so anxious.” “But the Maddox family is still doing fine, isn’t it? Has anything specific changed?” Dad didn’t speak again. His phone rang. He looked down at the screen, and then his face visibly darkened, inch by inch. “Maddox Corporation’s stock just dropped three points.” At Dad’s words, Jane’s face also changed. “Dad, that’s just a coincidence. How could it be related to Anna?” He instinctively retorted, but his tone lacked its initial certainty. Dad didn’t answer him, merely looking at the butler. “Bring the family rod.” When the butler returned with the wooden rod, Helen burst into tears. “Dad! You’re biased! Anna is perfectly fine, why are you still bringing out the family rod!” She pointed at me, her voice sharp and vicious. “What right does she have!” “Silence! If you insult Anna again, I’ll beat you too!” Helen’s body trembled, and she finally quieted down, merely sobbing into her hands. Just as I was about to get out of bed and say something, Mom pulled me out of the room. “Our Anna can’t bear to see such bloody things.” I sighed, tugging at Mom’s sleeve. “Mom, I’m safe now, and the ‘shadow’ won’t come out. You don’t have to be so…” “That won’t do!” Mom tapped my nose, leading me downstairs. “Mommy got you the new season’s handbags, and your favorite chocolate cake.” I leaned into Mom, rubbing against her. “I knew Mommy was the best to me.” Sounds of the rod hitting flesh, along with Jane’s muffled groans, came from upstairs. Before I could react, Mom quickly placed noise-canceling headphones over my ears. When I saw Jane again, he had already endured the family discipline, being supported by Helen, walking step by agonizing step towards his room. His face was ashen, and his gaze towards me was like poison. From that day on, they indeed quieted down. But I always had a faint feeling that things weren’t that simple. Jane and Helen no longer openly ordered me around or verbally abused me. They even managed to flash me a strained, almost friendly smile when Mom and Dad were present. But this only made me feel more uneasy. Mrs. Higgins secretly took my hand, her face filled with concern. “Miss Anna, be careful. I always feel like the way those two look at you isn’t right.” I nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Mrs. Higgins, you know, I’ll be fine.” This uncomfortable feeling lingered for several days. Until I went to the conservatory alone for some fresh air. Drifting in and out of sleep, I overheard Jane and Helen’s deliberately hushed conversation. Helen’s voice even had a whimper to it. “Jane, this can’t go on.” “Mom and Dad only have eyes for her now; there’s no place for us in the Maddox family.” After a brief silence, Jane’s low, cold voice replied. “I know.” “As long as Anna Maddox is still here, Mom and Dad will always focus on her. Everything in the Maddox family will revolve around her.” He paused, his tone unwavering. “So.” “Anna Maddox must die.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412999”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On my way home from shopping, a creepy guy blocked my path. As he coldly waited for me to add him on social media, I ran through several potential death scenarios in my head if I refused. So, I forced a smile, clicked “accept,” and turned to walk away. I planned to delete him the moment I got home, but then I stumbled upon a trending post. “Hooked up with a pretty girl on the street today; already got her contact.” “I’m a fast starter, wondering how to get her warmed up quickly?” The comments were a mixed bag, making me frown. Ten seconds prior, the poster had liked a comment. “What’s the big deal? Check her profile, then search her photos across the entire internet!” “Girls love to show off their photos on all platforms. Then you can follow the breadcrumbs, find her other accounts, pinpoint her personal information, and just show up at her door to display your manhood!” Not long after reading that, my phone pinged. “Hey there, beautiful, why’s your profile locked? Unlock it so I can take a look!” … The sender’s profile picture was a blurry, in-your-face selfie, his eyes staring straight ahead, as if trying to pierce through the screen. His name: Mark Jensen. “You’re so gorgeous, I couldn’t get enough of you today. Unlock your profile so I can worship you some more!” My mind exploded! It was this afternoon! I was stopped outside the mall by a man. He wore an ill-fitting T-shirt, his hair greasy and plastered to his scalp, his eyes shifty yet burning with a kind of obsessive fervor. He insisted on getting my contact info. I instinctively refused, but he immediately stepped closer, blocking my way, his voice suddenly rising: “What’s the big deal about giving your number? You look down on me?” In that instant, a news headline flashed wildly in my mind: “Woman Stabbed to Death After Refusing Advances.” A profound sense of alarm shot through me from my feet upwards. I didn’t dare provoke him, so I forced a smile and took out my phone to scan his code. He watched me intently as I clicked “add,” then grinned, revealing a mouth full of crooked yellow teeth, and left, satisfied. At the time, I just felt a wave of bad luck, planning to delete him once I got home. But now, this name, this message, and that chilling post… That poster was him! What did he want to do to me? Follow the breadcrumbs? Pinpoint information? Show up at my door to display his… manhood? My stomach churned instantly. I only felt a slight relief after confirming my profile was private. Suppressing my disgust, my fingers trembled as I typed on the screen. I couldn’t provoke him, but I had to cut ties quickly. “Sorry, my profile isn’t really open.” “And my boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate me adding random strangers. Apologies, but let’s just unmatch each other.” Send. Without waiting for his reply, I immediately clicked his profile picture, then the top right corner: Delete Contact. “Confirm”! Not a second of hesitation! Watching the system notification “You have deleted this contact” on my screen, I exhaled slowly. It was over. But after all that last night, for some inexplicable reason, I reopened that post. The page refreshed. A stark red, angry update abruptly stung my eyes! Poster: “Damn it! That bitch deleted me! Just now, she tried to use some stupid ‘boyfriend’ excuse!” Below was his screenshot. My profile picture, and the two sentences I had just sent, were clear as day, word for word! The comment section instantly erupted. “Hahaha, OP, don’t be so overconfident. She’s politely rejecting you, can’t you tell?” “A toad trying to eat swan meat, she deleted you, serves you right!” “PSA: A girl agreeing to add you doesn’t mean she’s agreed to your marriage proposal. She just didn’t want to embarrass you in person.” Amidst the mockery, Mark Jensen’s replies were particularly twisted, each word reeking of resentment and distortion. “Bullshit! If she wasn’t interested, why would she agree to add me? She clearly has a boyfriend and still added me, isn’t that hinting I can steal her away?!” “She’s testing me! Playing hard to get!” Reading his deranged words, I felt a surge of anger and dread crawl up my spine. This person… he’s a total psychopath, isn’t he? Impossible to reason with. Just as I was about to close the page, a new reply popped up. It was from the ID that had encouraged the poster to “search the internet, stake out her home.” His reply was just a short sentence, but it sent a chill down my spine. “Boyfriend? Buddy, don’t let her fool you.” “I checked for you. All her social media profiles show she’s single.” “That’s a green light, understand? She’s waiting for you to make a move.” The ID immediately posted another reply, filled with malicious instigation. “I’ve seen plenty of women like her; they’re just faking it. They look down on honest guys like you, always putting on airs. Give her a lesson, and she’ll straighten up.” Mark Jensen was predictably ignited. “But she deleted me! I can’t reach her now, damn it!” “Deleted?” The ID scoffed, “Heh, just a little trick. Don’t worry, buddy, I’ve got the skills to dig up her phone number, address, company, all her info for you.” In the thread, Mark Jensen was already ecstatic. “Good buddy! DM me! Quick!” Psycho! A complete and utter psycho! I couldn’t help but curse under my breath, but the image of Mark Jensen’s obsessive, fervent face from this afternoon, and his relentless determination, vividly reappeared before my eyes. What if… he really does show up at my door! 2 Acting on caution, I swiftly took screenshots of all the chat logs and pages. I didn’t even have time to change my jacket. I grabbed my keys and rushed out of the house, heading straight for the nearest police station! “Officer, I want to report something! Someone is doxing me online and threatening my personal safety!” The officer who handled my report was very patient, but after reviewing all my screenshots, he merely frowned. “Madam, this… for now, it’s just online talk. They haven’t caused you any actual harm, so it’s difficult for us to open a case.” “But they want to dig up my information! They want to show up at my door!” I was getting anxious. “How about this,” the officer thought for a moment. “We can contact this Mark Jensen, ask him to come in, and give him a verbal warning, explaining the situation clearly.” Call him in? My whole body stiffened. I couldn’t imagine what a fanatic like Mark Jensen would do after being warned by the police. That would only completely enrage him! “…Then, let’s not bother for now.” I practically gritted my teeth, squeezing out the words. Walking out of the police station, a huge sense of powerlessness swallowed me. Back home, I double-locked all the doors, still feeling uneasy. For some inexplicable reason, I refreshed that post again. The page displayed—”Sorry, this post has been deleted.” Deleted? My heart sank. This was even more terrifying than if it hadn’t been deleted! It meant they had gone underground and started executing their plan! Just then— Thump! Thump! Thump! A knock on the door! The sudden sound scared me out of my wits. My phone clattered to the floor! Who was it?! I even stopped breathing. I tiptoed to the door, my heart pounding as if it would burst from my throat. I didn’t dare make a sound, trembling as I pressed my eye to the peephole. But it was blurry outside. I couldn’t see anything! The peephole seemed to be smeared with something sticky! It hadn’t been like that when I came home! I quickly backed away two steps, rushed to the living room, and opened the home security camera app on my phone. The live feed of the doorway showed the hallway was empty. I immediately brought up the recorded playback. The time: less than five minutes after I got home. A man in a black hoodie, wearing a mask and a cap, appeared on the screen. He stealthily pressed himself against my door, listening for a while, then stepped back, facing my front door, and unzipped his pants. His lower half began to make extremely lewd thrusting motions! A few seconds later, he stopped, and meticulously… used his finger to smear a warm, thick white liquid on my peephole! I clamped my hand over my mouth, barely stopping myself from throwing up. It was him. It was Mark Jensen! Fear, like countless cold hands, instantly gripped my heart. I rushed back to the door, slammed the security chain on, and double-locked every lock I could. After doing all that, my hands still shaking, I dialed 911, and then the building management. “Someone… someone at my door… he…” My voice trembled uncontrollably; I could barely speak a complete sentence. Perhaps my panic was too real; the police and management arrived almost simultaneously. I showed them the security video. The police officer’s face instantly became grave. But the property manager, in her business skirt suit, showed a hint of impatience. “Madam, it’s possible an outsider slipped in. We’ll enhance security. Don’t make too much of it…” “Make too much of it?” I almost exploded. “This is a pervert! This is harassment! He’s threatening my personal safety!” The female manager pursed her lips, muttering in a volume just loud enough for me to hear: “Who knows if you brought this on yourself with some romantic entanglement.” “What did you say?!” “Officer!” The lead police officer sternly reprimanded her. “Watch your words! This is a victim!” The female manager then shut up. The police officer reassured me, stating they would immediately open an investigation, and advised me to be extra careful recently, to contact them anytime if anything happened. After they left, I felt all my strength drained, collapsing onto the sofa. Not long after, the doorbell rang. It was the property management; they said they sent a cleaner to tidy outside my door. I cautiously peered through the peephole. Standing outside was an “auntie” wearing a mask and a cleaning cap. Her figure was quite tall, her broad shoulders almost filling the entire cleaning uniform. But my highly strung nerves were throbbing with a headache, and I didn’t have the energy to think deeper. I just wanted this to be over quickly. I said “thank you” through the door, then retreated to the living room, preparing to lie down in my bedroom. But just then— Beep! Beep! Beep! Alarm! Multiple incorrect password attempts! The electronic lock’s piercing alarm suddenly blared! I shot up from the bed, instinctively pulled open my bedroom door, and peeked out. The front door was actually ajar! The “cleaner” from earlier was standing at the doorway. He slowly, slowly straightened his hunched body. He took off his cap and mask, revealing Mark Jensen’s obsessive and fervent face! He saw me, and instead of running, he grinned, showing his yellow teeth. “Heh heh, I’ve come to… make friends with you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412998”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My savings were gone. It had been three days since Olivia’s accident, and she was still in a coma. Desperate, I tried to use her debit card, punching in every anniversary I could remember. Each attempt met with a frustrating ‘incorrect password’ message. “My partner’s parents are out of the country and unreachable,” I pleaded with the bank teller, a young woman with kind eyes. “Is there any other way?” The customer service manager, after checking her system, looked at me with a puzzled expression. “It’s not that complicated, Mr. Reed. You’re Ms. Chen’s legal husband. Just bring your marriage certificate and we can process a guardianship.” The solution was clear, simple. But I froze. Reed wasn’t my name. My girlfriend of eight years, Olivia – when had she gotten married to someone else? 1 I clutched the application form, the unfamiliar name “Ethan Reed” staring back at me, and stumbled out of the bank in a daze. The afternoon sun was blinding, yet a chill ran through me. Back at the hospital, I found Olivia’s phone. The battery was dead. I plugged it in, and soon the screen flickered to life. A local number, unsaved, illuminated the display. Taking a deep breath, I answered. “Olivia! What’s going on? Your phone’s been off for days, no replies to my texts. You’re going to give me a heart attack!” A young man’s voice, thick with tears, spilled from the speaker. My grip tightened on the phone, my fingers icy. “Hello? Say something! Where are you?” “Hello,” I managed, forcing my voice steady. “May I ask who you are to Ms. Chen?” The line went silent for a beat. Then, without hesitation, “I’m her husband. Who are you? Why do you have her phone?” His words pierced through my last shred of hope. My heart plummeted. “This is St. Jude’s Hospital ICU.” My throat ached, a burning lump, as I fought back the overwhelming heat in my eyes. “Your wife, Ms. Olivia Chen, was in a severe car accident three days ago. She’s still in critical condition. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible.” Before he could respond, I hung up. Not long after, a handsome man in a rumpled shirt, stumbled out of the elevator, his eyes wide with panic. He rushed to the ICU observation window. “Honey, what happened to you?! Look at me and our baby!” He pressed his hands against the glass, sobbing uncontrollably. “Wake up! You can’t leave us… You can’t abandon us…” I stood a short distance away, watching another man cry out “honey” to the woman I had loved for eight years. The last flicker of hope in my heart finally died. 2 I wanted to rush over, to shove that bank application form in his face and demand answers. But my gaze fell on the dark circles under his eyes, the visible exhaustion etched on his features. The accusation caught in my throat. He hadn’t slept. If anything happened to him, I couldn’t bear the responsibility. Clutching my phone and that flimsy piece of paper in my pocket, I turned and left the hospital. Like a defeated soldier retreating from battle. Back in the apartment we’d shared for five years, her presence was everywhere. I sat on the sofa, staring at the birthday on Ethan’s application form: 03/15. I typed it into Olivia’s phone. It unlocked. My heart felt like it was being twisted and wrung out. I opened her messaging app and searched for the number that had called earlier. An account labeled “Mobile Customer Service Manager” popped up. I clicked on his profile, scrolling through his posts. Last year, on my birthday, she’d said she had to work late, sending me a gift card to buy whatever I liked. I’d gleefully posted about it. On the same day, Ethan’s social media showed a table laden with homemade food. The caption read: “Someone said they were tired of eating out, insisted on coming home for my pasta.” In a corner of the photo, there was a blurry glimpse of her, head bent, eating. This year, for Valentine’s Day, she’d given me an elegant watch. I loved it so much I wanted to wear it even to sleep. But that very day, Ethan had posted a grid of nine photos: rings, a necklace, shoes, clothes. A complete set of dazzling jewelry and apparel, sparkling in velvet boxes. His caption: “Thanks to Ms. Chen for still spoiling me like a young man.” There were countless other moments. Her back as she made breakfast in the kitchen. Their hands intertwined as she drove. Her sleeping profile. Even the dog we adopted together, the one she told me had run away, now appeared in his photos, curled at his feet. My hands trembled as I scrolled further. My breath hitched when I saw a series of luxurious wedding photos from two years ago. A wedding gown, a toast dress, golden confetti showering down. Olivia, wearing the custom-made gown I’d gifted her, smiled radiantly, arm in arm with the gentle Ethan. Her bridesmaids, clustered around her… Their faces were glaringly familiar. They were Olivia’s closest friends since childhood. Sarah had just eaten dinner at our place last month, even taking home some of the pickled vegetables I’d made. Jessica, two months ago, was short on money for a house, and I’d lent her ten thousand dollars without a second thought. And Michael, Laura’s boyfriend, had just invited me for a game of golf and afternoon tea last weekend. But in the photos, they wore matching bridesmaid dresses, arms slung around each other, smiling into the camera without a trace of shadow. They all knew. And they had all, silently, conspired to keep her secret. Even earlier, Ethan had announced their marriage with a post: “Officially off the market! To the rest of our lives, please advise, @Liv.” I remembered that day vividly. Olivia had told me her company was holding a mandatory training retreat. Turns out, she was with another man, promising him her future. I kept looking, and then, suddenly, I laughed. A low chuckle at first, then my shoulders started to shake, and tears streamed down my face. Eight years. From the innocence of college to the grind of professional life. Every single blueprint for my future included her. Everyone around us had already assumed we were married, just missing the certificate. But that certificate, it turns out, was an insurmountable chasm. She had given it to someone else. I spent eight years of my youth building what I thought was a love nest. Unbeknownst to me, I was merely laying bricks for someone else’s marriage. How utterly ridiculous. How tragic. 3 Three days later, I received a message from a colleague at the hospital: Olivia had woken up. Her vital signs were stable, and she had been moved to a regular room. When I pushed open the door to her room, she was propped up in bed. Ethan sat on the edge of the mattress, his fingers intertwined with hers, his other hand carefully helping her drink water. A picture of deep affection, a couple reunited after facing death. The sound of my footsteps startled them. Olivia’s tender expression froze the moment she saw me. Her hand tightened around Ethan’s. Ethan winced, looking at me suspiciously. “You are…” “Olivia,” I stared at her, “we’ve known each other for eight years. How could I not know you got married and became a mother?” Ethan’s gaze became wary. “Liv, who is he?” Olivia’s face turned from pale to green. She forced a stiff smile. “Ethan, let me introduce you. This is Arthur Hayes, a college acquaintance. He… he works at this hospital. He heard about my accident and just dropped by to check on me.” She spoke quickly, desperately, sending me warning glances. “Acquaintance?” Ethan’s brow didn’t unfurrow. He turned to Olivia, his tone laced with a touch of petulance. “What kind of acquaintance cares this much about you? Besides, what does our marriage have to do with him? Why is he acting like he’s prosecuting you?” Olivia immediately turned to soothe him. “Arthur just has a quick temper. He… well, there might have been some misunderstandings in the past. He’s probably just a bit upset that I’m married now.” Then she turned back to me, her eyes pleading with me to leave. “Arthur, the past is the past. I have my own life now, and I have Ethan. My health isn’t good right now, and I can’t handle stress. You should go do your rounds, don’t neglect your work.” As she spoke, she kept her eyes, once filled with affection, now only with panic and annoyance, fixed on me. She subtly shook her head. I watched the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. I watched her grip Ethan’s hand, looking as if she faced an enemy. The last spark of warmth in my heart died out. I said nothing, simply turned and pulled open the door, leaving with no hesitation. The door closed behind me, and I vaguely heard Olivia’s sigh of relief, followed by her sickeningly sweet voice telling Ethan, “It’s nothing. Just an insignificant person. Are you tired? Do you want to go rest? The doctor just said you need more quiet time…” The hallway lights were harsh, stinging my eyes. Eight years. Countless days and nights of companionship and support. In her words, it had all been reduced to an “insignificant person.” I knew she wanted to force me into a humiliating retreat. But I would not allow myself to be pushed into such a contemptible position. I tightened my grip on Olivia’s phone in my pocket. It held countless of her secrets. If this was how it would be, then it was time for a complete reckoning. 4 Late that night, during my overnight shift, the office door was quietly pushed open. Olivia slipped in, locking it behind her, and without a word, fell to her knees at my feet. “Arthur, I was wrong.” Her voice was hoarse, her eyes bloodshot. “Please don’t be angry. Let me explain…” “Don’t bother,” I interrupted. “I saw the marriage certificate.” I looked down at her, asking the question that had gnawed at me for days. “Olivia, between him and me, who is the real interloper?” She flinched, her eyes darting away. “He was forced on me by my family.” Olivia swallowed, then spoke with difficulty. “Arthur, I never dared tell you… My mom, she never approved of us being together. She said you, as a doctor, would be too busy to take care of me… And then there’s your mom’s situation. She heard your mom has mental health issues and worried you might inherit something…” My breath hitched, blood rushing to my head. “Don’t you know why my mother became that way?” I was trembling, not from sadness, but from extreme absurdity and fury. “Wasn’t it because my father constantly had other women, driving her to madness?” “You know what I hate most! You know how much I despise people who cheat! Why… why would you do this to me?!” “I know! I know all of it!” She shuffled forward on her knees, desperately gripping my clothes. Tears streamed down her upturned face. “You’re the one I love, Arthur! He’s just a way to appease my family, an act for my mother. I swear! He won’t affect us. You’re the only one in my heart! Everything I have is yours! We can go back to how things were… You two can just stay out of each other’s lives!” Stay out of each other’s lives? I let out a bitter laugh, raising my hand and striking her across the face. “You mean you expect me to live in the shadows forever, to always endure, waiting for you to fulfill your duties as a wife and mother in another home, just to give me a sliver of your time? Olivia, you must be dreaming!” The plea faded from Olivia’s face, replaced by a grim determination. “Arthur Hayes, think carefully.” She stood up, lowering her voice, a subtle threat in her tone. “You and I have eight years. All our friends, colleagues, even your parents, know that you’re mine.” “Our shared plans, the promises we made, the path we walked… don’t these tangible eight years mean more than that piece of paper? As long as you stay quiet and don’t make a scene, I’ll always be yours. That paper, it’s just a formality…” I looked at her, so self-righteous, and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity. This face, compared to the nervous, sweaty-palmed girl who awkwardly handed me a hot tea outside the library eight years ago… How could they be the same person? Back then, she had said, “Arthur, I’ll be good to you my whole life.” But now? She had not only cheated, secretly married someone else, but even… I remembered the photos Ethan had posted online. At first, I thought she brought him back to our home when I was away. But on closer inspection, it was clearly their wedding home, a mirror image of ours, replicated detail for detail! All to deceive me when we video-called during my night shifts. None of this deception was spontaneous. It was a calculated, years-long fabrication. I opened the door to the on-call room with disgust, pushing her out with all my strength. “Get out!” Olivia stumbled out the door, then stood outside, softly knocking and pleading. “Arthur, don’t be rash! I really do love you… Please think about it.” A moment later, her phone rang. “Arthur, Ethan woke up. I have to go back quickly. He’s home taking care of the baby…” Her footsteps faded into the distance. I sank to the floor, drained. Tears streamed silently down my face. Eight years, heavy on my heart, suffocating me with pain. How could it not hurt when you’ve loved someone with all your being? But I knew, some paths, you couldn’t take a single wrong step on. The next day, I stopped Ethan outside Olivia’s room. “Ethan, there are some things about Olivia I think you need to know…” I had barely started when he chuckled, his gaze knowing. “Dr. Hayes, don’t bother pretending. I know you and she are more than just old acquaintances, right?” He took a small step closer, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I’ve seen the private photo album on her phone. It’s full of your pictures. From college until now—” He paused, savoring my stunned expression. “You’re her boyfriend of eight years, just shy of a marriage certificate.” “And I,” he straightened, a triumphant smirk on his face, “am her legitimate husband.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412997”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Watching Rupert finish his tenth pineapple, I coldly presented the divorce papers. “Rupert, we’re getting a divorce.” Rupert paused, his hand still reaching for a napkin to wipe his fingers. “Darling, what’s this about now?” “You’ve eaten ten pineapples in three days,” I stated. Rupert chuckled, reaching out to stroke my hair as he always did. “These past few days, the pineapples haven’t been that good, so I didn’t save you any. How about this, to make amends with my princess, I’ll take you shopping for a designer bag tomorrow? What do you say?” I lowered my eyes, a bitter taste in my mouth. In three years of marriage, he had never once lost his temper with me. Even when I threw petty tantrums, he would patiently buy me gifts, apologize, and make amends. But this time, I stepped back, calmly avoiding his hand. “No need. I’m just tired of it.” “Please sign quickly. If we get the divorce papers finalized now, you’ll still make it for your business trip tonight.” After all, the person who made him eat ten pineapples in three days was about to arrive at our doorstep. 1 Rupert’s smile froze. He looked at me, incredulous. “You’re divorcing me because I ate ten pineapples?” I turned and stared at him intently. “Yes, exactly because of that.” Rupert tugged irritably at his tie. “Alice Grey, stop fooling around. This business trip is important. Be a good girl and wait for me to come home.” I looked at him coldly. “I’m not fooling around.” Rupert frowned, about to say something, when the front door beeped with a password entry. Chelsea’s voice drifted in. “Rupert, the car’s downstairs. The CEO for this acquisition is very particular, we need to get there early to prepare the documents… Oh, Alice, you’re home too.” She slipped off her shoes, a pair of matching pink slippers that belonged to Rupert and me, and greeted me with a smile. Seeing Chelsea, Rupert’s brows instantly relaxed. He glanced at me, his tone softening slightly. “Chelsea’s here to pick me up. Alice, let’s talk about whatever it is when I get back from my trip. Don’t let outsiders laugh at us.” Chelsea naturally walked over to Rupert, reaching up to straighten his slightly crooked tie. Her movements were intimate, as practiced as if they were the true owners of this house. “Alice, don’t be mad at Rupert.” Chelsea smiled at me as she adjusted his tie. “Rupert’s been pulling all-nighters for days to rush this project. His appetite hasn’t been good, so he just wanted something sweet and sour.” “I specially arranged for those pineapples to be flown in from the south. I didn’t expect Rupert to like them so much.” She paused, her voice playful. “I accidentally overheard you arguing at the door. Alice, you’re not angry over such a small thing, are you?” I watched Rupert let her fuss over him, showing no intention of maintaining distance. I had brought it up before—Chelsea was the daughter of his grandfather’s war buddy, and his assistant, but there was still a clear line between men and women. What had Rupert said then? He said, “Chelsea lost her parents when she was young. She’s innocent and sees me as a big brother. If I push her away, how heartbroken would she be? Alice, you’re the most generous. Don’t fuss over a young girl.” I was generous for three years. In return, he gave all his patience and boundaries to another woman. “I’m not angry,” I said, looking at them, my voice very soft. “So, let’s get a divorce.” Chelsea’s hand froze. She gasped, covering her mouth. “Divorce? Alice, you’re not serious, are you? Rupert is so good to you. How can you treat marriage as a joke?” Rupert’s face completely darkened. He ripped off his tie, throwing it heavily onto the sofa. “Alice Grey, are you ever going to be done with this?” “In front of Chelsea, you just have to make me lose face, don’t you? I’ve explained it. The pineapples are because my appetite isn’t good, and Chelsea is doing her job. Can’t you be sensible?” The disappointment in his eyes stung my heart. In these three years, the word I heard most often was “sensible.” When Chelsea got a minor cut in the middle of the night, he abandoned me on my birthday to rush to the hospital, telling me to be sensible. When Chelsea had a breakup, he canceled our wedding anniversary trip to comfort her, telling me to be sensible. Now, even when I brought up divorce, he expected me to be sensible for his sake. “Sign the papers, and I’ll be sensible,” I said, handing him the pen. Rupert stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh. “Fine, Alice Grey, you’ve really grown up.” He walked away without even glancing at the agreement. “Since that’s how it is, let’s both cool down. I’ll stay at the office for a while. When you’re done with your tantrum, I’ll come back.” Chelsea hurried after him. As she passed me, she paused, whispering in a voice only we could hear, “Alice, some things, if they’re not yours, holding onto them is useless. Pineapples are like that, and people are too.” Then, her heels clicking, she caught up with Rupert. “Rupert, wait for me, you forgot your stomach medicine…” The front door slammed shut. The house fell back into a deathly silence. I looked at the unsigned divorce papers on the coffee table. I didn’t take anything else. I left the house alone. This time, I wanted nothing. And I truly wouldn’t be coming back. I moved back to my parents’ house. In the past three years, I had rarely stayed here, busy taking care of Rupert’s every need. My parents’ expressions shifted from surprise to alarm when they saw me walk in with my suitcase. “Alice, what’s wrong? Did you argue with Rupert?” My mother took my suitcase, cautiously probing. I shook my head, tiredly changing my shoes. “No argument. I just wanted to come back and stay for a few days.” “Did Rupert bully you?” My father slammed down his newspaper. “If that boy dared to treat you badly, I wouldn’t let him get away with it!” “No,” I forced a smile. “He’s on a business trip. I was just bored at home by myself.” I hadn’t figured out how to tell them about the divorce. In my parents’ eyes, Rupert was the ideal son-in-law, a rare gem. Young, accomplished, gentle, and utterly devoted to me. Even during holidays, Rupert was unfailingly polite, charming all our relatives. In everyone’s eyes, marrying him was a step up, a fall into a life of good fortune. I was too tired to explain. I just wanted a good night’s sleep. But even that wish was a luxury. Less than half an hour after lying down, Rupert called. I didn’t want to answer, so I hung up. He called again. I hung up again. By the fifth time, I sighed and answered. “Alice Grey, where are you?” Rupert’s voice on the other end was choked with anger, the background noisy, like a social gathering. “I’m at my parents’ house,” I replied calmly. “Who told you to go back there?” Rupert’s voice rose a few octaves. “I’m only gone for two days on a business trip, and you run back to your parents to complain? How old are you, don’t you have any self-respect?” My fingers tightened slightly around the phone. “I didn’t complain. I just moved out.” “Moved out? What do you mean?” Rupert seemed startled, then his tone became even more impatient. “Are you really going to separate from me over a few measly pineapples? Alice Grey, my patience has limits.” “Mr. King!” Chelsea’s sweet voice came from the other end. “Mr. Thompson is toasting you. Please come over quickly.” Followed by a burst of cheers. “Mr. King is such a busy man, checking in with home even during a business dinner?” “Is the wife checking up on him? Let Assistant Chelsea explain to the wife.” Rupert covered the mouthpiece, his voice lowering slightly. “I’m entertaining right now. I don’t have time for your nonsense. There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. Dress appropriately, and I’ll pick you up. Don’t give me any attitude. This is important.” With that, he hung up without giving me a chance to refuse. Looking at the darkened screen, I felt no ripple of emotion. In the past, even a slightly harsh tone from him would have left me sad for half a day, making me wonder if I had truly done something wrong. Now, I just found it amusing. In his eyes, my departure, my divorce papers, were all just petty attempts to gain attention. All he had to do was offer a small olive branch, and I would gratefully crawl back. Unfortunately, this time he was wrong. The next evening, I didn’t go to the charity gala as he expected. I turned off my phone and went to the cinema alone to watch a film I had long wanted to see. Rupert never liked these art-house films, finding them boring. Every time I wanted to go, I’d end up compromising and watching a commercial blockbuster with him. Or, sometimes, I’d be stood up entirely because of a call from Chelsea. It was already 10 PM when the movie let out. I turned on my phone, and a barrage of missed calls and messages flooded in. Not just from Rupert, but from my parents, and even from Chelsea. Rupert: [Where are you? I’m downstairs at your parents’ house, and no one’s home?] [Alice Grey, are you doing this on purpose? Are you happy to embarrass me in front of my business partners?] [Call me back immediately!] Chelsea: [Alice, you’re too willful. So many CEOs brought their wives tonight. Rupert was all alone and kept getting asked questions. My heart went out to him.] [Luckily, I wore a gown today, so I temporarily filled in as his female companion. Otherwise, Rupert would have been completely humiliated tonight.] [Photo.jpg] In the photo, Rupert, in a black suit, looked handsome and distinguished. Chelsea, arm in arm with him, wore a light blue mermaid gown, her smile radiant. That gown was a custom design I had admired last month, but Rupert had said it was too revealing for me. Now, Chelsea wore it. They stood together, a perfect couple, like a pair made for each other. I looked at the photo, feeling my stomach churn, utterly disgusted. Without replying to any messages, I blocked both of them.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412996”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day my family went bankrupt, I dragged my father back from the rooftop. Turning around, I accepted Lucien’s proposal, but for the dowry, I demanded two million dollars. He was silent for three seconds, then chuckled, “Deal.” Yet, barely half a year into our marriage, he brought his young mistress home. Before I could even react, he tossed our prenuptial agreement in my face. “Don’t get confused about your place. Didn’t you already sell yourself to me back then? That price, it should be enough to buy your subservience for a lifetime, shouldn’t it?” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my flesh, but I was powerless to retort. It wasn’t until I had a threatened miscarriage, and the medical bill was short by exactly fourteen dollars, that I truly broke. Over the phone, his voice was dismissive: “Didn’t I already pay you what I owed before we got married? What, did you get addicted to being a gold-digger?” He then turned around and spent fourteen million dollars on a necklace for his new lover, a gift for her first night with him. Facing the nurse’s urgent prompt, I forced a smile through my tears. “Forget the medicine. Please schedule me for an abortion.” A marriage bought for two million dollars, it was time for it to end. … No sooner had the words left my lips than a bank transfer notification popped up on my phone. Not a cent more, not a cent less—exactly fourteen dollars. The transfer note contained just a few simple words: “Buy your medicine. Don’t disgrace the Reed name.” I tugged at my lips, a bitter, lifeless smile. Fourteen dollars was enough to cover that specific medical bill, but not enough for the abortion procedure. I knew Lucien wouldn’t give me any more money. I had no choice but to swallow my pride and reach out to old friends, hoping to borrow three hundred and seventeen dollars. With that, combined with the money I had and Lucien’s fourteen dollars, it would just cover the cost of a standard abortion. But when the messages were sent, replies quickly came in. “Oh, is the great Ms. Evans short on cash? Did two million dollars run out that fast?” “Tsk, tsk, if you hadn’t haggled like that back then and broken Lucien’s heart, you wouldn’t be shamelessly begging for a few hundred dollars now!” A torrent of mocking messages flooded my screen. But they no longer stung my heart as they once did. In a way, I had become numb, accustomed to it. Accustomed to Lucien treating our marriage as a transaction, and me as an item he’d purchased for two million. Accustomed to his friends’ sneers and sarcastic remarks, finding new ways to call me a gold-digger. Accustomed to the embarrassment of an empty wallet, repeatedly trampling my dignity to beg Lucien for charity. In truth, at first, I thought I had hands and feet, I could surely cover my normal expenses. I might even save two million to repay the money I’d borrowed from Lucien under the guise of a dowry. But Lucien had cut off every path for me to earn money. “I’ve already paid two million to buy out the rest of your life. From now on, your time, your freedom, are mine.” He used the tactic of forcing me to beg him for money to vent his resentment towards me. He hated me for treating our love as a bargaining chip for money, believing I had deceived him for three years, only to reveal my true colors for cash. I had explained many times, but he never had the patience to listen. “What’s the point of so many excuses?” he’d say. “You asked for the money. We’ve become this way, and you only have yourself to blame.” My phone suddenly chimed. Someone had transferred me three hundred and seventy-one dollars, saying it was a “reward” for how satisfying it was to insult me. I wiped the coldness from my face, smiled at the nurse, and said, “I can pay now. Please arrange the procedure for me as soon as possible.” But I didn’t have enough money for a pain pump. I could only lie wide awake on the cold operating table, feeling cold sweat slowly soak my hair and back. I could even clearly feel the instruments entering my body, scraping repeatedly inside. As the tearing pain hit, I thought of Lucien again. He once held me in his arms, gently stroking my head. “After we get married, we can have a child. Boy or girl, I’ll love you both with my life.” But when I actually became pregnant, he said: “Alright, how much money are you going to demand for the child this time?” No more, Lucien. I want nothing more. Money, love, and you—I want none of it. After an unbearable amount of time, the surgery finally ended. As the instruments withdrew, the surrounding sounds gradually returned. The nurse unfastened the restraints on my legs and helped me to an observation bed for half an hour. I stared blankly at the dark sky outside the window, tears falling one by one. Suddenly, a solitary firework shot up, bursting into bloom in the sky. Then, a city-wide display of brilliant fireworks followed. I watched the night sky, bright as day, in a daze. I overheard the envious whispers of a few young nurses: “Did you hear? CEO Reed specially arranged this for his sweetheart! His girlfriend is so lucky!” “Oh, what girlfriend? CEO Reed has a wife! But I heard she’s a gold-digger. She’s doing worse than his household staff now!” On the way home, I dragged my aching lower body, each step a struggle. An empty taxi pulled up in front of me, rolling down its window to ask where I was going. I waved my hand with difficulty. “No need.” I couldn’t afford the fare. So, step by step, I walked towards the house, ten miles away. Along the way, many people were reminiscing and marveling at tonight’s grand firework display. “It was so beautiful! If someone could set off fireworks like that for me, my life would be complete, boohoohoo!” “What are you dreaming about? Do you think everyone is CEO Reed’s girlfriend? Look at that woman, her face is so pale, and no one cares for her either!” I instinctively looked up at the two young girls whispering. They instantly blushed, quickly saying they didn’t mean anything, and asked if I needed help. I shook my head with a smile. What I wanted to say was, I once had fireworks like that too. Once, I had someone who cared. That was the day Lucien proposed to me. He knelt before me, holding a ring in one hand, his eyes red. “Clara, you’re the most special girl I’ve ever met. I’m willing to spend my life cherishing and loving you.” “Will you marry me?” Behind him, fireworks more dazzling than today’s erupted. But at that moment, I had just pulled my despairing father back from the rooftop. Creditors were still besieging my house, threatening my mother and seven-year-old sister if I didn’t pay them back immediately. I had no choice. So I could only say to him, “Lucien, can you… lend me two million dollars?” His expression instantly turned cold, the deep affection in his eyes slowly receding. He slowly stood up, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips. “Everyone says you’re with me to climb the social ladder. At first, I didn’t believe it.” “Clara Evans, you’re truly patient. You waited until I proposed to you, until it was public knowledge, to show your true colors.” He scoffed, raising his hand to stop the fireworks. He pulled a check from his pocket and threw it at my face. “Fine, you’re quite cheap, too.” From that day on, our relationship soured. No matter how much I explained, I couldn’t shed the label of “gold-digger.” With Lucien’s tacit approval, I became the most pathetic joke in the entire city’s elite circles. Even his housekeeper earned thirty thousand dollars a month, while I had to beg him for even three dollars. I kept enduring, hoping that one day his anger would subside, and he would listen to my explanation. Until the first time he brought another woman home, I completely lost it. But he merely looked at me indifferently, asking what right I had to be angry with him. He said he had already paid to buy our marriage, and even if he brought a hundred women home, it was my own doing. In that moment, my heart was shredded, yet I couldn’t utter a single word in my own defense. Against the bitter wind of early winter, I walked for six hours, finally arriving home at one AM. Pushing open the front door, the house was filled with comfortable warmth. Just as I was about to use my last bit of strength to walk to the bedroom, I heard a girl’s sweet voice from the sofa. “Sister’s back! Where’s my candy apple?” I looked at the delicate girl in Lucien’s arms, startled, and instinctively asked, “What candy apple?” “Stop playing dumb! Didn’t I message you to buy a candy apple for Maya when you came back?” Lucien sneered, sizing me up. “I spent so much money, and you can’t even fulfill such a small request?” My phone had already died. I bit my lip, forcing out a reply. “Buy your own.” Perhaps my cold attitude angered Lucien. He sprang up from the sofa, looking at me testily. “What, you want money again? Didn’t I just give you fourteen dollars? That’s enough for a candy apple, isn’t it?” “Go buy it right now! If you can’t get one, don’t come back!” I looked at him, incredulous. In the past six months, this wasn’t the first time Lucien had spoken to me in such a tone. I thought I was already numb. But a dull ache spread through my chest, even more devastating than the cramping in my abdomen. Outside, it was only a few degrees, and even through the window, I could hear the howling wind. It was past one AM. Where was I supposed to buy a candy apple? Seeing me frozen in place, Lucien scoffed. “What, still not moving? You want more money?” Lucien mockingly pulled a red bill from his wallet and threw it on the floor without looking. “Is this enough?” He paused, sizing me up as if searching for something. “You asked me for money tonight, saying you needed medicine. Where’s the medicine?” “Clara Evans, you’re truly unscrupulous for money now. Are you lying even about fourteen dollars?” Medicine? The baby was gone, what use was medicine? Before I could speak, Lucien waved over a bodyguard, who roughly pushed me out the door. Through the door, his voice sounded even colder. “If you can’t buy a candy apple, you can stay outside all night.” Then, I heard a light, coquettish female voice, followed by intimate, suggestive sounds. I instinctively wanted to get away from that sound, but I didn’t even have the strength to walk. I could only lean against the door and slowly squat down, sitting on the steps outside. The biting cold wind seeped in through my collar, thoroughly chilling my already lifeless heart. In a daze, I heard the door open behind me. The next second, Lucien’s anxious curse: “Clara Evans, are you crazy?! Can’t you find somewhere warm?!” “What’s the point of playing the victim?!” Then, I seemed to fall into a warm embrace. I thought it must be a hallucination. Lucien hated me so much now, he wouldn’t worry about me. I don’t know how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes, I saw Lucien’s ashen face. “Finally stopped pretending? It’s just a candy apple. Do you have to put on a show for me?” “What, do you want the world to know you were pregnant and almost froze to death at the Reed’s doorstep, so you can demand more money?” I opened my mouth, wanting to retort. But my throat was dry and painfully scratchy. Lucien looked away, no longer at me, and shouted out the door, “Where’s the family doctor? Why isn’t he here yet?!” “Don’t let her die in my house!” Tears silently streamed from the corners of my eyes. Lucien, what exactly do you want? You’re the one who hated me so much you wished me dead, and now you’re the one who’s afraid I’ll die. I closed my eyes, my voice hoarse and unpleasant: “Lucien, let’s get a divorce.” He spun around, as if he’d heard a joke. “Divorce? Fine. You give me back two million, and I’ll agree to a divorce.” He seemed to remember something suddenly, paused, then scoffed. “I know what it is. You think you can extort more money now that you’re pregnant with my child, don’t you?” “Tell me, how much do you want this time? Two million? Or five million?” I couldn’t hold back the injustice any longer, blurting out, “Our baby is already gone—” However, before I could finish, Maya’s exaggerated retching suddenly came from outside the door. Just then, the family doctor rushed in. After a series of examinations, the doctor hesitated before speaking: “Mr. Reed, Ms. Maya Sterling appears to be pregnant.” Boom! Something seemed to collapse completely at that moment.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412995”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My father won five million dollars in the lottery. My friend and I were planning to open a shop, just three thousand dollars short. I asked my family for a loan, but they flatly refused. “How old are you? Solve your own problems.” “Our money doesn’t grow on trees. Why should we let you waste it all?” Left with no choice, I took out a high-interest online loan. Just after the money arrived in my account, my cousin posted a picture of a brand-new Electric Falcon 7 on social media. “Thanks to Uncle for the support, I finally got the car I’ve been dreaming of.” It was then I realized that because my uncle casually mentioned his son wanted a car, my father had immediately transferred two hundred thousand dollars to him. Hearing that he hadn’t even bothered with an IOU, I felt utterly disheartened. Ten days later, my mother called, immediately launching into a furious tirade. “Ethan, it’s your father’s birthday today. Why aren’t you coming back to celebrate?” “Not even a phone call. What kind of son are you?” “Raising a dog would be better than raising you!” I calmly replied: “If that’s the case, then just pretend you never raised me.” 1 No sooner had I spoken than my mother exploded. “Are you even human? You’re making me furious! After twenty years of hard work, I raised such an ungrateful brat!” “We gave birth to you, raised you, fed you, clothed you, sent you to college. Now your wings are strong?” “How dare you say such things to us?” Her voice was sharp, every word laced with poison. “I get it. It’s just because we didn’t lend you money to open your shop last time, isn’t it?” “What a joke! With your pathetic self, you think you can start a business?” “With that little bit of skill, you’ll lose everything after three days of enthusiasm!” “Three thousand dollars thrown into water would at least make a splash. Given to you? You probably wouldn’t even have a whisper left!” She grew more agitated with each insult, her words becoming increasingly hurtful. “The money is ours. How we use it is none of your business!” “You good-for-nothing, can’t earn money so you eye your family’s wealth. Have you no shame?” “I’m telling you, even if this money is thrown away, burned, or donated, it’s better than you throwing it down the drain!” “You’re not cut out for business. Just get a regular job and earn your few thousand dollars.” “Your ambition is sky-high, but your fate is thin as paper. That’s exactly what a waste like you is!” I gripped the phone, my fingertips icy, silent. On the other end, I heard her ragged breathing, as if she was about to faint from anger, interspersed with sounds of her slapping her chest and others trying to console her. After a while, someone else took the phone. “Ethan, it’s your Aunt Lillian.” “Don’t be angry with your mother. She only means well.” “You, son, how could you not come back for your father’s birthday, such an important occasion?” “What’s so difficult that a family can’t get past it?” “Your parents worked hard to raise you. What will relatives and friends think if they knew you were acting like this?” “You can’t be so selfish…” She stood on her moral high ground, rattling off those righteous words like a mantra. I listened quietly until she angrily asked, “Why exactly won’t you come back? You must have a reason, right?” I took a deep breath. “The reason is simple.” “My father casually gave you two hundred thousand dollars to buy a car, without even needing an IOU.” “But when I needed just three thousand for my startup, he wouldn’t lend me a single cent.” “Is that reason enough?” The line went silent for a moment. A few seconds later, Aunt Lillian’s voice became hesitant. “Well, this… this was your father’s decision. We couldn’t really say anything…” “Besides, that money was a loan to your cousin. He’ll pay it back eventually…” “Pay it back?” I interrupted her. “Without an IOU, how will he pay it back? Aunt Lillian, honestly, do you even believe what you’re saying?” She choked, unable to utter a coherent sentence. At that moment, my mother snatched the phone back, her rage burning even fiercer due to my defiance. “Yes! We gave it to him! So what?” “Our money, we can give it to whoever we want!” “We’re happy to buy your cousin a car! What right do you have to question me? Who do you think you are?” “I’m telling you, Ethan, with your attitude, you’ll never get a single cent from us again!” “Opening a shop? If you lose money, go sell your blood, sell your kidney!” “Just don’t come to us!” “We raised you for so long, and you haven’t shown much promise, but you’ve learned to tally up debts with your family?” “Your cousin at least knows gratitude. He often comes back to visit us during holidays.” “And you? Haven’t shown your face in half a year, and the one time you call, it’s for money!” “Do we owe you something?” “If I had known you were this kind of person, I should have aborted you when I was pregnant!” 2 I listened, and a sudden urge to laugh welled up. When her shouting finally paused, I spoke softly: “You’re right.” “It’s your money. Give it to whoever you want.” “I truly have no right to question it.” I paused, feeling my throat tighten, but I pressed on. “Since that’s the case, from now on, pretend you never had me.” “I’ll disappear quietly. I won’t ask you for another cent, and I won’t bother you again.” A few seconds later, my mother’s furious scream came through the phone. I didn’t listen further and hung up. The world was finally quiet. I stared at my phone screen. The three thousand dollars from the online loan had been deposited. The interest was high, and the repayment schedule was suffocating. Originally, this should have been a warm start, backed by my parents’ support. Now, it was just a debt. I opened my cousin’s social media. The post showing off his Electric Falcon 7 was still there. In the photo, he sat in the brand-new driver’s seat, hands on the steering wheel, a radiant smile on his face. Below it was a string of likes and congratulations, my parents’ accounts prominently featured. They had even commented things like, “Family doesn’t need formalities,” and “Our nephew is so accomplished.” How ironic. From childhood, my parents were always exceptionally strict with me. No noise while eating, perfect posture, always in the top ten academically. As for pocket money? Non-existent. They’d say, “What does a child need money for? Just focus on your studies.” But whenever my cousin, Leo, came to visit, my father would always smile and pull a few bills from his wallet, tucking them into Leo’s hand. “Here, Leo, buy something nice.” Then he’d turn to me and say, “You’re the older brother, you should defer to your younger cousin.” I was eight then, Leo was six. In sixth grade, I saved up three months’ worth of discarded items to sell, just enough to get twenty dollars to buy a set of encyclopedias. My mother found out, confiscated the money, and lectured me. “What’s the use of reading these frivolous books? You should be doing more math problems with that time.” The next day, I saw Leo playing wildly with a new remote-control car in the living room. That car cost exactly twenty dollars. In middle school, the school organized a field trip to the Ocean Park, costing one hundred and fifty dollars. I cautiously asked my parents. My father didn’t even look up. “What’s so great about that place? It’s a waste of money. Stay home and study on the weekend.” I locked myself in my room until I heard laughter from the living room. My uncle’s family had arrived, and my father excitedly announced that he would take Leo to the Ocean Park next week. “Don’t worry about the expensive tickets, your Uncle will take you. We’ll play all we want!” Later, I cried under my blanket. That was the first time I wondered if I was truly their biological child. But the next day, my mother earnestly told me, “We are strict with you because we have high expectations for you.” “Your cousin’s family isn’t well off. We should help them when we can.” “You’re the older brother, you need to be sensible.” Her words were so sincere, her eyes so earnest, that my doubts felt like a sin. Throughout my three years of high school, my monthly allowance was fifty dollars. At school, that money was barely enough for the cheapest cafeteria meals, and I often went hungry. I dared not participate in any activities that required money. Even sending a greeting card for a classmate’s birthday was something I hesitated over for a long time. Once, my father visited me at school and happened to see me eating plain rice with free seaweed soup in the cafeteria. He frowned. “Why are you eating so poorly? This is when you’re growing. You need balanced nutrition.” I thought he pitied me, that he would give me more money. Instead, he turned around and said, “But it’s good to be tough. It builds character.” A few days later, I heard Leo had enrolled in piano lessons, tuition costing four hundred and eighty dollars. My father sponsored two-thirds of it. I went to college out of state, thinking I could finally breathe. But my living expenses were still tight, eighty dollars a month. After paying for phone and internet, there was barely enough left for food. My roommates would gather for meals, go to the movies, shop, all happily. I could only find excuses to stay in the library. Once, I couldn’t refuse, bit the bullet and went, then ate instant noodles for half a month afterward. During winter break of my sophomore year, I was going to the bathroom at night and overheard a conversation from my parents’ bedroom. “Honey, is Ethan’s allowance too little? Prices have gone up.” My father frowned. “Too little? What’s too little? Boys need to be raised tough.” “By the way, Leo said yesterday he wanted a new phone. I took three hundred from your account.” My mother chuckled softly. “That’s fine. The boy is so sweet. He even said he’d take care of us when he earns money.” I stood outside the door, my hands and feet freezing. 3 After graduating from college, I struggled to find a job. I called home, cautiously asking if they could help me look for any opportunities. My father was blunt: “We don’t have those connections. You need to make your own way.” “Also, we won’t spend another cent on you. You’re twenty-two; it’s time to be independent.” That month, I lived in a partitioned room in a slum, eating two steamed buns a day. I submitted hundreds of resumes, received only three interview invitations, all of which failed. At my lowest point, I had only seven dollars and thirty cents left in my bank account. Just as I was at my wit’s end, my cousin’s social media updated. He had landed a job at a local state-owned enterprise, with excellent benefits. In the photo, he wore a brand-new suit, with an impressive office building in the background. My parents were the first to comment below: “Our nephew is amazing!” “Keep up the good work. Auntie is proud of you!” I later learned that my father had pulled several strings to get him that position. He had an old classmate who was a manager there. My father treated him to three dinners, gave him two good cartons of cigarettes and a large cash gift, just to get my cousin in. I asked my mother why. She replied casually, “Your cousin doesn’t have as good an education as you. If we don’t help him, who will?” “You’re a graduate from a top university. Do you still need someone to worry about you?” Every single incident, taken individually, could be given a righteous excuse by them. To toughen me up, to help relatives, to make me independent, to be fair… These justifications, strung together, formed the fabric of my life for over twenty years. Putting down my phone, I started packing. This tiny apartment, less than ten square meters, was my only refuge after graduation. A bed, a simple wardrobe, a secondhand desk—that was all my worldly possessions. As I cleaned out the desk drawer, I found an old tin box. Opening it, I found a few odds and ends: an elementary school award certificate for good citizenship, a middle school math competition certificate, a photocopy of my university acceptance letter, and a few crumpled family photos. The newest family photo was taken two springs ago. I stood at the very edge, my expression stiff. My cousin stood between my parents, smiling brightly. My father’s hand rested on my cousin’s shoulder, and my mother had her arm around him. Anyone who didn’t know us would think they were the biological father and son. I stared at the photo for a long time, then tore it in half, then into shreds, and threw it into the trash. The next day, I went to work as usual. During my lunch break, I received a call from an unknown number. “Ethan, it’s me, your Uncle James.” I paused. “Can I help you?” “What did you mean by that yesterday? What do you mean, ‘pretend you never had me’?” “Do you know how furious your mother is right now? Her blood pressure is through the roof!” I coldly replied, “Then you should take her to the hospital, not call me.” “You!” Uncle James choked. “How did you become like this? Do you know how hard your parents worked to raise you?” “Is it just because we didn’t lend you money? Does it have to escalate to this?” “It’s not just about the money, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” “Is there anything else? I need to rest.” “Wait!” Uncle James quickly said, “There’s something I need to clarify. About your cousin’s car… that money, your father offered to give it. We didn’t ask for it!” “And we will definitely pay it back, we’re just a bit tight on cash right now…” “Uncle James,” I interrupted him. “Whether you pay it back or not is between you and my father. It has nothing to do with me.” “I’m still taking my nap. Hanging up.” “Ethan! Ethan!” I hung up the phone and blocked the number. During a break at work that afternoon, I secretly searched for commercial rental information, contacting several real estate agents. After work, I looked at two places, neither ideal. Either the rent was too high, or the location wasn’t good. That night, I returned to my apartment and made a bowl of instant noodles. As I was eating, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find my parents, along with a few relatives. Uncle James, Aunt Lillian, and a distant aunt. They squeezed into the narrow apartment, all looking grim. “Ethan, you’ve really grown up, haven’t you?!” My mother spoke first, her voice sharp and piercing. “Saying such outrageous things on the phone, and even cutting ties with us? Who taught you that?!” “Exactly, it’s utterly disgraceful.” Aunt Lillian folded her arms, her eyes sweeping around the room, her lips pursed. “Your parents worked so hard to come here, and you’re making your elders stand?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412994”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After the eighth failed attempt at IVF, my husband and I decided to adopt. The final step in the adoption process was a home visit. The caseworker looked at my husband, Liam, and me, a hint of doubt in her eyes. “You two seem like an excellent match, but your file shows that Mr. Walker adopted a daughter three years ago? Where is the child now?” I froze. “That’s impossible. This is our first application.” Liam, however, offered an awkward laugh. “Oh, that was a proxy adoption for my boss. His circumstances made it difficult for him to have her under his name, so she was temporarily registered under mine.” 1 The caseworker’s pen hovered over the paper, her brow furrowed. “A proxy adoption? Mr. Walker, that’s not in accordance with regulations.” Liam’s smile began to falter. He squeezed my hand, his palm damp with sweat. “It was a unique situation. My boss is in a very sensitive position, you understand. We’ve already initiated the transfer of custody, and the child’s registration will be moved very soon.” His voice sounded earnest and sincere, as if he were genuinely going above and beyond for his superior. I sat beside him, squirming with discomfort. In five years of marriage, this was the first I’d heard of Liam having a daughter under his name. A three-year-old daughter, a “proxy” daughter. This was a plot twist even TV dramas wouldn’t dare to attempt. The caseworker was clearly taken aback by his explanation. She looked from Liam to me, her probing gaze making me want to sink into the floor. “Ms. Rosenthal, were you aware of this?” What could I say? If I said no, our home would be a mockery, and our adoption application would be immediately rejected. If I said yes, I’d be an accomplice, a complete fool. My face felt flushed, and I could only manage a stiff nod. “I was.” The two words felt like knives, cutting into my throat. Liam gave me a grateful look, a look that made my stomach churn. The caseworker jotted down a few notes, asking no further questions, but the atmosphere had turned icy. She performed her duties methodically, inspecting the room we had prepared for a child – pink walls, a charming crib, piles of imported toys. I had decorated it all myself, filled with hopeful anticipation for our future child. Now, it looked like a cruel joke. After seeing the caseworker out, I could no longer maintain my composure. “Liam Walker, you’d better give me an explanation.” He closed the door, his smile vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of utter exhaustion. “Willow, please don’t be angry. I was going to tell you about this.” “Tell me when? When our adopted child arrived, would you then inform me they had a sister?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “No, no!” he quickly denied. “That child… it’s a very complicated situation.” “No matter how complicated, she’s legally your daughter! And you kept this from me for three whole years!” I gestured towards the nursery. “How many IVF cycles did we go through for a child of our own? How much pain did I endure? Have you forgotten all that? We struggled so hard to reach this point of adoption, and you test me with something like this?” Liam was speechless. He walked towards me, trying to embrace me, but I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!” His eyes reddened, his voice pleading. “Willow, believe me, my boss and I have a purely professional relationship. Helping him out with this was a huge boost for my career.” “So for your career, you can just casually adopt a child? What do you take our marriage for? What do you take me for?” “I just wanted to give us a better life!” His voice rose, then quickly softened. “This will all be sorted out very soon, I promise. Please don’t overthink it, okay?” He always downplayed everything. But my mind was a chaotic mess. Would a man really “proxy adopt” a daughter for his boss? My head was spinning; I couldn’t make sense of it. That night, we slept in separate rooms. It was the first time in our five years of marriage. Lying on the cold guest room bed, my eyes wide open, I couldn’t sleep a wink. 2. The next morning, Liam acted as if nothing had happened, making me breakfast. He pushed a glass of milk towards me, cautiously observing my expression. “Willow, I know you’re still upset. But we need to provide a reasonable explanation to the adoption agency.” I had no appetite; my chest felt heavy. “What do you plan to say? Continue with the story about proxy adoption for your boss?” “It’s the best explanation we have right now.” He nodded. “I’ve already consulted a lawyer. As long as my boss provides a statement confirming the child is his, and we process some additional paperwork, the custody can be transferred.” He spoke with such conviction, as if everything was under control. But the cloud of suspicion in my heart only grew heavier. “Who is your boss? Why can’t he raise his own child? Where’s the child’s mother?” I fired off a volley of questions. Liam’s eyes flickered away. “My boss’s family situation is… complicated. His wife isn’t well and has been recuperating abroad. This child… was the result of a moment of weakness.” “A love child?” I blurted out. Liam’s face paled, and he nodded with difficulty. “Something like that. That’s why his wife can’t know, and why the child couldn’t be registered under his name.” The explanation sounded perfectly plausible. A wealthy man’s love child, entrusted to a trusted subordinate to avoid disrupting his family and business – it made logical sense. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. “Willow, I know this has caused you distress.” Liam took my hand, his posture humble. “But look at how much we’ve suffered to have a child. Now that we’re so close to the finish line, we can’t let my mistake ruin everything, can we?” He touched upon our shared heartache. Five years of marriage, and no children. From initial hope to desperate medical treatments, to repeated IVF failures – my body and spirit had endured immense pain. Finally, we had to give up and chose adoption. This was our unspoken grief. Liam knew children were my biggest weakness. “As soon as the home visit approval comes through, I’ll immediately deal with that child’s situation. I promise it won’t affect us,” he vowed. I looked at his bloodshot eyes, and my resolve wavered. Perhaps I was truly overthinking things? Perhaps he was just momentarily foolish, doing something stupid for the sake of his career? “I want to meet the child,” I finally said. Liam froze. “And her ‘mother’,” I added. He was silent for a long time, so long I thought he would refuse. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll arrange it.” His quick agreement made me even more uneasy. He seemed convinced that once I met them, all my doubts would vanish. Was this confidence, or was it arrogance? 3. The meeting was arranged at an upscale family restaurant. When I arrived, Liam was already there. Beside him sat a young woman and a little girl. The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with delicate features, dressed in a white sundress, exuding a gentle demeanor. The little girl, about three years old, had two pigtails and sat quietly in her chair, holding a small cake. Seeing me, Liam immediately stood up, looking a bit flustered as he introduced them. “Willow, this is Holly. And this is her daughter, Rosie.” Holly also stood, offering me a somewhat shy smile. “Mrs. Walker, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m so sorry to have caused you so much trouble.” Her posture was humble, full of gratitude and apology. I didn’t speak, my gaze fixed on the little girl named Rosie. The child looked up at me, her eyes dark and bright like two grapes. Whether it was my imagination or not, I couldn’t help but notice a striking resemblance in her features to Liam’s. Especially her nose – it was almost an exact match. My heart plummeted. “Mrs. Walker, please sit down,” Holly warmly invited. I sat beside Liam, who immediately pulled out my chair attentively and poured me a glass of water. “Rosie, say hello to Auntie Willow,” Holly prompted her daughter. The little girl looked at me timidly, then softly murmured, “Hello, Auntie.” Her voice was sweet and gentle. If not for the circumstances, I probably would have adored her. “Rosie is a very good girl,” I managed a stiff smile. Three lines of blank space.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412993”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife’s male assistant deliberately ruined a painting I’d spent two years creating. Infuriated, I punished him by making him my manservant for three days, tasked with cleaning my art studio. At first, Eleanor Brooks said nothing, acting as if nothing had happened. But three months later, Eleanor’s company filed for bankruptcy, and she was imprisoned. To repay millions in debt, I worked three jobs a day, toiling relentlessly. For three long years, I lived on the run from creditors, once cornered in an alley and humiliated. For a mere hundred dollars, I even tested haunted houses overnight. Then, while clearing tables, I overheard Eleanor, who should have been in prison, throwing a lavish birthday party for her male assistant. A friend asked, “Eleanor, you bought Aiden a million-dollar watch, and your ‘good’ husband is testing haunted houses for a hundred bucks. Can you really be so heartless?” Eleanor scoffed, exhaling a plume of smoke. “He deserved it, for forcing Aiden to be a manservant back then. These three years are his punishment.” “Once these three years are over, I’ll pretend to make a comeback. He’ll still be my good husband.” My body swayed in the cold wind, like a stunned puppet. So, these three years of living hell, this was all a punishment orchestrated by you. If that’s the case, then I will return it to you, twofold. 1 I felt as if I’d plunged into an ice-cold abyss, and from within, I heard the conversation between Eleanor and her friend, Grace Sloane. “Eleanor, he’s still your husband, after all. Before you got married, he was a spoiled young man, living a life of luxury. Aren’t you being a bit too cruel to him?” “The last time I saw Arthur Blackwood, he looked so haggard, so thin. He must be at his breaking point.” Eleanor spoke calmly. “It was agreed for three full years. Not a day less.” “Anyway, it’s only another month until three years are up. He’s lasted this long; a couple more days won’t make a difference.” Grace hesitated, clearly wanting to say more. “But he came to me recently, just asking to borrow a few hundred dollars.” “The once privileged Mr. Blackwood, I’d never seen him so desperate.” Eleanor snorted. “You didn’t lend it to him, did you?” “Of course not! You said anyone who lent him money would be considered to have cut ties with you. How would I dare?” Through a cloud of smoke, Eleanor smiled coldly. “Good to know you’re sensible.” “Arthur Blackwood’s temperament, so demanding and arrogant. Aiden accidentally stained his painting, and Arthur heartlessly punished him by making him a manservant for three days. That kind of overbearing attitude needed to be fixed. See, this three-year punishment has clearly worked, hasn’t it?” Eleanor’s tone was filled with pride and satisfaction, as if her punishment had reformed me, making me a new man. Grace sighed, swallowing the rest of her unspoken words. She had actually concealed a few things. That day, I had knelt. I had even unbuttoned my shirt. “Just five hundred dollars, please.” “Eleanor got sick in prison and needs medical expenses. I’m still short five hundred dollars.” They exchanged glances, then burst into laughter. “Is this still the former Mr. Blackwood?” “You were so proud back then, wouldn’t wear shoes under a thousand. Now you’re selling yourself for five hundred dollars.” I could only listen in humiliation, my face devoid of any expression. What expression could I even have? All my pride, my self-respect, had been trampled into worthlessness by reality. “If you’re willing to add more money,” I choked out. “Whatever pose you want me to strike, I will.” Their laughter grew even louder. Finally, the woman who had been silent all this time, sitting on the sofa, sighed and spoke. “You should leave.” “Even if you bowed a hundred times today, we wouldn’t help you.” Because Eleanor had already given strict instructions. A punishment was a punishment. For three full years, they were not to show any pity or offer me any convenience. Only then could they truly get revenge for Aiden, her assistant. How did I manage to scrape together those five hundred dollars later? I went to the hospital and sold my blood. I took the five hundred dollars to the prison, but was told Eleanor had been released on medical parole. That money, after much effort, was entrusted to Eleanor’s friend. I was so anxious at the time, I almost knelt. “Please, you must get this money to Eleanor. She mustn’t have any more trouble.” But at that very moment, Eleanor was with her assistant, Aiden, checking in at Disneyland. She treated the five hundred dollars like a receipt, tossing it to a staff member. “Dirty money from an unknown source, how unlucky.” Just like my sincerity, it was trampled upon so carelessly. 2. Now, Eleanor herself had arranged for antique porcelain vases, worth a fortune, to decorate Aiden’s birthday party. Every detail was meticulously planned. But I had no desire to watch any further. Several times, I almost lost control and charged in. I wanted to appear before Eleanor, slap her hard across the face. I wanted to demand why she had deceived me for three years, all because I made Aiden a manservant for three days. I wanted to show Eleanor all the wounds I had suffered, all the scars on my body, over these three years. But in the end, I did nothing. I watched Eleanor, who was supposed to be released from prison in three days, dressed in an expensive designer gown, like a powerful female CEO. She had thrown a grand and respectable birthday party specifically for her male assistant, inviting friends from their circle to celebrate and wishing Aiden a spoiled birthday. Then, I turned around expressionlessly and returned to my cramped, underground rental. It was dark and damp, and I had lived there for three years. The bathroom was right outside the door, the walls covered in years of accumulated mold, constantly emanating a foul smell. I remembered when I first moved in, I was nauseous to the point of vomiting every day. For the first twenty-five years of my life, I lived in luxury, the privileged eldest son of the esteemed Blackwood family, never knowing hardship. I was an internationally renowned painter, accumulating numerous international awards. At the height of my success, I was even pursued and proposed to by Eleanor Brooks, the eldest daughter of the Brooks family. After marriage, I effortlessly lived the life of a “winner.” Until Eleanor hired a timid and gentle male assistant named Aiden. He was the son of my family’s housekeeper, yet he constantly tried to compete with me. His clothes weren’t as luxurious as mine, so he would retort that I was a frivolous pretty boy. His abilities weren’t as strong as mine, so he would gossip behind my back that I only succeeded because of my birth or because of women. He even deliberately sought to become Eleanor’s assistant, and never stopped badmouthing me to her, saying how I bullied his housekeeper mother at home, ruined his clothes, and even made him kneel as a manservant. I believed that the truth would speak for itself and never paid these things any mind. But then came that day. I had finally completed a painting I had worked on for two full years. Just as I was about to frame it, I stepped out for a moment, only to return and find it splattered with ink. Aiden stood nearby, holding the ink bottle, a smug look on his face. “Didn’t you spend two whole years on that painting? Let’s see how you’ll impress Eleanor without it.” I was furious that time. I threw a punch that landed squarely on his face. “Didn’t you always spread rumors that I made you a manservant? Well, for these three days, you can properly be my manservant and clean my art studio.” Just then, the door was pushed open, and a figure burst in. Eleanor frowned, shielding Aiden behind her. “Arthur Blackwood, can’t you control your privileged temper?” “Aiden tries so hard. He may not have a good background, but why do you always target him?” My chest heaved with anger. “Eleanor, get this straight, he was the one who…” Before I could finish, Aiden, playing the victim, hid behind Eleanor, looking terribly wronged. “Eleanor, it’s all my fault. I wanted to help Mr. Blackwood clean his studio, but I accidentally stained his painting. He said he’d sell me to a club as a gigolo, and called my mom a cheap tramp who raised a little tramp.” He spoke tearfully and pitifully. Eleanor didn’t even ask me or investigate; she just believed him outright. She looked at me coldly. “Arthur Blackwood, what’s happened to you? I’m so disappointed.” I was even more enraged. Even with Eleanor trying to persuade me, I insisted that Aiden serve as a manservant for three days. On the last day, Eleanor acted as if nothing had happened, merely sighing lightly. “Arthur, when will you ever get rid of that temper? It’s just a painting.” “Alright, you’ve vented your anger now, let’s just put this behind us.” I was naive enough to believe that it was truly over. But days later, news broke of Eleanor’s company’s bankruptcy. Eleanor herself was soon imprisoned, leaving a huge mess for me to deal with. Initially, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Even if the Brooks family went bankrupt, I still had my parents. I called them immediately, but their numbers were all disconnected. I completely panicked. I rushed home to find them, only to be told by the butler that they had hurried back upon hearing about the Brooks family’s troubles, but were caught in a landslide on the way and both perished. Overnight, my world collapsed. With no parents or wife to rely on, I had no choice but to sell our property and move into a damp basement. To escape gambling debts, I barely slept. They even found my basement, a group of people barging in with sticks and beating me. Two of my ribs were broken, and my wrist was shattered, rendering me unable to hold a paintbrush again. It took me three years to accept my fate, giving up everything just to survive. But now, I’m told that it was all a lie. Eleanor, with her punishment, had stripped me down to the bone, transforming me completely. Just then, my phone rang. It was from Eleanor. “Arthur, I’m getting out of prison in three days. Don’t forget to pick me up.” 3. I unconsciously clutched my phone, a dull ache throbbing in my heart. Even now, Eleanor was still acting. She was clearly at the birthday party already, celebrating Aiden’s birthday, with such a huge, beautifully decorated cake. Yet she was still treating me like an idiot. I stared at the line of text, tears blurring my vision until I could read it clearly again. I typed back: “Okay, I’ll pick you up in three days.” Three days later, I didn’t expose Eleanor’s lie. I went to the prison gates to pick her up. From a distance, I saw Eleanor wearing shabby clothes, pretending to be destitute after bankruptcy, and even using makeup to create a fake scar on her face. Seeing me, she limped, excitedly rushing towards me. “Arthur!” She embraced me, tears welling up in her eyes. “In prison, I truly atoned. They said my behavior was excellent, so they released me early.” “Arthur, you’ve really had a tough time these past few days.” She appeared so genuinely affectionate, as if she had truly suffered in prison for three years. But I subtly pushed her away. “It’s good that you’re out.” Eleanor paused, seemingly noticing my unusual demeanor, but then she suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Arthur, what happened to your wrist?” Her anxious expression seemed genuine. But I found it amusing. Eleanor, what are you playing at? It was clearly your people, pretending to be creditors, who came and beat me to this state. Now you’re acting innocent? I just felt apathetic, perhaps also afraid of directly confronting the truth. “Nothing, I just fell accidentally.” I pulled my hand away. “The doctor said it will heal with time.” Eleanor finally breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.” She took my hand, gently intertwining her fingers with mine. “The injury is on your right wrist. If it gets serious and affects your painting, you’ll be crying again.” Her voice was deliberately doting, but to me, it was incredibly piercing. I was born with immense artistic talent. I had won countless international awards, and everyone said I had a very bright future. But to get money for medicine, to get Eleanor out of prison early, I was willing to let them break my wrist. Now I couldn’t even hold a paintbrush. But now, she was telling me it was all just a punishment game she orchestrated. How ridiculous. I remained silent the entire way, Eleanor seemed very nervous, chattering on about many things. Clearly, these were lines she had prepared from online research, trying to convince me she had really spent three years in prison. But I listened absently, only asking a faint question after she finished. “Eleanor.” “Did I do something wrong?” Eleanor froze instantly, her eyes red as she looked at me. “What is it, Arthur? Why do you ask?” I suddenly remembered the last time, when I was finally allowed a visit. I was so happy, taking the allowance I had saved for a long time to buy meat and vegetables, and preparing them for Eleanor. No wonder she wrinkled her nose and refused to eat it. She must have thought the meat was cheap. And yes, I thought she had spent three years in prison, enduring hardship. But in reality, she was taking her male assistant on a round-the-world trip, enjoying delicacies and imported foods. How could she truly suffer with me? Even that prison visit was a meticulously staged play for which she paid a hundred and twenty dollars. I just felt that for these three years, I had been utterly foolish, manipulated like a toy. Seeing me cry, Eleanor immediately panicked and came forward to wipe my tears. “Arthur, why are you crying? Did someone bully you?” I looked into her eyes. “If someone bullied me, what would you do?” “Would you still, as you swore before, protect me no matter what, even if it meant sacrificing your life?” Eleanor nervously wiped my tears with a tissue. She nodded without thinking, her resolve firm. “Whatever it takes, Arthur, just tell me, and I’ll do it.” I looked into her sincere eyes. “Really?” “I want you to kill Aiden.” Eleanor suddenly looked up, staring at me in shock. “What did you say?” A flicker of panic crossed her eyes. “Did you misunderstand something?” She was so afraid I would discover something amiss. Even her body began to tense. “My company went bankrupt three years ago. Aiden resigned and went abroad; I haven’t had any contact with him.” “Did he come to bully you while I was in prison? If so, I’ll definitely get revenge for you!” I took her hand, scoffing. “I’m kidding.” “Killing is against the law.” “You just got out of prison; how could I bear to put you back in?” “I was just teasing you.” I turned away, lowering my gaze to pick up something. Eleanor didn’t see my true emotions. She thought I was truly just joking and breathed a sigh of relief. “Arthur, I’m sorry.” “You’ve suffered a lot these past three years.” I didn’t turn back, but in my heart, I thought silently. It’s alright. Your karma is yet to come.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412992”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When our daughter passed away, Ian Blackwood promised her that he would never have another child. So, for all these years, no matter how openly he flaunted his mistresses, not a single one dared to provoke me with talk of children. Until our daughter Lily’s third death anniversary. I received a pregnancy test result at her graveside. The name on the form was Jenny Hayes, the innocent bridesmaid Ian had practically stolen from someone else’s wedding reception. He glanced at the paper, delivered to me like a cruel gift. There was no gentle interruption to his reverie. He merely chuckled, an unsettling amusement in his eyes. “The little rascal is playful. Don’t mind her. You go ahead with your remembrance; I’ll be back in a moment.” That day, I waited from morning until night. What I saw instead was a photo Jenny posted on social media: Ian kissing her belly, with the caption, “Our family of three.” They expected me to rage and make a scene, to even beg him, as I had in the past. But I simply exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I quietly took the divorce papers, signed three years prior, and submitted them for registration, keeping it a secret from everyone. No one knew that Lily, on her deathbed, had also made a wish to me. The day her father broke his promise would be the day she agreed to let me divorce him. 1. It was eleven thirty-one in the evening. A biting wind swept through the cemetery. My hands, trembling from the cold, clutched my phone as I called Ian again. The custom ringtone – a recording of him and Jenny’s intimate whispers – played for a full minute and twenty-six seconds. Finally, a robotic voice announced that the call was unanswered. I had calculated the time: it took twenty-five minutes from Jenny’s place to the cemetery. That left three minutes, just enough for him to light an incense stick for Lily and say a few words. But he didn’t answer. I knew his phone would likely be unreachable tonight. Six months ago, when I was ill and called him for help, he told me that when he didn’t want to take my calls, he’d let the ringtone play until I couldn’t bear their voices anymore and would be sensible enough to stop bothering him. I gave a self-deprecating smile. Just before I put my phone away, he sent a rare, unsolicited message. Don’t call. She’s been threatening to get an abortion, and I can’t calm her down. I’ve given her Lily’s necklace for now. I’ll order a new one tomorrow. A day earlier or later, Lily won’t mind. I gripped the phone, yet strangely, I couldn’t muster any anger. Last time, when Jenny threw Lily’s photo in the trash, I slapped her. That night, Ian’s men “accidentally” injured my arm, putting me in the hospital for two weeks. I had known for a long time that Lily no longer held the same place in his heart. But Lily was young, innocent. She always appeared in my dreams, begging me to give her father another chance. I sighed, and then Jenny’s message arrived. Sister, I’m so sorry, I’m pregnant. He said the cemetery was too unlucky, bad for me and the baby, so he made an excuse to miss it. Oh, and do you know when this baby was conceived? It was during the time you went to the temple every year to pray for Lily. I told him you’d be upset, but you know he always likes to force things. The more I resisted, the more intensely he wanted it. Afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she sent a screen recording of hundreds of flirtatious videos on her phone. The last date was January 21st – the same day, three years ago, Lily was diagnosed with her illness. I distinctly remembered Ian abandoning millions in business deals to rush back, crying hysterically outside the operating room, kneeling and begging the doctors to save our daughter. Afterwards, every year on that day, he would clear his schedule to go with me to the temple to pray for Lily. Until Jenny appeared, and I was the only one who went. It turns out that wound in his heart had healed long ago. I didn’t reply. Almost stubbornly, I stood there until the date on my phone changed to the next day. I didn’t feel the sadness I expected. I simply touched the serene smile on Lily’s tombstone. “Lily, it’s time. Dad isn’t coming this year. From now on, you and Mom will go our own way.” 2. That night, I dreamt of Lily crying, throwing herself into my arms, saying she didn’t like Daddy and didn’t want him anymore. I woke up, choking on my own sobs. In the dead of night, the space beside me remained empty. Only Lily’s favorite teddy bear, the one she cherished in life, still carried her scent. When Lily passed, Ian was inseparable from me. Whenever I’d wake from a nightmare, he’d be the first to notice, then he’d hold me, soothing me with soft words or weeping alongside me. Back then, I thought we would reconcile. I never imagined his philandering would remain unchanged, even after Lily and I had left. I couldn’t fall back asleep. After typing out the divorce papers, word by word, he returned. I handed him the signed agreement, still warm from the printer. He paused for two seconds, then scoffed. “So, just because I didn’t visit our daughter? It’s been years; are you still using these tactics? Isn’t it tiresome?” He paused again, seemingly realizing something. “Besides, Jenny’s pregnancy makes it difficult for her to move around. Or do you think this child threatens your position, so you’re playing hard to get to test me?” “Don’t worry. Once the baby is born, as long as you treat it as your own, no one will challenge your status as Mrs. Blackwood.” “While I’m in a good mood, take the hint. Don’t, like before, cry and tear up the agreement, saying you can’t live without me, if I actually sign.” I felt no anger at his mockery, nor did I bother to explain that my past actions were forced, a desperate charade. I just looked at him calmly. “Do you remember what you promised Lily?” His face stiffened, and beneath his serious demeanor was an undeniable hint of guilt. “I will always love her, but the Blackwood family cannot be without an heir. She will understand me.” As he finished speaking, his phone rang. He smiled happily as he answered Jenny’s call. “How could such a small baby be making a fuss?” “Alright, alright, I know you miss me. I just came back to grab some fresh clothes; I’ll be right there.” His voice was tender. For a fleeting moment, I was transported back to when we were most in love. When he learned I was pregnant, he was just as gentle. He would lie on my belly every day and talk to the baby. When the baby’s movements made me uncomfortable, he would sternly tell her not to bother Mommy. He hung up, then glanced at me. “Enjoy your life as a rich wife. Don’t cause trouble for Jenny, and your future will be one of comfort and security.” Watching him rush away to someone else, aside from a pang of bitterness reserved for Lily, I felt very little emotion left. I had the cemetery exhume Lily’s grave. I took out her urn. Then, I carried the divorce papers to the Blackwood family estate and handed them to Ian’s father. “Back then, besides Lily not wanting me to divorce him, you also said I was the only one who could curb his inherent arrogance.” “But now I can’t do it, and he no longer has Lily in his heart either.” Ian’s father, stroking the agreement, looked at me regretfully. “You know he just loves playing games and excitement. Wait a couple more years; he’ll settle down eventually. You two have so many years of history.” We had been entangled for ten years, from campus to marriage. He once defied his elders in the ancestral hall, staining a marriage contract with his own blood, just to marry me, an unsuitable match, vowing to marry no one else in this life. Just when I had finally softened his family’s hearts with my sincerity, he had lost his feelings for me. I smiled and shook my head. “No more waiting. I need to start a new life too.” He sighed, then retrieved the real divorce agreement, swapped out three years ago, from his safe and handed it to me. “The process has been re-approved. Pick up your divorce certificate in three days.” 3. After completing the registration, I returned home. The house had acquired some unfamiliar items. Jenny sat on the sofa. Ian stood beside her, directing the moving company as they cleared things out of Lily’s bedroom. He paused when he saw me. “Jenny’s pregnancy is unstable; she needs care. I’ve brought her home. You and the new nanny look after her. After all, you’ll be relying on this child in the future.” “Lily’s room is empty anyway, so I’ve put some odds and ends in there for storage. The master bedroom, where you sleep, is for Jenny and me. You can clean up the guest room and move in there.” Jenny stood up, stroking her belly, looking shyly at me. “I’m so sorry, big sister. Arthur just cares so much about me and the baby. Don’t worry, I won’t cause you any trouble.” “Once I’ve had the baby, I’ll definitely restore Lily’s room to its original state.” This wasn’t the first time Jenny had tried to provoke me using Lily. Last time, she sent a voice note of them flirting. Jenny said she wanted to give him a child as cute and well-behaved as Lily. So, Ian took her to the children’s room, jokingly saying Lily was kind and would surely grant their wish if she heard it. In front of Lily’s portrait, Jenny emotionally begged Lily to be reincarnated into her womb and become part of their happy family. By the time I arrived, the entire bedroom was filled with a disgusting odor, and Lily’s favorite bedsheets were soiled. I used the most vicious words to curse them, to curse her. And Ian, from beginning to end, acted like a cold psychopath, holding Jenny in his arms, covering her ears, watching my hysteria. The next day, I was sent to a mental hospital for a week under the pretext of being mentally unstable. Thinking of this, I no longer felt that same anger; only a sense of the ridiculous. I calmly glanced at Ian, who looked at me with the guarded expression of an enemy. “Whatever you want, arrange it however you like. I have no objections.” With that, I turned and went back to the master bedroom, pulling out my suitcase to pack. He watched me toss items into the suitcase, one by one, until half the closet was empty. Ian was somewhat surprised by my obedience and meekness. He tentatively spoke. “Father’s birthday banquet is on Friday. I plan to announce this news publicly as a gift. If you have time, whisper a few words to him so he won’t be angry when he hears it then.” I didn’t speak, merely nodding perfunctorily. Friday was the day I would receive my divorce certificate. Seeing that I still had no reaction, his brows furrowed deeper. “Did you change your tune today? Or do you realize nothing can threaten me, so you’re trying a gentle, devoted wife approach?” “Since you’re so sensible, make some soup for Jenny. She liked the last one. It’ll also be a test to see if you can take good care of her.” During a previous attempt at reconciliation, I had humbled myself to make him soup and deliver meals. But he had fed it, mouth to mouth, to Jenny right in front of me. Since then, I had been so disgusted that I never cooked again. I remained silent for a moment, then pulled out paper and pen, writing down the ingredients, steps, and cooking time, and handed it to him. “I need to clear the room for you first. Have the nanny make it. I’ll cook again when I have time.” He looked at the note, a playful smile playing on his lips. He attributed my newfound obedience to my realization that I had lost all my leverage and would no longer cause trouble for him. At the dining table, the nanny served Jenny the soup. But after her first sip, she clutched her stomach, crying out in pain. A few fresh drops of blood stained the floor. Ian’s face registered an unprecedented panic. He glared at the nanny. “What happened?!” The nanny’s gaze subtly flickered towards me. Before I could explain, Jenny looked at me with red eyes. “Sister, I know you don’t like me, but you’re a mother too. Why would you hurt my baby?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412991”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My sister loved me obsessively, a sickness. On my eighteenth birthday, she learned the truth: I wasn’t her real brother, just a changeling heir to a fortune that wasn’t mine. She locked me in her estate, showering me with twisted affection. To keep me to herself, she stripped our parents of power and exiled them. When her real brother sought revenge, she crippled him and left him in the mountains. She was paranoid, possessive, a beautiful monster who cut me off from the world. To make me jealous, she found a man who looked just like me—stubborn, calling her “sister” the same way. She made him a star, the youngest A-list actor ever, and named him Jaxson. No one knew why. No one knew my name was Cole. Everyone thought she loved Jaxson. He believed it too, flaunting his role as her fiancé. Drunk on her favor, he stormed into my prison. “You pretty boy! Did you get surgery to look like me? I’ll tear that face off!” He slashed my cheek, killed my dog, broke my hands, and poured pepper solution between my legs. When my sister arrived, he pointed at me—broken in a dog cage—and sobbed, “Darling, this impostor used my face to seduce you! Who do you choose? Me or him?” … I had been Rianne’s prisoner at Silverwood Manor for four years. Four years of relentless training, of honing my body and mind for a single purpose: escape. Today, I finally saw my chance. As I scrambled onto the garden’s back wall, my freedom a breath away, I saw them. A gang of thugs waited below, their faces grim. Leading them was Jaxson, the celebrity my sister kept on a leash. The moment he saw me perched on the wall, a cruel sneer spread across his face. He swung a steel pipe, and it connected with my leg with a sickening crack. “Well, well, what do we have here? Finally caught the rat trying to flee his cage! Feeling guilty, are we? Scared of me?” “So this is why Rianne is always coming out here,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “It’s you, you little leech, who’s been poisoning her mind!” The world dissolved into a universe of pain as I tumbled from the wall. I couldn’t even scream. Jaxson was on me in an instant, the steel pipe smashing against my face again and again. His cronies joined in, their steel-toed boots kicking me relentlessly. “Fucking homewrecker,” one of them snarled. “Let’s see you steal anyone’s girl after we’re done with you!” “You’re mistaken,” I tried to gasp out. “I’m…” Jaxson shoved the end of the pipe into my mouth, ramming it against my teeth and throat. The taste of blood and rust flooded my senses, choking me. I coughed, spraying a crimson mist onto the gravel. “Mistaken? Don’t give me that bullshit! You’re a goddamn slut who surgically altered his face to look like me, trying to steal my wife! You knew I was coming for you, that’s why you tried to run, wasn’t it?” He was screaming now, a madman consumed by jealousy. “I thought you’d hide in your little fortress forever!” The blows rained down, each one a fresh wave of agony. My face was a swollen, fiery mask. Warm blood streamed from my nose. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my head, and then it all clicked into place. The new head of security. He’d been bought. That explained his loud phone call outside my door, talking about Rianne being out of the country for a few days, about how the “opportunity was here.” He wasn’t talking to an accomplice of mine. He was tipping off Jaxson. It explained why he’d helped clear a path for my escape, diverting the other guards. He wasn’t helping me get out. He was leading me into a trap. Jaxson had been waiting for me all along. “You’ve really got it all wrong,” I rasped, my voice shredded. “I’m Rianne Blackwood’s brother. Not some boy toy!” Jaxson paused. The security captain stepped forward and murmured, “I have heard rumors that Ms. Blackwood has an adopted brother, a twin who looks just like her. But he was supposedly kidnapped four years ago, had his legs broken, and was sent abroad for treatment. Hasn’t been back since.” Jaxson’s eyes, cold as ice, scanned my face, then my intact legs. “This pretty boy doesn’t look a thing like Rianne, and his legs are fine. He’s lying!” Just then, a voice cut through the haze of pain. “Who’s there?!” It was Mr. Abernathy, the old butler, who had served my parents for decades. He was here, delivering something. He would recognize me! “Abernathy, help me!” I screamed, my throat raw. “It’s me, Cole!” The old man squinted, his gaze finding me on the ground. A flicker of confusion crossed his weathered face. “Mr. Pierce,” he said, his voice hesitant. “What are you doing here?” He looked at me, then back at Jaxson. “And who is this?” My heart sank. Four years. After our parents were sent away, Rianne had told the world I’d gone with them. I’d been locked away, hidden from every living soul. Even the maids who brought my food only passed it through a slot in the door. After four years, and beaten beyond recognition, how could he possibly remember me? I tried to speak, to prove who I was, but Jaxson’s boot came down on my mouth, grinding my face into the dirt. Darkness swarmed the edges of my vision. “Him?” Jaxson sneered. “Just some plastic surgery freak who thought he could use his face to seduce Rianne. Heard I was coming to teach him a lesson and got scared, tried to climb the wall and run.” The security captain chimed in with a laugh. “Doesn’t even know the real heir’s name and has the gall to impersonate Ms. Blackwood’s brother.” He squatted down and spat near my head. “The young master’s name is Spencer, you idiot. Not Cole. Got it?” But Mr. Abernathy’s face had gone pale. “Cole?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Cole is the young master’s name!” “What?” Jaxson and the captain stared, stunned. “I thought Rianne’s brother was named Spencer!” Abernathy quickly explained my story, how I was the adopted son, the changeling. He told them how protective Rianne was of me, how she wouldn’t let anyone harm a hair on my head. A spark of hope ignited in my chest. I nodded frantically at Abernathy. Yes, that’s me! I’m Cole! The old butler knelt, peering at my bloodied face. With my one good hand, I fumbled inside my shirt and pulled out the small jade pendant our mother had given me. “That’s…!” Abernathy’s eyes widened, his voice shaking. “That’s the protective talisman my lady gave to the young master! Master Cole, is it truly you?” But Jaxson snatched it, ripping the cord from my neck. “He managed to get Rianne wrapped around his little finger. Stealing a piece of jade would be child’s play for a snake like him,” he sneered. “Exactly,” one of his thugs added. “Everyone knows you’re the one Ms. Blackwood really cares about. This bastard got a new face to look like you, hiding out here like a kept man. God knows what kind of dirty tricks he used to get her to protect him!” Jaxson’s eyes blazed with renewed fury. For three years, Rianne had forbidden anyone from setting foot on the estate grounds. If not for his fear of her wrath, he wouldn’t have had to resort to luring me out like this. His friends started egging him on. “What are you worried about? She said no one goes inside. We’re outside. We can waste this fucker right here and now. If she asks, we just say we thought he was some creep trying to break in.” “She loves you so much! You really think she’d punish you over some broken boy toy?” A dark realization dawned on Jaxson’s face. “You’re right! I’m only doing this because I love her so much. She might not even punish me. She might even be touched by my devotion!” With that, he ordered his men to drag me away, but Mr. Abernathy blocked their path. “Mr. Pierce, please, think about this! What if he truly is the young master? The consequences would be dire!” Jaxson’s face was a mask of pure menace. “What did Rianne send you to deliver to this pretty boy? Don’t you lie to me, old man!” His assistant ripped the box from Abernathy’s hands and tore it open. Inside lay an exquisite custom-tailored suit and a handwritten note. My love, I can’t wait to see you in this. Don’t be sad. I have a surprise for you when I get back. All my love. Jaxson’s face contorted in rage. He shredded the note. “See this?” he screamed at Abernathy. “If this was her brother, would she write something so intimate? You yourself said Cole is abroad with her parents. This imposter can’t be him!” Ignoring Abernathy’s frantic protests, he grabbed my hair and began dragging me away. Just as all hope faded, Abernathy’s phone rang. It was Rianne. The butler had barely answered when Jaxson snatched the phone from his grasp. He gestured for his men to gag me and for the security captain to pull Abernathy aside. “Hello? Darling,” Jaxson cooed into the phone, his voice sickeningly sweet. “I just ran into Mr. Abernathy. I absolutely adore the suit you sent. It’s perfect.” “And the note was so sweet, my sister. Made me want to fly over and see you right this instant!” There was a brief, cold silence on the other end. “Oh,” Rianne said, her voice tight. “I’m glad you like it.” She was furious, but she couldn’t let on. She couldn’t let Jaxson know I was her prisoner here, much less that she felt anything for me. It would put me in even more danger. “Where did you run into him?” she asked, her tone icy. “Did he say anything else?” “On the road back to the main house! He was being all secretive, wouldn’t let me open the box. I had to insist!” As he said this, Jaxson shot me a look of pure hatred. “This was for me, right, sister? It’s not like Abernathy was delivering it to some other little slut behind your back, is he?” The threat in his voice was unmistakable. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Rianne replied coolly. “You’re the only one I have. Abernathy is just getting old and eccentric. He probably wanted to hide it somewhere to surprise you later. Don’t overthink it. Put him on the phone.” Jaxson glared at the old butler before thrusting the phone at him. “Abernathy, since Jaxson has seen it, just give it to him. Don’t worry, I won’t blame you.” The last part of her sentence hung in the air, a veiled warning that made Abernathy’s blood run cold. “Yes, Miss!” Before he could say more, Jaxson moved to hang up. In that split second, I bit down. Hard. The man holding my mouth yelped in pain and his hand flew back. “Rianne, help me…” The words were a mangled, desperate croak. Jaxson’s face went white with fury. He lunged forward, his boot grinding into my mouth again. “I thought I heard someone call for help,” Rianne’s voice sharpened with suspicion. “What’s going on over there?” “It’s just my assistant, we’re running lines!” the man I’d bitten quickly improvised, his voice slick with false cheer. “Yes, Ms. Blackwood, we’re rehearsing. Jaxson has a kidnapping scene tomorrow…” “I see. Tell Abernathy to remember my instructions. I’m busy. Goodbye.” The line went dead. My world collapsed into despair. Jaxson pressed his foot down harder. “You dare call her ‘sister’ in front of me? Is that how you seduce her?” he hissed. “No one calls her that but me. You really deserve to die, you pretty boy!” He looked down at my ruined face, his eyes filled with a venomous satisfaction. “Not only did you copy my face, you even copied how I talk to her. Today, I’m going to make you regret ever being born.” He dragged me by the hair toward the main gate. Abernathy pleaded, “You’ve got the gift, you’ve taught him his lesson. Can’t you just let him go?” “Yeah, Jaxson,” the security captain added. “Just dump him somewhere else. If Ms. Blackwood asks, we’ll just say he ran away.” Jaxson seemed to consider it. He threw me to the ground. “Fine. Can you promise to leave this place and never see Rianne again?” I nodded frantically. God, all I wanted for the past four years was to escape this yandere nightmare. The next thing I knew, he was pulling out a knife, a cold smile on his face. “I don’t believe you. Better to make sure.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “412990”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel