On the flight to London, I saw her and knew. She was the woman who, eight years ago on my wedding eve, slipped into my silk gown and my drunk fiancé Alistair’s bed. Now she sat just a few rows ahead. Through the seat gap, I heard her laugh with a companion. “Tell me more—how amazing is this mystery man? Worth flying across the world for?” Her voice turned sweet. “So amazing… I think of him every day. He says he’s never forgotten how bright my eyes were.” “But he’s married. Should you really…?” She cut in, smug. “The one unloved is the other woman. That marriage is an empty shell. I’ve always been the one in his heart.” I looked away, smiling coldly. A leopard never changes its spots. After landing, our paths kept crossing. In a convenience store, she leaned by a shelf, on the phone—her earlier triumph replaced with a playful pout. “So clingy… I know you miss me on your birthday. A few hours without service and you blow up my phone.” “A present? I’m your present. I’ll drain you dry tonight, love.” Her words, soft yet sharp, pierced my ears. I had flown here alone to surprise Alistair. Today was his birthday, too. 1 On a strange impulse, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Alistair, who was supposed to be working late at the office. [Alistair, are you done with work yet?] No reply. As the girl passed the checkout counter, she reached out and grabbed two boxes from the condom rack. The same brand, the same kind, the same size. A brand I knew well. The one Alistair always used. I couldn’t hear what the person on the phone said, but she responded with a mock-angry tone. “I’m not cold, I’m wearing plenty of layers. You can check for yourself later if you don’t believe me.” “You can slip your hand inside, run it up my waist, all the way to…” I glanced down at my phone. Still nothing. After paying, I followed her out of the store. Her voice was a playful coo. “Don’t rush me, I see your car.” A classic London drizzle hit my face, each drop cold as a shard of ice. I clutched my coat tighter, my hand trembling as I hit the call button. A mechanical female voice answered, cold and impersonal. “The person you are calling is unavailable.” I understood. He had his phone on Do Not Disturb. He’d told me this year that the overseas division was swamped, and once he was in the office, he couldn’t take calls. This wasn’t the first time he’d been unreachable. A Bentley pulled up to the curb a short distance away. “Alistair!” The girl hurried forward and opened the passenger door. I turned my head slightly to watch. One glance, and I was frozen to the spot. The window was halfway down, revealing the man in the driver’s seat—poised and distinguished. The girl swayed her hips and planted a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. He smiled, a look of fond exasperation on his face. “You and your games.” The streetlight was dim, but I saw his face with perfect clarity. The face of the man who had been my entire world for thirty years. At three, we held hands as we walked into kindergarten. He’d secretly press the candies the teacher gave out into my palm. “I’ll protect you. Don’t cry.” At sixteen, he mimicked a scene from a movie, hiding a sketch of me inside a textbook. When I found it, his ears turned crimson. “So what if I like you? Is that a crime?” At nineteen, our first love, our first kiss. He was so thrilled he paid the bill for the entire restaurant. “I wish I could tell the whole world that I’m the happiest man alive.” At twenty-two, he proposed. In front of both our families, he swore he would only ever love me. Everything froze on the eve of our wedding. When I opened the hotel room door, I found him tangled in the sheets with a stranger. Everything from that day was a blur. Everyone said he’d had too much to drink, that it was a case of mistaken identity. That as his childhood sweetheart, I should give him another chance. Even the girl knelt and begged for my forgiveness. She said it was all her fault, that she’d bribed a staff member for a keycard just to live out a secret crush. Alistair, who had been proud and commanding his whole life, had tears in his eyes for the first time. Seeing my silent tears, he grabbed a fruit knife and pointed it at his own heart. “Audrey, it’s all my fault. I’ve wronged you.” “If you don’t believe me, I’ll carve my heart out and show you. There’s truly no one else in there but you!” My tears blurred his face. His voice trembled uncontrollably. “Don’t leave me, my love, I’m begging you. You know I’ve loved you for so many years.” “If you leave me, I’ll die. I swear I’ll die…” Later, I locked that memory away. We had grown up together, intertwined. I thought we were inseparable, destined to go from childhood playmates to silver-haired companions. But in this single, shattering second. Our thirty years. Finally, they crumbled to dust. 2 I returned to the apartment in a daze. A message from my mother popped up: [So? Was Alistair thrilled to hear you’re pregnant?] I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, and typed back with feigned calm: [Not yet. I just got to his place. I haven’t told him.] The apartment door swung open from the outside. It was Alistair, having returned. Our eyes met. For a few seconds, his gaze flickered with unease before he quickly regained his composure. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have picked you up from the airport.” My voice was flat. “I wanted to surprise you.” He walked over, smiling, and gently ruffled my hair. “You shouldn’t have. I’d never want you to go through that.” “Flying is exhausting. It’s just a birthday, and now my poor wife has to deal with jet lag.” Alistair was about to say more when his phone buzzed. As he looked down to reply, his expression softened into that familiar, patient tenderness I knew so well. Then he looked up, apologetic. “I’m sorry, baby, but I have a client dinner tonight. You’ll have to be on your own.” Before I could respond, he pulled a piece of clothing from the closet. I understood instantly. He had come back to retrieve something the other woman had forgotten. This apartment, his temporary home while on assignment overseas, was one I had spent my own time decorating for him, piece by piece. I’d taken a week off work for it, losing a major client in the process. But now, the vase I had spent half an afternoon hunting for and carried all the way from home was gone. Even the photo of us on the fridge had vanished. A sharp, damp chill, carried in by my rain-soaked clothes, seeped into my heart. I shot to my feet and dragged my suitcase toward the door. Alistair followed me. “Are you angry?” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind. “The apartment is a mess. I’ll book you a room at the five-star hotel nearby.” “I promise, I’ll spend all day with you tomorrow, okay?” He leaned in to kiss me, just like he always did. A strange citrus scent filled my nostrils. Her scent. I turned my head away. Alistair, however, didn’t seem to notice, already eager to leave. By the elevator, a leering lowlife whistled at me, his eyes sticky and invasive. “How much? If he doesn’t want you, I’ll take you.” “He’s got a girlfriend, you know. I’ve seen her. A pretty thing like you, why stoop so low?” “All the neighbors know them. He wouldn’t even let his girlfriend walk. I’ve seen him carry her all the way from the garage a few times. The girl always looks so damn happy.” He grabbed my waist, his mouth twisting into a grin as he lunged in for a kiss. On pure instinct, I stomped down hard on his foot. As he yelped in pain, I scrambled away with my suitcase, taking the emergency exit. I stumbled and fell hard on the concrete stairs, but I didn’t dare stop to check for scrapes. I just got up and kept running. I went straight back to the airport and sat numbly in the departure hall. I couldn’t understand. Why was Alistair cheating on me again? For the first two years of our marriage, I was plagued by nightmares. In my dreams, Alistair was naked, holding a strange girl. I would always wake up crying. He would hold me, soothing me over and over. “It’s all my fault. I’m the one who broke my baby’s heart.” He changed all his passwords to my birthday and introduced me as his wife at every public event. He gave me a detailed report of his day, every day—what he did, who he saw. Even when he traveled for work, he’d keep a video call open all night, falling asleep to the sound of my breathing. Both of us were carefully, painstakingly trying to repair that broken trust. When did it all start again? Vaguely recalling the woman’s name, I opened a social media app and searched. It only took a minute to find her among the many accounts with the same name. Because her profile picture was taken in Alistair’s office back home. 3 Seraphina was a minor travel blogger with a decent following. I scrolled down. The first post related to Alistair appeared three years ago. Seraphina’s hand was intertwined with a man’s, the background our high school running track. [Finally with my high school dream guy!] The same place where, at eighteen, we had held hands for the first time. The night air had been cool, and Alistair’s palm was so sweaty from nerves. “When we’re old and gray, we’ll come back here together.” The year before last, mid-August, on our wedding anniversary, Alistair had told me he had to work. But his social media trail showed him with Seraphina, eating at a street food stall. Last New Year’s Eve, I was in the hospital with a high fever from the flu. Alistair appeared in Seraphina’s video, his head bowed in concentration as he disinfected a small cut on her finger. My hand holding the phone was shaking. Alistair never showed his face in any of the photos. But the familiar cuff of his shirt, the lines on his palm… I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. Seraphina’s latest post refreshed on my screen. The picture was of a lacy maid costume, so revealing it made me sick to look at. [Bought this but forgot to pack it. Good thing someone remembered. He’s getting a reward tonight.] So that was what Alistair had gone back to the apartment to get. In the comments, a fan joked: [Hubby’s eating well! You spoil him so much, girl.] Seraphina replied: [I can’t help it. I asked him today when he first fell for me.] [He said it was eight years ago, the first time I bravely told him I liked him. He said my eyes were so bright he could never forget them.] [When I think about how he was thinking of me all these years, my heart just melts.] Eight years ago. The day I caught them in bed. I pressed my lips together tightly. But the tears, disobedient as ever, streamed silently down my face. Seraphina posted another video. The camera panned over a large bed covered in rose petals. A woman’s voice giggled. “My followers want me to ask you, now that you’re thirty, do you have any new plans for our relationship?” A man’s low chuckle. “Plans?” “I’m the one who wants a child. Will you have one for me, baby?” The camera shook violently as the sound of rustling fabric filled the air. My fingers were stiff, fumbling several times before I managed to dial Alistair’s number. The phone rang three times before he finally picked up. My voice trembled. “Alistair, am I still in your future plans?” He was silent for a few seconds, then answered casually, “Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be?” “By the way, Mom and Dad said you had a surprise for me. They’ve asked me about it a dozen times. What is it?” From his end, I could hear Seraphina’s low, urgent whisper. “Honey, if you don’t pay attention, I’m going to have to punish you.” If I hadn’t known, I would have been foolish enough to think it was just one of his colleagues. My gaze fell on the shredded pregnancy test report in the trash can. I said softly, “It’s gone.” The surprise is gone. The love from our past, the future we had planned together. All gone. Alistair’s voice hardened with a hint of anger. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” “For you, I’ve turned down over a dozen international partnership opportunities, all because you’re so damn insecure!” “I’m out with a client tonight, trying to build a future for us. Can’t you just give me a moment to breathe?” Fresh tears fell. I managed a small, bitter laugh. “You’re right, Alistair.” “I’m just throwing a tantrum.” “When you get back, let’s get a divorce.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410883”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After decades of marriage to my childhood sweetheart, I only learned the truth when he died. He was in love with my best friend. Every time he’d get close to me, every time he brought me milk tea or snacks, it was just an excuse to bring her a share. He never told a soul how he felt, just watched from the sidelines as she got a boyfriend. The day they shared a passionate kiss, he turned to me with a smile and asked if I wanted to be with him. Later, we had a daughter and a very happy life. But on his deathbed, he gripped my hand tightly. “Charlotte, if we could do it all over again… could you help me win Isabelle over? My biggest regret in this life was missing my chance with her and marrying you out of spite.” What I thought was a mutual love story was just him settling for second best. I pulled my hand from his, my face a cold mask. I watched his heart monitor flatline. Fine. A new life it is. I’ll give you exactly what you want. (1) When I opened my eyes again, the acrid smell of disinfectant still lingered in my nose. But the scene around me had completely changed. I was no longer in a hospital waiting for a doctor to sign a death certificate. I was at my high school desk, just waking up from a nap. A heavy weight slammed onto my left shoulder. Someone had slapped my back, hard. I instinctively turned to see my childhood sweetheart, Asher, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “What are you zoning out for? Class is about to start! Didn’t you sleep well last night? I got you some coffee!” With that, a loud thump echoed from my desk. It was the sound of a bottled coffee being slammed down. As if to catch someone’s attention. I met his gaze. His eyes were clear and bright, and when he looked at me, it seemed as if I was the only person in the world. In my last life, it was that earnest, focused gaze that had stolen all my love. Remembering his last words, the irony was sickening. “I don’t like coffee.” Thinking back, the signs were there all along. Isabelle was the one who loved coffee. I never did. Asher looked momentarily stunned, as if he couldn’t understand why the girl who always greeted him with a smile would reject him so bluntly. He offered a placating grin, his gaze cautious. “Then what do you like? I’ll go buy it for you after class…” My deskmate and so-called “best friend,” Isabelle, shot me a glance before flashing a sweet smile at Asher. “It’s okay, I love coffee. Charlotte, you can give it to me.” The moment she spoke, Asher snapped out of it, handing her the other bottle he had been clutching in his hand. “This one… is for you.” A rare, unnatural blush crept up the handsome planes of his young face. I took in the entire little exchange. I pushed the coffee on my desk toward Isabelle. She winked at me happily. “Looks like I’m benefiting from being your friend again, Charlie.” But that afternoon, when I went to the restroom, I overheard her complaining to another girl through the thin wall. “You know, she’s so extra. Is she trying to show off how much Asher cares about her?” “Honestly, who would even be friends with her if it wasn’t for Asher?” (2) To escape this toxic little trio, I asked my homeroom teacher to change my seat. She was frowning at my report card. “Charlotte, I know you’re a good kid, but you can’t let your friendships distract you from your studies. Your ranking has dropped by twenty spots this semester. You used to always be in the top five. At this rate, how are you going to get into a top-tier university?” “Mrs. Davison, that’s actually what I came to talk to you about.” “I’d like to change seats.” Mrs. Davison gave me a surprised look. I was the one who had originally asked to sit with Isabelle, claiming we could help each other study. Her grades had improved significantly. Mine, on the other hand, had steadily declined as my focus wavered. In my past life, because of this, I only managed to get into a decent state school, missing out on the dream university that had once been within my reach. With a second chance, I wanted to fix my past regrets. When I stepped out of the teacher’s office, I was surprised to find Asher waiting for me in the hallway. Since starting high school, he’d had a growth spurt, quickly transforming into a tall, handsome teenager. I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes. Asher’s lips were pressed into a thin line, his expression a little awkward. He pressed something warm against my arm. I looked down. It was a carton of low-fat, high-calcium milk. A sudden laugh escaped me. So, he did know what I liked. He just never bothered to give it to me before. This time, I took it. Seeing me smile, his expression relaxed. He was about to speak, but I beat him to it. “I asked Mrs. Davison to make you and Isabelle deskmates. I know you like her. Don’t miss your chance.” There was no joy on Asher’s face. He just stood there, frozen. I gave him one last look and walked past him without another word. (3) Mrs. Davison was efficient. The seats were changed right after physics class. I hadn’t expected, however, to be seated next to the school’s academic legend, the top-ranked student in both our class and our year, Felix. He was a man of few words. I’d never seen him speak, except to answer a question. When he heard someone was finally going to occupy the empty seat beside him, the pen scratching formulas on his notepad paused for a fraction of a second. He simply glanced up at me. His dark eyes behind his glasses were as still and lifeless as a pool of stagnant water. That day, for the first time, I listened to an entire day of lectures without any distractions. Without those two next to me, even the air felt fresher. After evening self-study, I was still lost in my work when a shadow fell over me. It was Asher. He called my name with the same old intimacy. “Charlotte, let’s walk home together.” I could hear a faint excitement in his voice. He must be thrilled to be sitting next to the girl he liked. I didn’t even look up. “No thanks. You go ahead, I’m going to stay a bit longer.” As if he didn’t notice the distance in my tone, Asher didn’t move. He blocked the light from above, leaning his hands on my desk. His voice was still warm. “A little extra studying isn’t going to make a huge difference. It’s better to go home early, for safety.” “If I leave first, who’s going to walk you home?” He leaned in closer, the warmth of his body radiating through the air. I looked up and met his smiling eyes. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder, looking as effortlessly confident as ever, as if he was certain I would agree. Over his shoulder, I saw Isabelle’s face, twisted in a grimace. She had been glaring daggers at me, but froze when she realized I was looking at her. She quickly forced her expression into a strained, unconvincing smile. My lips curved into what must have been a wicked grin. “You don’t need to worry about that. Don’t you like Isabelle? Just walk her home. And please move, you’re blocking my light.” The color drained from Asher’s face. The fingers gripping the edge of my desk turned white from the pressure, his breathing grew shallow, his eyelashes fluttered. Called out, he flew into a rage. His voice shot up. “Charlotte, are you still mad about the coffee? That’s no reason to spread rumors! Who said I like Isabelle?” The hallway was bustling with students. Curious eyes darted between us. After a tense few seconds, my new deskmate spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. “Asher, nobody cares who you like. You’re being loud, and it’s annoying.” His voice was like shards of ice. The air froze. Someone snickered. A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd. As the reality of the situation dawned on him, Asher belatedly reached out to steady a swaying Isabelle. Before leaving, he shot me a deep, meaningful look. Then, in front of half the class, he took her wrist and strode away. (4) After that day, our trio was officially broken. Asher brought breakfast, coffee, and snacks only for her. They walked to school and back home together. They no longer needed me as a buffer. Their relationship progressed rapidly, growing more intimate by the day. To avoid them, I started waking up earlier and staying up later, maximizing my study time. Finally, in the final exams of our junior year, I clawed my way back to fifth in the class and twentieth in our year. Holding the report card, a sense of stability washed over me, the feeling of finally taking control of my own destiny. My eyes traveled up the list, stopping at the very top line. The academic god, always admired, never surpassed. Felix’s name was as solid as a mountain. He had no weak subjects, and he almost never lost points on objective questions. He was like a precision computer. No emotions, no errors. I glanced at my own pathetic physics score and felt a sudden urge to ask for his help. I turned to look at him, but his gaze was fixed on the window, as if he were daydreaming. I followed his line of sight and saw the orange sunset bleeding into the clouds. Sensing my stare, he gave me an indifferent glance. “Yes?” It was a question, but his tone was flat, like a statement. “Could you help me with some science problems?” His eyes fell to the test paper on my desk. “You’re getting giveaway questions wrong. Do you think me teaching you will make a difference?” There was no disdain in his voice, no mockery. It was as if he were simply stating a fact. But he still took my paper and, with a pencil, began showing me how to substitute the formulas. His explanations were concise but easy to understand. His calm tone was like the setting sun outside the window, creating an illusion of peace. When he finished, he handed the paper back to me. As I took it, he suddenly looked at me, his dark eyes bottomless. “You’ve improved a lot. Now that your grades are back up, don’t let them fall again.” I was stunned for a moment, then nodded firmly. In this life, I would not be caught in their little love game. And I would never, ever fall behind again. (5) That night, a sudden rain began to fall from a cloudless sky. Felix didn’t have an umbrella, but I did, so I offered to walk him to the bus stop. He looked at me for a few seconds. “My ride is here. I can give you a lift.” His tone was even, still carrying that distant coldness. But I was starting to think he wasn’t as unapproachable as everyone said. He was tall, and holding the umbrella over him was a strain. Seeing me struggle to raise my arm, his long fingers closed around the handle. “I’ll hold it.” The umbrella wasn’t big. We walked shoulder to shoulder in silence. But I could feel it was tilted in my direction. “Charlotte!” Over the downpour, I heard someone calling my name. It was a voice that should have been the most familiar in the world. We’d spent decades together in my past life, but now, it sounded like a stranger’s. I didn’t want to get entangled with Asher, so I kept walking. Felix glanced at me. “I remember you two used to be close.” “I’m surprised you pay attention to that stuff. I thought you were always buried in your books,” I said. A tiny twitch played at the corner of his lips. It was the first time I’d ever seen such a vivid expression on his face. “I’m studying, not deaf and blind. Asher’s so loud, it’s hard not to hear him.” Just then, a figure blocked our path. Asher stood there without an umbrella, soaked to the bone. His eyes were barely open, the rims red, but he stared at me with a stubborn intensity. “I don’t have an umbrella either. Why are you walking him and not me? Have the months you’ve been deskmates meant more than all the years we’ve known each other?” For months, he had been completely absorbed in his burgeoning romance with Isabelle. Every time he saw me, he would look away as if I were a stranger. What right did he have to question me now? I looked at him calmly. “Do you really think I don’t know why you started hanging around me in the first place?” He froze for a second, seemingly lost in thought. We took the opportunity to walk around him and leave. It was true. I should have realized it in my last life. His sudden attention wasn’t because our parents were friends. It was because the new transfer student, Isabelle, was my friend. She was beautiful, with a gentle personality. But she was also bold, wearing pretty floral dresses under her school uniform. The day after she transferred, she approached me and said she wanted to be friends. Her eyes were sparkling, captivating. And just like that, we were friends. We ate lunch together, went to gym class together. Shortly after, Asher, who was in our class, also started getting close to me. Before, we’d only ever exchanged polite greetings. After Isabelle arrived, he started acting like we were the best of friends. The friend I thought I had was hiding other motives. The special treatment I thought I was receiving was just his little trick to get closer to her. The rain grew heavier. The car that was picking Felix up was waiting at the school gate. He held the umbrella as he opened the car door with one hand and gestured for me to get in. I didn’t hesitate. I gave the driver my address. Less than ten minutes later, we were at my door. Before I got out, Felix called my name. His eyes were unreadable in the dim light. “I won’t be coming back after the break. Study hard. If your grades slip again, no one will respect you.” His voice blended with the sound of the engine. Rain hammered on the umbrella. It was only later that I realized it. You truly never know when you’re seeing someone for the last time.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410882”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1. Arthur had lost his memory, every trace of me wiped clean. His mind was stuck in the year he loved his ex-wife most. No matter how much everyone around him tried to reason with him, he insisted I was the homewrecker who’d sabotaged their relationship. The doctors said there was a chance his memory could return, and I clung to that hope with everything I had. For three years, we divorced and remarried. It became the talk of the entire social circle, a running joke. People even placed bets. Bets on when I’d finally give up, bets on when Arthur would remember. Then came the eighth time our divorce hit the headlines. Reporters, cameras rolling, swarmed into my law office. They shoved microphones in my face, their words dripping with malice. “Ms. Jones, as a divorce attorney, how do you feel about being divorced eight times yourself?” My firm’s sign was defaced, my personal commendation plaques trampled underfoot. Before I could even respond, my boss fired me, citing damage to the firm’s reputation. “Eleanor Jones, take some advice: have some self-respect, stop hounding Mr. Hayes.” I gripped my trembling hands, a sudden weariness washing over me. They were right. This time, I really had to let go. … It was pouring rain when I left the office. Carrying a box of my belongings from my desk, I drifted home. The front door was ajar, and I could hear Arthur and Laura Miller’s laughter drifting from inside. I glanced around. The place was a disaster – clothes strewn everywhere, the carpet stained… The living room TV was still replaying the day’s circus at my office. Seeing me, the smile on Arthur’s face faded a bit. “Still have the nerve to come back.” His sarcastic words cut through the air, sharp and clear. Laura giggled and kissed Arthur’s cheek. “Alright, you two were together for seven years, try to keep some decorum.” She then looked up, raising an eyebrow at me, her smile suggestive. “Arthur really missed me, so I came over. You don’t mind, do you?” Rainwater dripped from my hair, hitting the floor one by one. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. Without another look at the two on the sofa, I turned and walked toward the bedroom. But as I pushed open the door, I froze. “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Arthur’s voice was laced with a cruel amusement. “This house is also registered under my mother’s name. It has nothing to do with you. I threw all your stuff out. Probably in the trash can by the road.” Arthur leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips, as if seeing me in such a state brought him immense joy. A sharp pain stabbed at my chest. My soaked shirt made my body shiver with cold. “You bought today’s trending topic, didn’t you?” My voice was barely a whisper. “We’re already divorced. Why did you have to make me lose my job?” In response to my question, Arthur lifted his hand and swatted the box out of my grasp. Documents and files scattered across the floor. Seven years of my hard work, my life’s blood, lay exposed. “Three years of chasing me isn’t enough for you? Even if I really did have something with you before, I’ve lost my memory.” His voice was cold, each word a blow. “I’ve forgotten you, which means you mean nothing to me!” His words, yet again, tore open old wounds. Three years ago, his sudden amnesia had erased everything about me. Just the day before, he’d been excitedly planning the nursery with me, imagining if it would be a boy or a girl. But then he forgot, and only remembered Laura. “You just forgot! You have no idea what Laura did back then…” Frustration and fury threatened to drive me mad. Arthur’s face was livid. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron, and shoved me out the door. The heavy rain instantly drenched me again. “I don’t care what Laura did. I only remember that I love her, and that’s enough.” I opened my mouth, but all my questions and bitterness suddenly felt meaningless. Arthur irritably avoided my gaze, then roughly pulled off the wedding ring from his finger. The edge of the diamond ring scratched his skin. He tossed it at my feet, and as he slammed the door shut, he spat out, “Don’t be so pathetic, begging me to remarry.” I stood there for a long time, then finally knelt down and picked up the wedding ring. Arthur had designed it himself before we got married. He’d worn it for seven years, never once taking it off. By the roadside trash can, there were our smashed wedding photos, the scarf he’d knitted for me with his own hands, and all the photo albums filled with our memories. My phone suddenly rang. I looked at the caller ID and answered. Arthur’s mother’s excited voice came through. “Eleanor, I just got Arthur’s medical report! The doctor says his memory is starting to loosen up!” “If he continues treatment, there’s an eighty percent chance he can recover!” My knuckles were white as I clutched the phone. The word “good” died on my tongue. In the end, I simply whispered, “Mom, no more treatment. If he’s forgotten, then let him forget.” 2. The next day, I went to the Hayes family estate. I laid the eight divorce certificates on the table in front of Arthur’s mother. “Mom, Arthur and I are divorced again.” She looked at me with pity, sighing deeply. “Arthur is truly sorry for what he’s done to you. You two were so happy once.” Her eyes pleaded. “But this time, it’s really different. I’ve contacted several doctors, and they all say there’s a high chance of recovery.” She pushed some business cards toward me. “I’m getting old, and all I want is for you two to have a good life together.” She paused, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “He’s even remembered quite a few things from the past recently…” Her persuasion was cut short by my interjection. “But he’s never remembered anything about me.” I lowered my head, avoiding her sympathetic gaze. The atmosphere grew heavy, until she spoke again. “If you leave, and Arthur remembers you and can’t find you, he’ll go mad.” For the past three years, every time we divorced, Arthur’s mother would say those exact words. And every time, because of those words, I would soften, again and again. Remarrying, time after time. Before I could reply, there was a commotion at the entrance. Arthur walked in, his brows instantly furrowing when he saw me. “Eleanor Jones, are you here to complain to my mother again?” he sneered. “I threw you out, and you’re still clinging on like a ghost. Can’t you really live without me?!” Arthur’s mother’s chest heaved with anger. She shot to her feet, her hand flying up to deliver a resounding slap across Arthur’s face. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?! How much more do you intend to push Eleanor? Without her, you wouldn’t even be alive!” I sat on the sofa, my hands clenched into fists, memories of seven years ago flooding back. His marriage to Laura had been a nightmare. She’d reveled in his complete devotion, yet secretly had another man. When he discovered her infidelity, he became the laughingstock of their social circle overnight. When he went to confront her, Laura had absconded with ten million dollars, vanishing without a trace. After that, Arthur sank into a deep depression. He was about to jump from a bridge when I saved him. “So what? She just wanted money, didn’t she?” Arthur remained stubborn, his gaze fixed on his mother. “I don’t care what Laura did back then. I just love her, and I can’t love anyone else.” His voice was defiant. “I won’t regret it.” In that instant, all the strength seemed to drain from Arthur’s mother. She turned, her eyes full of apology, to look at me. Arthur rubbed his temples, then finally, as if in defeat, he lifted his head. “Eleanor Jones, you want to remarry? Fine, we’ll just divorce again anyway. You’re the one who’ll look like a fool, not me.” His voice was cold, taunting. “So desperate for me? Let’s go to the registry office now.” He chuckled humorlessly. “This is your eighth divorce, isn’t it?” I forced a smile, unable to reconcile the man before me with the Arthur in my memories. “I came here to clarify things with Mom.” I looked him dead in the eye. “You’re free, Arthur Hayes.” Arthur froze, his hands at his sides trembling imperceptibly. He stared at me in surprise, then quickly regained his composure. “Playing hard to get, huh? Too bad it won’t work on me.” He scoffed. “Alright, you said it. Just don’t come crawling back to me again.” Arthur’s words were almost bitten out. Ignoring his mother’s protests, he tossed whatever he was holding onto the floor and stormed out. Arthur’s mother’s eyes went dark with fury. She screamed after his retreating back, “You’ll regret this, Arthur Hayes!” 3. Whether Arthur regretted it or not, I no longer cared. After finally giving up on his treatment, the constant tension I’d lived with for so long began to ease. After leaving the Hayes estate, I was about to go retrieve my passport and ID from Arthur. For years, all my documents had been with him. Just as I rounded a street corner, a sharp pain shot through my forehead. Hot blood gushed from the wound. I felt dizzy, disoriented, before I even understood what was happening. A group of people violently dragged me, hitting and kicking. “That’s her! That’s the homewrecker!” “Mr. Hayes and Laura are the real couple, she just had to come chasing after him, trying to be a mistress.” “Pfft, she’s a disgrace to the legal profession, always handling other people’s divorces, yet she can’t sort out her own life.” The commotion immediately attracted the attention of passersby. They didn’t intervene, but instead pulled out their phones, snapping photos of me. Losing too much blood, I couldn’t fight back. When the crowd saw I was completely defenseless, they dispersed, spitting on me as they left. “We’ll beat you every time we see you!” Through my blurring vision, I saw Arthur in the distance. He and Laura were holding hands, laughing sweetly, looking genuinely happy. Our eyes met, and Arthur’s expression stiffened. He instinctively started running toward me. “You, what happened to you?” Blood flowed unstoppably, staining my clothes. Arthur’s mind went blank. He seemed to panic, his hands trembling as he pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. But Laura stopped him. “Don’t bother. She’s probably just faking it, trying to get your sympathy, isn’t she?” Her voice was dismissive. “It just looks scary, she’ll be fine.” Laura tugged at his arm. “Didn’t you say you were going to take me to pick out my birthday present?” Laura pulled him away. Arthur hesitated for a moment, then turned off his phone. He didn’t look back at me. I leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, the blood still flowing. In the end, I called for an ambulance myself. But before it could arrive, I lost consciousness completely. When I woke up again, it was a week later. The doctor said if I’d been any later, I might have died from blood loss. Arthur’s mother, hearing what happened, specifically came to the hospital to see me. She covered all the medical expenses. “Eleanor, it was just those people’s extreme behavior. I’ve already handled it.” She looked at me, a flicker of something in her eyes. “Arthur… he just forgot you have a blood clotting disorder.” Arthur’s mother tried to persuade me again, but seeing my pale face, the words died in her throat. I smiled faintly. “Mrs. Hayes, Arthur and I are divorced, and I won’t be staying in Sterling anymore.” I took a deep breath. “I won’t be coming back.” Hearing the change in address, her eyes welled up. In the end, she just nodded. “Eleanor, whatever you want to do, I’ll help you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410881”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When Ryan Bright once again went on strike for his little paramour, his agent nearly fell to her knees before me. “Ms. Marston, please, show some mercy. This is the eighth movie he’s pulled out of this month.” Her voice was desperate, verging on tears. “At this rate, Ryan won’t have any roles left!” But even as his agent was on the brink of despair, another message from Ryan pinged. “Scarlett Marston, if the leading lady in this film isn’t Eliza Sterling, no amount of begging from you will change my mind.” He added, with a dismissive chuckle, “You say you want to pursue me? Well, a chase requires some effort, right?” Then, an afterthought, “Oh, and you know how to handle the Golden Falcon Award for Best Actor, don’t you?” My gaze fell upon the latest magazine cover. The fresh-faced newcomer, though still green, bore a striking resemblance to my treasured first love, Liam Hayes. His agent was still pleading, but I casually tore up Ryan’s contract, a wry smile playing on my lips. “Don’t you understand yet?” My voice was calm, but sharp. “Whoever I champion will be the next Best Actor.” … The next day, I was in the middle of a meeting when the boardroom door was suddenly kicked open. Everyone turned to look, their expressions a mix of surprise and annoyance. Ryan stood leaning against the doorframe, a defiant swagger about him. “Just one day of striking, and you cancel my movie contract?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowed. “You never said anything when I skipped work for a whole month before.” His gaze sharpened, a taunt in his voice. “Could it be that you’re jealous because I was with Eliza yesterday?” I closed my laptop, my expression unruffled. “Ryan, because you bailed on us at the last minute yesterday, the company paid three million in breach-of-contract fees on your behalf.” Ryan casually pulled up a chair and sat down, nonchalant. “Three million? Haven’t you paid more for me before?” He then fixed his gaze on me, his tone laced with a thinly veiled threat. “But if you dare cancel Director Davies’ film, I’ll jump ship to Celestial Entertainment.” Ryan’s confidence wasn’t unfounded. After all, his current A-list status was entirely my doing. That snowy night, his nose was red from the cold, but his eyes shone brightly. He’d said he wanted to be famous, to control his own destiny. That stubborn look, the familiar scent of ebony and amber, the matching snowy backdrop… for a moment, it made me think of my first love. So, I softened, pouring immense resources into him, just to lift him up. But that was all he was to me. A commodity. If I could raise one, I could certainly raise a second, or a third. I frowned slightly, tapping my fingertips on the table. Seeing my prolonged silence, Ryan slapped a room key card onto the table with a triumphant “Tsk.” “You’ve been chasing me for so long, it’s about time I gave you a little taste of victory.” He leaned back, a smug smile on his face. “Scarlett, you must be satisfied now, right?” Everyone present exchanged varied glances. I found it utterly ridiculous. Perhaps I had elevated him too high; he actually had the delusion that I was pursuing him. Just as I was about to say something, my phone buzzed with a text message. I opened it and saw the number I knew all too well. Pausing for a moment, I told my assistant to continue organizing the meeting notes, then left the boardroom without a backward glance. As I walked out, Ryan tried to follow, wanting to say something, but my assistant blocked him. He was certainly invested. After all, Director Davies was known as the “Best Actor Harvester” in the industry; every male lead he’d worked with had won an Oscar. And Ryan was in a transitional phase. To shed his “pretty boy” label, he absolutely needed to land the lead role in Director Davies’ new film. As the film’s biggest investor, I naturally had the final say on casting. Everyone had assumed the male lead role was undeniably Ryan’s, given my obvious favoritism towards him. Initially, I had planned for that, too. But then I remembered that text message, and I smiled. They didn’t know. The male lead I truly intended to champion was never Ryan Bright. The next morning, I met with Director Davies to discuss casting. We were deep in conversation when Ryan and Eliza Sterling burst in. Seeing me there, Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Scarlett, did you change your mind about replacing my lead role and now regret it?” His eyes were full of mockery. “You actually went to the trouble of finding out my schedule just to ambush me?” He chuckled derisively. “But don’t forget, I respond to kindness, not coercion. Trying to beg Director Davies now? Too late!” Eliza giggled, playfully shaking Ryan’s arm. “Oh, Ryan, don’t be like that. This is Ms. Marston’s sincere effort!” Seeing them play off each other, Director Davies looked a bit uncomfortable. I just found it amusing. “Ryan, I never regretted replacing you as the lead.” My voice was calm, yet cutting. “After all, with your acting skills, you wouldn’t win an Oscar even if you were the lead.” Ryan’s face instantly changed, turning angry. “Scarlett, are you still speaking out of spite?” He glared at me. “Just because you’re jealous, you’re going to threaten me with my job?” I met Ryan’s gaze directly. “You know very well that I never let personal emotions interfere with my work.” Seeing that I was serious, Ryan’s face hardened. “In that case, don’t you dare regret this!” Watching their defiant backs as they left, I remembered the time Ryan got his first lead role through his own hard work. He had excitedly hugged me, his youthful spirit shining in his eyes. “Sister, thank you for giving me the audition opportunity!” He’d beamed. “I promise to become famous everywhere, and I won’t let you down!” But once he did become famous, he grew increasingly impatient with me. “Acting lessons? I don’t have time, don’t schedule them anymore.” Later, he’d snapped, “Scarlett, are you done yet? Can’t you just pay to fix these minor issues?” A wave of bitterness washed over me. I rubbed my temples wearily and continued discussing with Director Davies. Director Davies looked at me with a complex expression. “Ms. Marston, are you really not considering Ryan Bright anymore?” He sighed. “His temperament and appearance truly match the male lead perfectly.” He added, “Although his acting needs some work, I’m confident I can help him transform.” I didn’t answer. Instead, I pulled out my phone and showed Director Davies a video. The doubt in his eyes gradually gave way to delight, eventually turning into pure joy. He slapped his thigh repeatedly, exclaiming, “That’s him! That’s the male lead I’ve always envisioned!” The next day, photos of Ryan Bright and Eliza Sterling entering and leaving a hotel hit the trending topics. Ryan’s fans were mostly “girlfriend fans”; with the scandal, many major fan accounts deserted him. Everyone at the company assumed I would step in to protect him, but I did nothing.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410880”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My mother was dying. Her last wish was to see me married. I begged Amelia for twenty-seven days, and finally, she agreed to marry me. I waited at the registry office until closing, but she never showed. That very day, however, Amelia’s childhood friend, David Marlowe, posted their marriage certificate on social media: “Time flies, three more days and it’ll be a month since we got married.” It was then I realized that the day I first begged Amelia, she had already eloped with her childhood friend. At that moment, I received an apology text from Amelia. “Ian, David is being pressured into marriage by his family. I can’t just watch him settle for anyone, trapped in a cage.” “We’ll be divorced in three days.” “I’ll marry you after that.” Three days later, when Amelia, in her wedding dress, appeared at the registry office entrance, She only received my message. “Amelia, goodbye forever.” In the morgue, I looked at my mother’s face, tears streaming down. My mother raised me alone and never asked me for anything. But I couldn’t even fulfill her last wish. Knowing my mother was gravely ill, I begged Amelia, my girlfriend of six years, to marry me, hoping to show my mother that I wouldn’t be alone after she was gone. I pleaded with her for twenty-seven days. But Amelia always found excuses. The first day, her childhood friend’s car broke down, and she rushed to pick him up. The second day, she was helping her childhood friend move, so she had no time. … The twenty-sixth day, her childhood friend had a stomachache, and she hurried to take care of him. If David hadn’t posted that marriage certificate today, I would still be in the dark. I had imagined a thousand reasons for Amelia, but I never thought she would already be married. Kneeling by my mother’s hospital bed, I stayed until evening, when Amelia called. Her voice, as always, was gentle: “It’s so late, why aren’t you home yet? Where are you, I’ll come pick you up.” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. In the past, I would have pretended to be angry, let her coax me, and then happily waited for her. But now, I couldn’t utter a single gentle word to her. Amelia’s voice held a touch of urgency: “Ian, where are you now?” “The hospital.” Amelia paused, as if just remembering I had been taking care of my mother these days. “I… wait for me, I’ll come to the hospital to be with you.” The call ended, and I forced myself to get up, fighting back the grief, to arrange my mother’s funeral. But ten minutes later, she sent another message: 【Ian, I need to accompany David to deal with his parents. I’ll definitely visit your mother next time!】 I wasn’t surprised. Because for the past two years, the phrase I heard most from her was: 【Next time, for sure.】 Missed our anniversary, will make it up next time. Bailed on meeting my mother, will come next time. Declined to marry me, will be free tomorrow. She knew I would forgive her, which is why she hurt me so carelessly. But this time, there would be no next time. Because my mother wouldn’t have another chance. And I wouldn’t forgive her again. That night, I didn’t go home, staying at the hospital instead. Amelia also sent messages all night and called countless times. I didn’t look, nor did I answer. The next day, I arrived at the company early to prepare my resignation. Amelia was the company’s founder. I was just an ordinary designer. I had been with her since she had nothing, building the company together. Now, my position in the company had become insignificant. Even if I disappeared, Amelia wouldn’t notice. Just as I was printing my resignation, Amelia suddenly appeared behind me. Under her gaze, I calmly took the resignation in my hand. She looked at me, her tone gentle: “Finished printing?” “Yes.” Amelia looked at me, seemingly oblivious to my coldness. She cleared her throat: “Ian, come with me for a moment.” The moment Amelia called me away, my colleagues immediately started whispering. “Did you know? Ms. Reed is already married.” “Really? No wonder Ian and Ms. Reed kept their relationship secret, all sneaky about it. Turns out he’s the other man.” “Ian always said he hated home-wreckers, acting like a saint while being a slut.” My father abandoned my mother and me for another woman, causing us half a lifetime of suffering. But now, thanks to Amelia, I was being called the other man. In the office, Amelia tried to hug me. I stepped back: “Ms. Reed, this is the company.” Amelia frowned. “Don’t be angry. How about I go with you to see your mother tonight?” I shook my head. “It’s no longer necessary.” My mother was dead, and I didn’t want her to see Amelia. If she knew I was being called the other man because of Amelia, She would definitely be angry with me. Amelia seemed to sense my slight change. After a moment of silence, she spoke: “Two more days, and I’ll be divorced from David. Then, we can get married.” With that, she handed me a gift box. “This is ginseng I prepared for your mother, specifically to nourish her body.” I looked at the ginseng, a little dazed. Her intentions came a little too late. My mother no longer needed it. Seeing my silence, a hint of anxiety flashed in Amelia’s eyes, and she was about to speak. A sudden ringing phone interrupted Amelia’s thoughts. Amelia took out her phone, glanced at me, Hesitated for a moment, then left. I knew it was David calling. After all, he was Amelia’s legal husband now. My heart felt no ripple. After all, I no longer cared. After that, I submitted my resignation. Facing my sudden resignation request, Vice President Johnson seemed prepared. “Ian, I’m sure Ms. Reed will arrange things for you.” I bit my lip, feeling a little absurd. It seemed everyone had decided I was Amelia’s kept man at the company. She had prepared everything for me. But they refused to believe I was Amelia’s legitimate boyfriend, and that I was heartbroken and ready to leave. Leaving the company, I ran into Amelia and David at the elevator. Seeing me, Amelia’s eyes flickered, and she instinctively began to explain: “Don’t misunderstand, I brought David here to…” Before she finished, David put his arm around her shoulder: “To tour my wife’s company.” I didn’t speak. Then, David spoke again: “Ian, you don’t mind, do you?” David looked at me with a provocative smirk. I silently stepped out of the elevator, making way for them. Amelia looked at me, her eyes filled with hesitation, wanting to say something, But David pulled her away. In the afternoon, at the crematorium, I watched my mother turn into a wisp of ash. I laid her to rest in the cemetery. Until night fell. Amelia didn’t appear, nor did she send a single message. I didn’t care. Without her disturbance, my mother could rest more peacefully. I imagined my mother’s spirit in heaven wouldn’t want me to be entangled with her anymore. And certainly wouldn’t want to see me marry her. Our six years together, it was time for it to end completely. Leaving the cemetery, I walked all the way home. It had been a long time since I walked alone at night. Before, I held my mother’s hand. Later, Amelia linked her arm through mine. From now on, I would walk alone. I thought I would get used to it. I didn’t get home until after midnight. The living room light was on, and Amelia was messaging on the sofa. Seeing me enter, Amelia’s furrowed brow smoothed, and she immediately rushed over, trying to grab my hand: “Where have you been? You didn’t answer your phone or my messages, I was about to call the police, do you know that?!” I froze for a moment, then pulled free from Amelia’s hand. “I was with my mother, I didn’t want her to be disturbed.” Hearing me mention my mother, Amelia remembered what she had said earlier, and a look of guilt crossed her face. She suddenly looked at me expectantly, and solemnly pulled out a box for me. I instinctively took it and opened the box; inside was a pair of wedding rings. I suddenly froze. Once, Amelia had confidently held my hand. She promised we would wear our wedding rings, holding our marriage certificate, and let my mother witness our happiness. I waited countless days, hoped countless times. But that was before. I closed the box and handed it back. Amelia frowned slightly, as if she realized something, and said somewhat awkwardly: “It’s past midnight now, just one more day, and I can divorce David.” “Don’t worry, I’ve always remembered my promise.” “Tomorrow, we’ll put the rings on each other, and then we’ll go get married.” I wasn’t moved by her sweet talk, merely stating: “Alright, I understand. I’m a bit tired, I’m going to rest now.” Amelia’s smile froze, realizing for the first time my perfunctory tone. A hint of panic flashed in her eyes, and she reached for my hand. Just then, David, wearing my pajamas, walked out of the bedroom. He blinked sleepily at me, then immediately stepped forward, putting his arm around Amelia’s shoulder, whining: “Amelia, Ian’s back, let’s go to bed.” Amelia quickly looked at me, explaining: “David had an argument with his family, I let him stay in the guest room for the night.” With that, Amelia stared intently at me, seemingly afraid I would misunderstand. I nodded, saying indifferently: “It’s fine, I can stay at my mother’s place for the night.” Amelia froze, seemingly surprised by my quick agreement. But David didn’t give me a chance to change my mind, triumphantly turning and rushing back into the room. As I pulled my suitcase, ready to leave, Amelia still stood in the living room. She pursed her lips, clutching my hand tightly, refusing to let go, The guilt in her eyes deepened, Finally, amidst David’s urging, she spoke: “Tomorrow, after we get married, we’ll go see your mother together.” At dawn, I packed everything and returned to the company for my final handover. The moment I stepped into the company, colleagues looked at me with strange expressions, and after I passed, they whispered and pointed behind my back. It wasn’t until I saw David sitting at my desk that I understood the reason for this bizarre atmosphere. Everyone was staring at their computer screens, yet their eyes couldn’t help but dart towards this volatile scene. Seeing me arrive, David looked at me arrogantly: “I’m starting today, I’ll sit here, you go somewhere else.” I looked at him, nodding calmly. “Okay, I’ll pack up my things.” We spoke very calmly, but seeing my demeanor, My colleagues at the company all thought I was guilty after seeing David, the rightful spouse. But due to the presence of both David and me, the main parties, no one dared to say much. They just typed on their computers, expressing their disdain for me. I also wanted to clarify things, but I didn’t know how to begin. After all, David was indeed Amelia’s legally married husband. Any more words from me would only bring self-humiliation. As I finished packing and was about to leave, Amelia walked over. Seeing me carrying my luggage, her expression tightened. “Where are you going?” “I…” David spoke first: “Make way for me, I like sitting here.” Seeing me about to leave, Amelia quickly grabbed my arm. “No, this is your spot, no one can…” Before she could finish, I interrupted directly: “If he likes it, let him have it.” After all, I had already resigned; who sat here was none of my business. Amelia, however, froze, her expression obscured. It was only after my back, carrying the box, disappeared that she came to her senses. Amelia pushed aside David, who was humming and tidying the desk, then, in front of everyone, slapped him across the face: “Did I fake marry you, making you think you could walk all over me?!” “Have you forgotten, I warned you not to mess with Ian.” After leaving the company, I received a text message from Amelia. [Tomorrow at the registry office entrance, I’ll wait for you.] [The specialist I hired for your mother will arrive tomorrow.] [After we get married, we’ll go see your mother together.] I smiled, a sudden bitterness. Amelia, goodbye. I took all my luggage and headed to the airport. The next day, Amelia stood at the registry office entrance, holding her freshly issued divorce certificate.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410879”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I had just moved in when the college student across the hall called the police, accusing me of stalking her in the shower out of jealous rage. When the police arrived, she cried, tears streaming down her face, and pointed a finger at me, yelling: “Pervert! Every night you spy on me with binoculars and post my photos online!” “I saw it all! Your eyes are so lecherous, it’s disgusting!” The neighbors around us pointed fingers at me, some even shoved me, calling me the scum of society. “This kind of creep should be chemically castrated!” “He looks so decent, who knew he was a peeping tom!” Facing a barrage of accusations, I took off my sunglasses, revealing two deep, hollow eye sockets. “Officer, how can a blind man, with no sight, spy on anyone?” 1 My voice was soft, but it pierced the noisy air in the room like an ice pick. The neighbors who had just been pushing and shouting at me froze. The middle-aged woman leading the charge held her hand mid-air, forgetting to lower it. Everyone’s gaze focused on my face. Or rather, on the two empty, hollow sockets where my eyes used to be. They were an indelible mark left by a fire three years ago. The lead police officer, a seasoned veteran named Detective Miller, paused, then frowned, his tone full of impatience. “Don’t pull that act with me!” “We’ll know if you’re truly blind after a hospital examination!” Amy Lestat, the girl across the hall, stopped crying for a moment, then burst into even sharper wails. “He’s lying! He’s just trying to get away with it!” “How can he not see! He stands by the window every night watching me! Those eyes… those eyes…” She seemed to want to describe my eyes but was too terrified by my empty sockets to speak, merely pointing at me, trembling all over. “Disgusting! So disgusting!” Her shouts stirred the neighbors into a fresh commotion. “Right! He must be faking it!” “What won’t criminals do these days? To escape punishment, he’d even claim to be blind!” A young man, filled with righteous indignation, even rushed forward, trying to grab my collar. “You scum, I’ll deliver justice today!” Detective Miller held him back. “What do you think you’re doing! Everyone calm down! We’ll handle this!” He turned to me, his suspicion and disgust undiminished. “Come with us.” I didn’t resist, calmly extending my hands. A cold touch embraced my wrists. I was flanked by two young officers, led towards the elevator. Behind me, Amy’s cries and the neighbors’ curses blended into a cacophony. “Scum of society!” “Get out of our neighborhood!” “Hope you rot in jail!” I could “see” the self-righteous expressions on their faces. And “hear” the pleasure in their words as they trampled someone into the mud. As we entered the elevator, the metal doors slowly closed, cutting off the outside clamor. One young officer, probably new to the force, couldn’t help but whisper to me. “Are you… are you really blind?” I twitched the corner of my mouth, not answering. The other officer patted his shoulder, signaling him to keep quiet. But I knew their scales of judgment had already tipped entirely towards the tearful girl. After all, a young, pretty, pitiful college student. A sunglasses-wearing, suspicious man living alone. To them, it was clear who was the victim and who was the aggressor. Only they didn’t know. Sometimes, what the eyes see is the biggest lie. And I, a blind man, “saw” what none of them did. For instance, Amy’s steady, unruffled heartbeat when she accused me. 2 The interrogation room at the police station. The fluorescent lights shone brightly, and the air smelled musty. I sat on a cold metal chair, facing Detective Miller and a female officer taking notes. “Name.” “Lucas Rochester.” “Age.” “Twenty-eight.” “Occupation.” “Unemployed.” Detective Miller slammed his pen on the table, creating a jarring sound. “Lucas Rochester, I advise you to confess honestly!” “With witness and material evidence present, how much longer do you intend to argue?” I faced his direction and calmly asked. “Excuse me, who is the witness? What is the material evidence?” “The witness is the victim, Amy Lestat! The material evidence…” Detective Miller paused, apparently finding it somewhat tricky. “We are currently searching for the material evidence! Don’t think you’re off the hook just because you don’t admit it!” He intensified his tone, trying to overwhelm me with his presence. “Amy Lestat has told us everything! You only moved in a week ago, and you already harbored ill intentions towards her. Every night at eight, when she showers, you use binoculars to peek at her from across the way!” “You even secretly photographed her and posted her pictures on foreign websites for profit!” “This behavior constitutes a serious crime! Confess now, and you might receive leniency!” I almost burst out laughing. Well-crafted. Time, place, tool, motive—all perfectly laid out. If I weren’t the person involved, I almost would have believed it. “Detective Miller.” I spoke, interrupting his lengthy monologue. “First, I don’t own binoculars.” “Second, I don’t have a tool for the crime. My computer and phone were replaced with blind-accessible versions three years ago and have no camera function.” “Third, and most importantly.” I said, enunciating each word. “I am blind.” Detective Miller’s breathing noticeably grew heavier. “I told you, don’t use that as an excuse! We will take you for an examination to confirm if you’re truly blind!” “Until the results are in, you are the primary suspect!” Just then, the interrogation room door was pushed open, and a young officer peeked his head in. “Captain Miller, the victim is very agitated, keeps crying, and says she’ll report us to your superiors, claiming we’re shielding a criminal.” Detective Miller’s face darkened. “Understood.” He waved the young officer away, then glared fiercely at me. Of course, I couldn’t see his glare, but I could hear the grinding of his teeth. “Lucas Rochester, do you know that because of you, we’re under a lot of pressure right now?” “She’s a university student from a prestigious school, with high public attention. If this isn’t handled well, our entire precinct will face criticism!” I understood. More than the truth, he cared about defusing the situation. And the easiest way to defuse the situation was for me to plead guilty. “So, to prevent you from being criticized, I should confess to something I didn’t do?” My tone grew cold. Detective Miller seemed provoked by my attitude. “What kind of attitude is that! Who do you think you are?” “Let me tell you, once you’re in here, if you’re a dragon, you coil; if you’re a tiger, you crouch!” “You refuse to confess, do you? Fine! We have plenty of ways to make you talk!” He stood up, looking down at me. “Lock him up first! Once the search warrant comes, go search his place thoroughly!” “I don’t believe we won’t find any evidence!” The door opened, and two officers entered, once again grabbing my arms. I didn’t struggle. I knew that from the moment Amy called the police, I had fallen into a carefully crafted trap. Since they dared to do this, they must have been fully prepared. Next, they would “find” the so-called “evidence” in my home. And I would be thoroughly nailed to the pillar of shame. 3 The cold iron door clanged shut behind me, echoing heavily. I was locked in a temporary holding cell. The room was small, with only a hard cot and a toilet. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant mixed with despair. I fumbled my way to the bed and sat down, quietly listening to the sounds outside. Footsteps of officers pacing back and forth echoed in the corridor, interspersed with hushed conversations. “Is that the peeping pervert?” “Looks decent enough, but he’s utterly disgusting.” “He’s supposedly blind, but I bet he’s faking it.” “Who knows? Anyway, he’s finished now. Of all people to cross, he had to cross a college student.” These voices, like countless tiny needles, pricked my ears. I had long been accustomed to darkness, but for the first time, it felt so chillingly cold. After about two hours, the iron door opened again. It was Detective Miller. He held a transparent evidence bag in his hand, a triumphant smile on his face. He dangled the evidence bag in front of me. “Lucas Rochester, look what this is?” He seemed to forget I couldn’t see. He revealed the answer himself, his voice full of satisfaction. “Under your windowsill, we found this!” “A pair of military-grade binoculars!” “And this!” He took out another evidence bag, containing a digital camera. “Inside the camera, we found a large number of candid photos of Amy Lestat! Various angles! Indecent!” “Now, what do you have to say?” I remained silent. Inside, however, a storm raged. They were fast. So quickly, they had prepared all the “evidence.” Detective Miller saw my silence and assumed I had conceded. He pulled up a chair, sat opposite me, and spoke in a tone as if lecturing a misbehaving junior. “Lucas Rochester, Lucas Rochester, I ask you, so young, good-looking too, why choose such sordid acts when you could do anything else?” “Now the evidence is conclusive, denying it is useless.” “Just sign and put your fingerprint, and I can still plead with the prosecutor for you, so you get a lighter sentence.” He pushed a document and an inkpad towards me. “Come on, put your fingerprint, finish this early, it’s good for everyone.” I could “hear” the perfunctory and impatient tone in his voice. He didn’t care about the truth at all. He just wanted to close the case quickly. I slowly lifted my head, facing him. “Detective Miller, if I put my fingerprint, does that mean I admit to all the charges?” “Of course!” “Will I be sentenced for sexual assault and disseminating obscene materials?” “Yes, with multiple charges combined, at least three years, to begin with.” “Will my name, my life, forever be branded as a ‘sexual predator’ and ‘pervert’?” Detective Miller’s patience seemed to have run out. “Why are you so verbose! This is your own doing! Who else can you blame?” I smiled. My laughter sounded particularly eerie in the empty holding cell. “Yes, who else can I blame?” I murmured to myself. Then, I reached out, fumbling for the transcript. Just as Detective Miller thought I would press my fingerprint, I used all my strength to tear the transcript into shreds. The paper scraps fell like snowflakes. Detective Miller was stunned; he hadn’t expected me to dare to do such a thing. “You… you’re crazy!” He stood up abruptly, pointing at my nose and yelling. “This is resisting arrest! An aggravated offense!” Facing his rage, I spoke each word clearly. “I didn’t do it, and I won’t admit to a single word.” “You can fabricate evidence, you can beat confessions out of people, but you will not make me bow down.” “You want me to confess? Over my dead body.” My words were like a resounding slap, hitting Detective Miller hard across the face. His face turned from red to green, then green to purple. “Good! Good! Good!” He repeated “good” three times, trembling with rage. “You’ve got guts! I’ll see just how tough you are!” He turned and stormed out, roaring at the door. “Guards! Cuff him! Request formal detention!” “I’ll make sure he learns what the dignity of the law means!” Soon, two officers rushed in, roughly dragging me off the bed. Cold handcuffs again clamped onto my wrists, this time tighter than before, cutting into my skin. They pushed and shoved me, making me stumble forward. Just then, my phone rang. It was the monotone electronic sound typical of blind-accessible phones. One officer impatiently reached to hang up. But I spoke. “Let me answer.” My voice held an undeniable calm. The officers paused, surprised. Detective Miller yelled: “Answer what! Take him away!” “If this call delays the ‘truth’ you seek, the consequences are yours.” My words made Detective Miller stop. He looked at me suspiciously. Finally, he motioned for his subordinate to hand me the phone. I fumbled and pressed the answer button. On the other end, a cold yet familiar female voice spoke. “Lucas Rochester, I am your landlady. I demand you vacate my property within three days.” “I don’t want a disgusting pervert living in my apartment.” 4 The voice on the other end of the phone belonged to my landlady, Ms. Jenkins. Her voice, through the receiver, was cold as ice. “Ms. Jenkins, it’s not what you think.” I tried to explain. “I don’t want to hear it!” She brutally cut me off. “All I know is, you only moved in a week ago, and you’ve already caused such a scandal!” “Now the entire neighborhood chat group is exploding! Everyone’s cursing me for letting a wolf into the fold!” “How will I rent my apartment out in the future? What about my reputation?” Her voice grew sharper, filled with the anger of being implicated. “Lucas Rochester, I don’t care if you’re a genuine pervert or wrongly accused, I’m giving you three days!” “If you’re not moved out in three days, I’ll hire someone to throw all your belongings out!” With that, she slammed the phone down. Silence once again fell over the holding cell. Detective Miller showed a hint of schadenfreude. “Heard that? It doesn’t feel good to be abandoned by everyone, does it?” He winked at his subordinate. “Take him away!” I was escorted, walking through the long corridor. This time, no one whispered. They just looked at me with expressions of utter contempt. I was shoved into a police car, heading for the city detention center. There, I would await the so-called judgment. Outside the car window, the city’s clamor gradually faded. I leaned against the cold car wall, feeling the vibrations of the vehicle. Despair, like a tide, surged from all directions, threatening to drown me. Just then, another voice suddenly echoed in my mind. A calm, efficient, emotionless female voice. “Mr. Rochester, I am Quinn Vance, a lawyer from the City Legal Aid Center.” “Your case is now assigned to me.” I froze. Legal aid? I hadn’t applied for it. “The police applied for you.” As if guessing my question, the lawyer named Quinn explained. “According to regulations, in your situation, a lawyer must be present.” I understood. This was just a formality. A mere procedural step. This lawyer, Quinn, probably already assumed I was guilty, just like Detective Miller and his team. All she had to do was persuade me to plead guilty, then sign a stack of papers. “I have nothing to say.” My voice was dry and tired. “I am innocent.” Silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. I expected her to launch into a lengthy lecture, just like Detective Miller. But she didn’t. She simply spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve reviewed your situation with the police.” “Binoculars and a camera with candid photos were found at the scene, the victim’s accusations are vivid, and multiple neighbors can testify to your suspicious behavior.” “All evidence is heavily against you.” Every word she spoke was like a hammer, striking my heart. “If you insist on not pleading guilty, once the trial begins, and the judge accepts this evidence, your sentence will only be harsher.” I closed my eyes, my deeply sunken eye sockets dry. “So, you’re also here to persuade me to plead guilty?” “No.” Quinn’s answer surprised me. “I’m not here to persuade you to plead guilty. I am your lawyer, and my duty is to protect your legal rights.” “I now need you to answer a few questions. Please be absolutely truthful.” Her voice was as calm as a precise instrument. “First, are those binoculars and that camera yours?” “No.” “Second, did you know the plaintiff, Amy Lestat, previously? Or have any contact with her?” “No, no contact.” “Third, besides your eyes, are your other senses, such as hearing, more acute than an average person’s?” This question stirred something within me. She was the first person to notice other changes in my body. “Yes.” “Good.” A subtle, almost imperceptible tremor seemed to enter Quinn’s voice. “Mr. Rochester, the police will transfer you to the city detention center in half an hour. Before that, they will ask you to sign a criminal detention notice.” “Do not sign anything.” “Wait for me.” The call ended. I held my phone, and despite the cold in my hands, a bead of sweat formed. Hope. In the endless darkness and despair, this woman named Quinn gave me a faint glimmer of hope. Though this hope was as small as a candle flame in the wind, liable to extinguish at any moment. The police car stopped. I was led into an office, where Detective Miller threw a document in front of me. “Sign it!” I shook my head. “My lawyer will be here soon. I won’t sign anything before she arrives.” Detective Miller’s face instantly turned purple with rage. “Lawyer? You can afford a lawyer?” He acted as if he’d heard the biggest joke. “Let me tell you, it’s useless! No one can save you!” He grabbed my hand, trying to force my fingerprint onto the document. Just then, the office door was violently pushed open. A woman in a professional suit, with an upright posture, walked in. She glanced at the scene in the room, her brow slightly furrowed. “Stop.” Her voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable authority. “I am Lucas Rochester’s defense attorney, Quinn Vance.” “Any coercive action on your part, when my client has explicitly refused to sign, is illegal.” Detective Miller’s face turned from green to pale as he looked at the suddenly appearing Quinn. He released my hand, scrutinizing the powerful woman, his tone unfriendly: “Who are you? Who let you in?” Quinn took a power of attorney and her lawyer’s badge from her briefcase, placing them directly on the table. “Appointed by the City Legal Aid Center. These are my credentials and authorization. Now, I demand to meet my client immediately and privately.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410878”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the Everdeen family went bankrupt, I fled from debt, working three jobs a day, barely eating or sleeping, yet still being beaten by creditors. After a phone call, I returned to Kyoto. But it was right when Adrian Collins was about to get engaged. Everyone thought I hadn’t given up on Adrian and was back to ruin his engagement with Clara Thorne. “Eleanor, you still haven’t given up?” “Adrian never liked you; he’s always loved Clara.” The warnings, the unprovoked beatings, I could barely catch my breath. And Adrian Collins, the man I once loved beyond measure, merely watched it all, his eyes burning with hatred for me. I sneered, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. “You’re overthinking it. Not long ago, a mystic told me I’m a lone star, destined for no marriage.” His hand, however, trembled slightly. 1 The train arrived in Kyoto. Stepping out of the station, I immediately saw the tall, imposing figure of Adrian Collins beside a Maybach. He looked impatient waiting. I walked over. “Adrian.” The handsome man paused, surprised. I lowered my head, clenching my hands. I knew he hadn’t expected the thin, impoverished-looking person before him to be Eleanor Everdeen, once the young lady of the Everdeen family. Facing his cold gaze, I forced a smile. “Are you really… Eleanor,” Then, he impatiently corrected himself. “Taking a train instead of flying.” After we got in the car, the compartment remained quiet. He drove in the front. I sat in the back. Three years ago, I used to talk a lot, constantly wanting to be around him. He always wore a cold expression. He disliked me greatly. Now, I rarely speak. Given the chance, I’d rather just curl up and sleep for a while. The car was clean and spacious. In the passenger seat, there was a tiny, small plush toy tucked away. I turned to look out the window. If I wasn’t mistaken, that seat now exclusively belonged to his fiancée, Clara Thorne. When I first got in the car, I had intended to sit in the passenger seat, but realizing my mistake, I immediately retracted my hand. 2 I pursed my lips tightly. I don’t know when it started, but I was always afraid, so afraid that even my own breathing felt like it might disturb someone. “Don’t you have anything to ask?” I turned my head, meeting Adrian’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “I…” Ask what? I really don’t seem to have anything to ask, or rather, I’m not interested in anything anymore. “Adrian…” He immediately cut me off. “Just call me by my name. We’re not that close. You’re only back because Grandma is seriously ill and wants to see you. Don’t try to claim kinship.” My lips froze in mid-air. Soon, though, I nodded. “Is Grandma Collins very ill?” He didn’t answer, but his expression tightened a little, the meaning clear. I clenched my hands, wondering, are all the people who genuinely cared for me in this world leaving? 3 When I arrived, Grandma Collins was in a deep sleep. I sat beside her, numerous machines attached to her. I held her hand, warming it with my body heat. She finally showed a slight reaction, gently squeezing my hand back. “Grandma Collins.” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Butler, take her to wash up first.” After being on the train for over thirty hours, Adrian was clearly tired of seeing me like this. Looking at the spacious bathtub, I lost myself in thought. “Miss Everdeen, you can take off your clothes now.” I was startled. “Aunt Sarah, please step out for a moment.” The memory felt distant. Aunt Sarah was good at scrubbing backs; as a child, I often pestered her to help me. She closed the door behind her. My hand, reaching to remove my clothes, paused. “Young Master, Miss Everdeen said she’d wash herself, no need for me to scrub her back.” “Hmph, keep an eye on her. She looks like she crawled out of a mud pit.” I was stunned for two seconds. I took off my clothes. The mirror immediately revealed the crisscrossing scars on my body. My hand slowly moved down, resting on my waist, on the centipede-like knife scar. It still hurt a lot. After all, a forced liver transplant had been performed here. A shabby clinic. So much pain. So much pain. 4 After washing, I walked out, almost colliding with Adrian. I quickly stepped back and looked up. He looked down with cold eyes. “Don’t you have any better clothes? Eleanor, are you deliberately dressing so shabbily so Grandma will pity you when she wakes up?” I was momentarily dazed. “Sorry, I didn’t bring any better clothes, but these are very clean.” Aunt Sarah was surprised. “These clothes don’t look too big, Miss Everdeen. How do they look so oversized on you?” I looked up. Adrian also watched me coldly. I smiled. “I overdid my diet a bit. I’ll regain the weight in a few days.” Aunt Sarah was astonished: “Dieting, you mean?” Just then, Adrian’s phone rang. He took it out. We both glimpsed the caller ID: Clara. A gaze instantly fell on me. Adrian had already answered. “Adrian, do you want to have dinner together tomorrow night?” “Tomorrow night, fine.” I stepped out, heading down the hallway. Only a few sconces were lit, the light not very bright. Standing there, however, I felt more at ease. Once upon a time, I preferred dimmer places to bright ones, as if I could hide myself, remain unnoticed. Inside the bedroom, the call wasn’t over yet. Compared to how he used to barely answer my calls, or how cold he was when he did, Adrian was completely different with Clara Thorne. But all these things happened three years ago, and still, whenever I think of them, I feel a chill run through me. I didn’t understand. Three years ago, I was desperate, my head bleeding, yet he refused to even temporarily take me in at the Collins family home. With my father’s nearly ten million in debt, I was pushed into an endless abyss. Unable to live, unable to die. 5 Adrian walked out. Our eyes met. His gaze pierced through me. “Ever since you came back, you seem to be heavily preoccupied. Are you really planning something, incapable of changing your ways?” “What?” I completely didn’t understand what he was talking about. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just wondering which room I’ll be sleeping in tonight.” “Indeed, you’ll never change. If I can’t see through a liar like you, then I don’t deserve to be the CEO of Collins Group.” His eyes were fiercely intense, capable of seeing through everything. I took a step back. “Adrian, can I still call you Adrian? I don’t mean anything else; I just feel it’s a respectful way to address you.” “And I hope you can rest assured, whatever I might be thinking, it has nothing to do with you, nor will I yearn for what I shouldn’t.” He closed in on me, grabbing my throat. “Is that so? You used to be very good with your words, only to turn around and cause trouble for Clara.” “Eleanor, you’re the most two-faced person I’ve ever met.” I struggled to breathe, falling into extreme agony. I was only released when my eyes rolled back. “Cough…” I leaned against the wall, watching him with red-rimmed eyes, wanting to say, did you really investigate? But what came out was merely. “Perhaps I should stay elsewhere. I’ll come see Grandma tomorrow.” I leaned against the wall, heading downstairs, my legs weak. After a few steps, I was pulled back. “What’s with the act? When Grandma wakes and sees you, you can leave when the time is right.” He strode downstairs, quickly leaving the old mansion. 6 The next day, Grandma Collins was lucid for a while. She held my hand, repeatedly calling out, “Sweetheart.” I turned my head, wiping away tears. “Grandma, you must get well. You haven’t accompanied Eleanor to watch the sunset yet.” Grandma just smiled, offering no response. Soon, she fell back into a deep coma. Grandma didn’t wake up for a long time. My body couldn’t hold up, so I went back to my room for a nap. I was woken by a commotion in the hall. I came out. Facing away, a perfect couple, a handsome man and a beautiful woman, stood in the hall. “Adrian, where’s Eleanor?” The man turned sideways. Clara Thorne looked at me, stunned, “Eleanor?” She came over and took my hand: “Eleanor, it really is you. You’re so thin now.” I looked down and saw the emerald green imperial jade bracelet on her fair wrist. This was the Collins family’s heirloom bracelet; Grandma Collins passed it to Adrian’s mother, who had now given it to Clara Thorne. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you speaking?” Suddenly, a sharp, warning gaze shot my way. Adrian had always been unwilling to let her suffer even a little grievance. I forced a smile. “Are you going to see Grandma Collins? She’s upstairs.” She looked up. “Okay, I’ll be down later. Adrian and I have a restaurant booked tonight. You should come with us too.” Clara Thorne went upstairs with hurried steps. In the hall, I turned my head away, avoiding that warning gaze. But still, I couldn’t help but ask. “Are you getting married soon?” He sneered: “You’re quite concerned about these things, still claiming you’re not plotting anything?” “Eleanor, I’m warning you, if you dare to hurt Clara again, I’ll make sure you die without a burial place.” My breath caught, even feeling painful, but in the end, I just said lightly. “You really overestimate me; I don’t have that capability at all.” 7 In the evening, I didn’t go to dinner with them. Instead, I told Aunt Sarah I was going out to work. Penniless. The debt collectors, if I didn’t pay them for a day, I would be brutally beaten. I had no choice. I went to a bar and worked as a server. But just as I left the bar, the debt collectors caught up to me and snatched the money. “Leave me some, I need to take a ride.” I grabbed the person leaving. He turned, kicking me viciously. “You earned so little, and you want me to leave you some?” I lay on the ground. My whole body convulsed with pain. “Pah.” “Don’t forget, we let you come back to borrow money from the Everdeen family to pay off your father’s debt to us.” “Otherwise, you know, you wouldn’t have made it back alive.” Another kick landed on my face. I lay helplessly on the ground. At this moment, I truly wished I were dead. 8 By the time I walked back to the Collins family estate, it was three in the morning. Aunt Sarah, woken from her sleep, opened the door for me and gasped: “Miss Everdeen, what happened to you?” I raised a hand to cover my face. “Nothing, I fell.” Exhausted, I was about to go back to my room to sleep. But a tall figure came down the stairs. I had already sensed who it was, and just wanted to quickly retreat to my room. He hadn’t stayed here last night, why was he here now? “Stop.” I tried to stand in the dimmer light, turning back. “Is there something wrong?” He narrowed his eyes, then took a swift step forward. I was held. “What happened to your face?” His presence was too overwhelming; I grew very nervous and dared not look at him. “I… I fell.” “Fell? Where did you run off to late at night, and you’re only back now, almost dawn?” His grip was strong, and his gaze was menacing. He wore only a black silk pajama, yet it exuded a chilling, captivating aura. I struggled, but he wouldn’t let go. I was already in so much pain, and with him not letting go, I felt like I was being crushed. I don’t know where I found the courage, but I stood on tiptoes, leaning closer to him. “Adrian, are you worried about me? Are you concerned?” His eyes suddenly narrowed. Before I could open my mouth again, I was shoved away. “Shut up, a scheming person like you, is anyone worth caring about?” I was thrown against the wall, my back hitting it again, feeling like my bones were coming apart. I stood in the shadows, watching him turn and stride away. My eyes filled with confusion.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410877”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My best friend and my boyfriend were sworn enemies, yet they became lovers in a game. Everyone thought they’d back out. But my best friend, Lyra, snatched up the wager, her voice brimming with challenge: “What’s wrong, Jim Voldemort? Scared to play now?” “King’s game: whoever breaks up first loses. I advise you to surrender gracefully and call me ‘Dad’ the next time we meet!” Jim Voldemort was so furious he gritted his teeth, adamantly refusing to be the first to break up. They fought from campus to the corporate world. To up the ante, they even adopted a child. From then on, he played the devoted husband, she played the loving mother. And I, Eleanor Vance, had a secret decade-long relationship with Jim Voldemort. Lyra’s mother, unaware of the truth, Still urged them to get married at this year’s New Year’s Eve dinner. “How can parents of a middle schooler not be legally recognized as a family unit?” Lyra skillfully pushed me forward as a shield: “If I get married, what about Eleanor?” Jim chimed in too: “Yes, we can’t bear to leave Eleanor all alone.” They were as in sync as a real married couple. I opened my phone and smiled. “Then you can rest easy.” “My mother has picked eighteen fiancés for me; they’re lining up for me to choose.” This time, Jim’s face completely darkened. 1 In front of them, I directly interviewed those eighteen men. “This young wolf-cub is good; I’ve been into younger men lately.” “That icy guy was decent too; he looks like he’d be caring.” “And…” Only my comments echoed through the private room. Jim Voldemort’s presence was terrifyingly low, his face hinting at a coming storm. My best friend, Lyra Quinn, hugged him tightly, whispering a warning: “Jim, if you dare to mention anything about the game now, I’ll consider you to have completely surrendered.” “My mother has a weak heart; don’t go crazy in front of her!” Lyra, afraid he might actually act rashly, hugged him so tightly it looked like she wanted to break his waist. Jim’s chest heaved, and he unconsciously hooked Lyra’s little finger. This was his little gesture when he was being soothed. Lyra’s mother smiled, watching their intimate interaction. I twitched the corner of my mouth, my throat bitter. It’s laughable, really. These two: one was my secret boyfriend, the other my confidante. They sat on one side, and I sat opposite. Together, we formed a stable triangle. Much like our relationship over these years. On the way home, all three of us were silent. I opened the back door, leaving the passenger seat for Lyra. She paused, then instinctively said: “Alfie has tutoring today, we don’t need to pick him up so early.” I smiled, “It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Alfie was the child Jim and Lyra adopted. He had just started middle school this year and didn’t know his adoptive parents were actually a fake couple. Whenever he was around, they would act as if they were madly in love. The passenger seat, once exclusively mine, was gradually given to Lyra. The glove compartment sometimes held her lipstick and perfume, sometimes Alfie’s toys and homework. My belongings, however, were nowhere to be found. When Lyra first started playing the role of a respectful partner with Jim, she would still hug the toilet, vomiting profusely. Her eyes teary, she’d look at me: “Eleanor, what did you ever see in that dog, Jim?” “Just holding his hand once, I’d want to scrub it eight hundred times with disinfectant.” Jim wouldn’t be outdone. Knowing Lyra hated him for “stealing” me, he’d deliberately pick me up and sit me on his lap during meals, refusing to let me down, just to spite her. It would make Lyra stomp her feet in anger. In those years, the love was real, and the hatred was real. It’s the same now. I pushed Lyra into the passenger seat, saying blandly: “Don’t worry about me. I’m used to sitting in the back now.” No matter how much you dislike something, after doing it a thousand times, you get used to it. Jim frowned, looking a little helpless. “Eleanor, there’s no need to intentionally provoke me by putting on such a show with eighteen different men.” “You know I detest her, and she detests me too.” “There’s really nothing between us.” Lyra quickly nodded. “That’s right, Jim will definitely marry you in the end.” “Besides, didn’t you say you didn’t want to rush into the grave of marriage?” Having acted for so many years, even their expressions of urgency were becoming increasingly similar. They truly looked like a married couple. I climbed into the back seat, looking at the passing scenery outside the window. “Lyra, I said that when I was twenty-three.” “I’m thirty-three now, long past the age of youthful bravado.” Jim’s breath hitched, the veins on his hands, gripping the steering wheel, bulging. “What about me?” His voice was strained, his eyes gradually reddening. “Does someone you loved at twenty-three stop loving you at thirty-three?” 2 I couldn’t answer. So I pretended not to hear. Just as I always pretended not to have witnessed their kiss in the snow a month ago. It was Alfie’s birthday party, and many people were invited to celebrate. In broad daylight, the two of them started arguing about his tutoring class. They’d had some wine, and they started brawling like children. Alfie was terrified and cried uncontrollably. I quickly picked him up and left. After finally calming the child, when I went to the garden to find them, I saw a drunken Jim pinning Lyra down, forcefully kissing her lips despite her struggles. Lyra trembled, then slapped him hard. “Jim Voldemort, look at me and see who I am!” “I’m not Eleanor!” She tried her best to restrain herself, but her voice still carried an uncontrollable sob. Jim stumbled to the ground, his fingers buried deep in his hair. “I know… How could I mistake the two of you?” They looked at each other, their eyes filled with pain, regret, loss… and a hint of undeniable passion. Tears streamed from Lyra’s eyes without warning. She suddenly lunged forward, hugging Jim tightly. Her voice was muffled and desperate: “…Today doesn’t count.” “We were both drunk, so whatever happened, it doesn’t count as betrayal.” Jim fiercely hugged her back, kissing her passionately. I hid in the corner, my hands and feet freezing. Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes, melting into tears that streamed down. At this moment, I also wanted to ask Jim. Would someone you didn’t love at twenty-three be loved at thirty-three? The tangled fate between the three of us dates back a long time. My personality was gentle and timid; I spoke softly. Lyra, however, was domineering and strong, her word was law. Jim liked me the most, so he detested Lyra, who was my opposite. Yet, they were both exceptionally good-looking, academically excellent, and childhood friends. No matter which school they were in, they were a popular, love-hate pairing. However, Lyra strongly disliked being forcibly paired with him, complaining more than once about their blind classmates. Jim, though he didn’t speak, clearly drew boundaries with his actions. I wasn’t mediocre, but among them, I appeared overly unremarkable. At first glance, it seemed like two prominent figures and their little follower. Therefore, when Jim first confessed to me at seventeen, my immediate reaction was disbelief. “Did you lose a game of Truth or Dare?” Jim’s face twisted for a moment, then he walked away in a huff. But from then on, he would stand by our classroom door every day with a flower, publicly declaring his love. Lyra was furious, stomping her feet. Every time she saw him, she couldn’t resist hitting Jim in the face. It wasn’t until I accepted his confession that they finally calmed down. Lyra, while being annoyed, helped us cover up. Later, in college, Lyra changed boyfriends every week, and the annoyed person became Jim. From ideologies to preferences, they had nothing in common. Until the graduation banquet, when that seemingly joking King’s Game emerged. The classmate who drew the King’s card truly had no ill intentions; initially, they just designated Jim and Lyra to be a couple for a week. Like everyone else, I thought one of them would quickly give up and concede. But no one anticipated that they would become competitive, just like when they were children. They held their noses and went on dates, went shopping, performing their deep affection for everyone. A week passed. A month passed. A year passed. Ten years passed. They were still competing. Those in the know started a betting pool on when they would break up. Those unaware praised Mr. Voldemort and Miss Quinn’s deep devotion. And I, just like in my youth, was always overshadowed by their brilliance. No one remembered that Jim and I had a history. 3 A silence filled the car. Jim first dropped Lyra at her house. Without her, Jim and I had even less to talk about. After adopting Alfie, our conversations often revolved around the child. Jim complained that Lyra, a first-time mother, had no idea how to care for a child. Lyra grumbled that Jim was always away, leaving her to raise the child alone. They were still at odds, as always, but to outsiders, it was just minor marital disagreements. I held the title of godmother, but I was a true outsider. Alfie only liked his mom and dad; he didn’t like me. He even thought I was the third wheel in their family. Thinking about it carefully, the rift between us actually appeared very early. From the moment Jim forgot my birthday because of a parent-teacher meeting. From the moment Jim suggested we no longer celebrate our anniversary. From the moment Jim said we needed to be more reserved in front of Alfie. Those cracks were silent, he didn’t notice them, and I couldn’t articulate them. The silence was driving him mad. Back home, Jim impatiently pressed me against the wall. A torrent of kisses rained down. In the throes of passion, I suddenly caught a familiar scent. It was Lyra’s usual perfume. Very faint, but with a strong presence. Just like her. I suddenly felt a wave of nausea, struggled to push him away, And rushed to the bathroom, clutching the toilet, vomiting. Jim’s face went pale. “Eleanor, what did I do wrong?” “You know that everything with Lyra in front of others is just an act.” “I’ve loved you since we were kids.” I couldn’t answer; the severe dehydration made me dizzy. In fact, ever since I caught them kissing, I became suspicious and paranoid. For a while, I even followed Jim. But as Lyra said, they were both drunk that day, and whatever happened was an accident. So it didn’t count as betrayal. I never caught them being intimate again either. But the thorn between us was already there. Every time I saw them together, I couldn’t help but recall that scene. Every day that followed was like being slowly cut by a dull knife. Jim, confused by my coldness, also felt very wronged. But before he could find an answer, Alfie’s school enrollment issues consumed all his attention. So, anything about me was put aside again. Jim saw how sick I was and didn’t press further. We lay on the same bed, he holding me, his fingers unconsciously tapping my arm. When I had nightmares as a child, he would comfort me just like this. Gently, disturbing no one. But how did we end up like this now? Tears silently streamed down, unnoticed by Jim. In the middle of the night, a sharp pain suddenly gripped my abdomen. I nudged Jim awake, my face ashen. “I think I have acute gastroenteritis again.” Jim woke up in a fright, running five red lights on the way, rushing me straight to the hospital. But just at the last intersection, Lyra’s call suddenly came in. “Jim, Alfie seems to be in shock from a fever, what should I do?” Jim slammed on the brakes. I was resting in the back seat and was thrown to the floor. I was in too much pain to speak, only hearing Lyra’s voice, anxious with a hint of a sob. After a while, Jim carried me to the ground outside. “Eleanor, I’ve called you a cab; it’ll be here soon if you wait here.” With that, he hurriedly drove off. In his haste, he almost hit a railing. I watched him leave. In these past few years, it seemed I was always watching his back. But before the driver arrived, I lost consciousness and fainted.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410876”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The apocalypse descended, and my ability was [Mascot], allowing zombies around me to act like normal people. I was also the only tool that could keep Zombie Grandma quiet. My older sister and younger brother both had offensive abilities, but they always praised me. “Our Cici is the most capable. As long as you’re home, Grandma, who turned into a zombie, is like a docile cat, never biting anyone. That way, our family gets the institute’s family allowance.” Until the day before New Year’s Eve, the safe zone opened up four hundred spots for a holiday feast! Mom and Dad excitedly packed their bags, then slammed the steel security door shut. “There are only four tickets, Cici. You’re our family’s guardian angel; stay behind and watch Grandma.” “We’ll bring back some packed meat for you.” But they didn’t know. When the New Year’s Eve bell chimed, and they raised their glasses in celebration, I was already being torn apart, flesh and bone, my throat chewed to pieces by a starving Grandma. It turned out my ability only worked when my family was near me. … With a sharp “click” from the heavy steel security door, the last sliver of warm light that had seeped through the crack was completely cut off. I huddled in the corner of the sofa, my voice trembling, looking at the rocking chair opposite. “Grandma, be good, Cici is here.” A hunched figure sat in the rocking chair. Normally, as soon as I spoke, Grandma’s cloudy eyes would stir, then quietly close as she feigned sleep. Everyone in the family said I was a lucky one, having awakened the [Mascot] ability. Although I couldn’t conjure fireballs like my sister, nor slice stones thinly like my brother, I could keep my zombified Grandma rational, preventing her from biting or going mad, allowing her to be kept at home like an old cat. Because of this, the base made an exception, allowing our family to live in the slums with Zombie Grandma, not forcing us to clear her out. But today, something felt wrong. “Hoo, hoo…” The rocking chair stopped swaying. A strange sound, like a broken bellows being pulled, emanated from Grandma’s throat. She slowly turned her head. Her normally grayish-white yet calm pupils now glowed with an eerie blue light in the darkness, and blood vessels in her whites spread wildly like a spiderweb, instantly swallowing the last trace of humanity. Her shriveled mouth slowly opened, saliva mixed with some black, viscous fluid. A nauseating stench of decay instantly overpowered the faint musty smell in the room. “Grandma?” My heart lurched, and I instinctively tried to activate my ability. I desperately tried to conjure that “calming” feeling in my mind, just as I had countless times before, attempting to envelop Grandma’s brain with some invisible frequency. However, nothing happened. That sense of ability, which usually flowed like warm water, was now like stagnant water. No matter how much I screamed and tugged in my mind, it remained motionless. What’s going on? Why did it fail? Grandma’s withered fingers clamped onto the armrest, her nails lengthening and blackening at a visible speed, like ten sharp bone-scrapers. She stood up from the rocking chair. Her movements were no longer the slowness of an elder, but filled with a beast-like stiffness and explosive power. “I’m Cici! Grandma! I’m Cici!” I sprang up from the sofa in terror, backing into the corner. At that moment, my parents’ parting words flashed through my mind like lightning. “You’re our family’s guardian angel…” “As long as you’re home…” No. That’s not right. It’s not just “as long as I’m home.” Every time I’ve calmed Grandma before, my sister, my brother, or Mom and Dad, at least one of them was present. They disliked Grandma’s smell, always staying far away, but they were all under the same roof. Today, it was the first time. Within a five-hundred-meter radius, I was the only one. A flash of white light suddenly went off in my mind. There was no [Mascot] ability at all. The condition for the ability to work was the presence of a blood relative, forming some kind of magnetic resonance. I was the conductor, and my family was the power source. Now, the power was cut, escaping to the safe zone with the dream of braised pork and warmth. Only I, the discarded conductor, was left to face a monster that had been hungry for three years. “ROAR—!!!” Grandma let out a shrill roar, lunging at me. Her speed was like a black lightning bolt. I instinctively raised my arm to block. “Crunch.” Excruciating pain surged through me. The bone in my forearm was snapped clean, blood spurting like a fountain onto Grandma’s pale face. The smell of blood completely ignited her ferocity. Her hands, dry as tree bark, clamped onto my shoulders with astonishing strength, her nails digging deep into my flesh, pinning me to the floor. “Dad… Mom…” I cried out in despair, tears mixing with blood flowing into my mouth. Salty, bitter. Was this the taste of New Year’s Eve? Grandma didn’t give me any more time to think. She opened her mouth, almost torn to her ears, and bit down hard on my throat. “Gush.” The world went quiet. 2 It hurts. It hurts too much. But I couldn’t make a sound. The moment my windpipe was torn, air from my lungs, accompanied by bloody foam, gushed out, leaving me only able to make a “hissing” sound of leaking air. My vision began to blur; everything around me spun and turned red. I saw the family photo on the wall. It was taken before the apocalypse. Dad in a suit, Mom adorned with pearls, my sister and brother in pretty little dresses, smiling brightly. And I, wearing my sister’s hand-me-down school uniform, stood in the very corner, showing only half my face because the photographer said the composition was too crowded. That half-face was now facing me, being torn and bitten on the floor. Grandma was swallowing in large gulps. That was her granddaughter. It was Cici, who bathed her, fed her, and trimmed her nails every day. I wanted to push her away, but my limbs no longer obeyed, only twitching unconsciously on the cold floor like a dying fish. Before my consciousness completely plunged into darkness, I heard sounds from outside the window. “Boom—Crack!” Those were fireworks rising from the direction of the Eden Safe Zone. Even from dozens of kilometers away, I could see the dazzling light illuminating half the night sky. How beautiful. … I don’t know how much time passed. I felt my body become very light, very light. The agonizing pain disappeared, replaced by an utter emptiness and coldness. I floated up. Looking down. The floor was a mess, blood pooled and spread to the entrance. A small, incomplete, emaciated corpse lay there, a huge bloody hole in its neck, stark white bones exposed. And Grandma was squatting beside the corpse, her belly already bulging, her face covered in dark red bloodstains, extending her long tongue, still savoring the bits of flesh between her fingers. A mutated rat poked its head out of the sewer, its beady green eyes greedily staring at my corpse, attempting to come and get a share. “ROAR!” Grandma, in the midst of feeding, suddenly turned her head, letting out a fierce growl at the rat. She was protecting her food. Even after turning into a zombie, she instinctively guarded her “food.” How ironic. When I was alive, I was the most inconspicuous, invisible member of this family. After death, I became the “delicacy” Grandma fiercely protected. My heart was filled with sorrow. Just then, a strange pull came from outside the window. It was as if an invisible rope had tethered my soul. The other end of the rope was connected to the safe zone, to where my “family” was. Although my ability had failed, that “curse” which only activated in the presence of relatives seemed to have transformed into some kind of bond, forcefully pulling me towards them. Fine. If I couldn’t be a guest at the reunion dinner, then I’d be the ghost that ruined it. The safe zone truly lived up to its name. A massive dome shielded against the swirling snow. Four hundred lucky families were gathered, toasting and celebrating. I drifted, pulled by the invisible force, to a round table in the very center. Mom, Dad, my sister, my brother, all wearing the base’s newly issued white protective suits, looked like four bloated and happy silkworms. The hotpot in front of them bubbled warmly. And the moment I saw them, The void in my mind was finally filled. I finally completely understood what my ability truly was. …

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410875”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Ben took the fall for me, a ten-year prison sentence. Before he went in, he meticulously arranged everything that mattered to him: Sterling Corp, the empire he built from scratch, and the girl he cherished. But for me, his wife of many years, all that was left was a yellowed contract. “You helped me ten years ago. Now I’m serving your time. We’re even, Clara.” I silently watched Ben through the glass. I searched for any flicker of emotion in his eyes, but all I found was cold indifference and a profound sense of relief. It hit me then, a cold, hard truth: he had never loved me. “Alright,” I said, tearing the contract in two. “We’re even.” A week later, I received a call from the prison guard. Ben was dead. He’d encountered the man who almost assaulted me, that monster from my past. To stop him from ever getting out and harassing me, Ben had taken them both down. I hung up, and a gust of cold wind hit me. I realized I’d drifted into the middle of the highway. A massive truck barreled towards me. I was thrown, landing hard in a pool of my own blood. When I woke up again, I was back. Back to before. This time, I wouldn’t let that contract trap him, or me. … I jolted awake, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the car. Cold sweat slicked my forehead. I heard a rustling beside me. I turned, a little disoriented. It was Ben. Calming myself, I realized we were on our way to the Humbert estate, for him to formally propose. In my previous life, I had used that contract to force him into marriage. But I wasn’t satisfied. I insisted he make a proper proposal. That day, just as he sat down, he received a frantic, tearful call from Chloe. He left me without a second thought, abandoning me, which led to my grandfather having a stroke. I took a deep breath, my throat dry. “Pull over. No need to go.” The man beside me finally looked up, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Now what? Playing hard to get?” He sighed. “Just settle down. Isn’t this what you wanted?” I turned my head, my gaze dropping to his phone, which he hadn’t quite put away. A long string of green message bubbles filled the screen, beneath a pink rabbit avatar. He was comforting her. The realization squeezed my heart, a bitter, self-mocking pang. “I’m not playing hard to get, and I’m not joking,” I paused, my throat tightening. “I just don’t want it anymore.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. “What is it you want then?” Just then, the rain began, blurring my view through the car window. “That contract? Let’s scrap it. And… we should get a divorce.” But before I could finish, Ben let out a derisive scoff, his eyes full of mockery. “Scrap it?” He stared at me. “Clara Humbert, you say that so casually, it almost makes me forget you were the one who practically begged to be tied to me.” My face burned with shame. Back then, Sterling Corp was in crisis, on the brink of collapse. I’d been pursuing him for a long time, so I leveraged the Humbert family’s influence. “Sign this and be with me, and the Humbert family can help you through this crisis.” I admitted I took advantage of his situation. But I was naive enough to believe I could make Ben fall in love with me. I was wrong. Even after marriage, after kisses, after sharing the most intimate moments in bed, he still didn’t love me. The memories stung, bringing tears to my eyes. “Yes, I did tie you down.” I pulled out the contract I once treasured. With Ben’s eyes darkening, I tore it to pieces. “I was wrong. The contract is void. You don’t have to be trapped by me anymore.” “Stop the car!” Ben’s voice was cold. The driver slammed on the brakes. I instinctively lurched forward, my fingers slamming hard against the seat in front, a sharp pain making me wince. Ben said nothing, just stared at the torn pieces of the contract beside him. An unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes. “Is it about Chloe?” His voice was weary, then he seemed to understand, assuming I was being unreasonable, jealous. “I told you, she’s just my assistant. Nothing more.” “Is that so?” Just an assistant. Yet he’d risk a public argument with me, just to protect her. He’d leave me sick and alone, flying to a neighboring city just to celebrate her birthday. I swallowed the surge of bitterness in my heart. “Never mind.” “Anyway, Ben, I think our relationship ends here.” He turned away, scoffing, clearly not taking my words seriously. Just then, his phone chimed, displaying the pink rabbit avatar. “Go,” I said. He instantly silenced his phone, a strange irritation in his voice. “Can you stop pretending to be so magnanimous?” He seemed to lose control, his frustration growing. “Since you insist on playing the part, we’re not going today. Get out.” I glanced at the rain outside, then opened the car door. Ignoring his unspoken question, I stepped out and walked towards the Humbert estate, alone, without looking back. Back home, my mother was shocked. “What happened? Where’s Ben? Wasn’t he supposed to come over today?” I took the ginger tea she offered. “He won’t be coming.” I looked at her. “Mom, doesn’t the Humbert Group have an expatriate program? For the London branch, right? I’ll go.” She seemed to realize something. “But… that’s at least three years away.” I nodded lightly, checking my social media. Chloe had just posted a picture of a man’s back. “Yes,” I said. “The longer, the better.” 2 The next day, I returned to the marital home Ben and I shared, intending to grab my documents. But when I opened the door, a woman’s figure stood there. “Ms. Humbert.” Chloe’s voice was timid, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her pristine white dress. I paused, then casually grunted in acknowledgement, walking past her into the house. Ben emerged from the bedroom. Seeing me, a flicker of unease crossed his face. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he quickly said. “She nearly got harassed by her landlord last night, had nowhere else to go, so I brought her back.” I opened my mouth, then just nodded. I didn’t even want to bother asking why he didn’t just put her in a hotel, such a foolish, demeaning question. “Alright, I understand. A woman alone isn’t safe.” I offered a hollow smile. “She can stay as long as she needs.” He pressed his lips together, clearly annoyed despite getting the answer he wanted. “What’s wrong with you? Why…” Why aren’t you causing a scene? I knew that’s what he wanted to ask, because in the past, that’s exactly what I would have done. Any little stir on his part, and I would have been a hysterical mess, torturing him and myself. Now, I refused to repeat that cycle. “You two talk,” I said, heading towards the bedroom. “Don’t mind me.” Ben frowned, his eyes deepening. Inside the room, I found my ID and passport, packing them into my bag. I left nothing else. My wedding ring, along with the signed divorce papers, remained in the drawer. As I turned to leave, Chloe, who had silently entered, startled me. “Are you playing reverse psychology?” she asked, her soft demeanor replaced by a steely glint in her eyes. “It’s a very clever tactic.” I scoffed. “Whether I’m retreating or advancing, you’re still not exactly in a flattering light,” I said, stepping closer. Her face paled slightly as I sneered, “Chloe, if you’re going to be the other woman, at least have the decency to keep it discreet.” “You!” Chloe’s eyes reddened, but she quickly composed herself. She tugged down the strap of her white dress, revealing faint red marks. A smug look spread across her face. “Ms. Humbert, guess which bed we shared last night?” My gaze fixated on the marks for a moment, a fleeting sense of disorientation. My fingers instinctively clenched. After a beat, I reached out and pulled her dress strap back up, covering the marks. My voice was dripping with contempt. “If you want to act like a cheap tart, no one’s stopping you.” Chloe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind with anger?” I turned to leave, ignoring her. But as I brushed past, Chloe suddenly grabbed my wrist. She handed me a photo – a child. “What about this? Can you still be indifferent?” I glanced at the picture, and my steps froze. The child was the spitting image of Ben. It was his child… I looked up. Chloe had already retrieved her phone. “He’s a year and two months old.” She stared at me, her voice cutting. “Ms. Humbert, just step aside. The bond and affection between Ben and me can never be broken.” My eyes dropped, a sharp pain in my heart. By my calculations, Chloe’s pregnancy coincided exactly with the time I lost my own child… When I first became pregnant, I was overjoyed, anticipating the baby’s arrival more than anyone. But I wasn’t made of stone. I could feel Ben wasn’t particularly happy. Yet, back then, I deluded myself, pretending not to notice. The night it happened, Ben and I had just finished an event and were supposed to go home together. But midway, he received a phone call. It was the first time I’d seen him so panicked and worried. “Clara, there’s a problem at the office,” he said, pulling the car over, his voice urgent. “Can you take a cab home, please?” I didn’t want to hold him back, so I obediently got out. On my way home, as I passed through an alley, a dark figure suddenly appeared, clamping a hand over my mouth and nose, dragging me deeper into the shadows! My eyes widened in terror. I instinctively protected my belly, screaming and struggling with all my might. My hand brushed against my phone, and in a panic, I dialed Ben’s number, terrified. “Ben—” As soon as he answered, Ben’s voice was impatient. “I’m busy right now, we’ll talk later.” A harsh click, and he hung up, cold and dismissive. The man had me pinned to the ground, tearing at my clothes. Thankfully, a few college students happened to walk by. He cursed and, before fleeing, delivered a vicious kick to my stomach. A searing pain shot through me. I stared in horror at the blood gushing out, crying in despair and humiliation. Then, I blacked out. When I woke up, Ben was by my side. His voice was hoarse. “The baby… we couldn’t save him.” 3 “Why did you hang up?” I asked him, tears streaming down my face. But Ben remained silent. “I had something important to do.” Thinking of my unborn child, my eyes involuntarily welled up, my heart throbbing with a dull ache. Chloe, seeing my distress, wore a triumphant smirk. “That night, I was the one who called him away. The second before your call, we were kissing.” I looked up sharply, the tiny sparks of hope in my eyes extinguished. “…What did you say?” I had always believed Ben genuinely had an emergency that night. It turned out… I lowered my gaze, a bitter smile twisting my lips, a laugh that was both ironic and mournful. Then I closed my eyes. In Chloe’s horrified gaze, I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall. Bang! Chloe shrieked, clearly not expecting me to resort to physical violence. She struggled, crying out in pain. “Let me go!” Hearing the commotion, Ben rushed in, gasping at the sight. He quickly pulled us apart. He shoved me hard, shielding the red-eyed woman behind him. “Clara Humbert! Are you out of your mind?!” His face was dark with fury. “I knew it! You were just pretending to be magnanimous, and now you’re actually resorting to violence!” I stumbled, my lower back hitting the corner of the dressing table, the sharp pain draining the color from my lips. Ben frowned at my distress, instinctively moving to help, but then forcibly stopped himself. “Ben,” my voice was hoarse, struggling to suppress the rising bitterness. “Where were you the night I miscarried?” His pupils constricted. He instinctively glanced at Chloe behind him, who looked slightly guilty. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “That night, she and I were together, but we were just…” “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I softly cut him off, closing my eyes to hide the redness. Just the thought of my baby dying while they were in the throes of passion made me sick to my stomach! I choked out, “Ben, it was my mistake to force you into this marriage.” My voice was barely a whisper. “From now on, let’s just… leave it be.” With that, I turned to leave. But as I brushed past, the pale-faced man grabbed my hand. His voice was low and firm. “What do you mean, you were wrong? What do you mean, ‘leave it be’? Clara Humbert, you explain yourself!” I was stiff for a moment, then slowly turned around. The redness in my eyes made Ben falter. “Clara…” I slowly pried his hand open, my voice hoarse as I said each word. “The contract is void. We’re getting a divorce.” Ben’s pupils trembled. He instinctively blocked my path, his throat working. “Clara Humbert, I don’t believe you’d so easily talk about divorce. You were the one who begged me back then, don’t you forget!” My body stiffened. I distinctly remembered the shock and annoyance in his eyes the day I slapped that contract in front of him. “Clara Humbert, what’s the point of forcing it?” But I had merely smiled indifferently. “Whether a forced melon is sweet or not, we’ll find out later. Ben, I believe it will be sweet.” Now… I gave a bitter twist of my lips. “It was my folly. Just consider me insane.” Then I turned and shut the door with a bang.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410874”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel