https://motonovel-h5.bkneng.com/landing/0996a45e9dc0d5e9f9ff37e658820cef?channelId=500005&clientId=D6F5VCJC77UAM1VL5Q00&campaign_name={{campaign.name}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}

I was the real young master who was swapped at birth. The night I came home, my mother pointed to a red and black spinning wheel and said, “Spin red, and you can make a request. Spin black, and you obediently follow the rules.” I thought I finally had a home. But for three whole years, my younger brother always landed on red, and I always on black. All the cool toys and the sunny room went to him. Even when I was sick and bedridden, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for his cartoons to finish. On New Year’s Eve, burning with a fever of forty degrees Celsius, I coughed blood, begging my mother to take me to the hospital. “Old rules,” she said, pulling out the spinning wheel again. I desperately exerted all my strength, secretly pressing my finger against the back of the wheel. For the first time, the pointer slid towards red. My eldest sister grabbed me. “Ethan! Even if your luck is terrible, you can’t cheat!” My second sister pushed me to the ground. “You’d actually cheat just to make us stay with you? How disgusting.” My third sister broke my finger. “You broke the rules, so you pay the price.” They threw me onto the floor and slammed the door shut. My vision blurred with tears as I stared at my twisted, deformed finger. I’m sorry. In my next life, I’ll… try hard to land on red. … 1 The piercing cold and pain suddenly vanished. I felt very light, floating upwards. Looking down, I saw a small, curled-up figure on the floor. Dressed in faded, old pajamas—the ones Liam didn’t want, because the spinning wheel was black, so I was only fit to wear hand-me-downs. My right index finger was bent at an unnatural angle, and my cheeks were flushed with a sickly red. That was me. Thirteen-year-old Ethan, no longer breathing. I suddenly remembered three years ago, when I was first brought home. Mom took out the spinning wheel, her voice clear and calm: “Ethan, you’re my biological child, of course I love you. But Liam has also been with us for ten years, and our feelings for him are just as deep. It’s not right for me to favor either of you. So, for absolute fairness, we’ll use this spinning wheel to decide all family matters from now on. It’s all up to luck, no one gets a raw deal, okay?” A fifty-fifty chance. It sounded so easy. I nodded vigorously, full of hope and anticipation. But Lady Luck never smiled upon me, not once. I don’t know how long passed before I heard laughter and chatter outside the door. “The lobster at that hotel was good, but it’s so far.” “Liam loves lobster, so it’s worth the distance.” Mom’s voice was full of indulgence. “Oh, and that new limited-edition pair of sneakers you wanted? I got them. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.” “What about my final exam reward?” Liam’s voice was bright. “You won’t miss out. An amusement park annual pass plus a rare Lego set, is that enough?” “Enough! Mom’s the best!” Floating above, my chest ached with an empty soreness. Lobster, limited-edition sneakers, amusement park, Lego. Everything Liam wanted, he always got with ease. And me? Two years ago, my head was splitting, and I wanted to ask for time off to go to the hospital. It landed on black. My eldest sister sneered, “Such a small ailment and you’re being dramatic? Liam scraped his knee until it bled last time, but he still insisted on going to the city for the math competition and won an award.” Later. My backpack broke, and I wanted twenty dollars for a new one. It landed on black again. My second sister scoffed, “A forty-dollar backpack only lasts two years? Take a look at Liam’s Hermes backpack; it’s been three years and it’s still like new! You’re just cheap, you don’t know how to take care of things!” But the more times I landed on black, the more I lost. The cool toys, the sunny room—they all went to Liam. Even when I was sick and bedridden, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for his cartoons to finish. After countless frustrations, I stopped hoping. I even started to avoid, to fear seeing that spinning wheel. Until Grandma Willow, who raised me in the countryside, passed away. I finally mustered the courage: “Mom, can I go back…” Before I finished speaking, my third sister excitedly waved her phone. “Mom! Look, Liam won first prize in the math competition, it’s such wonderful news!” Mom’s expression of impatience instantly gave way to pure joy. “My sweet boy makes Mom so proud! What reward do you want? Mom will grant anything!” Dad also smiled: “We should definitely celebrate.” I stood rooted to the spot, my throat tight: “But Grandma Willow, she…” “Enough!” Mom’s face hardened. “On such a good day, why bring up dead people? It’s bad luck!” My second sister immediately brought the spinning wheel. “No more nonsense. Spin red, and you can go.” I shut my mouth. That night, I kowtowed three times towards the countryside, bidding farewell to Grandma, crying and saying I was sorry. I stood before the spinning wheel until midnight. Eventually, I didn’t spin it. Because I knew the outcome would surely be black. “Bang—” Just then, the door was pushed open. 2 Mother and son walked in, wearing matching cashmere coats. Liam had a dazzling diamond watch on his wrist—the welcome gift my grandmother had given me when I first came home. Because the spinning wheel landed on black, Mom said, “You don’t deserve to wear such an expensive watch,” so it ended up on Liam’s wrist. Liam squatted, holding up the hem of his coat, his voice innocent: “The floor is so dirty… Why is big brother still lying here?” My eldest sister frowned: “Country folks are just like that. When they’re tired, they just lie anywhere, regardless of whether it’s clean or not.” My third sister drawled in agreement: “That’s why, even if Liam isn’t our biological brother, he has an innate nobility. And some people, their genes can’t change that inherent peasant air about them.” Liam curiously touched my face, but then abruptly pulled his hand back. He gasped, “Mom! Big brother’s face… it’s colder than ice!” Mom’s movements, as she was taking off her coat, paused. Oddly. I vaguely felt a flicker of anticipation. I wondered, what would their reactions be when they discovered I was dead? Mom walked over, first noticing my twisted finger. Her expression momentarily faltered in shock: “His finger… how did it get so bent?” My third sister leaned against the entryway, speaking with an air of nonchalance: “I broke it.” Mom glared at her, with a hint of anger: “You really don’t know your own strength, he’s still your brother, after all!” I floated in the air, staring at her blankly. My heart felt warm. I knew it, Mom still loved me. But it didn’t matter anymore; I couldn’t feel the pain. My third sister lifted her chin: “Mom, you personally set the rules: cheating must be punished. Liam remembers it and has always obeyed it strictly. Is it really fair to him if you indulge Ethan?” Mom’s lips twitched, and she first turned to look at Liam. The little boy bit his lip, his eyes slightly red, like a startled rabbit. In that instant, her voice softened: “Alright, next time, remember not to do it in front of Liam. He’s timid.” That flicker of emotion, sparked by me, was like a stone tossed into a deep pond, stirring only a negligible ripple. Mom reached out, not to check my breathing. Instead, she poked my shoulder in disgust: “Ethan, get up.” “Playing dead, are you?” she kicked my shoulder with the tip of her high heel. “Just to skip dinner, just to make us feel guilty, you come up with endless tricks! You’ll stoop to any low.” My second sister picked up a glass from the coffee table, her wrist flicking. Scalding water splashed across half my face. “Are you awake now? Can you stop using such cheap tricks to get attention?” Water droplets rolled down my temples and into my collar, yet my eyelashes didn’t even flutter. Liam retreated half a step, timidly saying, “Mom. I feel like big brother… really isn’t quite right.” To soothe Liam’s hurt feelings. My second sister patted his back and placed an exquisite gift box in his arms. “Sweet Liam, I know you have a kind heart, but some people are just born to play the victim and aren’t worth pity.” Mom ruffled Liam’s hair: “The more attention you give him, the worse he’ll get next time. Playing dead today, he’ll try to hang himself tomorrow. He just wants to use these methods to force us to apologize.” My third sister scoffed in agreement: “This afternoon, he was kicking up a fuss about going to the hospital, and now he’s just lying here like a corpse. Besides causing trouble for the family and ruining the atmosphere, what else is he good for?” Perhaps wanting to end this charade quickly. Mom squatted down, pinching my philtrum hard. Until my lips turned white, I remained motionless. She completely lost patience. Raising her hand, she slapped me across the face. 3 “If I had known you were so stubborn and vicious, I wouldn’t have been soft-hearted enough to bring you back!” Just then, Liam’s clear voice drifted from upstairs: “Mom, look, do my new clothes Big Sister bought me look good?” The voice was like magic. Mom’s anger instantly melted like snow. “Sweetheart, Mom’s coming right now.” After a few steps, she suddenly turned back and dragged me up from the floor. “Ethan, listen to me clearly! In this family, Liam came first, then you. Blood ties mean nothing! Don’t think that just because you’re my biological son, you can do whatever you want.” My head lolled back powerlessly, eyes half-open, pupils unfocused and lifeless, staring directly at the ceiling. She stared into my vacant pupils, as if trying to discern submission and fear. But I was dead; I couldn’t offer any reaction. This seemed to enrage Mom. She grabbed my collar, warning me fiercely: “Know your place! If you dare to harbor any crooked thoughts and compete with Liam again… then get back to the countryside where you belong!” She let go. My head, losing its support, hit the ground with a dull thud. She didn’t look back, her high heels clacking as she ascended the stairs. My second sister kicked me: “It’s New Year’s, who are you putting on this dead act for? That’s enough.” My third sister smiled, pulled out her phone, and pressed the shutter button. “A souvenir. Next time you pretend, I’ll let everyone see what kind of character the real young master of the Park family is in private.” Finally, it was my eldest sister. She stood there, watching me for a long time, so long that I thought she would discover something. Ultimately, she sighed. She reluctantly dragged me back to my room and threw me onto the bed. As she left, she stood at the doorway and spoke, as if bestowing a favor: “Ethan, if your finger truly hurts too much to bear, come find me, but don’t alarm Liam. I can take you to the hospital without going through the spinning wheel. However, the medical expenses will be deducted from your living allowance next month. You caused the trouble, so you bear the consequences. Understand?” I answered again and again: “Big sister, thank you, but I’m already dead, I don’t need to go to the hospital…” But she would never hear me. The door closed. Outside, fireworks burst, firecrackers cracked, full of festive cheer. Next door, a family celebrated joyfully, laughing heartily, full of life. Only I, floating alone in the air, was dead and nobody knew. I’m sorry. I whispered in my heart to the thirteen-year-old me who, three years ago, first walked into this house, looked up at the crystal chandelier, and thought he had finally found a home. See? Liam is the best, most obedient son. And I, even though I’m biological. In their hearts, I’m nothing more than a stranger with the title of “real young master.” 4 The next morning, Dad walked through the door, travel-worn. He spent years abroad expanding overseas business, only returning for holidays. In his hands, he carried two gift boxes, one large and one small. “Daddy!” Liam pounced into his arms like a joyful butterfly. “What good things did you bring me this time?” Dad chuckled, ruffling his hair, his gaze sweeping the living room. “Where’s Ethan? Why didn’t he come out to get my slippers this time?” Mom, brewing tea, paused her movements. “He just had to argue with Liam on New Year’s, and after I scolded him a bit yesterday, he’s probably sulking in his room now.” Dad frowned, but didn’t ask further. He pointed to the two gift boxes. “Brought the kids New Year’s gifts. The big one is Lego’s new limited-edition sports car set; it took a lot of connections to get. The small one… is just a souvenir keychain I picked up at the airport.” A Lego sports car worth thousands, and a keychain worth maybe five dollars. The disparity was comically vast. “Daddy! This one’s for me, right?” Liam pounced on the ornate large gift box. Dad gently admonished, “Liam, don’t be naughty. You know, our family has always valued fairness.” Immediately, he solemnly took out the spinning wheel and placed it on the coffee table. “Same old rules. Spin red, take the big one. Spin black, take the small one.” Mom raised her voice, yelling towards my room, “Doesn’t someone always whine about us being unfair? If you don’t come spin the wheel, then I’ll let your brother spin it, and don’t you dare come crying later, saying the whole family ganged up on you!” “I’ll spin! I’ll spin! The result is always the same anyway.” Liam gleefully ran over. He flicked his finger, and the pointer began to spin. Dad watched with a smile, Mom with doting eyes, and my sisters with an air of “of course.” Only I, floating in the air, was so anxious that big tears streamed down my face—I was indeed just as Mom said, both naughty and stubborn, even in death, still fantasizing about landing on red just once. I lay on the edge of the spinning wheel, unwilling, trying to flick it with my hand, blowing on it with all my might. Perhaps heaven took pity on me, for the pointer slowed down, trembling as it approached black… Then, it stopped. The living room was silent for a moment. I froze, then erupted in wild joy, jumping up and down excitedly—Oh my god! This time, red was finally mine! But I was already dead, and it would be a shame for such an expensive sports car toy to be buried with me. It should still go to Liam. I thought to myself. It seems I really was just unlucky; had I misunderstood them? Perhaps they had never been biased after all. Mom suddenly picked up Liam’s wrist to examine it, then gasped in surprise: “No wonder! Sweet Liam, where’s the magnet on your bracelet? It’s gone!” I felt as if struck by a bolt of lightning. A magnet? So, Liam’s bracelet… had a magnet hidden inside? Three whole years, over a thousand times landing on black. I had knelt countless times, praying, secretly practicing in the dead of night, believing I was destined for a wretched life, that the gods disdained me, that I was unworthy of even a shred of favoritism… “…I don’t know.” Liam pouted, looking aggrieved. “Dad, big brother isn’t here anyway, so… can we just not count this one?” Dad’s expression turned somewhat troubled. Just then, my sisters exchanged glances. My eldest sister immediately understood, walked over, and with a gentle flick, the pointer landed steadily in the red zone. “See? It’s clearly red.” My eldest sister’s tone was flat. “Oh yeah!” Liam cheered, “Thanks, Dad! Thanks, Big Sister!” Dad smiled and nodded: “It seems the gods still favor our Liam.” Mom also smiled: “Yes, Liam has always been lucky.” The family was harmonious and joyful, as if that small “accident” had never happened. A tremendous sense of desolation and absurdity swallowed me whole. So, in this family. Not only were the rules flexible, but even luck could be manual. After dinner, my third sister lost a game, and her punishment was to take food to my room. She stood up, her face filled with disgust, “I’m not going! It’s bad luck.” Liam pouted and whined, “A bet’s a bet, big sister.” My second sister immediately frowned, “Go quickly and come back. Would you really spoil Liam’s fun for that annoying ghost?” My third sister irritably got up, “Tsk… So damn annoying.” Two minutes later, she dumped a bowl of leftovers by my bedside. “Hey, stop faking it! That’s enough.” I lay motionless on the bed. She kicked the bed frame. “Ethan, I’m talking to you, are you deaf?” “Fine, you’ve got guts. Don’t eat, then. Starve to death.” She angrily dumped the food into the trash can. “Sister! I’m not pretending! I’m really dead! Look at my face, look at my hand!” I floated in front of my third sister, waving my hands frantically, trying to get her attention. My third sister seemed to sense something, pausing her steps. Her gaze fell on my pale face and purplish-blue lips. In that instant, my heart leaped into my throat. Was she about to find out? Was she finally… going to see me?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410892”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years after Mom and Dad died, my sister sent me to a reform school. She threw my luggage at me and screamed, “Daisy, if you like fighting so much, stay here. I’ll pick you up when you’ve learned your lesson.” Later, I was abducted and brutally beaten by my sister’s rival. My sister, on the phone, broke down. “Fight back! Why aren’t you fighting back?” My eyes vacant, I replied, “Because my sister said fighting makes a child naughty.” 1 My sister sat in the driver’s seat, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Daisy, after a year, you’ve become much quieter. It seems this reform school has worked wonders on you.” I sat perfectly straight in the back seat, my calm demeanor masking an underlying awkwardness and anxiety. “Sister, I won’t fight anymore.” My sister’s expression shifted, and she sneered. “You’d better keep your word, or I can always send you back to that school.” Hearing my sister threaten to send me back, I instinctively shuddered, trembling uncontrollably. That wasn’t a reform school; it was my hell, a paradise for devils. I silently nodded, indicating I would be obedient. This was the first time I hadn’t retorted to my sister’s words. She was pleased with my reaction, further convinced that sending me to the reform school had been the right decision. As soon as we walked into the house, my sister reached for my backpack. The moment her hand touched my shoulder, I instinctively stepped back, evading her touch. My face turned ashen. Meeting my sister’s surprised gaze, I quickly explained, “I’m sorry, Sister, I can manage it myself.” My sister lowered her hand, rolled her eyes at me, and muttered, “What’s with the little tantrum?” Seeing my sister turn away without asking further, I quietly breathed a sigh of relief. After unpacking my luggage in the room, the housekeeper, Auntie Chen, called me down for dinner. At the dining table, it was just my sister and me. There were ten dishes, all my favorites, specially prepared by my sister. I carefully picked food into my bowl, chewing slowly and deliberately. It had been a year since I’d eaten a proper meal. At the reform school, there was only steamed bread and pickled vegetables, and meat was a once-a-month rarity. Thinking of those days, tears involuntarily streamed down my face. My sister picked up a tissue, intending to wipe my tears. I instinctively raised my hand to block her, inadvertently exposing the scars on my arm. “Daisy, what are those injuries on your hand?” I quickly hid my hand behind my back, my face betraying an undeniable panic. “It was… it was an accident. I fell.” Under her probing gaze, a flicker of guilt crossed my face. I lowered my head, not daring to meet her eyes. I had indeed lied; the scars were from beatings at the school. But the teachers had warned us that if we dared to tell our families, they had plenty of ways to send us back. When I was first sent to the school, unable to endure the torment, I secretly called my sister, begging her to bring me home. But the next day, my sister didn’t come. Instead, I faced a nightmare I would never forget. That day, I was tied to a rack, repeatedly electrocuted until I lost control of my bladder and bowels. No matter how much I cried or pleaded, they wouldn’t stop, until I passed out. Before losing consciousness, a devilish voice echoed in my ear. “Daisy, do you think your sister will believe you, or the school?” Of course, my sister would only believe the school; after all, I was a naughty child. So I absolutely couldn’t tell my sister the truth. “Daisy, you still haven’t broken this bad habit of lying. I never thought that even after sending you to a reform school, you’d still get into fights.” My sister slammed her chopsticks on the table with a “bang,” looking at me with anger and disappointment. “I thought you had reformed, but you haven’t changed at all. You’re rotten to the core!” The dinner ended badly. 2 Back in my room, I sat on the bed, silently weeping as I looked at the family photo on the cabinet. That was the happiest time of my life. Back then, the four of us were still crammed into our small old house; Mom and Dad hadn’t yet expanded their business. Dad would pick my sister and me up from school every day, secretly buying us starch sausages. Mom always forced us to eat nasty vegetables, saying they were good for our health. Back then, my sister laughed a lot; she was everyone’s ray of sunshine, but after Mom and Dad passed away, I never saw my sister smile again. I don’t know how I fell asleep that night, but when I woke up, my pillow was soaked. The next morning, at exactly five o’clock, I was washed and dressed, appearing at the dining table. These were the school rules, deeply ingrained in my mind. Failure to comply meant a nightmarish torment. Even though I had left the school, I dared not disobey; it was a fear that came from the depths of my soul. Two hours later, my sister came downstairs in her business attire. When she saw me sitting rigidly at the dining table, she frowned. Auntie Chen, the housekeeper, told her I had been sitting there waiting for her since early morning, and she gave a knowing expression. Then she walked to my side, tapping her finger on the table, her voice unhurried. “Daisy, don’t think that playing innocent now will make me forgive you. After breakfast, I’m having the driver take you back to school.” My face instantly turned ashen, my voice trembling. “What… what school?” My sister sneered. “Of course, I’m sending you back to the reform school for correction, because you behaved poorly last night.” Hearing my sister’s words, nightmarish memories flooded my mind, and fear coiled in my heart. I abruptly stood up and screamed at her. “No, I won’t go! Serena, if you send me back, I’ll die!” “I’ll die, I’ll definitely die! Mom and Dad are already dead, are you trying to force me to die? Mom and Dad won’t forgive you!” With a sharp slap, my sister slapped me across the face. The stinging pain on my cheek brought me back to my senses. Realizing what I had said, I immediately knelt, grabbing my sister’s hand and apologizing. “I’m sorry, Sister, I didn’t mean it, I was wrong. Please don’t send me back, okay?” As expected, my sister’s face completely hardened. There wasn’t a trace of affection in her eyes, only profound disgust and indifference. My sister’s angry and disappointed voice rang above my head. “Daisy, you now have two choices: either go back to school and be properly reformed, or get out of this house. From now on, I’ll pretend I don’t have a sister.” I struggled internally for a long time, then finally stood up, giving my sister a deep look. “Sister, I’m leaving. Please take care of yourself.” My sister said nothing, merely showing an expression that said, “I knew it.” I went upstairs to my room to pack my clothes. Opening the closet, I casually pulled out a few seasonal items and stuffed them into my suitcase. Many of the clothes no longer fit; I had lost a lot of weight during my year at school, constantly hungry and cold, enduring both mental and physical torment. As I dragged my suitcase down the stairs, I heard my sister giving instructions to the housekeeper, Auntie Chen. “Auntie Chen, clear out everything in her room. From now on, the Hoopes family has no second daughter.” My foot, just stepping off the last stair, faltered. My heart felt as if it were being pricked by countless needles, a dense, throbbing pain. I walked to my sister’s side, my voice uncontrollably choked with sobs. “Sister, I’m really leaving.” My sister ignored me completely, eating her breakfast as if I were thin air. But just as I was about to walk out the door, my sister called out to me from behind. When I turned to look at her, full of expectation, her expression was cold. “Daisy, I’ve put some money in your bank account. Don’t ever appear in front of me again.” My sister was trying to draw a clear line between us. I held back the tears that threatened to fall, dragging my suitcase out the front door. This time, I walked very slowly, slow enough that if my sister called my name, I could immediately turn back home. Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind me. I instantly turned around. “Sister.” 3 It wasn’t my sister. Auntie Chen walked towards me, carrying a paper bag. “Daisy, Ms. Hoopes said you left these things behind.” Her eyes, as she looked at me, were full of pity. “It hasn’t been easy for Ms. Hoopes to shoulder the family business alone all these years. Don’t hate her. When she comes to her senses, she’ll bring you back.” I nodded silently. I had deliberately left those things behind, thinking I could use them as an excuse to come home and see my sister later. As sisters for nineteen years, we understood each other so well. She saw right through my little tricks. But she no longer wanted to play along. Once, when I was coming home from school, I got lost chasing a puppy into a complex, abandoned building. I sat on the ground, wailing. Mom and Dad were abroad on a business trip at the time and couldn’t reach my call. It was my sister who walked for several hours with a flashlight, alone, until she found me. She held me tightly then, comforting me. “Don’t be scared, little sister. Big sister will always be with you.” After that, whenever I called out for my sister, she would immediately appear before me. But now, she truly didn’t want me anymore. One hand held the bag, the other pulled my suitcase. Suddenly, the sky darkened, lightning flashed wildly, and a clap of thunder exploded in the sky. Then, dense raindrops began to fall. I stood in the rain, instantly soaked to the bone. The paper bag, under the assault of the rain, became fragile, and its contents tumbled to the ground, stained with mud. I knelt, no longer able to distinguish between tears and raindrops on my face. Picking up the items from the ground, I tossed them into a nearby trash can. Dirty things should be thrown away. Like me, discarded by my sister. Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I hailed a taxi and left. I went back to our old house. It held happy memories of our family of four, so even after we earned money and moved into a villa, Mom and Dad hadn’t sold the old house; instead, they had someone maintain it regularly. I entered the password and pushed the door open. The password was my birthday. Inside, it was clean and tidy. I took a hot shower and immediately burrowed into the bed. The bedsheets seemed to still carry Mom’s scent, making me sleep soundly. My dreams were no longer filled with fear, no terrifying teacher’s face, no biting rats in the isolation room, no pain of sticks hitting my body. That afternoon, I was startled awake by the loud bang of a door closing. “Daisy, who told you to come back to the old house? This is my home; get out immediately!” My sister stood by my bed, her voice cold. Startled awake, my mind was still hazy. I touched my hot face; I was sick. I opened my mouth and found my throat hoarse; I couldn’t speak. Seeing me make no move, she became impatient, urging me. “Hurry up and pack your things and get out, don’t force me to throw you out.” I endured my physical discomfort, got up, changed clothes, and, carrying my unopened suitcase, walked to the door. Finally, I stopped, enduring the pain in my throat, and looked at my sister pleadingly. “Sister, I’m sick. Can I just stay here for one night? I’ll leave tomorrow.” My sister refused without a second thought. “No. Stop pretending. I won’t believe a word you say.” I dragged my suitcase and found a random motel, then took an over-the-counter fever reducer I bought downstairs. I drifted off into a hazy sleep. I lay in bed, sleeping for an entire day, my dreams filled with scenes of beatings. When I opened my eyes again, the evening sun was already setting. These past few days, I had holed up in the motel, ordering takeout when hungry, sleeping when tired. It took a whole week for me to gradually break free from the school’s brutal regimen. Every day, I constantly told myself that no one would ever beat or scold me without reason again; I was safe now. Just as I lay in bed zoning out, my phone chimed with a text message notification. “Daisy, I heard you’re back. Uncle’s birthday dinner tonight, are you free to come?” The sender was my paternal uncle from my hometown, the same man who had once threatened to ruin my sister’s reputation and seize our family’s assets, and whom I had beaten so badly he ended up in the hospital. I was about to ignore it. He immediately sent another text message, attaching an address. “Your sister will be there too.” He was threatening me. 4 That evening, I arrived on time for the dinner. Besides my uncle’s family and my sister, there were also some unfamiliar faces in the private room, likely my uncle’s questionable friends. My sister gave me a cold glance before turning to talk to my cousin, as if she didn’t know me. I quietly sat in a corner, head bowed, saying nothing. As dishes were successively served, my uncle spoke first. “Today is my birthday, so I tried to invite as many relatives as possible, especially Daisy. After a year, you’ve changed quite a lot, lost a good bit of weight.” With that, he burst into laughter, pointing to his son and teasing. “If I had known that reform school also had weight loss benefits, I would have sent your cousin there too.” My cousin immediately protested loudly. “I’m not going! That garbage school has already been exposed. The teachers there have all sorts of ways to make life hell. Only people like you would believe it. I’d rather die than go there!” My aunt quickly clapped her hand over my cousin’s mouth, her face apologetic. “I’m sorry, the child is ignorant and speaks nonsense.” My cousin pushed away my aunt’s hand, looking defiant. “What do you mean I’m speaking nonsense? Just look it up online on your phone, and you’ll know! Besides, hasn’t Daisy been there for a year? Wouldn’t asking her be clearer?” With that, he glanced at me again. “Look at her, it’s summer, and we’re all in shorts and T-shirts, but Daisy is wearing long sleeves and pants. She must be covered in scars from being beaten!” As soon as my cousin’s words fell, everyone’s gaze turned to me, some curious, some sympathetic, some disdainful. I kept my head down, biting my lower lip hard, not daring to speak. “Daisy, is what your cousin said true?” My sister suddenly spoke, her eyes fixed on my tightly clutched sleeve cuff. In my mind, that day’s scene suddenly replayed: I was dragged from my bed to the “treatment room” by a teacher; my legs were scratched and bleeding by the stones on the ground; my scalp was painfully pulled. Yet, these were just the beginning of the nightmare. I was bound by ropes to a torture device, the teacher tore off my clothes, and then came repeated electric shocks. Every time I fainted, I would be splashed awake with cold water, over and over again. “No, the teacher didn’t hit me, didn’t hit me.” I shook my head frantically, immediately denying it. Those memories terrified me, making me tremble uncontrollably. My appearance scared everyone in the private room. My sister quickly walked towards me, forcefully pulled open my sleeve, revealing scars large and small, crawling all over my arms like centipedes, some of which had only recently scabbed over. “What is this?” My sister’s eyes instantly welled with tears, her hands trembling as she tried to touch my scars, afraid of hurting me. “Daisy, why is this happening?” Actually, I also wanted to know why it had come to this. My sister used to love me. When Mom and Dad were still alive, my sister was very kind to me; back then, she was the best sister in the world to me. After the family business grew, Mom and Dad became increasingly busy, spending less and less time at home. My sister began to take on the responsibility of looking after me. I also became more and more dependent on my sister. Later, my sister went away to college, and the distance between us changed from zero to fifteen hundred kilometers. On my birthday, I sat in front of the cake, crying inconsolably; the housekeeper couldn’t comfort me. My sister suddenly appeared before me, carrying a giant teddy bear, and smiled as she playfully flicked my nose. “My little crybaby, I heard your crying before I even stepped through the door. Big sister promised to celebrate every birthday with you, so I certainly wouldn’t break my word.” She placed the doll on the chair beside me, then opened her suitcase filled with gifts, taking them out one by one and arranging them before me. “This is our little princess’s favorite pink hair clip, this is the new game console, this is a matching outfit just like big sister’s, this is…” In my eyes, my sister was like a magical fairy, always able to conjure up many treasures I loved. She wiped away my tears, relit the candles, and told me to make a wish. I closed my eyes, greedily making many wishes. “To be happy and together with my sister forever, never to be separated for a lifetime.” “I hope my sister will always love only me, and not like anyone else.” “I want to be my sister’s sister in my next life, and the life after that.” …I only opened my eyes and blew them out when the candles were almost completely melted.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410891”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was a classic girl with a killer figure. When I was down with a fever, my boyfriend, Liam, who was supposed to be looking after me, suggested getting intimate. I turned him down, and he moped for three whole days. My best friend, Charlotte, told me that grown-up desires were normal, and I was just being old-fashioned. So, one evening, after I saw him pull into the driveway from my window, I took a deep breath, gathered all my courage, and slipped into some lacy lingerie. The moment the door swung open, I closed my eyes and practically launched myself at him. “Honey, you’re home!” His reaction was immediate, a palpable heat pressing against me. Just as I was about to arch my back and lean into him, a deep, raspy voice rumbled from above me. It belonged to Liam’s best friend, and Charlotte’s fiancé, Sebastian. “It’s me. You’ve got the wrong guy.” 1 Hearing his voice, I froze, utterly bewildered. I scrambled out of his arms, my cheeks burning, not knowing where to put my hands. The sudden exposure of my skin felt scorching hot with embarrassment. I quickly grabbed my jacket from the nearby chair and threw it on. “Mr. Hayes? What are you doing here?” Sebastian Hayes averted his gaze, his profile sharp and elegant, an air of cool sophistication about him. In the dim candlelight, I swore his ears were flushed crimson. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I came to drop something off for Charlotte.” Sure enough, in his hand was an exquisitely wrapped box. A Cartier watch. My mind whispered, That’s expensive! But I knew Charlotte never wore watches. Charlotte and I had been friends since college. She was the campus queen, and my closest confidante. Even after graduation, we ended up in apartments right across the hall from each other. Sebastian, she talked about him daily—her fiancé. He was also the stoic CEO of the company where I worked. The realization sent another wave of panic and embarrassment through me. But then I glanced down, and my eyes snagged on the undeniable bulge beneath his tailored trousers. The memory of that forceful pressure against my stomach just moments ago came flooding back, making my face flush even hotter. Sebastian noticed my gaze. He stiffened, then turned his back to me. “Just thought I’d let you know, I passed your desk on my way out earlier. Your computer’s power cable looked like it was unplugged.” He cleared his throat. “…Nothing else. I’ll be going now.” The door clicked shut, and I exhaled in a rush of relief. Then his words belatedly registered. My computer! If the power was out, what about my rendering? I quickly pulled out my phone to check the remote access. To my surprise, the rendering was still running. Had Sebastian been mistaken? Well, that was a relief, a false alarm. I pressed my shirt against my burning cheeks, wishing I could slap myself. How was I ever going to face him and Charlotte again? 2 Just as I started to relax, I realized the door hadn’t been fully closed. Through the crack, I saw Charlotte open her door for Sebastian. Her face lit up with surprise as she linked her arm through his, playfully chiding him. “You came? I thought you said you were too busy with work! You were just planning a surprise for me, weren’t you?” She gestured to the gift. “Is this for me? Thank you!” Sebastian let her hold his arm, then lifted the box slightly. “It was a sponsor gift from a client. Just thought I’d pass it along.” He was always like that, a total workaholic and, as Charlotte often said, completely clueless about romance. She’d told me they’d known each other since childhood, a classic childhood sweetheart story from two families of similar social standing. Charlotte had pursued him for years, but they’d only gotten engaged three months ago. Their parents had even met and dined together. Though Sebastian’s assistant usually sent gifts and flowers for holidays, he was never one for grand gestures. He always claimed to be too busy for dates, Valentine’s Day included. The fact that he’d actually shown up in person to deliver a gift felt like a small victory for Charlotte. As she’d always put it, even the coldest ice would eventually melt. So, despite Sebastian’s stiff delivery and the fact that it was something she didn’t even like, Charlotte was thrilled. She batted her bright eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she invited him inside. But Sebastian merely waited until she’d taken the box, then gently disengaged his hand. “No, I can’t. I have business to discuss tonight.” Charlotte deflated, biting her lip as she leaned closer. “We’re engaged, Sebastian. On Valentine’s night, all you want to do is work?” Her voice dropped, soft and thin, her eyes glistening. “You weren’t like this before. In college, you even wanted to skip studying abroad for me, and you made me a declaration of love using code. But ever since you came back from England, you’ve been so distant.” She looked up at him, a tremor in her voice. “Now you won’t even kiss me.” Their voices, though muffled, were perfectly clear through the crack in the door. I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of indignation on Charlotte’s behalf. What kind of boyfriend was that? Sebastian remained silent, his expression unreadable. He simply said, “It’s getting late. I should go.” As he stepped into the elevator, he glanced towards my door, startling me into quickly shutting it tight. 3 Back inside, I curled up on the sofa, waiting for Liam to come home. But it was Charlotte who arrived first. Seeing her, a fresh wave of guilt and unease washed over me. My parents had divorced early, and I’d been raised by my aunt and uncle. They were good to me, but the feeling of being an outsider and the emotional void never quite left. In my freshman year of college, my aunt sent me some homemade sausages. My roommates wrinkled their noses, calling them ugly and making fun of me for being a country bumpkin. It was Charlotte who stood up for me. “What, you think the food you eat isn’t grown by farmers? Don’t be so pretentious.” She sniffed the sausages, smiling warmly at me. “They smell amazing! If they don’t want them, give them all to me. I want to take them home this weekend!” Charlotte always defended me, opening her heart to me. Even though I dressed plainly, I somehow always had guys pursuing me. She was always on guard, making sure I didn’t get hurt by players, jerks, or shady characters. Thanks to her, I avoided a lot of bad news. If a girl suddenly acted friendly, she’d warn me, saying she’d heard them badmouthing me. For all four years of college, we were inseparable. A true friendship, I thought, was worth more than countless fake ones, and I never felt alone. The more I thought about it, the deeper my guilt became. I felt terrible, I’d betrayed her. I swore I’d take what happened tonight to my grave and forget it completely. Charlotte bounced in, grinning as she flaunted the watch on her wrist. “Sebastian gave it to me himself. It’s a designer watch, over ten thousand dollars! Isn’t it pretty?” I nodded vigorously. “It’s beautiful.” She smirked. “Sebastian and I are childhood sweethearts. No one knows him better than I do. He adores me. He might seem distant on the surface, but he’s incredibly passionate in private.” “The only reason he doesn’t want to live together is because he respects me.” That was Charlotte’s usual line. She always told me how good Sebastian was to her, how much he loved her. I’d always believed her. Maybe Sebastian just wasn’t good at showing affection. I hugged her arm, playfully whining, “Yes, yes, you two are perfect for each other. When you get married, you’ll be Mrs. CEO. You’ll give me a promotion then, right?” Charlotte tapped my forehead. “Don’t worry, you’re my ride-or-die. I’ll take care of you.” As she spoke, her sharp eyes caught a glimpse of my lingerie beneath my coat, and then the elaborate dinner spread on the living room table. She gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh my goodness, I just casually suggested it! You’re really going all out to win Liam back, aren’t you?” My face flushed crimson, and I wrung my hands awkwardly. 4 Liam was someone Charlotte had introduced me to. She’d assured me he was different from the others, a truly wonderful guy. He pursued me passionately, and eventually, I relented. Three months ago, we started dating. He was a gentleman, attentive—the epitome of a perfect boyfriend. Normally, adult intimacy was perfectly normal. But on our first night, I was burning up with a fever after working late. I asked him to get me some medicine and a thermometer. Instead, he came back with a box of condoms, leaning close to my ear, his voice dripping with suggestive laughter. “They say a high temperature adds a certain spice to things. Shall we try it?” I pushed him away, gagging, and ever since, I’d been uncomfortable with his touch. Liam apologized profusely the next day, full of remorse. I accepted his apology. But lately, he’d been saying that accommodating my feelings was exhausting, and he wanted to break up. I was terrified. Besides work, my life revolved around him and Charlotte. I couldn’t bear to lose either of them. So, when Charlotte casually suggested using a honey trap, I actually took her seriously. “You look stunning. Liam’s a lucky guy, having a girlfriend who can cook so well and still be so adventurous.” Charlotte’s words pulled me from my thoughts. “If you’d done this sooner, he’d be wrapped around your finger, never dream of neglecting you.” I shyly pressed my lips together. “But my figure isn’t that great. I’m a bit… curvy.” A knowing glint flickered in Charlotte’s eyes. She led me to the mirror. It reflected both me and her, petite and exquisite. “So what? Even if your figure is average, and your looks are ordinary, in the eyes of someone who loves you, you’re the best.” Charlotte always offered such understanding comfort. “Alright, I won’t interrupt your sweet reunion.” “Liam’s a top-notch boyfriend. I’ve known him for years, inside and out. Don’t worry, he’s crazy about you.” I mumbled an embarrassed “Mm-hmm.” 5 The house fell silent, and then something clicked. Liam’s car had been in the parking lot for ages. Why wasn’t he up here yet? I called him. His voice on the other end sounded slightly annoyed. “The car’s AC filter is clogged. I’m just changing it. Sorry for the wait, you go ahead and eat.” “It’s fine, I’ll wait for you.” I hung up and double-checked the dining table for anything I might have missed. It looked like I’d forgotten contraception. I quickly dressed and headed to the convenience store. On my way back, to save time, I braved the dark parking lot shortcut. Passing a charging station, two figures locked in an embrace snagged my attention. Just as I was steeling myself to walk past, the driver’s side door of a car swung open. Someone grabbed my wrist, pulling me inside. My startled cry was stifled, caught in my throat by a hand. It was Sebastian Hayes! He hadn’t left yet! His pull was so sudden that I tumbled sideways, landing squarely in his lap. In the dim light, his features seemed even more intense. My heart hammered. I was about to struggle when his right hand suddenly gripped the back of my neck, pulling me closer. Caught off guard, I instinctively braced my hands against his chest, looking up in confusion. He gently lowered his head, resting his chin on my left shoulder, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Don’t move. Look over there.” 6 The couple outside was leaning right against this car door. The woman’s gasps of pleasure punctuated the air. “…Mr. Davies, aren’t you going up yet? Your girlfriend made a whole dinner and is waiting for you to shower her with affection in her… flimsy lingerie.” Charlotte’s voice, laced with malice, exploded in my mind like a thunderclap. Liam scoffed. “Her? She’s so plain and rustic. She couldn’t hold a candle to even a single strand of your hair, no matter what she wears.” “You know I only have eyes for you.” “If you hadn’t wanted to spice things up with a little illicit thrill, why would I ever have bothered with her?” Charlotte drew circles on his chest. “Really? But I thought her skin was quite fair, and her figure rather plump. She looked quite tempting in that outfit, didn’t she?” Liam’s hand roamed, his voice teasing. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one who gets me going.” They kissed for a while longer, then straightened their clothes. “I’ll go up now, I promise I won’t touch her. Once she’s asleep, I’ll come find you.” “Tsk, as if I care.” “What if she finds out?” “A poor little orphan nobody, just throw her a bone and she’ll be begging for more. Who cares if she finds out? She’ll cry for a few days and then come crawling back, begging to make up, haha.” 7 The footsteps faded. My blood felt like ice, my breath caught in my throat, each gasp tearing at my lungs. Fury and sorrow crashed over me. Why? Why would they do this to me? Was I just a plaything for their twisted games, all for a cheap thrill? And those vile words… they came from them. The people who were supposed to be the most important in my life! Sebastian had lifted his head at some point. His fingers brushed my lips, his eyes, gleaming faintly, fixed on me. His tone held a hint of almost imperceptible pity. “Poor thing. Don’t bite your lip so hard, you’ll break the skin.” “I understand that feeling. Back then, I was with her for only a few days when I caught her being intimate with a junior student.” “That’s why I chose to break up and study abroad.” I was trembling, tears streaming down my face. “…Mr. Hayes, do you hate her?” He was silent for a moment, then gently squeezed the back of my neck, his gaze flickering. “Will you be with me? Even if it’s just for revenge, for now.” My hand, shaking slightly, retrieved the small packet from my coat pocket. I fought back the tears welling in my eyes. “Is an illicit affair really that exciting? I want to try it too.” His face darkened. I felt it again—the unmistakable pressure below me. This time, I didn’t flinch. Instead, I forced a smile. “Looks like I’m quite appealing to Charlotte’s fiancé too.” 8 Sebastian took me back to his place. It was the upscale villa Charlotte had always dreamed of living in. Even with all her pretense, I could tell she’d only been allowed here once. A storm of grief and the intoxicating rush of revenge surged through me. I worked tirelessly to ignite a fire in Sebastian, saying things I would never normally utter. “Mr. Hayes, don’t you want it? Why are you holding back?” “You had a reaction the first moment you saw me tonight, didn’t you?” Sebastian, clearly struggling, only kissed me again and again. He grasped my waist, pulling me off him. His eyes were flushed at the corners, but he buttoned his shirt with controlled restraint, still appearing the unapproachable, stoic CEO. “I’m going to shower. The first door on the left on the second floor is where you’ll be staying tonight.” Oh, Charlotte had mentioned it. Mr. Hayes was a clean freak. He must have been in agony being close to me just now. We were both working so hard for revenge against Charlotte. I self-mockingly wiped a damp hand across my face and walked over to the wall of expensive wines. Charlotte had once fantasized that when she married Sebastian and moved in, she’d drink the finest Lafite out of crystal glasses on the terrace, overlooking the breathtaking views of the city. “As for you,” she’d added, “you’ll be my maid, of course. You just look so suited for it, haha.” At the time, I thought she was joking. It turned out the truth was always hidden in her casual remarks. I opened the wine cabinet, not daring to touch the unaffordable bottles, and picked out the brandy from the furthest corner. She was so obsessed with this lifestyle, I simply had to try it for her. 9 By the time Sebastian emerged from the bathroom, I was utterly plastered. His dark eyelashes were still damp, even his pupils seemed misted over. “You’ve had too much to drink.” He pushed aside my hand as I tried to pour more, then inverted the glass. He frowned, assessing. “Even if you’re composed and sharp at work, you lose all reason when you’re drunk.” I propped my chin on my hand, completely unfazed, and hooked my arms around his neck. “Can we go to bed now?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re drunk.” I wasn’t listening. My left hand worked at his clothes, my right at mine. He truly couldn’t resist. He took a pair of silver handcuffs from a drawer and clasped them around my wrists. I mumbled, “An illicit affair and a little bondage play? Interesting.” But Sebastian, poker-faced, led me straight into the bathroom, giving me a bath without a single sidelong glance. Then, his face flushed, he carried me to bed. No matter how much I tried to tempt him, he remained as hard as rock, but unmoving. As he turned off the light and closed the door, he left me with a final instruction: “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up in the morning.” “…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410890”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After I went broke, a possessive, dark-haired guy started harassing me. “Sweetheart, I found the boba tea you threw away. There’s still lipstick on the straw. I really want to kiss it…” Me: “Spot me for the tea, it was $12.” “Sweetheart, I stole your jacket. It smells like you. I love it so much…” Me: “That one was $300. I can sell you my perfume secondhand.” The dark-haired guy was bewildered: “Sweetheart, aren’t you scared of me? Does it mean anyone with money can pursue you?” I received a transfer of $52,000 from him. I replied without hesitation: “Husband.” Dark-haired guy: “?” 1 Messages from the dark-haired guy kept popping up. “Sweetheart, wrong person? “Are you dating? Was it that guy who chatted you up at the convenience store yesterday? “Why does he get to be your husband^^, I’m going to beat him black and blue…” I typed a confused question mark. And replied, all business: “Spend enough and you get a bonus. That ‘husband’ is on the house. “You transferred me so much money, you earned it.” My family went bankrupt. I’d gone from a “rich socialite” to a “broke socialite.” Old business rivals were targeting me, and I couldn’t find any decent jobs. To pay off debts, I was working three shady jobs a day. Sure, this guy’s messages were a little… clingy. And a tiny bit creepy. But for money, what was a little dignity? The dark-haired guy didn’t seem pleased: “If I find out you call anyone else ‘husband’ for money, I’ll kiss you till your lips are numb.” I thought for a moment, then replied: “Kissing comes with a separate price.” He sent a string of ellipses. “You’d be scared if you saw me. I’m ugly, not good enough for you. So, don’t say things like that to tempt me, sweetheart.” Just then, the door opened. A man in a perfectly tailored bespoke suit walked in. His sophisticated aura felt completely out of place in the dingy convenience store. He asked for a pack of cigarettes. I scanned the barcode, my voice flat. “That’ll be a hundred bucks.” He pulled a bill from his wallet. As I reached for it, he caught my hand in mid-air. Liam traced the palm of my hand with an almost desperate tenderness. He chuckled softly, his voice thick with a possessive obsession. “Finally, I have you.” 2 A wave of disgust washed over me. I yanked my hand back. Liam didn’t seem bothered. He glanced around the messy store, as if amused. “Halley, you’ve been avoiding me, and this is where you end up working?” He then added with a decisive tone. “Come back with me. You can still have your old life. I’ll give you money, I’ll give you love. Isn’t that better?” I felt sick to my stomach. It reminded me of that saying in our circles: you don’t call them girlfriends, you “keep” them. What was this? Become my ex-fiancé’s trophy? I spoke coldly. “My family may be broke, but I haven’t fallen so far that you can just insult me. The item’s purchased, can you leave now?” Liam opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say more. But someone tapped his shoulder from behind. A guy wearing a mask, his bangs falling over his forehead, couldn’t quite hide his beautiful brown eyes. Despite his clean, crisp white shirt, there was an indescribable gloom about him. He spoke softly. “Excuse me, I need to check out.” I’d been working at the convenience store for half a month and had seen him many times. He always bought the same thing: a bag of lemon-flavored gummy bears. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful for his intervention, and gave him a smile. “All set. See you next time.” When I turned back, Liam was gone. He’d left a note under a condom. “Think it over, then come find me.” 3 After work, I couldn’t hold back my anger. I angrily kicked a soda can down the street. Was Liam crazy? Think it over my ass! It truly felt like a tiger fallen to the plains, bullied by dogs. Not only did I have to endure the mockery of my old rivals, but now this humiliation from my ex-fiancé. I would rather die broke than be his trophy! My phone screen flashed. The dark-haired guy had sent me another message. It was a candid photo, taken from a hidden angle, of Liam buying cigarettes at the convenience store. “Sweetheart, who is he? He dared to touch you, should I break his hand? “I’ll make all the bad men around you disappear. You belong only to me.” Oh, so he wasn’t just sending me creepy messages. He was also stalking me in real life. Well, that was… Fantastic! I promptly sent him all of Liam’s social media accounts, personal information, and phone numbers. I even added, thoughtfully: “Honey, if you want more info on him, you can dig up his whole file. Oh, and one broken hand isn’t enough, you absolutely have to break both!” The dark-haired guy was silent for a moment. Then he replied: “…Okay, I understand. “Why didn’t you listen to me and called me ‘husband’ again?” I replied with starry eyes: “Because you protect me. It feels so safe.” He sent a helpless emoji. “I told you, you’d be scared if you met me in person.” I blinked, casually saying: “Then let’s meet.” A few minutes later, the doorbell rang sharply. My heart leaped. The dark-haired guy sent two short words: “Open up.” 4 I wrestled with myself internally. Of course, I was scared. But curiosity won out over fear. I had to see who this dark-haired guy really was. The moment I cracked the door open, a hand with distinct knuckles pressed against the frame. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me forcefully into his embrace. My rundown apartment. The hallway lights were out. And being trapped in his arms plunged my vision into complete darkness. Even with a voice changer, his tone was chilling and somber. “Sweetheart… Even after I do this to you, do you still feel safe? Why don’t you ever listen to me, why are you always so careless?” My mind was blank. My face was buried in the space between his pectoral muscles. The fresh scent of lemon fabric softener clung to him, and it felt strangely familiar. I instinctively blurted out. “I actually feel pretty safe. You’ve got big pecs.” Dark-haired guy: “?” He whispered in my ear, a hint of gritted teeth in his voice. “Sweetheart, do you even realize how much I want to kiss your lips swollen right now?” 5 The dark-haired guy chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. His voice then took on a profound sadness, laced with self-consciousness. “Why are you so unguarded? Why do you keep making me fall for you again and again? I knew we weren’t a good match, but I still gravitated towards you like a moth to a flame. Don’t you… aren’t you scared of me at all?” But he hadn’t actually done anything to hurt me, had he? Just some verbal harassment. And he constantly “dropped coins.” He even offered to beat up Liam for me. What wasn’t to like? I replied candidly. “Not really scared. I think you’re actually a pretty good person.” He paused. Then he took my hand and guided it to his face. My breath caught—a raised, uneven scar. Even without seeing it, I could tell it was quite disfiguring, marring his otherwise smooth skin. He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse. “…And now?” Before I could answer, he suddenly pushed me away. He thrust several shopping bags into my hands. His voice trembled. “See, I knew this would happen. You can use the things I bought for you. I’m leaving now.” His footsteps were unusually hurried as he left. I stood there for a long time. When I returned to my room and turned on the light, I saw it was a boba tea and a pile of new clothes. Jasmine milk tea, three-quarters sweet, light ice. Just like the one he’d picked up that day. The jacket he’d stolen, he’d bought a new one to replace it. Why hadn’t he let me finish speaking? I flexed my fingers, remembering the touch. What I really wanted to ask was: “It must have hurt a lot when you got that injury, didn’t it?” 6 I changed jobs. I started working at a bar. The environment was a bit noisy, but the pay was excellent. Someone sat down at the bar. I asked professionally. “What can I get for you?” “Whiskey Sour.” Hearing that familiar, cool voice, I instantly looked up. It was the customer who often bought gummy bears at the convenience store. Still dressed the same: long bangs, a mask, a white shirt. But he seemed even more melancholic. I smiled at him. “What a coincidence.” He lowered his gaze, giving a soft “Mmm.” After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke. “Why aren’t you at the convenience store anymore?” I sighed. “Because I didn’t want to be found… so I changed jobs.” His eyelashes fluttered, and a flicker of hurt and disappointment, almost imperceptible, crossed his face. I handed him the Whiskey Sour and a bag of lemon-flavored gummy bears. “The gummies are on me. I saw you always bought them, so I tried them myself and they’re pretty good.” He stared absently at the glass. I was a little curious. “Are you very introverted? You’re at a bar but still wearing a mask, how do you drink like that?” He remained silent for a long time. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, he suddenly looked up at me, his eyes swirling with an indescribable emotion. He spoke softly. “I have a scar on my face. …I’m afraid I’ll scare you if I take it off, sis.” 7 My heart pounded. The dark-haired guy also had a scar on his face. I gazed at him, about to speak, when my phone suddenly buzzed. The dark-haired guy had disappeared for days but had finally sent a message: “Sweetheart, there are so many bad men around you. I want to lock you up at home, so you’ll only have me. Even if we go out, I’ll put a leash on your wrist. To keep you securely by my side, so no other man will ever covet you…” He’d even sent a candid photo of me smiling and handing him the Whiskey Sour. My breath hitched. I instinctively scanned the area, but the crowd was too dense to find him. “I’m sorry, should I not have been so direct? Are you very scared?” His cool voice, tinged with self-mockery, brought me back. The person in front of me seemed very insecure, his head bowed even lower. Ah, he was still worried about his scar scaring me… I put a straw in his Whiskey Sour and smiled at him. “No, not at all. I have a friend who also got hurt on their face. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’re a really good person. Use the straw, you can drink even with your mask on.” He murmured softly. “…A friend?” He paused, then asked. “Can we be friends?” His brown eyes truly were beautiful. Exceptionally clear and bright, reflecting little points of light like stars. “Sure, I’m Halley. Nice to meet you.” He seemed shy, his earlobes turning a little red. “Sawyer.” I had a vague feeling that name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it right away. Sawyer looked up at me, then seemed to drop his gaze in disappointment. My thoughts were interrupted again by another message. “Now he wants to be friends with you, next he’ll want to be your boyfriend, right? Why does he get your tenderness? Hmm… I broke the other guy’s left hand last time, how about this one gets his right hand?” This was endless. After Sawyer left, I finally had a moment to myself. I replied to the dark-haired guy with a blank expression. “Don’t you dare hurt him. Stop hiding, come out. I’m off work, you’re allowed to walk me home.” 8 Stepping out of the bar, I saw a black Kawasaki motorcycle parked outside. The dim streetlamp cast a yellow halo around a man’s tall silhouette. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, great physique. He was wearing a helmet, so I couldn’t see his face. I climbed onto the back seat. The wind howled; neither of us spoke the whole way. I was still angry, so I gripped the dark-haired guy’s waist, provocatively squeezing a few times. His abs were so well-defined, wasn’t it all just to tempt me? Hmph, a bad, muscle-bound man with no self-control! The motorcycle slowly stopped. His voice, distorted by the voice changer, was exceptionally deep. “We’re home. You should go up.” I scoffed coldly. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” He seemed puzzled, tilting his head sluggishly. I angrily got off the bike. Finally, I let out what had been building up inside me for a long time. “Why did you run away that day without letting me finish? Why did you block me without a word? You leave when you want, come back when you want, and now you’re stalking and harassing me again. I really don’t understand you, what do you even want?” The dark-haired guy’s head drooped. His hands tightened on the handlebars. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice dry. “It’s my fault.” He continued slowly. “After that day, you changed jobs. I thought my face scared you. I thought about it for a long time and decided I shouldn’t bother you anymore. I tried to stay away, but I found I couldn’t. The moment I saw another man near you, I couldn’t control my jealousy. So… mmm, I sent you those messages again. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I almost laughed in exasperation. Hey, you talk a big game, but at least be consistent! All this time, the trash I left outside magically disappeared by morning. My accidentally lost work badge was quietly found and put back in my pocket. And several of my dresses hanging on the balcony had gone missing. These were designer clothes I bought before I went broke, and they were expensive! Why didn’t he pay for them (T.T)!! Several times I tried to message the dark-haired guy, only to see a red exclamation mark. I was at my wit’s end. I said honestly. “Why are you overthinking things? I don’t dislike your scar. And I’m not scared.” The dark-haired guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He seemed a little taken aback. I stroked my chin. “But your recent performance hasn’t been great. I really need to punish you.” Hearing the word “punishment,” I felt like he got even more excited… His voice was trembling. “What kind of punishment?” I calculated the money for the dresses he’d stolen. Righteously, I said: “I’ll fine you $52,000, just like last time. Oh, and remember to mark it as a voluntary gift. Also, I’ll punish you by making you bury me.” The dark-haired guy said blankly. “Huh?” I couldn’t be bothered to explain further. I just buried my face in his chest. Ugh, soft and still so big. Even if I suffocated, it would be a blessed death! All the subtle hints of death from a day’s work vanished. Daddy, we love you~ We were so close. The scent of him hadn’t changed, still lemon. He sighed softly, his voice softening. “…Hey, how is this a punishment for me? It’s clearly a reward, isn’t it?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410889”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was a game show, a quiz. The host asked my mom: “What’s one plus one?” My mom didn’t hesitate. “Three.” Everyone froze. To afford my astronomical surgery fees, my family had entered this show. Ten correct answers meant a five-million-dollar prize. After a grueling nine correct answers, the host, out of pity, asked a softball question. This prize money was my lifeline. But my mom, a math Ph.D., deliberately got it wrong. … I shot up from the hospital bed, a sharp pain in my chest. The host quickly recovered, forcing a cheerful smile. “Professor Eleanor Miller is a math Ph.D. Perhaps in an undeveloped field of mathematics, one plus one could equal three.” “However, the question I just asked was very simple. You just need to think like a first-grader!” But my mom blinked, her voice firm. “One plus one, is three.” The host’s face fell. My older brother, Ben, held up two fingers, frantically waving them in front of Mom. “Mom! Just one more correct answer and we’ll get the prize money for Lily’s surgery!” “This is no time for jokes!” My dad, Richard, was also sweating profusely. “Honey, did you mishear the question? Or just accidentally say the wrong answer?” But no matter how much Dad and Ben pleaded, Mom stubbornly insisted: “One plus one equals three.” The audience erupted: “Is this mother crazy?” “It has to be a script! What mother in the world would want her own child to die?” Each question had only ten minutes to answer. As the countdown neared its end, I begged the doctor to help me make a video call to the show. The production team quickly connected. My pale, weak face appeared on the big screen. A collective gasp rose from the audience; the host’s eyes even welled up with sympathy. At sixteen, I had been suddenly diagnosed with a malignant heart tumor, my life in danger every moment. The only hope for my survival was the show’s prize money. The host was on pins and needles. “There are only three minutes left.” “If you answer incorrectly, all your efforts will be for nothing!” To participate in this show, my entire family had crammed for three months, pulling all-nighters through the question bank. After finally answering nine questions correctly, Mom was spouting nonsense on the tenth. I spoke carefully. “Mom, the prize money is five million. My treatment only costs three million.” “I won’t take a single penny of the remaining money!” “And when I recover, I promise to work hard, and all my salary will go to you, to honor you!” A wave of sympathy washed over the audience. My mom’s eyes also welled up. With ten seconds left on the countdown, Mom raised her hand, signaling she wanted to change her answer. I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Mom was just joking around. “My apologies, I misspoke earlier.” “One plus one, should equal…” I held my breath. Mom scanned the entire studio, then suddenly smiled. “One plus one, equals one!” The countdown ended. The five million dollars on the big screen instantly zeroed out! Then Mom leisurely added, “My bad, I was just careless earlier. One plus one, should equal two.” But the countdown had already ended. My surgery fees were gone. A sharp pain shot through my chest, and my vision blurred. Ben roared, out of control. “Mom! What in the world are you doing?!” “Lily is going to die!” Mom simply pointed calmly at the screen. “Look, isn’t Lily in so much pain?” “You knew she was in pain and you still deliberately answered wrong?!” Ben’s eyes were bloodshot. “You clearly knew that a correct answer would save her life!” “It’s all your fault…” Mom suddenly raised her voice. “My fault? I didn’t do it on purpose!” “Of course I know one plus one equals two, but I just answered carelessly!” Careless? My eyes widened. How could anyone carelessly get one plus one wrong? Mom clearly knew that if we didn’t get the prize money for the surgery, I would die immediately. Why would she… Amidst everyone’s confusion and anger, Mom raised an eyebrow, then turned to Ben. “Ben, do you remember? In your middle school entrance exam, you lost five whole points because you wrote one plus one equals three.” “Because of those five points, you couldn’t get into that top middle school.” “I criticized you back then, and you dared to talk back, saying you were just careless and would pay attention next time.” “Today, I’m going to show you what huge consequences a moment of carelessness can lead to!” Mom pointed at the big screen. “You watch carefully, and remember how Lily is now, sweating in pain.” “This is the consequence of carelessness!” “Today, I’m going to use your sister’s suffering to teach you a lesson!” Everyone exploded. My eyes widened in disbelief. Ben was already a junior in college this year! Mom was still holding a grudge over his middle school entrance exam! Dad was furious. “Do you know Lily is going to die any minute? If you want to teach Ben a lesson, can’t you do it at another time?!” Mom grumbled impatiently. “Doctors always exaggerate. Lily is so young, she’ll definitely last longer than others.” “Ben’s careless habit needed to be fixed ages ago! If the gentle approach doesn’t work, then I’ll give him a lesson that’ll be carved into his bones, so he learns to remember!” I could barely breathe. The nurse held my hands tightly, her eyes full of pity. Dad roared, threatening to fight Mom. Mom held up a hand, blocking him. “What’s the rush?” “Didn’t the show still have a sudden death round?” “If we answer the next question correctly, even if we don’t get five million, we’ll still get three million dollars!” “That’s enough for Lily’s surgery!” Under the host’s soothing, Dad and Ben finally calmed down. Mom looked at the big screen, her eyes gentle. “Lily, just hold on a little longer.” “Mom just wanted to use this opportunity to teach your brother a lesson.” “Next question, Mom will definitely answer correctly!” I bit my lip fiercely, holding back tears. “Mom, I know you love me very much, but for the next question… can Dad or Ben answer?” Mom’s expression stiffened. Dad and Ben, terrified Mom would pull another stunt, strongly agreed with my suggestion. But unfortunately, they had already used up their answering opportunities in the previous rounds. So, Mom had to go up again. The final question, concerning my life. The entire studio was eerily silent. The host, sweating profusely, frantically flipped through the question bank, finally choosing the simplest question possible. “Professor Eleanor Miller, what is your birthday?” “Solar or lunar calendar, just pick one.” I breathed a sigh of relief, my gaze filled with gratitude towards the host. Mom pressed the answer button without hesitation. But then she said, “Host, I request to use the lifeline: Ask the Audience!” The whole place erupted in murmurs. How could someone not remember their own birthday? A wave of panic swept over me. Since I’d fallen ill, Mom’s white hairs had increased. I’d heard that if middle-aged people experience prolonged stress, they can easily develop dementia. Could Mom’s health have deteriorated to this extent? Tears blurred my vision. My hands trembled. Mom chose Dad as her lifeline. Dad looked exasperated. “Your Gregorian birthday is January 8th.” Mom nodded, pressing the answer button again. But she was suddenly stopped by a nervous Ben. “Mom, did you hear clearly? What’s the date? Repeat it!” At Ben’s strong insistence, Mom repeated “January 8th” three times before being allowed to press the answer button. But Mom delayed, not speaking. I sensed her tension and, fighting a sharp chest pain, offered comfort. “Mom, don’t be scared. Just answer this one question, and everything will be over.” Mom smiled at me. The answer she gave, however, sent a chill through me. “My birthday is January 9th!” The air instantly solidified. The host quickly tried to smooth things over. “Your husband said your birthday is January 8th.” “Professor Miller must have misspoken. Please say it again!” But Mom’s gaze was firm. “I didn’t misspeak. I deliberately answered incorrectly.” The audience immediately exploded. My heart ached so much I couldn’t straighten my back. The nurse wanted to end the video call, but I stopped her. “Mom… why did you deliberately answer wrong again?” My voice trembled with pain. Mom’s eyes were filled with tears, but her tone was incredibly wronged. “It’s all your dad’s fault!” Not only was Dad stunned, everyone present was stunned. Dad had kindly told her the correct answer, what had Dad done wrong? Under the host’s questioning, Mom wiped away tears as she revealed the truth. “A few weeks ago, it was our twentieth wedding anniversary, and also my birthday.” “But my husband, Richard, actually got it wrong!” “Richard! Didn’t you say my birthday was January 9th? Well, now I’m making it come true!” Dad’s veins bulged with anger. “I did accidentally get your birthday wrong.” “But those days, I was pulling all-nighters for three straight days to earn money for Lily’s medical expenses! I was completely out of it, that’s why I got it wrong.” “I apologized to you afterward, and then worked three more weeks doing late-night deliveries, saving up to buy you a gold bracelet as compensation. Aren’t you satisfied yet?!” Mom didn’t say a word, just lowered her head and wiped away tears. The countdown continued to tick down. The pain in my chest had become a searing agony, and cold sweat practically drenched the entire bed. Dad desperately pleaded with Mom, urging her to quickly give the correct answer and get the prize money to get me into surgery. But Mom remained unmoved. I completely lost hope. It turned out my life was just a tool for Mom to teach her family lessons. Three minutes left on the countdown. Using all my strength, I personally ended the live broadcast. The doctors and nurses in the room all had red eyes. My voice was as faint as a wisp of smoke, yet incredibly firm. “Doctor, I want to sign the organ donation agreement.” “Furthermore, after I die, I demand that my mother watches the entire process of my organ removal!” Mom, don’t you love to teach others lessons? Then today, I will teach you one!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410888”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After going broke, I found a cash-giveaway livestream while job hunting for a trip home. A girl in a silk robe lounged before a villa, complaining about her sugar daddy’s excessive gifts. “Help me spend it,” she said. “My sugar daddy says my tear mole looks just like his girlfriend’s. How unlucky to share a mole with a pauper.” My hand shook—I have the same tear mole. When commenters asked how his girlfriend could be poor, she smirked, reapplying makeup: “He tricked her into thinking he’s millions in debt. She’s working multiple jobs to pay it off.” My heart sank—my boyfriend also claims massive debt. “The best part,” she added, “after three days together, he said if he told her he’d been hauling steel, that fool would deliver food all night out of pity.” Another red envelope completed our ticket money. My phone rang—Elias, sounding weary: “Halley, we’re short on train fare… I made a few hundred hauling steel. I’ll be home soon.” 1 It was one in the morning, and I nearly dropped my phone. The “sugar daddy” the livestream was talking about… was Elias? Sensing my lack of response, Elias’s tone sharpened slightly. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you not feeling well?” My throat felt dry. “Which construction site, that kept you busy so late?” “Just… near the old district.” His words sped up. “I’ll be home soon, I’ll transfer the money to you first.” The call ended, the livestream continued. “My sugar daddy just transferred me another million, asking me to buy the latest lingerie.” “This man has no concept of money. This set of lingerie is twenty thousand at most… Ugh, so annoying, another eight hundred thousand. It’s all for you guys.” Huge red envelopes kept appearing, one after another. I felt numb, clicking on each one. My balance went from five hundred to twenty-five hundred, then three thousand, then four thousand. After I started dating Elias, all our salaries and side job earnings were saved by me. Every time I saved two thousand, I’d tell him to pay off his debts, only keeping enough for food and rent. Four thousand in spare cash was a number I couldn’t even dream of. My phone vibrated. Elias transferred me $212, with a note saying “work money.” My hand trembled, and I pressed the screen off. The screen immediately reflected my pale face. The light brown mole under my right eye stood out like a bloodstain on a white wall. Half an hour later, Elias returned. He was wearing the same gray work clothes from three days ago, his pant legs splattered with mud. He pulled a bag from his jacket. “Halley, I saved $8 and bought you a roasted sweet potato. Eat it while it’s hot.” I took it silently, the warm touch radiating through the bag into my palm. Ever since we started dating, he’d find ways to earn extra money in winter to buy me my favorite roasted sweet potatoes. I felt bad about the money, and bad for him, so we’d share the sweet potato while discussing where to find better part-time jobs or cheaper groceries. Roasted sweet potatoes were the most comforting food in our difficult life. But today, I took a bite and felt it lodge in my throat, impossible to swallow. Was it Elias? Was it a coincidence? It couldn’t be him. “I wanted to buy it for you when I got back from my business trip yesterday, but a friend said they needed steel haulers at the construction site, so I rushed over to work.” “They paid me tonight, and I ran through several streets looking for a place. Luckily, the night market was closing late, and your favorite stall was still open.” Elias’s story was plausible, even explaining why he hadn’t been home for three days. He leaned in, smiling, asking me to feed him. But I didn’t move. I just asked him: “Is the construction site far? Next time, I’ll go with you.” His smile vanished. He turned and headed to the bathroom. “It’s dirty and messy, and there are a lot of men. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you there. I’m going to take a shower now, I’m covered in dust.” A shower. Before the streamer ended her broadcast, her last words were: “We agreed to video chat when he showers. I’ll share my sugar daddy’s abs with you guys later!” Less than five minutes later, she updated. Water droplets clung to a man’s impressive abs; his face wasn’t shown, but the tiles behind him were exactly like our bathroom’s, and the storage basket held the cheap shampoo and soap I’d bought. It was Elias. At this very moment, in our small rented apartment, he was showering and video calling his kept woman. The sound of running water never stopped. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to tell myself not to panic, to calmly analyze the situation. But the facts were laid bare; no analysis was needed. Opening my eyes again, I saw the streamer, Anya, replied to a popular comment: “A kept woman flaunting her relationship, but he has a girlfriend. No matter what you say, you’re still the mistress.” She replied: “My sugar daddy keeps the pauper as a pet, just for fun. She has a title, but he loves me. Believe it or not, one message from me, and he’ll instantly leave his girlfriend’s house to come to me?” The next second, the bathroom door opened. Elias, in his loungewear, rushed out. “Halley, something urgent came up at the company, I need to go.” My nerves instantly tensed. I grabbed his hand sharply. “Elias, can I go with you?” 2 His back stiffened, then he gently pushed my hand away. “No, it’s really cold outside.” I refused to give up and grabbed him again, staring at the red mark on his collarbone, asking with a trembling voice: “What’s this?” He looked down, his eye twitching violently. “Must have rubbed against the steel bars, I guess. I have to go now, get some rest.” I felt all my strength drain away. In the livestream, a comment asked if the streamer’s diamond necklace was a gift from her sugar daddy. She giggled coquettishly, very proud. “No, it wasn’t. Some big bad wolf got too excited and snapped my old necklace, so he replaced it.” “But I didn’t let him off the hook either. I gave him a hickey right here, used all my strength, too.” She pointed to her collarbone. Elias left. Leaving me standing in the entryway, rubbing my fingertips hard, as if trying to wear away a layer of skin. After all this time, I was only just realizing it. His fingers were long and slender, with distinct knuckles, and not a single callus. How could they be the hands of someone who constantly hauled steel? At 3 AM, Anya updated. “See? I told you my sugar daddy loves me!” In the photo, she was nestled intimately in the man’s arms, her cheeks flushed. The man’s head was covered by an emoji, but the loungewear was mine, and I had seen him wear it out. I bit my lip hard, zooming in on the photo, and saw Anya wearing an oversized men’s white shirt. The letters “SY” were embroidered on the chest of the shirt—a birthday gift I had painstakingly sewn for Elias, stitch by stitch, last year. He had cherished it, insisting he would only wear it on the day we got our marriage certificate. Instead, he gave it to someone else. That night, I stayed awake until dawn, then went to work like a zombie. After work, I dutifully went to my bubble tea job. When I got home at 11 PM, Elias was already back. Two bento boxes sat on the table. He had changed into loungewear. “The construction site had a few extra bento boxes. I begged the foreman for them. The others are in the fridge. This way, we can save two days’ worth of food money and still eat well.” I silently walked to the dining table, looking at the two greasy construction site bento boxes. But in my mind, Anya was flaunting the “ordinary lunch” that Elias had brought a French chef to the villa to cook for her that day. A bitter taste rose in my stomach. I went straight to my room. “I’m tired. You eat.” Soon after lying down, Elias embraced me from behind, his voice low. “Halley, I’m sorry. Because of my debts, you’ve suffered so much.” I mumbled a vague “Mmm.” He continued, “New Year’s Eve is the day after tomorrow. We don’t have enough for two train tickets. You go home. I’ll wait for you here.” I opened my eyes and clicked on the ticket booking app. “Yesterday, I went into a cash-giveaway livestream. I collected enough money, so we can go home together.” Through the phone’s glow, his brow furrowed, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes. He hadn’t expected me to gather the money. After all, I had given him all my savings for his debts early yesterday morning, so I should only have had the $212 he gave me last night from hauling steel. But the annoyance was fleeting. He hugged me tighter, burying his face in my neck. “That’s great, we can go home together again. Halley, thank you.” He still wasn’t telling the truth. I pressed the lock screen, and the bedroom plunged into darkness. His fingers found my tear mole, gently caressing it. Like stroking a pet. 3 The day before New Year’s Eve, I took a day off, but I didn’t tell him. Anya posted that she was complaining about being bored cooped up in the villa, so her sugar daddy, to appease her, was taking her shopping. When I arrived at the mall, a Maybach just pulled up to the entrance. The chauffeur respectfully opened the back door, and Elias stepped out. He wasn’t wearing his faded gray work clothes, but a well-tailored cashmere coat over a suit. I never would have imagined that my impoverished boyfriend, who had grumbled about going to haul steel at a construction site this morning, was actually Elias Healy, the only son of the famous Healy family, a real estate mogul in Beijing’s elite circle. While I was still in a daze, he personally opened the other car door, and Anya practically flung herself into his arms. “You’re taking me shopping? Aren’t you afraid your girlfriend will see?” Elias leaned down and bit her luscious red lips in public. I stood behind a nearby tree, watching my boyfriend passionately kiss another woman, unable to separate. After a long moment, he finally let go, but couldn’t resist pecking her lips twice more. “What’s there to be afraid of? She has to work today; I personally watched her get on the bus.” “But what if she saw you?” “If she saw me…” Elias narrowed his eyes slightly, dismissively. “Worst case, I’d just give her back the little money she earned.” Anya laughed flamboyantly, hugging him as they both entered the mall. I should have followed them in. I should have grabbed his clothes, demanded to know why he deceived me, why he betrayed me. But in just two days, my heart had become numb. My legs simply wouldn’t move. I just stood far away, watching Anya post updates one after another. “This French restaurant is just okay, can’t compare to the French chef my sugar daddy hired for me.” “My sugar daddy took me for a beauty treatment! He said he wants me to look pretty for the New Year. He just transferred me another million. I’ll be live at 10 PM sharp, giving away cash to you all!” Someone in the comments asked her: “So high-profile, aren’t you afraid of the sugar daddy’s girlfriend catching you?” “I’d rather she came and caught us. My sugar daddy said if she found out, he’d just give her back the little money she earned over the years. Such a loser, only earned six hundred fifty thousand and three thousand in five years.” Six hundred fifty thousand. So that’s how much I’d earned these past five years. I found it laughable, but when I tried to pull a smile, none came. Two hours later, Anya posted her day’s earnings: “Girls, my daily wage is one point two million!” I don’t know how I got back. By the time I regained my senses, I was sitting on the sofa. Elias had just walked in, having changed back into his gray work clothes, his hair disheveled. “Halley, haven’t you had dinner yet?” He rolled up his sleeves. “I’ll go warm up the bento boxes in the fridge, it’ll be ready in no time.” His tone was as usual, still gentle, still considerate. During dinner, he even specifically gave me the bento with the fried chicken strips, eating the vegetarian one himself. I held my chopsticks, my heart full of unspoken words. I wanted to ask him why he lied to me, saying we were from the same hometown, poor kids from a small county in Suzhou, with millions in family debt. I’d been with him from freshman year through graduation, and then navigating the hustle of Beijing. I’d scrimped and saved, working one full-time job and three part-time jobs, giving him all the money I earned, just wanting him to pay off his debts sooner so we could get married without a care. But in reality, he was a second-generation rich kid from Beijing’s elite, casually spending millions, dating me openly while secretly keeping another woman in luxury. Did he ever truly love me all these years, or did he just keep me as a pet for amusement? Across from me, he took two bites and stopped, a barely concealed look of disdain in his eyes. I stared into his eyes and asked: “Elias, how much debt does your family still have?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410887”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The TV hit, adapted from my love story with movie star Everett Black, soared in popularity—until a young actress posted a late-night tribute detailing her sweet daily life with him. Her closing line: “For six months on set, he prepared a gift for me every day.” Everett smiled fondly in an interview: “She’s my leading lady. I’m happy to do it.” The internet erupted. “The heroine in the show is so pitiful—almost assaulted, even betrayed by her father. It breaks my heart!” “The male lead saves her on screen, and the actor dotes on his co-star off screen too!” No one knew the heroine’s suffering mirrored my own past. The year Everett saved me from assault, he held me tight and vowed, “From now on, I will protect you.”Now, those words were just scripted lines replayed by fans, and my once-savior had become someone else’s leading man. Staring at the screen, my heart felt torn open. When my mother called, I swallowed a sob. “Mom,” I said, “I agree to the arranged marriage.” Seven years of waiting—I finally let it go. 1 The video went viral, and even people from the film crew jumped into the comments: “I’m a crew member, and Everett knows exactly what Joanna likes. They’re sickeningly sweet!” “Everett’s rumored girlfriend, who else could it be but her?” Just then, the time on my phone screen ticked to midnight, and my alarm went off. Yesterday was my birthday. Everett had smiled at me a week ago, saying: “I’ll definitely finish work early this time and come back to celebrate your birthday with you.” But he forgot again. The sound of a key turning in the lock came from outside the door—Everett was back. My gaze involuntarily drifted towards the entryway. He tossed his jacket onto the hanger. When his eyes swept over the cake on the table, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “I was very busy today. Birthdays come every year; it’s fine to miss one.” That tiny spark of expectation in my heart was shattered by his words. I still couldn’t help but ask: “Then what about my birthday gift? You clearly said you’d prepare it for me in advance.” Everett clicked his tongue in annoyance, pulled out his phone, and tapped a few times casually. “I transferred you five thousand. Buy whatever you want. It’s just a birthday, I don’t have that much time.” A wave of bitterness washed over me, and my eyes welled up. It was that line again. Yet, yesterday’s entertainment headlines still read: Everett Black loses millions in endorsements just to make time for dinner with Joanna Meng. In the past, I would have already argued with him. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “There’s really no need for a birthday. And there’s no need for us to be together anymore.” Everett froze for half a second, as if he hadn’t registered it, and instinctively asked: “What do you mean?” He showed no concern that I might actually break up with him, but rather irritation, as if I were being unreasonable. The last ripple of feeling I had for him completely dissipated at that moment. His brow furrowed, his voice turning cold. “Just because I forgot to buy you a gift? Didn’t I give you money? Can’t you buy it yourself? Fine, if you insist on making a scene, go ahead. Don’t expect me to come looking for you this time.” A bitter laugh escaped me. When had he ever humbled himself first? Every time we argued because of Joanna, I was always the one who gave in. But not this time. I stood up, casually tossing the cake into the trash, and turned to go back to my room. From outside, I heard Everett on the phone. “Is anyone suspecting Joanna and me? Then let’s announce publicly that she’s my rumored girlfriend. Don’t worry, she won’t make a fuss.” “She” referred to me. Tears involuntarily slid down, bitter when they reached my lips. He used to say: “You are my only girlfriend. One day, I will stand before everyone and firmly take your hand.” But now, he was making an official announcement about another girl. I messaged my mother: “The arranged marriage you mentioned last time, I agree.” 2 The next morning, I dragged my suitcase and slid out the door. Everett saw the suitcase in my hand, his brows furrowing sharply. “Where are you going?” I didn’t look at him, just replied calmly: “I’m staying at a hotel for two days.” Everett stared at me, as if trying to see through me, then suddenly scoffed. “Selene, you’re just jealous because you saw Joanna and me filming together. I already told you Joanna is just a colleague; you’re my girlfriend. Stop overthinking things.” He slowly stood up, reaching out to pull me, but I subtly shifted to avoid him. His hand hung in mid-air, his face instantly darkening. “Getting bold now, are we? If you step one foot out that door today, don’t even think about coming back.” I ignored him, unlocked the door, and walked straight out with my suitcase. A loud crash echoed from behind, like a glass breaking on the floor. I didn’t stop. Taking a taxi, booking a hotel, checking in – by the time everything was arranged, it was already afternoon. My phone vibrated. It was a message from the director. Tonight was the celebration party for the show topping the charts, and he invited me, the original author, to attend. He was a good friend of my mother’s, so I couldn’t refuse. As I reached the private room door, I heard cheers from inside. “Everett and Joanna have been together since college, they were each other’s first loves!” My hand, about to push open the door, froze. Everett’s girlfriend from college… was Joanna? Everett and I met at the orphanage. That year, when I was seventeen, my mother took me home. When I reunited with Everett, all I knew was that he had a girlfriend in college whom he loved but couldn’t have. Joanna put on a coy act. “Oh, you guys, stop spreading rumors! Everett has a girlfriend, what if she misunderstands?” The moment she finished speaking, everyone burst into laughter. “Everett doesn’t have a girlfriend! We’ve all seen it clearly this past half-year, his heart only has room for you!” “I also heard that Everett specifically requested Joanna to be the female lead in this show!” I stood there stunned, my heart feeling like it was being fiercely squeezed. When my mother gave the director the novel I wrote, he immediately decided to film it. As for Joanna, she clearly didn’t fit the female lead’s character at all. I always thought it was the director’s decision. It was Everett. I looked at him. He was gazing at Joanna indulgently, silently confirming it. Joanna’s gaze swept around the room, then suddenly landed on me. “Oh dear, who’s standing at the door? I thought it was some beggar, you startled me.” Seeing me, Everett frowned slightly, hesitating for two seconds before looking at Joanna beside him. “An old friend I knew. She probably saw me passing by and came over to say hello.” Joanna’s lips slowly curled into a meaningful smile. She deliberately raised her voice. “Oh, I remember her. That day, Everett specially drove halfway across the city to buy me bubble tea, and she was standing in the shade of a tree diagonally across from the tea shop, staring at us for a long time. Her eyes were red like a rabbit’s, almost crying. What? You like Everett?” A female assistant with a bun suddenly spoke up. “I remember now! That was the day Joanna misunderstood and got a little mad at Everett. Everett later explained that she was a girl whose father abandoned her at an orphanage, and who tried to get into her teacher’s bed in middle school.” Another grip looked at me, shaking his head and clucking. “Can’t believe she looks so innocent but is so promiscuous behind the scenes? She really is an uncultured person without parents to teach her. No wonder she dared to come here, trying the same old tricks to cling to Everett?” At these words, the surroundings instantly fell silent for a few seconds, and their gazes at me were filled with undisguised contempt. 3 I stood frozen, my thoughts involuntarily drifting back to junior high that year. My homeroom teacher, under the guise of tutoring, tricked me into his home. Later, Everett sensed something was wrong, kicked open the door, and rescued me. But ever since then, rumors spread rapidly, saying I actively seduced the teacher, saying I was promiscuous. I stared at Everett in disbelief. He had clearly seen me at the time, trembling and crying, curled up in a corner, unable to move. He abruptly averted his gaze, his eyes darting, unwilling to meet mine. Joanna quietly walked to my side, pretending to hold my hand, her voice deceptively gentle. “Don’t blame Everett. I just misunderstood your relationship with him back then, and he only mentioned a few things to me. I didn’t expect others to overhear and spread rumors. Everett is always like this, he can’t stand to see me suffer.” I subtly pulled my hand back, suppressing my emotions. “My eyes just weren’t feeling well that day; I looked a bit longer. Everett and I are just ordinary friends, you don’t need to worry about it.” Hearing my words, Everett’s mouth moved, as if he wanted to explain. But Joanna pulled his wrist first, leading him back to his seat. I left the celebration party in a hurry before it ended. Behind me, I heard hurried footsteps—Everett had chased after me. Seeing my reddened eyes, a flicker of pain crossed his. “I told you already, this is just for work right now. Otherwise, I would have made our relationship public a long time ago. As for what happened that day, if you hadn’t been staring at me, causing everyone to misunderstand, why would I have said anything?” I chuckled self-mockingly. He must have forgotten. Actually, I had texted him that day, saying I wanted to drink that bubble tea, but he never replied. When I arrived, though, I saw him cheerfully handing a cup of bubble tea to Joanna. I kept texting him, and only then did he glance down and quickly reply, “no time.” I no longer wanted to argue with him and started walking away. Everett instinctively wanted to catch up, but his phone rang in his pocket. He answered the call, his voice instantly softening. “Joanna, don’t be scared, I’ll be right there.” With that, he looked in my direction, hesitated for a few seconds, then turned and quickly ran off. The next morning, a news headline, “Everett Black’s Girlfriend Identified, and It’s Not Joanna Meng!” shot to the top of trending topics. The accompanying picture was from years ago, showing me eating barbecue at a street stall with a newly debuted Everett. Immediately after, a second headline followed: “Joanna Meng Allegedly Drinks Her Sorrows Away Late at Night, Claims She Doesn’t Want to Cause Trouble!” I opened my phone. The screen showed over a hundred missed calls from Everett. As soon as I answered, his angry shouts erupted from the other end. “Selene! Are you crazy? Do you really want me to announce our relationship? Do you have to make it known to everyone? Now the company is telling me never to interact with Joanna again. Are you happy now?” I gripped the phone, my heart sinking little by little. I hung up directly. I really didn’t want to explain to him anymore. Whenever Joanna was involved, he never believed me. But the next second, Everett’s clarification statement shot to the top of trending topics again. “Ms. Selene Kim and I are merely ordinary friends. In the past, seeing her pitiable situation, I would occasionally offer help. I didn’t expect her to keep pestering me recently. I am currently seriously pursuing Joanna Meng, so all my actions are voluntary and have nothing to do with her. I hope everyone will not involve her.” The comment section was instantly flooded with blessings for them and insults directed at me. “Waaah, Everett’s favoritism is only for Joanna! Please, certain people, stop being so conceited and trying to cling on!” “Selene? I know her. She was restless in middle school, even tried to get into her teacher’s bed. Now she wants to climb the social ladder and latch onto Everett?” The insults grew increasingly nasty. Someone had leaked my phone number, and I received countless abusive texts. Just then, chaotic footsteps and murmuring came from outside the door. “We’ve checked the records, Selene Kim is in here!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410886”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was the fifth year of Alan’s second marriage. The child his new wife bore him was already in kindergarten. I, however, remained unchanged. Every day, I squeezed onto the subway, busy working overtime until ten at night. There was no grand return after the divorce, no sweet redemption by a wealthy second lead. All I had left was the fact that Alan and I lived in the same city, yet had never crossed paths again. That day, I emerged from the subway station, numb as usual. The first thing I saw was Alan’s car, parked by the side of the road. 1 Snowflakes suddenly began to fall from the sky. I pulled my down jacket tighter, covering my sallow face, a testament to too many sleepless nights. I hurried a few steps forward, only to be slapped to the ground by a furious woman who had stormed out of the car behind Alan. My ears rang, but I could still hear the varied whispers of passersby. “Good for her! This shameless woman, trying to seduce someone else’s husband, deserves a lesson!” The wet stain on my pants from the melted snow grew larger. I sat on the ground, disheveled, ignoring their contemptuous gazes. I recognized her as Alan’s current wife. If it had been anyone else, fueled by three months of overtime and hunger, I would have fought her to the bitter end. But Alan was still here. One was a hated ex-wife, the other a deeply loved current wife. I didn’t need to guess who he would side with. Both of them, together, I couldn’t win. Spineless, I brushed off my clothes and lowered my head, ready to leave. The hood of my down jacket was suddenly yanked from behind. I stumbled, my back instantly hitting a hard, iron-like chest. “Summer, you think you can just leave without apologizing?” How unreasonable. He hit me, and then expected me to apologize? But I knew Alan was fiercely protective. Anyone under his wing, even if they were wrong, was right. He had a hundred ways to ruin me, and I couldn’t afford any of them. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going and accidentally bumped into your wife’s hand.” Perhaps it was from being scolded by my boss too often, but I didn’t even feel that humiliated. Yet, Alan’s face seemed to grow colder. He slowly lowered his head, and when his eyes met mine, a flicker of hurt seemed to cross them. “Summer, are you so certain I wouldn’t protect you?” For a moment, I was back to the day Alan and I divorced, him on his knees, pleading. “I don’t want anything, Summer. Don’t leave me.” If it had been that Alan saying he’d protect me, I would have believed him. But now, he had a wife, a son, a warm family. And Summer? To him, she was nothing anymore. 2 “Oh, you little tramp, you dare to seduce my husband right in front of me!” The woman’s face twisted into a snarl, and she lunged at me. I wasn’t entirely without temper. To let her bully me again and again. Just as I was about to fight back regardless of the cost, Alan intervened. He forcefully pulled us apart, dragging me behind him, accidentally bumping into a passing pedestrian. I fell again. Alan tightly embraced his wife. He chuckled softly. “Why are you stooping to her level? You’ll just devalue yourself. Serena, are you that insecure? I already have you as my wife, why would I ever look at any other common woman?” His warm lips almost brushed her reddened earlobe. The woman blushed shyly, then looked back at me with a touch of confusion. “She’s my ex-wife, Summer.” The moment the words left his lips, the woman’s defenses finally dropped. She smiled. “Oh, she’s the foolish ex-wife Mom always talked about, as dumb as a brick!” A flood of memories washed over me. “Idiot! You can’t even do this simple thing right. All you do is embarrass my son. Our Miller family was truly unlucky to marry such a troublesome daughter-in-law!” Mrs. Miller’s contemptuous and mocking gaze pierced through my layered defenses and appeared before my eyes. Originally, I had only thought that the difference between Alan and me was just our vastly unequal family backgrounds. But after marrying into the Miller family, I realized that connections, education, and social circles—these invisible, intangible things—were where I truly fell short. They could speak fluent English, laughing and chatting with those around them. But when Alan brought me along, I found it hard to even greet his friends. My clumsy accent made everyone present chuckle. I became a joke. And, naturally, I dragged Alan down with me, making him a joke as well. As I made an excuse to hide in the restroom, the laughter continued behind me, interspersed with a few teasing remarks. “Alan, your wife is a bit unpresentable, isn’t she? For someone of your status, you can’t just go by looks!” At that moment, I slowed my steps, wanting to hear Alan’s answer. But the instant he opened his mouth, I, still lacking courage, fled the scene in a sorry state. I didn’t want to hear him say he regretted marrying me. Even though I tried so hard, attending eighteen hours of lessons arranged by Mrs. Miller every day, to learn what they had mastered twenty years before me. In the bone-chilling winter, large beads of cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Alan released his wife’s side and quickly strode towards me in a panic. The past shadow merged with the present. I didn’t want to disappoint him, I didn’t want to embarrass him, and I didn’t want to be in the same space as him anymore. I abruptly turned and ran back towards the subway entrance. 3 By the time I got home, it was already one in the morning. After a quick wash, I was too exhausted to even eat. I just climbed into bed. For five years, I had numbed myself with endless work, preventing myself from reminiscing about the past. But seeing Alan again had still brought considerable ripples to my long-calm heart. It wasn’t until I saw the savings accumulated on my phone over the years that I felt a genuine sense of still being alive. Once the current project was complete, I would receive a hefty bonus. Then this year, I would have enough money to quit my job and retire. When Alan and I divorced, he had given me a sum of money. I didn’t want it. But I couldn’t even find an opportunity to return it to him. He had deleted all my contact information from his phone. The company security guards, having received instructions, would rush me out whenever they saw me. When I waited outside his apartment complex, Alan never came back. Later, Mrs. Miller came out of Alan’s house. She instructed her driver to call the police, claiming I was trespassing. Before the call was made, I pulled out the bank card Alan had given me. I had never checked how much money was in it. I also didn’t know that Alan had lied to his parents, telling them I left empty-handed. Mrs. Miller snatched it and stuffed it into her designer handbag. She had the driver chase me away, as if I were a homeless person. “Wasted my son’s good years, and still want our Miller family’s money? You poor people are the most calculating! Trying to use the excuse of returning money to make my son pity you and take you back? Let me tell you the truth, my son is currently on a date with a daughter-in-law I’m very satisfied with. They’re getting engaged in a few days!” Just as Mrs. Miller said. Three days later, the Miller Group officially announced its alliance with the Harrington Group. Alan, divorced just seven days, now had a fiancée. The next day, with dark circles under my eyes, I took an hour-long subway ride to work. My colleagues at the company were more enthusiastic than usual; almost everyone was holding a small mirror, touching up their makeup. A colleague I got along with pulled me aside and whispered. “The young lady from the head office is coming to inspect our work today. Everyone wants to make a good impression!” As a workhorse who was only a few months away from saving enough money to retire, I didn’t care who visited, be it the young lady or the CEO himself. But I didn’t expect the woman, who was surrounded by the usually mysterious CEO of the company, to be Alan’s wife, Serena Harrington. As she passed me, she deliberately glanced in my direction. With just that one look, I knew. Yesterday’s incident wasn’t over. She wasn’t going to let me go. 4 Sure enough, soon after, the manager took all the unfinished work from other employees and handed it to me. “You must finish all this today, or you can’t leave work.” The stacks of dense documents already towered over my computer. Even if I had a week, I couldn’t finish it. I stood up, pointing at the documents and confronting the manager. “I can’t finish it. Even if I had eight hands, I couldn’t finish it.” A colleague spoke up for me. “Manager, are you mistaken? How can all this work be given to Summer alone?” The manager snorted, leaving no room for negotiation. “The young lady ordered it. If anyone wants to help her, they can collect their salary and leave immediately!” My colleagues lowered their heads, falling silent. During lunch break, I still hadn’t touched the documents piled on my desk. A colleague, eating lunch, hesitantly patted my shoulder, lowering their voice. “Summer, if you know this young lady, just apologize. She’s clearly waiting for you to beg her.” But how should I apologize for this? That I was married to Alan, this was an unchangeable fact. If she was causing me trouble because I was Alan’s ex-wife, then no matter how much I begged her, she wouldn’t let me go. By the afternoon, colleagues who used to talk to me no longer acknowledged me. Something else must have happened. A sudden, indescribable wave of resentment swelled in my heart. Alan and I had already broken up. I was only a few months away from leaving. Why, just when I was about to see hope, were new obstacles suddenly created, blocking my path to happiness? I sat at my desk all afternoon. After finishing my own work, it still wasn’t quitting time. I comforted myself. At least I wouldn’t have to work overtime today. What should I treat myself to? But when quitting time arrived, everyone in the office grabbed their bags and rushed into the elevator. Oh, I forgot. They had given all their work to me; there was no overtime for them. I knew they didn’t want to be around me. After almost everyone had left, I finally shut down my computer and slowly went downstairs. In front of the company building, Alan’s car was parked. Next to him stood Serena Harrington, clinging to his arm like a delicate bird. 5 Seeing me, Alan showed no surprise. He knew I worked here. Or, he knew his wife was deliberately seeking me out. He allowed it, he indulged it. This thought ripped at my heart. I didn’t know why I was sad. We had already divorced. As I stepped down the stairs, Alan’s indifferent gaze swept over me, as if I were a stranger. “Why isn’t she joining you for the dinner? Serena, isn’t she from your company?” The arm that had been linked with the woman was subtly withdrawn. The man still smiled gently. Serena’s face, however, paled slightly. Without her needing to gesture, the quick-witted manager rushed over. He grabbed me, muttering complaints. “Summer, is your brain made of water? Did you forget about our company dinner tonight? Why aren’t you thanking the young lady right away?!” I didn’t know. No one had told me. The manager was afraid of offending her, so I stayed silent. He dug his fingers into my arm, hard enough to tear my down jacket. I tried to pull away but couldn’t, and I didn’t want to draw attention by speaking up, so I just endured it. Suddenly, a soft “Tsk” sound. Serena cried out in pain, not daring to lose her temper at Alan. She could only whisper plaintively: “Alan, you’re hurting me.” Alan slowly raised his hand, looking at me with a half-smile. “Oh, I thought it wouldn’t hurt. Look, she doesn’t hurt at all.” Everyone’s gaze followed the man’s. The manager’s small, round eyes detected something unusual. He quickly let go of me and instinctively put some distance between us. Since I was the last to arrive, everyone else had already arranged transportation. I had no choice but to get into Alan’s back seat. In the car, before Alan could even start driving, Serena unexpectedly leaned over and kissed his cheek. Alan instinctively started to lift his hand to wipe it, but then, in mid-air, abruptly changed course. He considerately fastened her seatbelt. The two whispered closely, and in the confined space of the car, I could still hear. “There are outsiders. I’ll give you more when we get home.” Serena blushed coyly. Just as she was about to plant another kiss on his lips, Alan had already gotten up. The woman, without changing her expression, turned and smiled at me. “Sorry for the display, Ms. Stern. My husband and I are just like this at home; it’s hard to change when we’re out.” I offered a perfunctory reply: “Ms. Harrington, your happy marriage is truly enviable.” In the rearview mirror, a cold gaze shot directly at me. I couldn’t understand. Which of my words had been wrong just now? Praising their happy marriage—was that wrong?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410885”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The party at the reunion was in full swing when Liam, the former king of our high school, suddenly smashed his wine glass at my feet. Red wine, splattered with glass shards, stained my white dress, looking just like blood. “Willow Reid, I hear you’re exclusively servicing rich old men these days?” He loosened his tie, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “How much for a night? For old times’ sake, I’ll take you for a month.” The private room fell silent. Every eye was a dagger aimed at me. Slowly, I knelt, picking up the broken glass piece by piece, not stopping even when my palm was sliced open. Then I looked up, a smile on my face. “Alright, Mr. Blackwood. But my rates have gone up. It’s by the minute now. Are you sure you can afford it?” His expression froze. I wiped the blood from my hand, adding, “After all, your fiancée approached me last month about a surrogacy, offering three million, and I turned her down.” It was eleven o’clock at night when I pushed open the door to VIP888 at The Velvet Lounge. The air was thick with smoke, cigar fumes mingling with women’s perfume, making my head spin. “Here she is! Our star has arrived!” Someone whistled. I was wearing the club’s standard black slip dress, the fabric barely covering what it needed to. The manager had said tonight’s client was special; this outfit was mandatory. “Willow Reid, it really is you!” a woman with a perm exclaimed. “Haven’t seen you since high school graduation. What are you doing working here?” I recognized her. Phoebe, my little shadow back then, always trailing after me, calling me “Willow Queen.” Now, the diamond on her finger was big enough to blind a lesser mortal. “Work requirements.” My smile was perfectly standard, eight teeth, no more, no less. “Requirements that lead you to a place like this?” Liam Blackwood’s voice drifted from the darkest corner of the room. He sat at the head of the table, long legs crossed, the cigarette clutched between his fingers glowing intermittently. Seven years. He was still impossibly handsome. But his eyes—the eyes that once sparkled with starlight as he watched me recite poetry—now held only ice. “Mr. Blackwood is too kind,” I said, bowing slightly. “Sorry, I’m a client manager here, responsible for VIP reception.” “Client manager?” Liam scoffed. “A client manager dressed like that?” Low laughter rippled through the room. Phoebe leaned in, her perfume so strong it made my nose itch. “Willow, don’t be shy. We’re old classmates, we all know each other, don’t we? I heard after your father went bankrupt, you…” She deliberately left the sentence unfinished, leaving plenty of room for scandalous speculation. I maintained my smile. “Ms. Miller, what kind of wine would you prefer? We’ve just received a few bottles of exceptional Burgundy, excellent vintage.” “Cut the act!” interjected a man in wire-rimmed glasses. “Willow, remember how glorious you were back then? Class president, straight-A student, guys lined up from the main hall to the campus gates just to ask you out. And now?” He leered at me, his gaze vulgar. “It’s true what they say about women, always needing a man to get by.” Liam hadn’t spoken a word. He just watched me, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling back my layers. I remembered that rainy night seven years ago. He stood outside my family’s mansion, soaked to the bone, clutching a savings passbook. “Willow, I borrowed the money—twenty thousand. You can use it for now…” I stood at the second-story window, looking down at his stubborn silhouette. My father’s roar came from behind me. “Don’t you dare go down there! What is Liam Blackwood? A penniless student? What can he do for you? Mr. Sullivan’s son has already agreed to help, if you’ll just marry him!” “But Dad, I love Liam…” “Love? Can love buy food? The company’s bankrupt, eighty million in debt! The Sullivans have resources and connections, they can save us! What can Liam give you? Love? How much is love worth?” That night, I never went downstairs. The next day, I met Liam on the school rooftop. “Let’s break up,” I said. He was stunned. “What did you say?” “I said, we’re breaking up.” I forced myself to meet his eyes. “My father arranged a marriage for me, with Mr. Sullivan’s son. We… aren’t right for each other.” “Not right for each other?” Liam grabbed my wrist. “Willow Reid, you promised you’d wait for me. Wait for me to graduate, to start my own business, to give you the best life!” “I can’t wait anymore,” I said, yanking my hand away. “My father’s sick, the company’s collapsed. I need money, a lot of it. And you can’t give it to me.” I pulled out the diamond necklace Austin Sullivan had given me, dangling it before his eyes. “See this? This necklace alone is worth half a million. Liam Blackwood, you’ll never earn that much in your entire life.” His eyes shifted from shock to despair, finally settling into a dead calm. “So, you chose money.” “Yes, I chose money.” I turned to leave, each step feeling like I was treading on knife blades. “Don’t ever come looking for me again.” That was the last time I saw him. Later, I heard he dropped out of school and disappeared. Then, word came that he’d made it big down south, his company listed, a billionaire. And my family… My father ultimately couldn’t cope. The day before the bank sealed off our mansion, he jumped from the eighteenth floor. My mother, unable to bear the shock, had a mental breakdown. She’s now in a care facility, costing twenty thousand a month. And Austin? Once he was bored, he threw a divorce agreement at me with a fifty thousand settlement, not even enough to cover the interest on our debts. I went from a pampered heiress to a divorced woman drowning in debt. Such is life. 2 “Willow, what are you daydreaming about?” Liam’s voice pulled me back to reality. He had stood up and was now standing before me. Seven years had sharpened him, honed him into an even more formidable presence. His impeccably tailored suit, the million-dollar watch on his wrist, and that aura of power that only those at the top possess. “I hear you’re exclusively servicing rich old men these days?” he suddenly asked, his voice low, but loud enough for everyone to hear. The private room instantly quieted. I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Where did Mr. Blackwood hear that?” “Does it matter?” Liam loosened his tie, a cruel smile on his face. “Working in a place like this, dressed like that—what else would you call it but openly advertising your services?” Phoebe giggled behind her hand. “Liam, don’t say that. Willow is just doing what she has to for a living…” “Doing what she has to for a living?” Liam took a step closer, almost pressing against me. “Willow Reid, how much for a night? For old times’ sake, I’ll take you for a month.” His breath, smelling of whiskey, ghosted across my face. Everyone’s eyes were daggers, stabbing at me. Slowly, I knelt. The wine glass he’d thrown earlier lay shattered on the floor, red wine mixed with glass shards, splattering my white dress—the club required us to wear a white blazer over our uniform. Now, crimson spots bloomed across it like blood. I picked up the broken glass piece by piece. The sharp edges cut into my palm, blood beads surfacing, mingling with the spilled wine. But I didn’t stop. One piece, two pieces, three pieces… The entire room was eerily silent, broken only by the crisp tinkling of glass. Finally, I had gathered all the larger fragments, clutching them in my hand. Then I stood up, looking up at Liam with a smile. “Alright, Mr. Blackwood.” His expression stiffened slightly. I continued, “But my rates have gone up. It’s by the minute now. Five thousand for one minute. Are you sure you can afford it?” Someone gasped. Liam’s eyes narrowed. I wiped the blood from my hand, adding slowly and deliberately, “After all, your fiancée approached me last month about a surrogacy, offering three million, and I turned her down.” A ripple of shock, then a sudden burst of chatter. “Fiancée? Mr. Blackwood has a fiancée?” “Who? I haven’t heard anything!” “Surrogacy? My God…” Liam’s face darkened. His fiancée, Charlotte Evans, the heiress of the Evans Corporation, had indeed come to see me secretly last month. In a coffee shop, wearing sunglasses, she handed me a check. “Ms. Reid, I know you need money. Three million to carry my child. Liam has never forgotten you, and if the child has half your genes, he might just love it.” I had thrown my coffee in her face then. “Ms. Evans, doing too many despicable things will come back to haunt you.” Now, it seemed the karma was swift. Liam grabbed my wrist, his grip so powerful it felt like my bones would shatter. “Say that again.” I winced in pain, but my smile remained unchanged. “Mr. Blackwood’s fiancée, Ms. Charlotte Evans, approached me last month for a surrogacy, offering three million. Would you like me to play the recording for everyone?” His pupils contracted sharply. I seized the opportunity to yank my hand free, stepping back two paces. “It seems Mr. Blackwood was unaware. Well, Ms. Evans did say it was entirely her idea. She planned to tell you once she was pregnant, as a ‘surprise’.” I scanned the room, looking at the faces, some surprised, some gloating. “Ladies and gentlemen, do you still want drinks? If not, I’ll be clocking out. After all…” I looked at Liam. “If it’s by the minute, Mr. Blackwood just wasted three of my minutes. Fifteen thousand. Shall I add it to your tab?” With that, without waiting for a reply, I turned and pulled open the door. The cold air of the hallway rushed over me. 3 I leaned against the wall, my palm burning. Looking down, I saw glass shards still embedded in my flesh. “Willow.” Liam had followed me out. I didn’t turn around. “Anything else, Mr. Blackwood? If you want to book me for a month, please settle the paperwork at the front desk.” He blocked my path, his gaze complex. “What you said just now, was it true?” “The recording’s on my phone. Would Mr. Blackwood like to hear it?” I pulled out my phone. “But after you listen, please settle the fifteen thousand. It’s a small business; no credit.” Liam stared at me for a long time, then suddenly laughed. But there was no warmth in that laugh. “Willow Reid, you’ve changed.” “People change.” I put my phone away. “Hasn’t Mr. Blackwood changed too? You used to be too stingy to buy a bottle of mineral water; now you’re smashing wine glasses. Money’s good, isn’t it?” He was silent. I walked around him, heading for the employee exit. “I heard about your father,” he said from behind me. “If only back then…” “There are no ‘if onlys’,” I cut him off. “Liam Blackwood, let the past be the past. You’re Mr. Blackwood now, and I’m a client manager at The Velvet Lounge. We’re even.” “Even?” His voice turned cold. “What you owe me, how can we be even?” I turned around, facing him. “What do I owe you? My youth? My love? Liam Blackwood, don’t be childish. I broke up with you back then, and I own it. But now, I don’t owe you anything.” “Then why are you working in a place like this?” he demanded. “With your ability, you could clearly…” “Could clearly what?” I laughed. “Go work at your company? Mr. Blackwood, don’t be ridiculous. We’re not from the same world. We weren’t then, and we certainly aren’t now.” I gestured to my clothes. “See this? This is the path I chose. I chose wrong, I own it. But you don’t need to humiliate me, especially since…” I leaned closer to him, lowering my voice. “Your fiancée was far more humble when she asked me for a surrogacy. At least I’ve never knelt and begged anyone.” Liam’s face turned completely black. I turned away, satisfied. This time, he didn’t stop me. The next day, the entire club was buzzing with gossip about last night. The manager called me into his office, looking serious. “Willow, do you know who Liam Blackwood is?” “I do,” I said, lowering my eyes. “CEO of Blackwood Industries, a billionaire. Our club’s biggest potential client.” “Then how dare you offend him?” “He insulted me first.” The manager sighed. “I know you have pride, but pride doesn’t pay the bills. Mr. Blackwood called this morning, specifically requesting you to serve him tonight.” I looked up. “I won’t go.” “Won’t go?” The manager pushed a check across the desk to me. “This is Mr. Blackwood’s advance—one hundred thousand. If you go tonight, this money is yours. And he said if you go, he’ll consider signing the club’s annual VIP contract, with a three-million-dollar annual fee.” I stared at the check. One hundred thousand. That was exactly what my mother’s care facility fees would be next month. “Willow, I know your mother’s illness needs money,” the manager’s voice softened. “Sometimes, a person has to learn to bow their head.” I stared at the check for a long time. Finally, I reached out and picked it up. “What time?” “Eight PM, the usual spot.” At eight PM, I pushed open the door to VIP888 once more. This time, only Liam was inside. He sat on the sofa, a bottle of Romanée-Conti on the table before him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410884”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel