1 I was walking down the street when I spotted two of my wife’s childhood friends, guys she hadn’t seen in years. I was about to step forward and say hello when their conversation caught my ear. “I’m so glad Brooke is finally getting her happy ending and marrying again.” “No kidding. Her ex-husband was such a tragic, short-lived guy. Died right after they got married.” I froze in my tracks, completely bewildered. I was standing right there, breathing, perfectly healthy. How on earth was I dead? And what did they mean, marrying again? Brooke and I had been married for five years, and our son was almost three. Who was she marrying? As I listened further, I caught the groom’s name: John. He wasn’t anyone I knew. I quietly noted down the wedding venue and the date before slipping away unnoticed. When the weekend arrived, I drove to the hotel address they had mentioned. The venue was buzzing, packed with elegant guests. I walked up to the guest registry on the groom’s side and tossed a two-hundred-dollar check onto the table. The registry clerk picked up his pen and looked at me. “Under what name, sir?” I bared my teeth in a cold smile. “Just write: the resurrected ex-husband.” The clerk frowned, shooting me an annoyed look. “It’s a wedding day, sir. Why say something so cursed?” I didn’t answer. I turned around and saw a massive, life-sized wedding portrait standing near the entrance. The woman in the stunning white gown was indeed my wife, Brooke. The man standing beside her, holding her waist, was a complete stranger. The portrait looked incredibly expensive, shot in an elite studio. Years ago, I had suggested we go to a high-end studio for our wedding photos. But Brooke had dismissed the idea. “Wedding photos are just a pointless formality, Luke,” she had told me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “There’s no point in wasting money on them. As long as we love each other and build a good life, that’s what matters.” In the end, she had chosen a dingy little local studio down the street, opting for their cheapest package. Looking around the ballroom, I spotted several familiar faces, all of them Brooke’s relatives. I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to pull off something like this, openly committing bigamy right in front of her entire family. Then, my gaze drifted toward the VIP head table, and my blood ran entirely cold. Seated at the head table on the bride’s side were none other than Brooke’s parents, my mother-in-law and father-in-law. Relative after relative walked up to congratulate them, and my in-laws practically beamed with pride, their faces glowing as they laughed. Fragments of their conversation floated over to where I stood. “John is such a wonderful man. He’s going to bring Brooke so much luck. You two are going to be living in luxury from now on!” My mother-in-law grinned so wide her eyes squinted. “Oh, absolutely! Ever since Brooke met him, her life has been getting better by the day. Not like her first husband. That one had no luck, died so young, a total curse to our family. Well, let’s not speak of that deadweight on such a beautiful day…” Her words sliced straight through my chest. All these years, I had treated them with the utmost respect, supporting them financially and emotionally, only to be dismissed as a “curse” and a “deadweight.” If I had really brought them bad luck, they wouldn’t even be sitting here enjoying this luxury. My father-in-law nodded in agreement. “I never approved of Brooke marrying him in the first place!” Who? Me? “Oh, come on,” my mother-in-law whispered back, waving a hand. “The only reason we let him into the family was because of the generous financial gift he gave us. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.” “What good was that money? He was just an easy target, a fool. This new son-in-law is much more to our liking.” So, when I had doubled my financial gift to her family out of sympathy for their struggles, I had actually made myself a laughingstock. To them, I was just a fool to be exploited, and they despised me for it. Meanwhile, John had apparently demanded a massive $88,000 dowry from them, and they were thrilled to pay it. The sheer injustice of it made my head spin. I wanted to march over and tear down their table, but I forced myself to stay calm. This debt would be settled soon enough. I turned and walked out of the banquet hall. Near the entrance, the groom was standing with his groomsmen, straightening his tie and preparing for the ceremony. When John saw me coming out, he offered me a warm, friendly smile. “Hey, you must be one of Brooke’s colleagues!” My mind screamed at me to blurt out the truth, but I swallowed the urge and gave a quiet nod. “Yeah.” One of the groomsmen grabbed John’s wrist, staring enviously at the gleaming watch on his arm. “Man, John, you hit the jackpot. Brooke really splurged on you. That watch has to be worth at least six figures, right?” “She insisted on buying it,” John said, running a finger over the watch face, a proud smile stretching across his lips. “She said a wedding only happens once, so we had to get the absolute best.” It felt like a physical blow to my chest. When Brooke and I married, we had nothing. I had suggested buying a modest pair of diamond bands, just as a symbol of our commitment. But she had laughed it off. “Why waste money on those shiny rocks? We can’t eat them, and you’re not a shallow, materialistic guy, Luke.” Seeing my disappointment, she had hugged me and whispered, “Once my salary goes up, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” As her career took off and her income climbed, she did keep her promise in a way. Every year, when she received her annual bonus, she would buy a small gold bar and hand it to me, telling me it was security for me and our son. But wait. Where did she get the money to buy John a six-figure watch? Every month, she handed her salary over to me, and her annual bonuses were accounted for. As I stood there puzzled, another groomsman let out a sigh of admiration. “I heard your wife’s company is doing incredibly well. She gets over a million dollars in profit-sharing dividends every year. She could buy you ten of those watches and not even feel it.” Profit-sharing dividends? We had been married for six years, and I had absolutely no idea she owned shares in her company. I had seen her monthly pay stubs. Her net monthly salary was $18,000. She handed me $15,000 every month for our family expenses, keeping $3,000 for her personal use. I had never questioned it. And yet, she was secretly pulling in over a million dollars a year in dividends. John suddenly turned his gaze back to me. “Hey, since you work with her, you must have an idea of what she actually pulls in. Come on, give me a ballpark figure, just so she doesn’t hide any secret accounts from me.” It felt like a blunt knife was sawing through my heart. How much did she make? He knew her financial power far better than I did. She was pouring her massive fortune into this man, buying him luxury watches I could only dream of. I was just learning about her million-dollar dividends, and here he was, asking me how much she made. The muscles in my jaw twitched, and I struggled to maintain a calm expression. Sensing my sudden tension, John quickly tried to ease the awkwardness. “Oh, maybe you don’t know the executive payroll details. No worries. I’ve met most of her colleagues before, but you’re a new face. Did you join the company recently?” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “Yeah, I’m fairly new. I don’t really know her exact income details.” One of the groomsmen chuckled, nudging John. “Man, your woman is perfect. Beautiful, wealthy, and madly in love with you. She even quit smoking for you.” John let out a proud laugh. I nearly dropped my phone. Years ago, during her pregnancy, her morning sickness had been terrible, and the smell of smoke made me so nauseous I couldn’t sleep. I had begged her to quit, but she insisted she needed to smoke for networking and work stress. Then, three months ago, she suddenly threw all her cigarettes into the trash. She had told me she was doing it for my health and our son’s, because she felt guilty about making us inhale secondhand smoke. I had been deeply moved. But she hadn’t quit for us. She had quit for him. John gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry about them, man. They like to joke around.” With a storm raging in my chest, the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Are you really that sure about her? How do you know she doesn’t have a whole second life somewhere else?” John’s smile faded, and he stared at me, bewildered. “What is that supposed to mean?” The groomsmen bristled immediately. “Hey, man. Just because your own wife cheated on you doesn’t mean you should try to ruin someone else’s wedding.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Actually, you hit the nail right on the head.” John looked at me with a touch of pity and superiority. “My Brooke isn’t like your wife. She would never betray me.” “Is that so? If she’s so loyal and perfect, why isn’t she here yet?” “Oh, some of her old college friends flew in this morning. She went to the airport to pick them up. She’ll be back any minute.” Right on cue, his phone rang. He swiped to answer, a warm smile returning to his face. “Hey, sweetie! Where are you?” The groomsmen fell silent, and her voice drifted clearly through the speaker. “Almost there, honey. I’m just so excited to finally marry you today.” John blushed, laughing softly. “Just focus on driving, okay? Be safe.” The groomsmen immediately began to tease him. “Oh, look at you two! Five years together and you’re still acting like newlyweds.” “Well, we have to make the most of it,” John said defensively. “Since we only get to spend half the year together anyway.” The words struck me like a physical blow, leaving my ears ringing. They had been together for five years. I couldn’t decide if I was incredibly stupid, or if she was just a master of deception. No, she wasn’t a genius. I had simply trusted her too much. I had believed her when she told me that her company required rotating regional assignments for her to get promoted, meaning she had to travel out of state every other month. I had supported her, proud of her career ambitions. I had taken on everything at home, caring for our son, cooking, cleaning, and working my own job, never complaining once. When our son had a high fever in the middle of the night, I had sat alone in the emergency room until dawn, cradling him in my arms. I hadn’t even dared to call her, terrified of disrupting her sleep during her “demanding business trips.” But she wasn’t working. She was playing house with another man. The groomsmen continued to lament their own single status. “Seriously, she’s perfect. Gorgeous, rich, sweet, and she even cooks for you? Life is so unfair!” “Yeah, come on, she has to have at least one flaw! Give us something to make us feel better!” John laughed as they nudged him. “Well, if I had to name one… she’s obsessed with making me healthy soup. She wakes up at the crack of dawn every single morning just to brew it fresh for me.” The guys groaned at his bragging, but the words felt like another knife twisting in my heart. Every morning. In our six years of marriage, Brooke had never made me breakfast once. Not a single time. When she was pregnant and could barely bend over, I was the one waking up early to cook for her. She had always told me she hated cooking and was terrible at it, and I had believed her, assuming she just lacked the skill. It wasn’t a lack of talent. It was a lack of love. I stood there as the cold truth washed over me, freezing me to the bone. The groomsmen insisted John was just showing off and demanded a real flaw. John bit his lip, his expression suddenly turning solemn. “Actually, there is one thing. But you guys have to promise never to bring it up in front of her.” “Brooke was married once before.” “Her ex-husband and her son… they were killed in a terrible car accident two years ago. It completely broke her, and she still gets emotional about it.” The blood rushed to my head, and my knuckles cracked as I clenched my fists. Her lies hadn’t just killed me off. She had killed our son too. Our beautiful, sweet little boy, who had just cuddled with her yesterday, whispering how much he loved his mommy. To clear the way for her new life, she had wiped his very existence from the earth. The sheer, cold-hearted selfishness of it made me tremble. I couldn’t let her get away with this. Not for my sake, and certainly not for Toby’s. I was about to step forward when my phone vibrated in my pocket. The screen showed my mother-in-law’s name. I stepped back into the quiet hallway to take the call. “Luke,” her voice rushed through the receiver, sharp and demanding. “I need you to wire me $88,000 right now. It’s an emergency.” “What kind of emergency requires eighty-eight thousand dollars, Mom?” “I told you before, your father and I are helping plan a wedding for some close family friends. They want to adopt us as godparents, and we need to present them with a traditional blessing gift. Eighty-eight thousand is a lucky number. Just wire it over quickly, we’re waiting on it.” A godparent blessing gift of eighty-eight thousand dollars? It didn’t take a genius to realize that this was the dowry gift they owed John. They were using my hard-earned money to fund my wife’s second wedding. When Brooke and I married, my mother-in-law had given me a measly $1,800 welcoming gift. Now that it was John, the price had skyrocketed. Controlling the rage in my voice, I said, “Is this new godson planning to pay for your funeral expenses, Mom?” Her voice instantly turned icy. “What is wrong with you? Why are you talking about funerals at a time like this? Do you have no manners?” “I’ve never heard of a godparent gift costing eighty-eight thousand dollars,” I replied coldly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to pay a new son-in-law his welcoming dowry.” The line went dead silent. After a long pause, she exploded into a scream. “How dare you speak to me like that! You always play the obedient, respectful son-in-law, but the moment we ask for a little help, you show your true, greedy colors! Let me tell you something, Luke. This is my daughter’s money, and we can spend it however we damn well please! You have no right to lecture me!” “Your daughter makes eighteen thousand a month and hands fifteen of it over to me,” I snapped back, refusing to back down. “We have a mortgage, car payments, and a toddler to raise. And don’t forget, I work too, and my income is just as high as hers.” She let out a harsh scoff. “Fine. You think you’re so smart.” She slammed the phone down, ending the call. I straightened my collar and walked back toward the groom’s suite, only to hear John’s voice drifting out. “Brooke’s mom said they’re skipping the cash dowry and giving me five gold bars instead. I’ve never heard of a wedding gift like that before. Quite a surprise.” My chest tightened. Five gold bars. Those were the exact gold bars Brooke had given me over the years as compensation for my missing wedding ring. The numbers matched perfectly. The groomsmen laughed, but my heart was entirely numb. Let them laugh. The higher they climbed, the harder they would fall. Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. Brooke was walking toward the ballroom, surrounded by her bridesmaids. Inside, the grand wedding march began to play. Under the gaze of hundreds of guests, John slowly walked down the aisle toward the stage. Brooke stood at the altar, her posture elegant, a beautiful smile playing on her lips as she waited for her new groom. Just as John reached the halfway mark, I stepped onto the stage, snatched the microphone from the podium, and spoke into it, my voice echoing coldly through the speakers. “Brooke, sweetheart. Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married today?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “452524”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Ever since I was little, my parents drilled one lesson into me. Girls must be independent. As they aged, they said it was time for me to shoulder the family burdens. When I pointed at my older brother Austin and asked why he should not learn to be independent too, things changed. Not long after, Austin suffered a terrible fall. He was bedridden from that day on, supposedly paralyzed from the waist down. To keep our family afloat, I worked grueling part-time jobs while caring for him. No matter how hard I worked, we lived like ghosts on the margins of society. We ate wilted greens from grocery store bins and wore coarse, discarded clothing. Desperate for a way out, I signed up for experimental medical trials. The cash was quick, but the cost was my life. I contracted a rare, aggressive skin cancer that covered my body in painful sores. As the end drew near, I left every cent of that blood money for my brother. I did not even keep enough to buy a peaceful end. In the dark, I pulled a heavy plastic bag over my head and suffocated myself on my creaking cot. Death did not bring the quiet slip into nothingness I expected. My spirit lingered. I watched my supposedly paralyzed brother play a high-stakes basketball game. When the buzzer sounded, my parents rushed onto the court to embrace him, handing him the deed to the city’s most expensive luxury estate. It turned out my entire life of suffering had been a meticulously staged play. I was the only actor who did not know the script. Now that I am truly gone, why are they drowning in regret? … I was preparing for my second round of clinical trials when the nurse, syringe in hand, noticed the massive, weeping lesions spreading across my arm. She gasped, her hand trembling so hard the needle clattered to the linoleum floor. Within minutes, they dragged me into an examination room for a battery of tests. Before I could even ask what was wrong with my skin, two burly security guards lifted me up and threw me out into the alley behind the clinic. The nurse tossed a manila envelope containing my meager payment and the medical report onto my chest. “You have advanced skin cancer and you still showed up for experimental trials? How desperate for cash are you? You signed a waiver, so even if you died on our table, it wouldn’t be our problem. Take your money and get lost, and don’t you dare think about suing us!” Those words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me frozen on the cold pavement. Ever since I started the trials, my skin had been incredibly itchy, shedding dry flakes constantly. Every time my mother painstakingly swept up the skin flakes around my cot, I felt a deep wave of guilt for making her chores harder. I had no idea those flakes were the first signs of my body rotting from the inside out. Trembling, I pulled the diagnosis sheet from the envelope. My eyes strained against the stark, clinical terms, desperately hoping I had misread the diagnosis. Right then, my cheap phone began to buzz. My mother’s gentle, weary voice came through the receiver. “Daisy, sweetheart, your father and I are going to pull an extra shift to get some extra cash. We won’t make it home for lunch. Make sure you cook something nice for your brother.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a quiet, shaky assent before dragging my leaden feet back to our run-down neighborhood. The moment I stepped inside, I hid the medical report under the thin mattress of my wooden cot. But when I turned and saw Austin lying in his bed, my eyes welled with hot, uncontrollable tears. Austin looked up at me, his expression softening with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Daisy. I’m just a burden to you. Honestly, it’s fine if I skip lunch today. You don’t have to tire yourself out.” I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at him for a long time before I could find my voice. “Austin, if I’m ever gone, how will you survive?” He reached out and gently patted my head, his tone affectionately dismissive. “What are you talking about? Even if death comes knocking, I’d go in your place. You aren’t going anywhere. You have to stay strong, Daisy. We’re going to get through this soon.” But I wasn’t going to get through this. I forced myself to stand, wiped my tears, and went to the kitchen. In a rare moment of extravagance, I used the last of our household money to buy a few fresh eggs to soft-boil for him. Just as I set the plate on our rickety table, our parents dragged themselves through the front door, looking thoroughly exhausted. My father reached into his frayed canvas bag and pulled out a handful of bruised, discarded vegetable leaves. He took a long gulp of tap water, his eyes shining with forced cheer. “Your mother was fast today! She managed to grab these greens before the supermarket threw them in the incinerator. They’re much fresher than usual.” I stared at them, their voices sounding as if they were drifting from underwater. My mother reached into her pocket and placed a sweet, glazed raspberry pastry into my hand. “Happy birthday, my sweet girl. We can’t afford a real cake, but you still deserve something sweet today.” The pastry felt incredibly heavy in my palm. The horrifying words from the medical report kept flashing in my mind, making it impossible to smile. Yet, the rich, buttery scent of the pastry brought a brief moment of clarity. I gently placed it on Austin’s bedside table. “Give it to Austin. I don’t really like sweet things anyway.” Austin pushed my hand back. “You’re the birthday girl, Daisy. You eat it. Just let me have a tiny bite of the frosting so I can share your luck.” He dipped a finger into the glaze and licked it clean. A pastry like this cost more than our entire food budget for two weeks. There was no way I could swallow it. My parents sat down at the table, quietly chewing on stale, hardened crusts of bread. They refused to touch the eggs I had prepared for Austin. Looking at their mismatched, oversized clothes, my heart ached with a profound, crushing sorrow. The terror of my diagnosis was slowly swallowed by a deep, hollow despair. I wanted so badly to throw myself into my mother’s arms and tell her how sick I was, to beg for comfort. But the words died in my throat. If my death meant one less mouth to feed, if it meant they could finally stop starving, then I would gladly welcome the end. 2 I could never understand why, despite how hard we all worked, we remained trapped in absolute poverty. When I was a child, my parents had moved us to a neglected trailer park on the very edge of the city to save on rent. The children there all came from struggling families. For many of them, survival was the only goal. They were resilient, sharp, and fiercely determined. Instead of being discouraged by the grim surroundings, my mother had grabbed my hand, her eyes bright with a strange excitement. “In an environment like this, my daughter will learn what it takes to survive and thrive.” I had turned to look at Austin, my young eyes wide with innocence. “I want Austin to be strong and independent just like me.” But shortly after, Austin fell, and his legs supposedly gave out forever. The guilt of that memory had haunted me for years. I used to sit by his bedside, slapping my own face until my cheeks were bruised, convinced that my childish words had cursed him to a life in a wheelchair. To make up for it, I worked myself to the bone while trying to finish school. As a student, I could only get the lowest-paying, most physically demanding odd jobs. I spent summers standing on scorching asphalt in ninety-degree heat, handing out flyers. When thirst threatened to overwhelm me, I couldn’t bring myself to spend two dollars on a bottle of water. Instead, I drank the dregs left behind in discarded plastic bottles, collecting the empty containers to sell to the recycling center. Once, a group of local vagrants cornered me in an alley, furious that I was taking their bottles. They shoved garbage into my mouth, warning me to stay off their turf before beating me until my ribs cracked. Spitting blood and covered in bruises, I had desperately wanted to buy a cheap bottle of painkillers. But I resisted the urge, locking my pennies away in a jar for Austin’s medical fund. Whenever I was in pain, I simply gathered ash from our wood stove and rubbed it over my cuts to stop the bleeding. When my parents found out, my father gave me a firm pat on the back. “Our girl has incredible grit. You have the making of a true survivor, Daisy.” They didn’t know the searing, agonizing pain of rubbing raw ash into open wounds. I never cried out. Asking my mother for a simple hug felt like an indulgence I couldn’t afford, because every minute wasted was a penny lost. I stared at the sweet raspberry pastry on the table, a dark, final decision solidifying in my chest. My mother walked into the small room and sat beside me, gently stroking my hair. Her voice carried a soft, apologetic tone. “Daisy, someone recommended a specialist in the city. We’ve managed to scrape together a bit of savings, and we want to take Austin there. Maybe, just maybe, they can make him walk again.” It was a completely normal departure, but it felt like a knife twisting in my chest. They had traveled for his treatments before, but I knew this would be the last time I would ever see them. Suppressing my grief, I scrambled to my feet, reached under my mattress, and pulled out the crumpled envelope of cash from the clinic, shoving it into my mother’s hands. Seeing her stunned expression, I forced a watery smile. “It was Valentine’s Day last week. A lot of wealthy couples got into arguments and threw away expensive gifts. I got lucky and scavenged them to sell.” My mother pulled me into a warm, rare embrace. “Take care of yourself while we’re gone, sweetheart. We’ll be back before you know it.” I stood by the cracked window, watching their figures grow smaller until they vanished down the dusty road. Only then did the realization hit me: I had been so desperate to save my brother that I hadn’t kept a single dollar to buy a painless way out for myself. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. Through the haze, my eyes fell on the plastic bag wrapping the raspberry pastry. I took one last bite of the sweet, rich dough, letting the flavor coat my tongue. Having my mother’s final embrace was enough. I could depart in peace. I pulled the empty plastic bag over my head and gathered it tightly around my neck. The lingering scent of sugar filled my lungs, making my hands hesitate. My instincts screamed for air, but I forced my fingers to hold the plastic tight. Our family couldn’t afford another sick person. Without me, they could focus every resource on curing Austin. I clenched my teeth and pulled the plastic tighter, shutting my eyes as the faint light of the room dissolved into absolute, suffocating darkness. 3 When I opened my eyes again, I felt weightless, floating near the ceiling. It took me a long moment to process the sight of my own stiff, pale body lying on the cot below. I was dead. I drifted down to look at myself. My face was a terrible shade of blue, and my emaciated frame looked even more wretched in death. But even as a spirit, my only thought was of Austin. As my desperation to find him intensified, the world blurred, and I suddenly found myself hovering over a pristine, sunlit basketball court. Before I could wonder why my soul had drifted here, I spotted my parents sitting in the front row of the VIP stands, laughing and cheering. The clothes they wore were tailored and luxurious, made of fabrics our family couldn’t have afforded even if we had worked for three lifetimes. I floated down to them, a jarring sense of unfamiliarity washing over me. My mother’s lips were painted a vibrant, expensive crimson, and her hair was styled in elegant, glossy waves, looking every bit like a high-society matriarch. Confused, I followed their gaze to the court. There, running with fluid, athletic grace, was Austin. He was dribbling the ball with ease, his legs strong and perfectly healthy. He was wearing a limited-edition jersey that cost more than a year of our slum rent. The confusion in my chest hardened into a heavy, suffocating knot. Suddenly, the referee blew the final whistle. My parents leaped to their feet, rushing onto the court to throw their arms around Austin, their faces glowing with pride. “Austin, sweetie, our efforts weren’t in vain! All those years of traveling the world with you were worth it!” But Austin was supposed to be paralyzed. How could he have traveled the world? Even in my confusion, a part of me was overjoyed to see him whole. “Austin! You can walk? How did you get better?” I screamed, but my voice vanished into the air. They couldn’t hear me. Austin hugged our mother tight. “Mom, I swear I almost lost my mind pretending to be bedridden for so long. Thank God for those monthly ‘doctor visits’ in the city, or I would have forgotten how to run.” My father patted his shoulder, his eyes soft with affection. “You’ve worked hard, son. Today, your mother and I have a reward for you.” With a flourish, my father pulled out a leather binder containing the keys and deed to a sprawling estate in Crestview, the most prestigious neighborhood in the city. I recognized the name instantly. I had once walked past those gates on my way to a cleaning job, staring at the manicured lawns. Back then, my mother had told me, “We won’t be poor forever, Daisy. If you work hard enough, you’ll be able to afford a place like this one day.” But they already had the means. They didn’t need to work hard at all. Austin seemed to remember something, his smile faltering slightly as he looked at our parents. “Mom, Dad… when Daisy came home yesterday, her eyes were completely bloodshot. Do you think something happened to her?” My mother’s expression instantly tightened, and she grabbed his arm. “You didn’t break character, did you? Our plan is almost complete. We can’t let her find out now.” Austin shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ve kept up the act this long, I won’t ruin it now. I just feel like Daisy is keeping something from us.” My mother patted his hand, telling him not to overthink it, promising they would check on me once the wedding preparations were settled. Swallowing a bitter torrent of spectral tears, I followed them as they drove to a massive, gated villa. The estate was ablaze with lights, with caterers and servers moving in polished harmony. The long tables groaned under the weight of fine champagne and roasted meats. Today was Austin’s engagement party, and half the city’s elite had been invited. Standing in the grand foyer, my mother whispered to my father, “Daisy has been acting a bit strange lately. She used to be so full of energy. And she gave me so much cash before we left, do you think she got it illegally?” My father wrapped an arm around her waist, offering a reassuring smile. “Unlikely. We raised her to be independent and strong. Her moral compass is solid.” He took a sip of his drink. “Besides, Austin’s career is set, and Daisy is about to graduate. Once the wedding is over next week, we’ll bring her here and reveal the truth. She’s going to inherit her own branch of the firm. She’ll be overjoyed.” Standing in the shadow of the grand staircase, my spirit wept. I won’t be overjoyed, Dad. I’m never going to wake up. 4 The engagement party was a dazzling success, and the wedding was set for exactly one week later. After the last of the wealthy guests departed, my parents stood in the quiet parlor, looking slightly anxious as they stared at their phones. “We’ll be completely tied up with wedding prep this week,” my mother said. “We won’t have time to go back to the old house. Let’s call Daisy and make sure she’s doing alright.” She dialed my number, but the line simply rang and rang. I floated beside her, screaming that I was right there, reaching out to touch her arm, but my fingers passed through her like mist. Looking at them now, memories began to unravel. I remembered the faint scent of expensive, imported cologne on my father’s jacket when he returned to our drafty shack. He had laughed it off, saying he had merely brushed past some wealthy clients. I remembered the crisp, high-resolution photos my mother occasionally showed me, far too sharp to have come from the cheap, cracked phone she claimed to own. And Austin’s legs… despite years of supposed paralysis, his muscles had never wasted away. Our entire life had been a cruel, elaborate stage, and I was the only one who had truly bled for the performance. A wave of profound sorrow pressed against my chest, but as I looked at their happy, untroubled faces, a strange sense of relief washed over me. At least they were safe. At least they weren’t starving. After a long time, I drifted up the grand staircase. At the end of the long hallway was a bedroom door with my name beautifully engraved on a brass plaque. I stepped through the door. The room was breathtaking, decorated exactly like the sketches I used to draw in the margins of my school notebooks. On the nightstand sat a framed photograph of the four of us, laughing. My academic awards and certificates from childhood were neatly framed along the walls. Suddenly, a sleek, beautiful pedigree cat padded into the room, meowing softly. It was the exact breed I had always dreamed of owning. They had remembered every single wish I had ever whispered into the dark. They had built a perfect fairy-tale kingdom for me, but I could only stand on the outside, a ghost in the corridor. Below, the sound of footsteps and voices broke the silence. Several stylists entered the hallway, carrying racks of designer gowns and custom tuxedos. My parents and Austin stood before the array of high fashion. “Our outfits are finalized,” my father announced. “Now, let’s choose Daisy’s dress. This will be our first real gift to her.” I looked at the price tags hanging from the silk sleeves, numbers representing more money than I had ever dreamed of earning. Now, a dozen of them hung waiting for me. Austin reached out and touched a sky-blue chiffon gown with a sweeping train. “This one would look beautiful on her. It’ll complement her fair skin.” My father shook his head, pointing instead to a delicate, ivory lace gown. “No, Daisy would love this one. When she was little, she used to freeze in front of the toy store window, staring at the dolls in their lace dresses. She always wanted one.” Austin studied the racks for a moment longer before pulling out a soft, rose-pink silk dress. “You both forget. Pink was always her favorite. She wanted everything to be pink.” His voice grew quiet. “But light colors get dirty too easily, and she always chose dark, drab clothes just to save us the cost of laundry soap. Her classmates used to call her a plain Jane because of it.” My parents’ eyes shone with a brief, painful guilt. They exchanged a look and agreed to go with Austin’s choice. The week flew by, and the morning of the wedding arrived. In their frantic preparations, they hadn’t found time to call me again. But as the cars lined up, my mother instructed their private driver to head to our old neighborhood. “Drive to the old house first,” she whispered with a smile. “Don’t tell her who sent you. Just bring her straight to the venue. We want to give her the surprise of her life.” The driver nodded, starting the engine of the sleek black town car, heading toward the slums to fetch the secret heiress of the family fortune. But hours passed, and my mother’s anxious glances toward the entrance yielded nothing. Suddenly, the heavy glass doors of the venue were pushed open, and the driver rushed into the lobby, his face pale and slick with sweat. “Ma’am… there’s something wrong. The old house is surrounded by emergency vehicles. The neighbors… they say the young lady is dead.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “452523”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my birthday, Sean, the Alpha of Black Pack, was once again summoned away by his adopted daughter Lila. Furious, I posted a declaration on the werewolf forum: “The best birthday gift Sean gave me is his promise that I’ll become the Luna of Black Pack this year.” The next second, a provocative message from Lila popped up. It was a sex tape of Lila and Sean. In the video, all the buttons on her clothes had been violently torn open. Beneath her disheveled garments, glaring hickeys trailed down from her collarbone. And the broad-shouldered figure of the man on top of her—I could recognize him with my eyes closed. Below the video was a caption: “I gave my first time to my beloved Sean.” My phone screen froze on Lila’s provocative video. Behind the frosted glass, Sean’s silhouette in the shower pierced my heart like a thorn. On my 29th birthday, Sean left me alone in an empty villa and took his adopted daughter to a hotel. Looking at the post I’d made half an hour ago—visible only to him—I felt nothing but bitter irony. Unwillingness sprouted wildly in my chest like weeds. I grabbed my car keys and rushed out the door. His assistant said he was at the golf course today, playing with several Pack Alphas. I needed to ask him face-to-face what these ten years had meant. The golf course lawn was scorching hot. The caddy was about to announce my arrival when I raised my hand to stop him. I wanted to see how he’d explain today’s events in front of his brothers. I’d just walked behind the palm trees near the rest area when Sean’s voice drifted over, grating on my nerves: “I’m done with this hole. Lila just messaged saying she’s awake at the hotel and wants me to come back for brunch with her.” The Alphas playing with him burst into laughter. One of them slapped the table and teased: “Sean’s got eyes for no one but his adopted daughter these days. Last time we played, he took one call from Lila, dropped his club, and left. We were all stunned.” Another chimed in: “Speaking of which, Lila’s really blossomed into a beauty—tiny waist, long legs. Don’t tell me you’re not tempted, seeing her every day?” “Tempted?” His tone dripped with undisguised pride. He leaned back in his chair with a lazy, arrogant posture. “More than tempted. I took her virginity. She gave herself to me on her coming-of-age night.” As his words landed, the Alphas erupted in laughter, exchanging knowing glances. “Way to go, Sean! You know how to play it! Raised a girl for over a decade and made her yours in the end!” “I raised her all these years—what’s wrong with collecting a little interest?” Sean scoffed, his tone matter-of-fact. “Besides, her father died saving me back then. I owe her that much. Better she gives her first time to me than to some rogue or inferior Alpha out there.” Casual words, making his immoral possession sound like a grand favor. Someone laughed and added: “Aren’t you worried Elara will find out? Last time I saw her, she looked terrible. She’s probably sensed something.” At the mention of me, Sean’s tone turned cold, laced with undisguised disgust and impatience: “Her? What can she do even if she finds out? She’s nearly thirty, an Omega with no parents, no pack. Without me, she doesn’t even have a place to live. Does she dare make a scene?” He paused, as if remembering something, and scoffed with contempt: “Besides, who knows if she’s even clean? Ten years ago, she was in that alley with three rogue wolves for so long, her clothes all torn. Who knows what happened? I’m being generous by keeping her around. She should be grateful.” “Lila’s better,” he said, swirling his strawberry milkshake. His tone softened with a tenderness I’d never heard from him. “She grew up by my side. I know everything about her. She’s clean and well-behaved. She doesn’t nag me all day like Elara does. So damn annoying.” The Alphas chimed in one after another: “Exactly! A home-raised Omega is way better than a wild one! Clean and obedient!” “Elara’s so ungrateful. An Alpha willing to take her in is generous enough, and she still tries to control everything!” “If you ask me, Alpha, you should’ve dumped her long ago. Marry Lila—you’ll also win over her father’s old subordinates. Two birds with one stone!” Sean impatiently cut off the conversation, his tone suggesting even mentioning me was a mood-killer: “Enough, enough. Stop bringing her up. Why even talk about her?” “Let’s keep playing. Lila’s driving over to pick me up later. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

I stood behind the palm tree, my entire body freezing cold. So my ten years of companionship were nothing but charity in his eyes. The night I nearly got killed by rogues trying to save my sister Eirlys had become evidence of my uncleanliness in his mouth. Memory yanked me back ten years to that chaotic night. Wind whipped at my loose hair. In a daze, I was transported to that cold, rainy border dusk a decade ago. I was nineteen. Eirlys, who grew up with me in the orphanage, had been lured to the northern border by three wandering rogues. No one at the orphanage cared if we lived or died. The police didn’t take it seriously. I clutched the money I’d saved from six months of part-time work, bought the cheapest bus ticket, and chased after her to the border alone. When I crept into the warehouse, Eirlys was tied to a pillar, her face badly swollen, her clothes torn to shreds. Three rogues surrounded her, taunting her with vile words. My vision went red. I grabbed a rusty steel pipe by the door and charged in, swinging wildly at them like a madwoman. As an Omega, I was no match for three adult Alphas. I was quickly kicked to the ground. Fists and feet rained down on me. The pain was excruciating. But I shielded Eirlys behind me, gritting my teeth, refusing to retreat even half a step. Even if I died, I couldn’t let them touch my sister. Just as the lead rogue raised his club to smash my head, the warehouse door was kicked open. “BANG!” Sean stood at the entrance with Black Pack’s border patrol. His black tactical uniform was soaked with rain, his eyes cold as ice. He merely raised his hand, and the guards behind him rushed forward, pinning the three rogues to the ground. He walked up to me and paused. I was covered in injuries, my face smeared with mud and blood. Though I was trembling with fear, I still shielded my sister behind me. When I looked up at him, tears mixed with rainwater streamed down my face. He crouched down and reached out to wipe the mud from my face: “It’s okay now. You’re safe.” He brought Eirlys and me back to the border camp, found us clean clothes, and called the medical officer to treat our wounds. I sat by the campfire, watching him crouch in front of me, cleaning the wounds on my hands. “You’re an Omega, and you dared to break into a rogue den alone? Have a death wish?” He looked up at me, his eyes carrying a hint of reproach, but more than that, undeniable emotion. I bit my lip, my voice hoarse: “Eirlys and I both grew up in an orphanage. No parents, no one to care about us. She’s my only family. I couldn’t lose her.” His hand cleaning his gun suddenly froze. He looked up at me. For the first time, the sharp edge in his gaze softened, replaced by something indescribable. That night, he gave Eirlys and me his room while he and his team stayed in tents outside, keeping watch all night. Everyone in the camp knew Sean never let anyone into his room. We were the first. The next day when he returned from patrol, he had a handful of milk candies and wildflowers picked from the roadside: “The herder’s kids gave these to me. Brought them for you to try.” The usually cold Alpha’s ears turned red as he handed me the flowers. I stayed at the camp for five days. He avenged us, wiped out that group of rogues, and even found Eirlys a proper office job in Chicago, renting a small apartment with a balcony for her. The day I left, he leaned against his SUV, looking at me with a deep, serious gaze: “Elara, come back to Chicago with me.” “From now on, Black Pack will be your support. Anyone under my protection—no one in Chicago will dare touch them.” He paused, reaching out to ruffle my hair. The gesture was dominant yet gentle. “I’ll give you a home.” In my nineteen years, no one had ever said such words to me. Orphanage kids were always abandoned. No one cared if we lived or died. I looked into his eyes, nodded, and tears fell. He removed the wolf fang pendant he’d worn for over a decade from his neck and personally placed it around mine. “This is for you. When I’m not around, it’ll protect you in my place.” On my first birthday back in Chicago, he—an Alpha—personally baked me a cake. Back then, he sat across from me, smiling: “From now on, I’ll bake you a cake every birthday. We’ll be together forever.” The memory receded like a tide. Ten years. He lured me in with the promise of home, dulled my claws with Black Pack’s protection. In the end, he joined others in mocking my origins and questioning my purity. I steadied myself against the cold wall and slowly straightened up. I glanced one last time at the man laughing and chatting in the main seat, then without hesitation, threw the pendant around my neck into the trash. Sean, it was you who let go first.

I turned and left the golf course, walking aimlessly along the coastline. The sea breeze carried a salty tang, making the tear tracks on my face feel ice-cold. Ten years of genuine devotion wasted. Even hatred felt superfluous now—only endless exhaustion and emptiness remained. I walked to a secluded rocky beach, a place Sean and I used to visit often. He’d once promised me a home here. Ironically, now only I remained. Just as I crouched down to pick up a stone to throw into the sea, footsteps sounded behind me. I turned around. Three men in black hoodies surrounded me, their eyes vicious—clearly not good people. “You’re Sean’s Omega?” The leader sneered. “Our boss got ruined by Sean. Today we’re taking it out on you!” They were sent by one of Sean’s business rivals. My heart sank. I turned to run but they blocked my path. “Where do you think you’re going?” The man reached for my hair. “Sean’s so arrogant, isn’t he? Why isn’t anyone here to save you now?” I struggled desperately but was kicked hard in the stomach by one of them. Searing pain hit instantly. I curled up on the ground, drenched in cold sweat. Seeing I couldn’t move, they became even more brazen, reaching to tear my clothes. Just then, a figure stepped in front of me. A powerful Alpha aura erupted, instantly forcing the three rogues to their knees. “You dare cause trouble on Black Pack territory?” A deep voice came from above my head. I looked up to see a man in a dark blue suit. Behind him stood several guards in Black Pack uniforms, guns drawn and aimed at the three men. The man crouched down, reaching out to help me. His voice was steady: “Are you alright?” I tried to stand with his help, but another wave of abdominal pain struck. Everything went black. The last thing I felt was my body falling forward uncontrollably. I woke to the smell of disinfectant in a hospital. I moved slightly. A clear, heavy pain came from my lower abdomen. The medical officer approached, voice calm: “Elara, you’ve had a miscarriage.” I blinked, staring at the ceiling lights. I didn’t cry or break down. It felt like the moment I heard Sean’s words, my heart had already died. What I’d lost now was simply a child who should never have come into this world. The door opened. The man who’d saved me walked in, holding my examination report. The hospital room door opened gently. The man who saved me entered, my examination report in hand. “You’re awake.” He poured a glass of warm water and handed it to me, his movements gentlemanly, maintaining an appropriate distance. “I’m Kael.” So this was the legitimate Black Pack heir Sean had always been wary of. I took the water glass and said softly: “Thank you.” “Security has taken those three men away. They were sent by one of Sean’s business rivals.” He paused, looking at me. “Do you need to contact your Alpha?” Sean? I thought of how he’d bragged about sleeping with his adopted daughter at the golf course, mocking my uncleanliness. I shook my head. “No need.” Kael looked at me but didn’t press. “I’ve already paid the medical bills. You need to rest. Miscarriages are very hard on an Omega’s body.” I looked at him and suddenly smiled: “Kael, how should I thank you?” He paused, then shook his head: “No need. Protecting Omegas is every Alpha’s responsibility.” He left a business card and turned to leave the room. I was alone in the hospital room. Waves of pain from my lower abdomen kept coming, as if reminding me of my past foolishness. I picked up my phone and opened Sean’s chat interface. The last message was one he’d sent this morning: “There’s a family dinner tonight. Wear that white dress I bought you. Don’t be late.” I stared at those words for a long time. Then my finger slid across the screen. Block, delete, done. From the moment he said those words at the golf course, we were already over. This child’s departure simply gave me a reason to let go completely. I would never look back. Sean, we’re even now.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407887”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Ethan’s mistress killed my brother. But he pushed a settlement agreement in front of me. “Stella has depression. She can’t handle prison.” “Sign it. Your grandmother’s heart surgery will proceed as planned. Don’t sign, and that heart goes to someone else immediately.” We loved each other for ten years, and now he’s using my grandmother’s life to buy his mistress’s freedom. I signed. Later, Grandma died anyway. Because Stella went to the hospital and told her personally. “I’m the one who ran over your grandson. Oh, and your granddaughter’s husband? He’s mine now too.” Grandma couldn’t catch her breath. Resuscitation failed. I rushed into the Sinclair mansion with a knife. Before I could even reach Stella, Ethan slapped me across the face. “What the hell is wrong with you!” That night, I jumped from a yacht into the deep sea. Cold seawater flooded my lungs. I didn’t struggle. I thought that was the end. Then Adrian Yale saved me. “Some fools will regret losing you.” He knelt on one knee. “And I’ve waited three years for you. Give me a chance, will you?”

Vivian POV My brother Derek’s body was still cold in the morgue, while his killer laughed openly in court. “Vivian, sign this settlement agreement and this case ends here.” A deep, cold male voice sounded in my ear. I stared at the man before me. He was the all-powerful tycoon of this city, and also my husband of three years in a secret marriage. Ethan Sinclair. At this moment, he stood beside the defendant’s seat, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting cold light as he pushed a document toward me. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?” I trembled all over. “Stella was street racing and ran a red light. The surveillance caught everything! Derek was only nineteen. He was thrown over thirty feet! And now you want me to sign a settlement?” Ethan frowned slightly, his tone impatient. “The surveillance has been destroyed. No one can prove Stella was driving. Vivian, stop making a scene. Stella has depression. She can’t handle imprisonment.” “She has depression, so my brother deserved to die?!” I stood up, my nails digging deep into my palms. I couldn’t understand. Three years ago, Ethan loved me to the bone. If I casually mentioned wanting to see snow, he’d cancel a billion-dollar merger and charter a private jet to take me to Switzerland. When I injured my wrist while painting, this powerful CEO would humbly apply warm compresses and massage it for me every day. To marry me, an orphan with no background, he convinced all his relatives and even took a beating for it. But ever since six months ago, when his childhood friend Stella returned from abroad, everything changed. He said Stella once saved his life, and he owed her an enormous debt. So he could indulge Stella’s arrogance, and now, he was even using my brother’s life to cover for Stella! “Vivian, my patience has limits.” Ethan looked at me coldly, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Your grandmother is still lying in the ICU. Her heart transplant surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. As long as you sign, the surgery proceeds as planned. But if you refuse…” He paused, his voice cruel. “That heart will immediately go to someone else.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my mind going blank. “You’re threatening me with Grandma’s life?” I cried. “Ethan, are you even human!” “I only care about results.” Ethan remained unmoved. “You have one minute. Sign or don’t sign?” The courtroom fell deathly silent. Stella sat in the defendant’s seat, provocatively curling her lips at me. Looking at Ethan’s familiar yet strange face, my heart felt like it was being ground in a meat grinder. I had no way out. My brother was already dead. I couldn’t lose Grandma too. With trembling hands, I picked up the pen and signed my name on the settlement agreement. Every stroke felt like it was cutting my flesh. “Satisfied now?” I slammed the pen onto the table. Ethan collected the documents, handed them to his lawyer, and said indifferently. “That’s better. Go see your grandmother at the hospital. I’ve already paid for the surgery.” Then he turned and walked toward Stella, removing his designer suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, his voice sickeningly gentle. “It’s over. I’m taking you home.” I collapsed powerlessly into the chair, watching their intertwined figures leave, tears falling silently onto my hands. Ethan, you’ve personally killed the last trace of my love for you.

Vivian POV After visiting Grandma at the hospital, I pushed open the door to the villa. In the foyer, there was an extra pair of women’s high heels. In the living room, Stella was lounging on the sofa in my silk pajamas, casually drinking coffee. “What are you doing here? Get out!” My voice was cold. Stella put down her coffee cup, smiling cheerfully. “Ethan said I was traumatized and needed someone to take care of me, so he told me to move in. What’s wrong, Vivian? Don’t you understand yet? It’s time for you to give up your position as Mrs. Sinclair.” “As long as I don’t sign divorce papers, you’re nothing but a homewrecker who can’t show her face.” I walked over and snatched the cup from her hand. It was a mug Ethan had handmade for me, with our initials carved on the bottom. Stella’s eyes flashed. She suddenly cried out, falling backward and sweeping the nearby floor vase down with her. A loud crash. Shards flew everywhere. “What happened?” The door burst open and Ethan strode in. “Ethan…” Stella sat on the floor, pale-faced, clutching her wrist with tears barely contained. “I just wanted some water. Vivian might be in a bad mood and pushed me… I don’t blame her. After all, with Derek’s situation…” “Vivian!” Ethan cut her off sharply, striding over to scoop Stella into his arms. He turned to glare at me. “What’s wrong with you? Haven’t you caused enough trouble in court?” I looked at his anxious expression and found it absurd. “I pushed her? Ethan, there are cameras here. Check them yourself!” “Enough!” Ethan wouldn’t listen. “Stella’s health is already fragile. Do you have to push her to death before you’re satisfied?” Just then, Stella clutched her chest, her face turning deathly pale as she fainted. “Stella!” Ethan’s expression changed dramatically. He immediately carried her out to the car. Half an hour later, at the private hospital. The doctor came out holding a report, his expression urgent. “Mr. Sinclair, Stella fainted from severe anemia. Combined with her blood clotting disorder, she urgently needs a transfusion. But she has RH negative blood, and our blood bank is critically low. Getting blood from other hospitals will take at least two hours. She can’t wait that long!” Ethan’s head snapped around, his gaze piercing straight at me. I instinctively took a step back. My blood type was compatible. Ethan knew. “Take hers.” Ethan pointed at me, his tone utterly flat, as if discussing an object. “Ethan, have you lost your mind? I haven’t rested properly in days. Drawing blood could kill me!” I looked at him in disbelief. “It won’t kill you.” Ethan grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the blood draw room. “Stella got sick saving my life. You owe her. Today you must repay it!” “I don’t owe her anything! Who’s going to repay my brother’s life?!” I struggled desperately, but couldn’t match a man’s strength. I was forcibly strapped to the blood draw chair. The cold needle pierced my vein. Bright red blood flowed through the tube. I looked at Ethan’s cold profile, a chill spreading from my heart through my entire body. They drew a full 400cc. My vision darkened repeatedly, cold sweat covering me. When the nurse removed the needle, I didn’t even have the strength to stand. I slumped to the floor. Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He took the blood bag and strode toward the emergency room. I leaned against the cold wall, watching his anxious retreating figure, and laughed. Ethan, what is your heart made of?

Vivian POV I recovered on the hospital corridor bench for a full two hours before I could barely stand. I didn’t return to the villa. Instead, I took a cab to my art studio. In three days, my solo exhibition, which I’d been preparing for three years, would open. This was my dream as an illustrator, the result of countless sleepless nights. Pushing open the studio door, the scene before me left me frozen. The floor was covered with torn sketches, paint splattered everywhere. Several large-scale oil paintings, my main pieces, had been slashed to ribbons with a knife. Stella stood there with several socialite friends, holding box cutters, smiling at me. “Oh my, Vivian’s here.” Stella tossed aside her knife and dusted off her hands. “Sorry about that. My hand slipped earlier and I damaged a few of your paintings. But don’t worry, Ethan will compensate you.” “Stella!” I rushed forward and grabbed her collar. “You psycho! Can you even afford to compensate?!” These were three years of my heart and soul! Every brushstroke contained my spirit! “Let go! You’re hurting me!” Stella struggled, then her eyes flashed. She suddenly jerked backward, her back slamming hard into an easel. The easel collapsed. Sharp wooden splinters tore through Stella’s arm. Blood gushed out instantly. Stella screamed. The studio door burst open at that exact moment. Ethan strode in. Seeing the scene, his pupils contracted sharply. “Stella!” He rushed over and shoved me aside. Already weakened, I slammed into the wall from his push. Pain exploded in the back of my head. My vision went black. “Ethan, it hurts…” Stella leaned against Ethan, crying with tears streaming down her face. “I just wanted to see Vivian’s paintings, but she suddenly went crazy…” Ethan looked at the blood on Stella’s arm, his expression terrifyingly dark. He turned to look at me, his eyes like poisoned daggers. “Vivian, do you think I’ve been too lenient with you?” I steadied myself against the wall, pointing at the destruction everywhere, my voice shaking. “Ethan, are you blind? She destroyed my exhibition! Destroyed my life’s work!” “They’re just some worthless paintings!” Ethan cut me off coldly. “If Stella’s hand scars, you couldn’t repay it with your life!” Just some worthless paintings. My heart convulsed violently. Once, even my casual sketches, he would carefully frame and hang in his study. He said my paintings were priceless treasures. Now he said they were just worthless paintings. “Someone get in here.” Ethan ordered the bodyguards outside. “Burn everything left here. Since she can’t control herself, she shouldn’t paint anymore.” “Ethan, don’t you dare!” I lunged forward but was held down firmly by the bodyguards. I could only watch helplessly as the bodyguards lit a fire barrel and threw my remaining sketches in one by one. The flames reflected in my eyes, burning away my last tears. I didn’t cry. I didn’t struggle anymore. I just stared at Ethan. Ethan carried Stella and left without looking back. “Vivian, you brought this on yourself.” Only the crackling sound of burning flames remained in the studio. I knelt before the ashes and laughed. Laughed until my heart broke, laughed with tears streaming down my face. The exhibition was completely ruined. I locked myself in my apartment for three days. On the fourth day, Ethan’s assistant knocked on my door and handed me a gilded invitation. “Mr. Sinclair is holding an engagement party for Stella next month. Mr. Sinclair said she really admires your artistic style. He hopes you can hand-paint a ten-foot-tall portrait backdrop for their engagement party.”

Vivian POV I looked at that invitation, finding it utterly absurd. “He wants me to paint an engagement portrait for him and his mistress?” I laughed coldly. “Is his brain damaged, or does he think I have no dignity?” The assistant lowered his head, his tone businesslike. “Mr. Sinclair said if you refuse, your grandmother’s private care room might need to be reassigned.” Grandma again. Ethan always knew how to exploit my weakness. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll paint it.” For the next two weeks, I stood before the canvas day and night. A ten-foot oil painting required enormous physical strength and wrist endurance. My wrist already had severe tendonitis, and after being forced to give blood, my body was at its limit. Every brushstroke felt like needles stabbing my wrist. Halfway through, Ethan brought Stella to “inspect” the work. Stella looked at the canvas showing the two of them embracing and smiled with satisfaction. “Vivian paints so well. You made Ethan look so handsome. But the color of my dress train here, isn’t it too dark? Could you change it?” My hand holding the brush trembled uncontrollably. Cold sweat soaked my back. I ignored Stella and mechanically mixed colors. The brush slipped from my shaking hand and fell to the floor. Ethan frowned, looking at my trembling hand, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “Vivian, what are you pretending now? It’s just painting. Are you that aggrieved?” I bent down to pick up the brush, my voice eerily calm. “Not aggrieved. Mr. Sinclair pays, I deliver. As it should be.” Ethan snorted coldly. “Better be. The painting must be finished before the engagement party. If you delay Stella’s event, I’ll hold you accountable.” After they left, I collapsed on the floor, clutching my spasming wrist, gasping for breath. I looked at Ethan’s affectionate face on the canvas and suddenly felt nauseous. I grabbed the palette knife nearby, wanting desperately to slash the painting to shreds. But I held back. Grandma was still in the hospital. I couldn’t be impulsive. Two weeks later, the painting was finally complete. My wrist was swollen like a dumpling. I couldn’t even hold utensils. I delivered the painting to Ethan’s assistant, then went to visit Grandma at the hospital. Grandma’s condition had stabilized considerably. She held my hand and asked. “Vivian, why hasn’t Ethan come to see me in so long?” I forced back the bitterness and smiled. “He’s been busy with the company lately. He’ll visit you in a few days.” Walking out of the room, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes wearily. Soon. Once Grandma finished her final checkup, I’d take her and leave this city. Leave Ethan forever. On the day of the engagement party, Ethan rented out the city’s largest seven-star hotel. I didn’t go. Instead, I stayed in my apartment packing. Suddenly, my phone vibrated frantically. It was the hospital calling. “Vivian, your grandmother’s condition suddenly deteriorated. She’s having acute heart failure. She’s being resuscitated now. We need family members here immediately to sign consent forms!” My mind went blank with a buzz. I nearly dropped my phone. “I’m coming right now! Please, you must save her!” I rushed out of the apartment, only to find it was pouring rain outside. I couldn’t get a cab. Ethan had confiscated my car keys days ago, saying I was emotionally unstable and shouldn’t drive. I bit my lip and ran through the rain toward the engagement party hotel. It was the closest place where I could find Ethan. When I burst into the banquet hall, soaking wet, everyone’s eyes turned to me. Ethan wore a white designer suit, gently placing an engagement ring on Stella’s finger. “Ethan!” I rushed over and grabbed his arm, my voice desperate. “Give me the car keys! Grandma’s being resuscitated. I need to get to the hospital!” Ethan looked at my bedraggled appearance, frowning deeply, and shook off my hand. “Vivian, haven’t you made enough of a scene? Do you not realize what day this is?” “I’m begging you, give me the car keys!” I was crying desperately. “Grandma’s dying. I need to see her one last time!” Seeing this, Stella immediately put on a frightened expression and hid in Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, Vivian is so scary…” Ethan’s eyes went completely cold. “Vivian, you’d make up this kind of lie just to ruin my engagement party? Your grandmother was fine yesterday!” “I’m not lying! The hospital just called!” I sobbed desperately. I tried to grab the keys from Ethan’s pocket, but Stella deliberately blocked my way. As we struggled, Stella screamed and fell to the ground. “Stella!” Ethan flew into a rage and kicked me in the shoulder. I was sent flying backward, crashing heavily into a champagne tower. Glass shattered everywhere, shards piercing my palms and back. Blood mixed with rainwater flowed. “Someone!” Ethan looked down at me, his eyes ice-cold. “Lock her in the upstairs storage room! No one lets her out without my permission!” “Ethan! You can’t do this to me! Grandma’s waiting for me!” I struggled desperately, but two bodyguards dragged me away. The storage room door slammed shut. Inside, there were no lights. Complete darkness. I had severe claustrophobia. The darkness swallowed me like a tide. I pounded on the door, crying until my voice was hoarse. “Let me out… please let me out…” Outside came the cheerful music from the banquet hall and guests’ congratulations. I don’t know how long passed before my phone rang. I answered with trembling hands. “Vivian, I’m sorry. We did everything we could. Your grandmother… didn’t make it.” The phone slipped from my hand. I sat paralyzed in the darkness. I didn’t cry. I didn’t shout. My world had completely collapsed.

Vivian POV The storage room door didn’t open until the next morning. I was curled in the corner. The bodyguard looked at my condition with some sympathy. “Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair says you can go now.” I said nothing. I stood up shakily and walked out of the hotel step by step. When I reached the hospital, I only saw a body on a gurney covered with a white sheet. I didn’t cry. I just stood there quietly, looking at Grandma’s peaceful face. The attending physician approached, his expression complicated, hesitant to speak. “Vivian, actually… your grandmother’s condition was very stable. But yesterday afternoon, a woman came to her room. We don’t know what she said to her, but her emotions became agitated, which triggered the heart failure…” I raised my head. In my deadened heart, a towering hatred instantly ignited. Stella! It was her! She killed Grandma! I turned and rushed out of the hospital. At a hardware store on the roadside, I bought a fruit knife and went straight to the Sinclair mansion. At the villa, Ethan was having breakfast with Stella. “Stella, go to hell!” I lunged at Stella with the knife. Stella screamed and dodged. Ethan reacted lightning-fast, pulling Stella behind him and catching the blade with his bare hand. Blood instantly flowed between his fingers. “Vivian, have you completely lost your mind?!” Ethan wrenched away the knife and backhanded me with a vicious slap. He used his full strength. I was knocked to the floor, blood trickling from my mouth, half my face instantly swelling. “She killed Grandma!” I pointed at Stella, screaming hoarsely. “She went to the hospital yesterday and provoked Grandma! Ethan, she’s a murderer!” Stella hid behind Ethan, crying and trembling. “I didn’t… Ethan, I was trying on my dress all day yesterday. I never went to the hospital. Is Vivian hallucinating from too much stress?” “You’re still lying!” I struggled to get up. “Enough!” Ethan cut me off sharply, looking at me with disgust and disappointment. “Vivian, I’m grieved about your grandmother’s death too, but you can’t attack people like a rabid dog! Stella was with me all yesterday. How could she go to the hospital?” I froze. Looking at Ethan’s certain expression, I suddenly understood. He was covering for her. To protect Stella, he could even erase Grandma’s death. “Ethan, you disgust me.” I looked at him and said nothing more. “Since you’re clearly unhinged, go cool off in the basement for a few days!” Ethan ordered the bodyguards coldly. “Lock her in the basement. Without my orders, no one feeds her!” The basement. No windows. No light. It was the place I feared most. Ethan knew perfectly well that I was kidnapped and locked in a dark room as a child, leaving me with severe psychological trauma. The bodyguards dragged me into the basement. The iron door slammed shut with a bang. Darkness instantly consumed me. I huddled in the corner, clutching myself tightly. Ethan, I’ve repaid everything I owed you. The darkness of the basement was like an invisible giant hand, strangling my throat. On the first day, I trembled with fear, sweat soaking my clothes. My mind kept flashing back to being kidnapped as a child, and Grandma’s face under the white sheet. On the second day, I developed a high fever. My wounds became infected. I fell into a semi-conscious state.

Vivian POV In extreme pain, I dreamed of Ethan from three years ago. Back then, because I was afraid of the dark, I had to leave a light on when sleeping. Once during a power outage, Ethan ran through the pouring rain across three streets to buy candles to fill the room. He held me in his arms, kissing my forehead over and over. “Don’t be afraid, Vivian. I’m here. I’ll never let you stay in the dark again.” How ridiculous. The person who said he’d never let me stay in the dark personally pushed me into the deepest abyss. On the third day, my fever broke. Fear and despair were exhausted. What remained was only the calm of stagnant water. I felt around in the dark for a sharp stone and carved marks on the wall. Each mark was a piece of my dying love for Ethan. When the iron door opened again, the blinding light made me instinctively close my eyes. Ethan stood in the doorway, looking down at me. I slowly stood up, brushed the dust off myself. My heart was as calm as a pool of dead water. No hate, no love. “Have you calmed down?” Ethan frowned. “I’ve calmed down.” My voice was hoarse but unusually steady. “Ethan, let’s get divorced.” Ethan paused, then sneered. “Divorce? Vivian, what game are you playing now to get my attention? You think threatening me with divorce will make me forgive you for attacking someone with a knife?” I didn’t argue. I simply walked past him and went upstairs. I returned to the master bedroom, took out a divorce agreement I’d drafted long ago, signed my name, and handed it to Ethan who had followed. “I’ll leave with nothing. Just sign it.” Ethan looked at the agreement, his expression instantly darkening. He snatched it away, tore it to shreds, and threw the pieces in my face. “Vivian, get this straight. When this marriage begins and ends is my decision! You want a divorce? Dream on!” I looked at the scattered paper on the floor. I wasn’t angry. I just said calmly. “Whatever you say.” I turned and walked into the bathroom, washing away the blood and grime. When I came out, I picked up my phone and dialed an encrypted number. “Mr. Yale, it’s me.” “The ‘fake death rescue’ service I booked, can we move it up? I don’t want to stay another day.” On the other end, Adrian Yale’s deep voice came through. “Yes. In a month, at Stella’s yacht party. That’s a good opportunity. I’ll arrange everything.” “Thank you.” I hung up and looked at myself in the mirror. Ethan, since you don’t want a divorce, I’ll just have to become a widow. For the following days, I was abnormally quiet. I no longer argued with Stella, no longer questioned Ethan. Like nothing had happened, I ate and slept on schedule every day. “Ethan, Vivian’s been so strange lately.” I heard Stella lean against Ethan, saying coquettishly. “Is she plotting something? Why don’t you make her move out of the master bedroom? I’m scared looking at her.” Ethan frowned. Looking at Stella’s aggrieved expression, he still nodded. That night, Ethan entered the master bedroom and told me coldly. “Move to the guest room. Stella hasn’t been sleeping well lately. The master bedroom mattress suits her better.” I nodded calmly. “Okay.” I opened the closet and only took a few changes of clothes. I didn’t even glance at the expensive jewelry and designer dresses Ethan once gave me. At the door, I stopped, removed my wedding ring, and casually tossed it in the nearby trash can. “What are you doing?!” Ethan rushed over and looked at the diamond ring in the trash, furious. “It’s dirty. Don’t want it anymore.” My tone was flat. Not just the wedding ring. The trash also contained love letters he once wrote me, dried flowers he gave me, even all our photos together. I threw away everything about him. “Vivian!” Ethan grabbed my wrist, his eyes churning with anger and panic. “What tantrum are you throwing now? I already compensated you for your grandmother. What more do you want?!” “Compensation?” I laughed until tears came. “Ethan, can human life be compensated? Let go of me. You disgust me.” I shook off his hand and walked into the guest room without looking back. Final countdown. Three days. To celebrate her engagement, Stella rented a luxury yacht for a party. She specifically had someone send me an invitation, saying the reason was “the family should be together.” I looked at the invitation and smiled. I’d been waiting for this day for a long time. The night of the yacht party, the sea breeze was cool. I wore a simple black dress, standing in the shadows on the deck. I watched Stella, the center of attention in the banquet hall, with Ethan beside her, looking distracted. I touched the mini voice recorder and camera hidden in my dress. Tonight, I’d make Stella admit she killed Derek and caused Grandma’s death. Then I would jump from this yacht and completely disappear from Ethan’s world. Ethan, get ready for your personal hell.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407886”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The first time Sophia Reed met Damien Cross was in the filthiest clinic in Riverside City. She knelt on the floor, clutching the hospital payment slip. Her mother’s kidney failure had reached its final stage. Dialysis cost thirty thousand a month. She had two hundred dollars left. The clinic owner, an old man in a dusty gray suit, slid a contract across to her. “Sign it, and your mother will be transferred to a private hospital. I’ll cover everything.” The contract read: Three years as Damien Cross’s personal caretaker. “Just a caretaker?” Sophia asked. The old man smiled. “You’ll take care of everything for him. Including his needs in bed.” The first time Sophia Reed met Damien Cross was in the filthiest clinic in Riverside City. She knelt on the floor, clutching the hospital payment slip in her hand. Her mother’s kidney failure had reached its final stage. Dialysis cost thirty thousand dollars a month. And in her pocket, she only had two hundred dollars left. The owner of the clinic was named Cross. A man in his sixties wearing a dusty gray suit. He looked at Sophia and slid a contract across to her. “Sign it, and your mother will be transferred to a private hospital immediately. I’ll cover all the expenses.” Sophia took the contract. Her fingers trembled. The contract read: Voluntary agreement to serve as Damien’s personal caretaker for a term of three years. “Just a caretaker?” She looked up and asked. Mr. Cross smiled. “Not just a caretaker. My son has a special condition. You’ll need to take care of everything for him.” “Everything?” “Yes. You’ll take care of everything for him. Including his needs in bed.” Sophia’s face went deathly pale. She understood exactly what those four words meant. Mr. Cross sighed. “My son’s name is Damien Cross. When he was twenty-two, someone poisoned him. The toxins haven’t been completely cleared from his body, and they flare up once every seven days.” “When they do, he’s in excruciating pain, loses control of himself, and needs someone to help him through it.” “I used to hire girls from outside, but he’s become increasingly resistant to that.” “I need someone fixed, clean, and able to keep her mouth shut.” Sophia’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the contract. “Why me?” “Because you’re clean. I’ve investigated you. You’ve never been in a relationship, your mother is your only living relative, and you desperately need money.” Mr. Cross’s gaze was cold. “And you’re beautiful. He’ll like you.” Sophia closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw her mother lying in a hospital bed, tubes running everywhere through her body. She stayed silent for a long time, then finally signed her name. …… Six months later, Damien sat on the living room sofa while Sophia knelt beside his leg, changing his bandages. He had a knife wound on his thigh from last night’s gang fight. Sophia’s movements were gentle, afraid of hurting him. But Damien still frowned and kicked her shoulder. Sophia fell backward from the kick, her forehead hitting the corner of the coffee table. A large bump immediately swelled up. She didn’t make a sound. She got up and continued changing his bandages. “Does it hurt?” She asked softly. Damien glanced at her but said nothing. In the past six months, he’d never really looked at her properly. In his eyes, Sophia was just a tool Mr. Cross had bought with money. A talking sex doll. But Sophia didn’t think of it that way. She remembered that rainy night three months ago. The toxins in Damien’s body had flared up. He curled up on the floor in agony, drenched in cold sweat. She followed the method Mr. Cross had taught her and helped him through it. Afterward, Damien held her and called out a name. “Claire.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and cried like a child. Sophia held him and gently patted his back. In that moment, she felt needed. Even though the name he called was someone else’s. From that day on, Sophia secretly began to fall for this man. She would tie his necktie for him before he went out. She would make him hot sobering soup when he came home drunk. She memorized all his little habits. Like how he preferred his steak medium-rare, drank his Americano, and hated rainy days. She thought that if she was good enough, one day he would finally see her. But she didn’t know. The woman named Claire was about to come back. …… Damien was on the phone when Sophia was in the kitchen cooking his steak. “Claire’s back?” His voice came from the living room, carrying an excitement she’d never heard before. Sophia’s spatula paused mid-air. “Where are you? I’ll come right away.” Damien hung up and headed straight for the door. Sophia rushed out, still holding the freshly cooked steak. “Where are you going?” Damien didn’t look back. “None of your business.” The door slammed shut. Sophia stood there, looking at the still-steaming steak in her hands. She suddenly felt her eyes sting. Just then, her phone buzzed. It was a message from the Cross family’s private doctor. “Miss Reed, your pregnancy test results are in. You’re two weeks pregnant. I recommend you avoid excessive physical strain in the coming period.” Sophia stared at the message. Her hand trembled. She was pregnant. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Damien yet. And Damien had already left to find another woman. She leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to a crouch. Tears fell onto the floor without a sound. She heard something inside her heart crack open.

Damien didn’t come home all night. Sophia sat on the living room sofa, waiting from eight in the evening until three in the morning. She called him seven times. All went to voicemail. On the eighth call, someone finally picked up. But it wasn’t Damien. “Hello?” It was a woman’s voice. Soft and pleasant. “Are you looking for Damien? He’s in the shower.” Sophia’s throat felt like someone had wrapped a hand around it. “Who are you…?” “I’m Claire Bennett. You’re Sophia, right? Damien told me about you.” The woman’s voice carried a smile. “Thank you for taking care of him all this time. Now that I’m back, I won’t trouble you anymore.” The call ended. Sophia stared at her phone screen showing “Call Ended.” She suddenly felt so cold. Cold down to her bones. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and sat on the sofa all night. The next morning, Damien came home. A woman stood beside him. She wore a white dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. When she smiled, two shallow dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. This was Claire Bennett. Sophia had seen her photo in Damien’s wallet before. She was even more beautiful in person, more gentle. “Sophia, this is Claire.” Damien’s tone was casual, like he was introducing an ordinary friend. But Sophia saw the tenderness in his eyes. The kind of tenderness she’d never seen in the past six months. “Claire just got back from abroad. She’ll be staying with us for a while.” Sophia opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she heard Claire ask: “Damien, is she your housekeeper?” Damien paused. “Something like that.” Those words stabbed into Sophia’s heart like a knife. She stood in the kitchen doorway, still holding the porridge she’d just finished making. She’d gotten up early to make it for Damien, worried his stomach would hurt after drinking last night. Now she felt like a complete joke. “I’ll go upstairs and tidy the room.” Sophia kept her head down and turned toward the stairs. She heard Claire laughing behind her. “Damien, this housekeeper is quite diligent.” He didn’t contradict her. Sophia bit her lip so hard her nails dug crescents into her palms, drawing blood. She didn’t cry. Her tears had long since dried up.

On Claire’s first day moving in, she took over Sophia’s room. “Damien, I like this room. The sunlight is wonderful.” Claire pointed at Sophia’s room, smiling innocently. Damien glanced at it. Sophia’s room had the best natural light in the entire villa. Mr. Cross had specifically arranged it because she was anemic and needed more sun exposure. “Fine, you can have this one.” Damien nodded, then turned to Sophia. “You move to the storage room on the first floor.” Sophia froze. The first-floor storage room didn’t even have a window. It could barely fit a cot. “I…” She wanted to say she was pregnant and couldn’t live in a place like that. But before the words left her mouth, Claire wrapped her arm around Damien’s. “You’re so good to me, Damien.” Damien looked down at her, a smile on his lips. “As long as you’re happy.” Sophia watched the two of them being intimate and swallowed back everything she wanted to say. She moved her belongings to the first-floor storage room by herself. The storage room was crammed with cleaning supplies and smelled of mildew. She sat on the cot, hand resting on her flat stomach. “I’m sorry. Mommy can’t give you a comfortable place right now.” She whispered. That evening, Damien sat in the living room watching TV with Claire. Sophia prepared dinner in the kitchen. She made many dishes, all Damien’s favorites. When the food was brought to the table, Claire frowned. “Damien, I can’t eat spicy food.” Sophia’s hand paused. Three of the dishes on the table were spicy. Because Damien liked spicy food. “It’s fine. Have her remake them.” Damien pushed the three plates aside. “Sophia, take away the spicy ones and make them again.” Sophia stood there, still wearing her apron. She looked at Damien. The man’s gaze was fixed on Claire. He didn’t even glance at her. “Okay.” She said quietly. She took the three dishes back to the kitchen and started over. The smell of oil made her nauseous. But she held it in. Midway through, she snuck to the bathroom and dry-heaved a few times. No one noticed. When the new dishes were served, Claire took a bite and smiled with satisfaction. “Mm, this tastes much better.” “Then eat more.” Damien served her food with his chopsticks. Sophia stood to the side, watching her husband serve food to his old flame. She suddenly felt so tired. A bone-deep exhaustion. That night, Damien slept in the guest room. Because Claire was afraid to sleep alone at night and wanted him to keep her company. Sophia lay alone on the cot in the storage room, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep all night. She started counting down in her mind. Twelve more days until the contract expired.

The next day, Damien took Claire to the gang’s annual gala. The gala was held at Riverside City’s most luxurious hotel, and all the high-ranking members attended. By custom, Damien should have brought his woman. But he brought Claire. Sophia learned about it from Marcus. Marcus was Damien’s driver and the only person in the Cross household she could talk to. “Sophia, don’t overthink it. Damien just…” Marcus tried to comfort her, but halfway through, even he couldn’t continue. Sophia shook her head. “It’s fine.” She no longer felt hurt. Or rather, she’d been hurt so much she’d gone numb. Three days later, Claire demanded that Sophia hand-wash her underwear. Sophia didn’t refuse. She took Claire’s underwear to the laundry room and scrubbed each piece by hand. The door suddenly swung open behind her. Startled, she turned around and met a pair of cold eyes. Damien leaned against the doorframe, a cigar between his fingers. Through the curling smoke, she couldn’t make out his expression. “Marcus told me you’re pregnant?” Sophia’s hand trembled. She hadn’t wanted Damien to know. At least not yet. She clutched the underwear tighter and nodded. “Yes. Two weeks.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” The man’s voice was heavy. “I was going to wait until after the gala, when things calmed down, and we could…” “Get rid of it.” Sophia froze in place. She jerked her head up, thinking she’d misheard. “What did you say?” “I said, get rid of the baby.” Damien’s tone was flat, like he was discussing something trivial. “But why… It’s your child…” “Claire’s depression is severe. She can’t handle stress.” Damien exhaled a stream of smoke. “If she finds out you’re pregnant, she’ll have a breakdown. You can get pregnant again later. It’s not like this is your only chance.” Sophia felt her blood flowing backward. She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak a single word. So her child, in Damien’s eyes, was something that could be discarded at any time. All because Claire couldn’t handle stress. “I made an appointment with a doctor for you. Tomorrow morning at nine.” Damien turned to leave. “Damien.” Sophia called out to him. Her voice was hoarse. “Let me ask you one question.” “Go ahead.” “In these past six months, have you ever, even for a single day, liked me?” Damien’s footsteps stopped. He didn’t turn around. “My heart only has room for one person.” He pushed open the door and walked out. In the empty laundry room, Sophia suddenly laughed. She touched her flat stomach. Her eyes burned and swelled. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. Then she lowered her head and continued scrubbing the underwear in her hands. Her movements were slow and careful. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, falling on her pale face. Her eyes were dry. Not a single tear fell.

Seven days until the contract expired. Sophia didn’t go to the hospital. She went about her routine as usual. Washing clothes, cooking, cleaning. She just spoke less. Damien didn’t bring up the abortion again. Perhaps he thought Sophia wouldn’t dare disobey his orders. These past few days, Damien spent every day with Claire. He took her to see the night view by the river, went shopping with her, accompanied her to art exhibitions she liked. He never did these things with Sophia. Sophia remembered once gathering the courage to ask Damien if he could take her to a movie. Damien hadn’t even looked up. “I’m busy.” He said he was busy. But now he had plenty of time to spend with another woman. Sophia looked at the photos Claire posted on social media and deleted them one by one. Claire posted new photos. In them, Damien had his arm around her waist. The two of them were kissing against a sunset backdrop by the ocean. The caption read: The best kind of love is when no matter how long you’re apart, you’re still the same to me. Posted thirteen minutes ago. Sophia turned off her phone screen and tossed it on the sofa. She suddenly felt nauseous. She didn’t know if it was morning sickness or if the last bit of hope inside her had finally rotted away. Just then, the living room door swung open. Claire walked in wearing high heels, arms laden with shopping bags from luxury brands. “Sophia, come help me with these.” Sophia walked over and took the bags from her. Claire removed her sunglasses and looked her up and down. “I heard you’re pregnant?” Sophia’s movements paused. “None of your business.” Claire laughed. “Do you know what Damien told me yesterday?” She leaned close to Sophia’s ear and lowered her voice. “He said he’s just waiting for you to have the baby so you can pack your things and get out of the Cross house.” Sophia’s pupils contracted sharply. Claire smiled and stepped back. “So don’t think that just because you’re pregnant, you can hold onto him.” “In his eyes, you’re just a tool.” “A tool that can bear children.” Sophia stood there, still holding Claire’s shopping bags. She said nothing. After a long while, she finally spoke softly. “Are you done?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “I’m done.” “Then move.” Sophia walked past her carrying the bags. Her movements were calm. So calm it was as if every word Claire said hadn’t hurt her at all. But only she knew. Her palms had four bloody crescent marks from her nails. …… That evening, Damien came home. He’d been drinking heavily. The smell of alcohol clung to him. Sophia helped him remove his coat and hung it on the rack. “Did you go to the hospital today?” Damien leaned against the sofa, eyes closed, and asked. “No.” Sophia’s voice was calm. Damien opened his eyes and frowned at her. “Why aren’t you listening?” Sophia didn’t answer that question. Instead, she asked one of her own. “Damien, if I were to leave, would you miss me at all?” Damien froze. He looked at Sophia. The woman’s face was haggard, heavy dark circles under her eyes, lips chapped, her hair just carelessly pulled into a ponytail. She looked nothing like the girl from six months ago. The one who’d knelt in that back-alley clinic with defiant eyes. He stayed silent for a long time. “Where would you go?” He didn’t answer her question. He asked one instead. Sophia suddenly smiled. She understood. “The bath is ready. Go wash up.” She turned and went into the bathroom. Damien stared at her back, feeling something wasn’t right. But he’d drunk too much. His mind was fuzzy and he couldn’t figure it out. He leaned back on the sofa and soon fell asleep. Sophia came out of the bathroom and draped a blanket over him. She crouched beside the sofa, looking at Damien’s sleeping face. She reached out and gently traced his eyebrows. Her touch was light, as if afraid of waking him. “Damien.” She called his name softly. “I know you never cared.” “But I really, really liked you.” “Liked you so much that I lost myself completely.” Her eyes finally reddened. But she didn’t cry out loud. She forced the tears back, stood up, and returned to her storage room. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Cross, I’ve made up my mind.” There was a moment of silence on the other end. “You really want to leave?” “Yes.” Sophia’s voice was calm. “The contract expires in seven days.” “After seven days, I’ll have nothing to do with the Cross family ever again.”

The next morning, Sophia was jolted awake by severe abdominal pain. She opened her eyes. The sheets beneath her were stained red. She froze completely. Fear washed over her like a tidal wave. “The baby…” She braced herself and crawled off the cot, stumbling toward the door. In the living room, Damien and Claire were eating breakfast. Claire wore Damien’s white dress shirt, laughing cheerfully. “Damien, can you take me shopping later? I want to buy…” Her words cut off when she saw Sophia stumble out of the storage room. Sophia’s pants were soaked with blood. It ran down her thighs. Claire screamed. “Ah!” Damien shot to his feet. The coffee cup in his hand fell to the floor and shattered. “Sophia?!” Sophia clutched her stomach, her face white as a sheet. “Hospital… please… take me to the hospital…” Her voice trembled. Damien rushed over and swept her into his arms. The woman in his arms was impossibly light, like a bundle of bones. Only then did he realize how much weight Sophia had lost. “Marcus! Get the car! Now!” Marcus ran in from outside and froze at the sight. “Damien, the car’s right outside!” Damien carried Sophia out. Claire chased after him. “Damien! Where are you going? You promised you’d stay with me!” Damien’s steps faltered. He looked back at Claire, then down at the blood-soaked Sophia in his arms. Sophia’s consciousness was already fading. She clung desperately to his collar, her nails digging into the fabric. “The baby… save the baby…” Her voice was barely a whisper. Then her eyes closed. Her hand went limp and fell to her side. Damien felt something violently wrench his heart. He didn’t hesitate any longer. He got in the car with Sophia. “Drive! Now!” Marcus floored the gas pedal. The car shot forward like an arrow. Damien looked down at the woman in his arms and wiped the tears from her face with his thumb. Only then did he realize his own hands were shaking. “Sophia, don’t fall asleep. Don’t sleep, you hear me?” His voice was hoarse. But Sophia didn’t respond. She lay in Damien’s arms, her face white as paper. When the car hit a speed bump, it jolted. Sophia’s hand slipped from her body, and something rolled from her palm. Damien looked down. It was a ring. A cheap silver ring with worn-down patterns. It was the one he’d carelessly thrown in the trash three months ago. Sophia had secretly retrieved it. Damien stared at the ring. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He picked up the ring and gripped it tightly in his fist.

The emergency room light stayed on all night. Damien sat in a hallway chair, completely still. His white shirt was still stained with Sophia’s blood, now dried to a dark brown. Marcus stood nearby, not daring to breathe too loudly or say a word. Near dawn, the doctor emerged. Damien shot to his feet. “How is she?” The doctor removed his mask. His expression was complicated. “We saved her, but the baby didn’t make it. Her body was in terrible condition. Severe anemia combined with malnutrition. It’s a miracle she lasted this long.” Damien stood frozen. “And…” The doctor added another statement. “She appears to have had a previous cesarean section. The incision placement was wrong. It looks like she went through it without anesthesia. There’s permanent damage to her rectus abdominis muscles. They’ll never fully recover.” Damien’s mind went blank with a buzzing sound. “Without anesthesia?” Marcus spoke quietly from the side. “Damien, Mr. Cross mentioned before that when Sophia was giving birth, you were at an art exhibition with Miss Bennett.” “We called you over twenty times. You didn’t answer once.” Damien completely froze. He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. The day Sophia gave birth. He was with Claire. She was in the delivery room, shaking from pain, nearly dying on the operating table. And he was at an art exhibition, explaining painting schools to another woman. He remembered now. He remembered coming back to the hospital that day. Sophia was alone in the hospital bed. Not a single family member by her side. When she saw him enter, she smiled. “The baby is healthy.” That was all she said. Damien had nodded, glanced at the baby, and then left. He didn’t even ask if she was in pain. Didn’t ask why her lips were completely bitten raw. He asked nothing. Because at that time, his mind was full of whether Claire was happy that day. Damien’s body swayed. He leaned against the wall and slowly sank down. He buried his face in his palms. “Sophia…” His voice leaked through his fingers, trembling with suppression. Marcus looked at his boss, not daring to say a word. He’d never seen Damien like this. The man who commanded fear throughout Riverside’s underworld, who made swift and decisive judgments. Now he was curled up in a hospital hallway corner like a trapped beast with its spine ripped out.

When Sophia woke up, she smelled disinfectant. White ceiling, white sheets, white curtains. The sunlight was blinding. She squinted. The pain in her abdomen reminded her of what she’d lost. She touched her flat stomach. Her eyes immediately burned. But she didn’t cry. What good would crying do? The baby wasn’t coming back. She turned her face to the side, looking at the bare tree branches outside the window. The window was cracked open slightly. Cold wind poured in, making the curtains sway gently. She heard footsteps outside. Damien pushed the door open and walked in. He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, blue stubble on his chin. He approached the bed and reached out to touch her forehead. Sophia turned her head away. Damien’s hand froze mid-air. After a long moment, he withdrew it. “About the baby… I’m very sorry.” His voice was heavy. “I know.” Sophia’s voice was calm. Damien looked at her, feeling a tightness in his chest. He’d rather she yell at him, hit him, throw things, cry hysterically. But she did none of that. She just lay in the hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, as if her soul had already left her body. “When you’re better, we’ll start over.” Damien spoke. Sophia slowly turned her head and looked into his eyes. “Start over?” She laughed. That laugh made Damien’s heart contract painfully. “Damien.” She called his name, her voice soft, as if using every bit of strength she had left. “My baby is gone.” Damien shut his mouth. He stood there like a wooden post nailed to the floor. After Sophia said those words, she closed her eyes. A single tear rolled from the corner of her eye, silently falling onto the white pillow and spreading into a small wet spot.

Three days later, Sophia was discharged from the hospital. She returned to the Cross villa and immediately began packing her things. Actually, there wasn’t much to pack. She had very little. A few old clothes, a pair of canvas shoes she’d worn for two years, and the silver ring she’d retrieved from the trash. She hesitated, then left the ring on the nightstand. Claire leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a victorious smile on her lips. “Finally seeing sense? You should have left ages ago. What’s the point of staying at the Cross house? You’re just a housekeeper.” Sophia ignored her and continued packing. Claire spoke again. “Oh, by the way, I know about the contract you signed with Damien. Basically just using you as a tool, right? Now that he’s tired of playing, it’s time for a replacement.” Sophia’s movements stopped. She slowly straightened and turned to look at Claire. “Claire.” “Yes?” “Do you really like Damien that much?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” “Then do you know why he broke up with you back then?” Claire’s smile stiffened. “What are you talking about?” Sophia looked at her coolly. “He didn’t break up with you because you went abroad.” “It was because you slept with his best friend.” Claire’s expression changed instantly. “You’re talking nonsense!” “Whether I’m talking nonsense or not, go ask Damien.” Sophia’s tone remained calm, as if discussing ancient history that had nothing to do with her. “You think he loves you that much? He’s only in pain from being betrayed, so he idealized you into a perfect phantom.” “He doesn’t love you. He loves the Claire Bennett in his imagination.”” Sophia zipped up her suitcase. The sound was especially clear in the quiet room. “I’m giving Damien to you. I wish you both happiness.” She dragged her suitcase and walked past Claire. When she reached the door, she paused. She didn’t turn back. “Oh, and when you two get married, remember to send me an invitation.” Her voice was as light as a breeze. “I won’t be coming.” Then she pushed open the door and walked out. In the living room, Damien stood there. He watched her drag her suitcase. His chest felt like someone had punched it hard. “Sophia.” He called her name. Sophia didn’t stop. As she passed by him, Damien reached out and grabbed her arm. “Don’t go.” His voice was hoarse. Sophia looked down at his hand gripping her arm, then raised her head to meet his eyes. “Damien, the contract has expired.” She pried his fingers open one by one. After all these years, she finally saw something indescribable in Damien’s face. Panic.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407885”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

After getting pregnant by accident, I dragged my suitcase to the door, ready to run. The moment I opened it, a stream of text floated before my eyes. [Why are you running? If you run, you’re dead!] [Raven Smith has no brain. She’s carrying the only bloodline of the Morrison family and she dares to hide?] [After the male lead Matthias Morrison’s car accident, his fertility was damaged. The child in Raven’s belly is the Morrison family’s only heir.] [Once Raven runs, the child will be taken by Juliet White. Juliet will marry into the Morrison family with a ready-made kid and rise to power through her son.] I froze mid-step. Half a minute later, I kicked my suitcase back into the walk-in closet. Clutching the pregnancy test, I stormed into the top floor of Morrison Corporation. Matthias Morrison was in a meeting. I pushed open the conference room doors and slammed the report in front of him. “Matthias Morrison, I’m pregnant. It’s yours.” The conference room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Dozens of eyes turned to stare at me. Matthias sat at the head of the table, his black shirt buttoned all the way to the top, his eyes cold and indifferent. Three years ago, a car accident nearly took his life. After he survived, the Morrison family’s private hospital issued a diagnosis. Matthias Morrison would have extreme difficulty having children. The Morrison family had been passing down a single heir for thirteen generations. The old matriarch of the family, Lillian Morrison, was so anxious she consulted every renowned doctor. She even secretly arranged blind dates for him, but he coldly sent them all away. So when I threw out this pregnancy test, the faces of the executives in the room were even more spectacular than mine had been when I first saw those floating words. Matthias picked up the report and looked at it for two seconds. “Miss Raven, please leave.” I choked. “You don’t believe me?” He looked up at me, his gaze utterly devoid of warmth. “What do you want?” That sentence hurt more than a slap to the face. I, Raven Smith, the pampered youngest daughter of the Smith family, had been spoiled and arrogant since childhood. I’d certainly done plenty of outrageous things. Like chasing after Grayson Jones for ten years. Like getting drugged at a party and, trying to make Grayson jealous, accidentally pushing myself onto Matthias Morrison instead. And then, after waking up, crying and cursing him for taking advantage of me. Matthias never explained. He just draped his coat over me and had his driver take me home. Half a month later, I found out I was pregnant. My first reaction was to run. After all, if my parents saw this report, they’d tear apart both the baby’s father and me. But the floating text said if I ran, I would die. The child would be taken by Juliet White. Juliet White was the original novel’s female lead—pure and resilient, gentle and kind. She would become the apple of Matthias Morrison’s eye. And I was just cannon fodder paving the way for them. More text floated by. [Raven, cry now! Cry hard—Matthias responds to softness, not force!] [Don’t back down. She’s the only one who’s ever gotten pregnant with Matthias Morrison’s child.] [Juliet has already been earning favor with Lillian. Wait any longer and you’ll lose both the husband and the child!] I pinched my palm, my eyes reddening. “Matthias Morrison, you sleep with me and then deny it?” Someone in the conference room sucked in a sharp breath. Matthias’s eyes flickered slightly, as if suppressing something. I walked around the table to his side and pressed his hand against my lower abdomen. “You don’t have to believe me… but you need to take care of me first.” Matthias’s fingers stiffened. I looked at him, my heart pounding painfully. His gaze lingered on my face for a long time. “Meeting dismissed.” Everyone immediately lowered their heads and filed out. The door closed. He withdrew his hand and pulled out his phone to dial an internal line. “Send the head of obstetrics and gynecology up here.” I had just started to relax. The conference room door suddenly opened again. A woman in a white dress stood in the doorway, holding a food container. “Matthias, did I come at a bad time?” The floating text exploded instantly. [Juliet White is here!]

Juliet White looked very wholesome. White dress, black hair, soft eyes. Standing next to someone as cold as Matthias Morrison, she really did seem like a ray of light. She saw the pregnancy test in my hand, and her eyelashes trembled. “Miss Raven, are you feeling unwell?” I hid the pregnancy test behind my back, my tone stubborn. “What’s it to you?” Juliet’s face paled. “I’m just concerned.” Matthias asked her, “Who let you come up here?” Juliet bit her lip lightly. “Lillian asked me to bring you soup. The doctor said your stomach hasn’t been well lately.” Matthias’s expression grew even colder. “Put it down and leave.” “Matthias, Lillian also said she wants you to come back to the old mansion tonight.” The text scrolled rapidly. [Here it comes—Lillian is going to set up Juliet and Matthias.] [Juliet saved Lillian’s life. Lillian loves her now.] [If Raven acts up even a little, Matthias will find her annoying.] I immediately moved closer to Matthias. “You can’t go tonight.” Matthias looked down at me. “You think you can control me?” I tilted my face up. “I’m carrying your child. Of course I can control you.” Juliet’s face grew even paler. Matthias looked at me, his expression calm, as if examining a contract full of loopholes. “Raven Smith, you’d better understand the consequences of lying to me.” I was afraid of him. But I was more afraid of dying. I straightened my back, trying to appear righteous. “Then check now.” Ten minutes later, the head of obstetrics and gynecology, Dr. Riley, arrived at the CEO’s lounge with equipment and nurses. Blood draw, urine test, ultrasound. I lay on the bed, my skirt covering my lower abdomen, my palms covered in sweat. Matthias stood by the window, his back straight. Juliet didn’t leave. She stood outside the door, looking in through the half-open entrance. The examination ended. Dr. Riley held the test results, her expression very complicated. “Mr. Morrison, Miss Raven is indeed pregnant.” Matthias froze. Dr. Riley continued, “Based on the gestational age, the timing also matches up.” I immediately sat up. “Did you hear that?” But Matthias kept staring at Dr. Riley. “Can the father be confirmed?” Dr. Riley looked uncomfortable under his gaze. “Invasive testing isn’t recommended in early pregnancy, but non-invasive prenatal paternity testing can be arranged later.” The smile on my face stiffened. “Matthias Morrison, you still doubt me?” He said nothing. Juliet suddenly walked in, her voice as gentle as water. “Miss Raven, don’t be angry. Matthias’s physical condition is special. It’s normal for him to be cautious.” I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Juliet stumbled back half a step, her eyes instantly reddening. Matthias frowned. My heart ached. I immediately threw off the blanket and got out of bed. “Fine. I’m leaving.” My foot had just touched the floor when my lower abdomen suddenly cramped. I bent over in pain. Matthias stepped forward in one stride, scooping me up, his voice urgent. “Doctor!” I gripped his collar, tears rolling down uncontrollably. “Don’t touch me.” Matthias’s body stiffened. The next second, the sound of a cane tapping on the floor came from outside. Lillian had arrived. As soon as she entered, her eyes went straight to my belly. “Who’s pregnant with my Morrison family’s child?”

Lillian was in her seventies, with a full head of silver hair and a very straight spine. Matthias was holding me. I wanted to get down. He tightened his arms. “Don’t move.” Lillian walked quickly to the bedside. “How many weeks?” Dr. Riley immediately answered, “Around six weeks.” Lillian’s hands trembled. “Really pregnant?” Dr. Riley nodded. Lillian’s eyes suddenly reddened. Juliet supported her, saying softly, “Lillian, don’t get excited yet. The child’s paternity still needs to be confirmed.” The joy on Lillian’s face froze. She looked at Matthias. Matthias placed me back on the bed and pulled a thin blanket over my legs. “It’s early pregnancy. Risky tests can’t be done.” My heart gave a small jolt. The man who had just doubted me was now protecting me. Lillian frowned. “Matthias, this concerns the Morrison family bloodline.” Matthias’s voice was cold and low. “Her body concerns a human life.” The room fell silent. The text drifted slowly by. [Matthias is protecting her now. Juliet is panicking.] [In the original novel, Lillian trained Juliet as her grandson’s wife. Now Raven has barged in pregnant.] [Raven, don’t get cocky. The Morrison family branch members are about to fight for inheritance rights.] Lillian sat down beside my bed and held my hand. “Raven, what do you want to eat? Where do you want to live? The old mansion has dedicated nutritionists and doctors.” I was about to say whatever. But Juliet spoke first. “The old mansion is quiet, suitable for pregnancy. I can keep Miss Raven company. I actually studied nursing.” I sneered. “You keep me company?” Juliet nodded. “I’m afraid you won’t be comfortable alone.” I looked at Matthias. “I’m not going to the old mansion.” Lillian’s expression soured. She asked why. My eyes reddened, my voice immediately softening. “I’m scared.” “Scared of what?” I pointed at Juliet. “Scared of her.” Juliet’s face stiffened. Lillian was also stunned. I lowered my head and touched my lower abdomen. “As soon as she came in, she talked about confirming the child’s paternity. Then she wanted me to go to the old mansion. What if I fall asleep and something happens to the baby?” Juliet hurriedly explained, “Miss Raven, you’ve misunderstood me.” I shrank into Matthias’s embrace. “See? She’s glaring at me again.” Juliet: “…” Matthias looked down at me, a hint of amusement seeming to flash in his eyes before he quickly suppressed it. Lillian looked at Juliet, her expression cooling somewhat. “Juliet, you should go back first.” Juliet’s lips turned pale. “Lillian.” “Go back.” Juliet left carrying the food container. As soon as the door closed, Lillian immediately changed her expression, gripping my hand. “Raven, you can live wherever you want.” I looked at Matthias. “I want to live at his place.” Matthias’s brow furrowed slightly. Lillian immediately nodded. “Fine, live at his place.” Matthias said coldly, “I didn’t agree.” Lillian tapped her cane heavily. “You shut up.” I almost laughed out loud. Text floated by. [Step one of rising to power through her son: Success.] [Too bad the Smith family hasn’t made their move yet.] The next second, my phone rang. My mom’s name appeared on the screen.

I didn’t dare answer. Matthias glanced at me. “Afraid of your family?” I spoke stubbornly. “Who’s afraid?” The phone stopped for two seconds, then rang again. This time it was my dad. If I didn’t answer, the Smith family would storm straight to Morrison Corporation. I took a deep breath and pressed answer. My mom’s voice was shrill and terrifying. “Raven Smith, where are you?” I glanced at Matthias. “Shopping.” “Shopping all the way up to the Morrison Corporation top floor?” My scalp tingled. Did Grayson Jones snitch… Sure enough, my mom’s next words confirmed it. “Grayson said you went to find Matthias Morrison with a pregnancy test.” I held the phone away from my ear. She continued yelling, “You’re pregnant?” Lillian’s ears were sharper than anyone’s. She immediately leaned in. I closed my eyes. “Yes.” Silence on the other end of the line for three seconds. My mom started crying. “Have you lost your mind? How old are you? What’s going on between you and Matthias Morrison?” Before I could speak, Matthias took the phone. “Mrs. Smith, I will take responsibility.” My mom on the other end went quiet. Then my dad’s voice came through. “Matthias Morrison, let Raven come home.” Matthias looked at me. I immediately shook my head. He said into the phone, “She’s not in a condition to travel right now.” My dad laughed coldly. “You have no right to keep my daughter.” Matthias’s expression was indifferent. “If she wants to leave, I won’t stop her.” I immediately grabbed his sleeve. “I’m not leaving.” The sound of a glass shattering came from the other end. My mom’s voice shook with anger. “Raven Smith, you just wait.” The call ended. I buried my face in the blanket. I was done for. Lillian patted my hand. “Don’t be afraid. The Morrison family will protect you.” I looked at her wearily. “You wanted me to go to the old mansion and verify the child just a moment ago.” Lillian was rendered speechless. Matthias cleared his throat lightly. “Come back to my place first.” I knew he lived in a luxury home. But when the car drove into the exclusive villa district, I couldn’t help but gasp. My mood improved instantly. “Matthias Morrison, your place is actually pretty suitable for pregnancy.” He loosened his tie. “The master bedroom is yours.” I sat on the sofa holding a cushion. “Where will you sleep?” “Guest room.” I frowned. “If you’re too far away, what do I do if I get hungry in the middle of the night?” Matthias looked at me. “Where do you want me to sleep?” I pointed at the master bedroom’s king-size bed. “The bed is very big.” His eyes darkened. “Raven Smith, don’t provoke me.” I immediately shut my mouth. That night, I woke up hungry and padded barefoot to the kitchen looking for food. The refrigerator was full of premium ingredients. I didn’t know how to cook any of them. I dug out a box of strawberries and had just bitten into one when Matthias’s voice came from behind me. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” I was so startled the strawberry fell to the floor. He walked over, lifted me onto the kitchen island, and knelt down to wipe my feet. His movements were very gentle. I looked at his lowered brows and eyes, my heartbeat going out of control for a moment. Text suddenly appeared. [Friendly reminder: Grayson Jones is downstairs.] [He brought the Smith family with him.] The doorbell rang.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407884”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I’m a top-tier Hollywood star, the youngest Oscar-winning actress, and the apple of the eye of the Fletcher family’s billionaire heir. He not only opened a talent agency specifically to manage me alone, but even humbled himself to become my assistant out of love. The entire entertainment industry knows that crossing me means crossing the Fletcher family. However, no one expected that in the latest S-tier production film, my role as the female lead that was already a done deal would be stolen by an unknown D-list actress. People placed bets overnight on how long it would take for Charles Fletcher to blacklist that actress named Nia across the entire internet. But instead, what came was an official announcement from Fletcher Family Media: [Welcome our company’s second signed artist, Nia] [In the future, Miss Nia will walk hand in hand with the Fletcher Group.] The entire industry was shaken, mocking me for falling out of favor, forcing a dignified Oscar winner to play second fiddle to a newcomer. On set, watching Nia’s terrible acting, I coldly gave her a stage slap according to the script, but Nia fell to the ground in tears, accusing me of using my position to settle personal scores. Charles ordered people to pin me to the ground, and had the crew add a hundred slapping scenes for me. By the end, I had been slapped until my right ear went deaf, my face swollen almost beyond recognition.

By the fiftieth scene, my right cheek was swollen high, looking terrifyingly grotesque. Blood kept flowing from my nose and mouth, dripping onto my clothes and the ground. The director’s voice trembled slightly, “Mr. Fletcher, shouldn’t we stop here?” “If we keep going and something happens…” “What’s the rush?” Charles curved his lips, he walked over, slowly crouched in front of me, lifted my chin with his hand, and gently wiped the bloody filth from my face, “Bella, I know you’re angry with me for replacing you as the female lead.” “But now everyone knows that Nia is the second person the Fletcher family wants to promote. You deliberately targeting her on set will make me look bad.” “Be good, apologize to Nia, and this will all be over.” I raised my head with difficulty, looking into Charles’s eyes, “I did nothing wrong.” “That scene just now, I stage-slapped her. I didn’t even touch her.” Nia immediately covered her face and started crying, “Since Miss Bella says it was a stage slap, then it was a stage slap.” “I understand, I’m just a newcomer, Miss Bella is an Oscar winner. I deserve to endure some grievances…” “Charles, please don’t make things difficult for Miss Bella. She’s just being professional, she definitely didn’t mean to target me.” I stared at her tear-stained face, couldn’t help but want to laugh. During the scene earlier, she couldn’t even cry, but now she was acting so convincingly. Charles frowned, “Unrepentant. Do you really think you’re some high and mighty Oscar winner?” His tone turned cold, “I could make the first one, I can make a second one too.” He looked at me, “Nia says you’re professional. Since you’re so professional, give the whole crew a demonstration.” “The remaining fifty scenes, continue.” My breathing caught, my heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. Back when I was still a small-time actress, when I accidentally scraped my skin during wire work, Charles was so distressed, warning the director that if I got hurt again, he’d dismantle the entire set. Now, because of one baseless provocation, he wanted me to endure a full hundred slaps. The slaps fell again, a heavy metallic taste filled my mouth. I looked toward Charles. His expression was indifferent, like he was watching a play that had nothing to do with him. By the eightieth scene, there wasn’t a patch of unmarked skin left on my face. “Baby, still won’t admit your mistake?” Charles looked at me with amusement. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, but said nothing. Charles’s eyes darkened further, “Continue.” At the hundredth scene, Charles called for a stop, and walked up himself. He raised his hand high. That hand had once held mine, wiped away my tears, and traced my features over and over again in the deep of night. “Baby, this last scene is to teach you that I don’t like women who make their own decisions.” The force of his palm struck heavily across my face. My right ear rang with a loud buzz, and then I couldn’t hear anything at all. My consciousness gradually blurred. Someone grabbed my hair and lifted my face. The camera focused on my wretched appearance. Charles’s indifferent voice came through, “Post this video online as my debut gift to Nia.” “What about Miss Bella… should we deal with her?” Charles’s gaze swept over coldly, and the person hurriedly lowered their head. “Stop trying to guess what I’m thinking. Today is just to teach her a lesson, so she doesn’t think she can do whatever she wants just because I spoil her.” “However, Bella will still be the Fletcher family’s only lady.” “Oh, and find the best medicine. I don’t want scars left on that face.” Hearing this, I laughed coldly. Then my consciousness completely fell into darkness.

When I woke up again, I was already lying in bed. My face felt cool, clearly medicine had been applied. I looked around, recognizing this as the luxury apartment Charles had bought for me near the set to make filming more convenient. My phone kept buzzing beside me. As soon as I opened it, messages flooded in like a tidal wave. Number one on trending: [Bella Acts Like a Diva on Set and Gets Taught a Lesson] [Bella Slaps Newcomer] [Nia Breaks Down in Tears on Scene] I clicked on the video. It was the scene where I stage-slapped Nia. Edited to remove the beginning and end, only showing the one second where my hand moved toward her face. Then it cut to me being pinned to the ground, slapped a full hundred times. The caption read: [Oscar winner Bella bullies newcomer on set, gets harshly punished by righteous people] The comment section had already broken twenty thousand. “Serves her right, I’ve heard she has a terrible temper.” “What’s so great about being an Oscar winner? Bullying newcomers is shameful.” “I heard she slept her way to the top. She’s been throwing her weight around, and now she’s hit an iron plate.” “Bully girl, ugly freak, get out of the entertainment industry!” I scrolled through one comment after another. An overwhelming wave of hate comments. Normally, Fletcher family legal would have stepped in by now, but now there was only silence. I smiled self-mockingly. At 3 AM, another trending topic shot to the top. #Fletcher Family Media Supports Nia# I clicked in. It was an official statement from Fletcher Family Media, a still of Nia from the show, with only one line of text: “Pearls should not be covered in dust.” Immediately after, Charles’s personal account liked and reposted this statement. The comment section erupted again. “Oh my god, Mr. Fletcher personally got involved. Has Bella completely fallen out of favor?” “It’s about time she was replaced. I’m sick of looking at Bella’s old face.” “Finally someone has noticed our wonderful Nia!” I smiled bitterly. Pearls covered in dust… When Charles and I were at our best, he withstood enormous pressure from his family, insisting that his company would only sign me. He always stayed by my side. He once held my hand, his eyes determined, “Bella, pearls are never covered in dust. I will definitely take you to the top.” I didn’t disappoint his expectations either. I won three major Best Actress awards in one sweep, made his company incredibly profitable, proving his judgment was right. Now, he used those same words on another woman. Charles, you really are sparing no effort to prove that you’re the one in control of this relationship… Just then, someone pushed the door open. Charles walked in carrying a bowl of hot food, “Bella, you’re awake?” I said nothing. He sat down beside me, coaxing like one would an unreasonable child, “I made you some food. The doctor said you need to take good care of your face. I’ve canceled all your upcoming schedules.” “Be good, open your mouth.” His movements were gentle, looking at me affectionately, as if he were a completely different person from the man who had arrogantly slapped me. Too bad I could smell on him the exact same perfume that Nia wore. I knocked the food out of his hands, “Charles, are you done with your act?” “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands that have touched someone else!” Charles was caught off guard and burned his hand. The smile faded from his face, “Bella, you’re too uptight.” “Haven’t I been with you long enough? Look around the industry—who stays faithful to one woman?” His tone softened as he reached out to touch my face, “Stop being angry. I just think the girl is kind of interesting, just playing around. She’s no threat to you.” Just playing around. Those words were like a knife stabbing deep into my heart. I turned my head away from his hand, “Get out.” Charles’s hand hung in mid-air, his eyes turning cold. “Bella, have I spoiled you too much? Do you really dare to order me around like an assistant?” He stood up, “Fine, I’m giving you a way out and you won’t take it. I’ll wait for you to come crying and begging me later.” Watching Charles’s retreating back, my heart suddenly felt empty, aching faintly. After a long while, I reached up to wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes, took out my phone, and scrolled to a number. The call connected. “Mr. Simon Brandt, I agree to the arranged marriage with you.”

On the other end of the phone, Simon’s cool voice came through, “Miss Bella, you’ve made up your mind?” “Yes, I’ve decided.” “Alright, confirm the time and I’ll come to Los Angeles to pick you up.” Inexplicably, I actually detected a hint of excitement in Simon’s voice. Putting down my phone, my thoughts drifted back three years. I’m the only daughter of the Anthony family in Manhattan, New York. My family arranged a marriage alliance with the Brandt family to help me better inherit the Anthony family in the future. I didn’t want to marry a stranger, even though I knew he was of good character, one of the rare clean-living men in high society circles. I came to Hollywood in Los Angeles alone to break into the entertainment industry. But without my family’s support, I couldn’t move an inch in the entertainment world. I could only do bit parts, playing extras without even any lines. During one audition, I was almost taken advantage of. It was Charles who saved me. He not only helped send the producer who harassed me to prison, but also helped me land the first role of my life, though it was just a supporting role. When Charles decided to personally become my assistant, it shocked the entire industry. Everyone speculated he was just acting on a whim, that he’d get bored and move on. But he persisted for three years. My food, clothing, housing, and transportation were all his responsibility. All endorsements and film contracts were personally selected by him and presented to me. Every time I joined a crew, he would push aside all other matters to stay by my side wholeheartedly. Originally, I planned to finish filming this movie, then come clean to Charles about my identity. But I never expected this to happen… Since I’d decided to go home for the arranged marriage, I decided to withdraw from the entertainment industry. I opened my laptop and typed out my retirement statement. But I hadn’t sent it yet. I wanted to finish filming one last movie before leaving. The redness and swelling on my face hadn’t completely subsided yet. As soon as I stepped onto the set, everyone’s eyes swept over to me. There was mockery, pity, and more than anything, schadenfreude. I lowered my head and quickened my pace toward the makeup room. “Miss Bella.” I stopped. A crew member blocked my way, wearing a professionally polite fake smile. “That makeup room, Mr. Fletcher has instructed that it’s for Miss Nia from now on.” He gestured to the side, “Miss Bella, you can use that one over there.” I followed where he was pointing. Next to a pile of miscellaneous items at the far end, a broken door stood half-open. Inside were dusty prop boxes and discarded light stands. I said nothing in the end and walked in. But I waited a long time. The time for my next scene was approaching, but my makeup artist still hadn’t arrived. I got up to find someone, only to see my makeup artist standing next to Nia, touching up her makeup. I froze. Only then did Nia seem to remember something, covering her mouth as she giggled, “Oops, I forgot to tell Miss Bella.” “Charles gave me your makeup artist too. From now on, she’s my personal makeup artist.” “He said my face is precious and needs the best makeup artist and the best cosmetics.” She tilted her head and glanced to the side. Immediately someone threw several paper boxes at my feet, spilling out cheap foundation and eyeshadow palettes. “Charles also said Miss Bella is getting on in years, so just make do with whatever.” Nia looked at me with eyes full of malice. I looked down at the pile of items. Charles knew I had sensitive skin and could only use specific cosmetics. He used to have people test the ingredients even if I switched brands. I stood up and walked toward the studio. “Miss Bella, you haven’t put on makeup yet!” I didn’t look back, only said coldly, “I’m not doing it.” Immediately people started slandering me. “Acting like such a diva.” “Still being difficult even now. No wonder Charles dumped her.” But Nia’s smile remained unchanged. “It’s fine. Once she sees the new script, she won’t be so arrogant anymore.” I walked into the studio. The next scene was supposed to be between me and the male lead. I calmed myself and went through the script, but the actor playing the male lead never showed up. I was about to find someone to ask when I saw the director walking toward me furiously. “Bella!” He grabbed my hand and dragged me outside. “What are you doing slacking off here? We’ve been calling you forever. Are you deaf?!” “Director, isn’t the next scene supposed to be between me and the male lead?” He waved his hand impatiently, “All those scenes have been cut.” “Your next scene,” “is a drowning scene.”

I stood there stunned. When I was young, I accidentally fell into water and nearly drowned. Ever since, I’ve been terrified of water. Once water rises above my chest, I start having heart palpitations. After Charles learned about this, every contract he signed for me included the same clause: prohibiting any form of drowning scenes. “Is there a mistake?” My voice was tight. “This scene isn’t in my script.” The director rolled his eyes. “This was specially added for you by Miss Nia.” “She said she was worried you’d feel you didn’t have enough scenes and feel unbalanced, so she kindly added some screen time for you.” “Charles knows about it too.” Charles… My heart sank to the bottom. This was the largest indoor pool at the studio. I stood by the pool’s edge, my whole body already soaked through. “Cut!” The director shouted. “No good. Bella, that expression just now was wrong. Too fake. Do it again.” I was pushed into the water again. “Cut! Your struggling is too exaggerated. Who drowns like that? Again.” Pushed down again. Climbed up again. “Cut! Not enough emotion. Your eyes need to show despair!” “Cut! Your body is too stiff. Again.” I hung on the pool’s edge, soaking wet, hair plastered to my face, gasping for breath. “Maybe the pool isn’t deep enough, that’s why Miss Bella can’t make it look real.” Nia tilted her head, suggesting innocently, “Why don’t we switch to the deep end? That way we can capture that desperate feeling of drowning.” My heart dropped. “I’m not going to the deep end!” But no one listened to me. Two hands reached from behind, gripping my arms on either side. I struggled desperately as my body was dragged forward, until below me was an unfathomably deep blackness. Nia walked up behind me. She leaned close to my ear, her voice very low, “Bella, Charles is mine. Go die.” She pushed hard. My body fell backward. In that moment the world flipped before my eyes. Water surged toward me from all directions. My body was sinking. Water pressed against my lungs from every side. I kept my eyes open, watching the water’s surface grow farther and farther away. My consciousness began to scatter. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, my body lighter and lighter. Just as I was about to close my eyes, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me out of the water. I struggled to open my eyes and saw the person before me. I was dazed. “…Charles.” “Hahahaha did you guys see how she looked just now?” “Like a drowned rat, so funny.” “And she’s supposed to be an Oscar winner? Can’t even do a simple drowning scene.” Nia clung to Charles’s arm, laughing so hard she was bent over. “Charles, look how scared she was. Your idea was so fun.” Charles laughed too. I stared at him blankly, suddenly feeling cold all over. Charles approached me. “See that? Without me promoting you, you’re nothing.” “In this industry, anyone can step on you.” He crouched down, leaning close to my face, his manner intimate. “As long as you admit your mistake, I can act like none of this ever happened. You’ll still be Bella, still the Oscar winner everyone adores.” He was waiting for me to bow my head. Nia also walked over, opening her mouth falsely, “Miss Bella, I’m not trying to break you and Charles up. I’m here to join this family.” “Don’t be hostile toward me.” I lifted my head and spat right in both their faces. Nia screamed. Charles was furious. “Bella, have you lost your mind!” He turned and left with Nia. That evening, the production’s official account posted a statement. “Actress Bella refuses to follow production management, repeatedly acts like a diva, seriously affecting filming progress. After deliberation, the production has decided to immediately terminate cooperation with Bella. All filmed content will be deleted.” Attached was an image of the termination letter from the production, stamped with a red seal. Immediately after, Fletcher Family Media reposted this statement. “Resist problematic artists. No one is above the rules.” I instantly became a pariah everyone wanted to attack. All endorsements and film contracts were terminated. While Nia, stepping on my corpse, gained countless fans and a good reputation. On my phone, I received a text from Charles. [As long as you beg me, I can suppress all the negative public opinion against you.] I knew Charles was forcing my hand. He was betting that without him, I had no way out. I stared at the retirement statement I’d already drafted on the screen. My finger hovered over the send button. 3, 2, 1. I pressed it. Within seconds, the comment count began to skyrocket. One hundred, one thousand, a hundred thousand, ten million…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407883”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The day I miscarried and hemorrhaged, my parents rushed to the hospital through heavy rain and got into a car accident on the way. I lay on the operating table and signed their surgery consent forms with blood-stained hands. I couldn’t save the baby. I couldn’t save my parents either. The man whose calls I couldn’t get through posted a celebratory Instagram post. 【Congratulations to Mia’s dog for working hard all night and finally becoming a mother.】 I weakly liked the post, and he immediately sent me a text message. “Unlike it.” I sent him my hospital location. “Come to the hospital. I need to talk to you in person.” “I have something important to do, I can’t make it! Get your parents to go with you for the prenatal checkup. They’re free anyway.” “Your so-called important matter is delivering puppies for her dog?” “How did you turn into such a jealous woman just from being pregnant? You’re even jealous of a dog?” I had no strength left to argue with him. Since he wouldn’t come, he could talk to my lawyer instead.

By the time I finished handling my parents’ funeral arrangements, it was already the next evening. I dragged my exhausted body through the door. The carefully tidied house had become a complete mess. Jason was rummaging through things with his head down, carelessly tossing items onto the floor. Like he was used to it, confident that someone would always clean up after him. Hearing the door, he didn’t even look up, his tone tinged with dissatisfaction. “Where have you been all day on the weekend? I even had to order takeout for lunch.” I froze. So he didn’t come home last night either. These past two years, he’d always been like this. When Mia’s apartment light broke, he could get up in the middle of the night to fix it for her. But he’d forget to lock our door properly, letting a drunk stranger stumble in and giving me nightmares for an entire month. When Mia’s dog was about to give birth, he could refuse to accompany me to my prenatal checkup. But he’d take a week off work to stay with her, even though that was supposed to be the vet’s job. Getting no response, Jason finally looked at me, surprise flooding his eyes. “Your face is so pale. Is the baby giving you trouble again?” I stepped back, avoiding his hand reaching toward my abdomen, my tone flat. “I called you seventy-six times yesterday. Why didn’t you answer?” Jason’s hand hung in midair. He frowned at my words. “Hermione, are you interrogating me?” “Mia and I are childhood friends. Her dog Snowball is different from the other pets in her shop—she’s raised it since it was small. They have a deep bond.” “Snowball was giving birth and Mia was worried sick. I had to help with the delivery. At such a critical moment of life and death, how could I have time to answer your pointless calls?” “It’s just a prenatal checkup. Plenty of pregnant women go by themselves. At worst, you had your parents. They’re free anyway. What difference does it make if I’m not there?” Looking at his self-righteous expression. I really wanted to ask—what about my parents? That car accident was terrible. Dad had no vital signs by the time he reached the hospital. Mom was rushed into surgery for emergency treatment, but her injuries were severe and complex. Jason’s colleague said that only if Jason performed the surgery himself would there be any chance of saving her. He said he was too busy to answer my calls, yet when I liked that Instagram post, he immediately ordered me to unlike it. Afraid Mia might read too much into it. “Are you really just childhood friends?” “But Jason, I saw you kiss her.” At the very restaurant where he’d proposed to me. Even sitting in the exact same seats. In my mental haze, I didn’t see the motorcycle speeding toward me. Although the driver braked in time, the tiny life inside me that was barely three months old was still lost.

Panic flashed through Jason’s usually calm eyes. “Mia was too worried about Snowball, so I took her out to relax. She had a few too many drinks and…” His tone softened slightly. “Alright, let’s not talk about this. Next checkup, I’ll definitely go with you.” Here we go again. Using a lame excuse to brush me off, then offering a consolation prize, as if nothing had happened. But Jason, you’ll never need to accompany me to another prenatal checkup. “No need. Let’s get divorced.” Jason froze, then spoke angrily, humiliated. “Hermione, do all you journalists like to blow things out of proportion? I told you it was an accident. Is this really necessary?” “Besides, you’re just doing odd jobs in the TV station’s logistics department now. You’re almost thirty, pregnant, and other than me, who else would want you?” “I work myself to the bone at the hospital every day for this family, not to come home to your unreasonable tantrums!” He stormed toward the door. As he passed the entrance, he suddenly noticed a document peeking out of my bag. The words “Death Certificate” were clearly visible. Jason turned back, confused. “Who died?” Jason was about to pull it out for a closer look. But his phone suddenly rang. Mia’s helpless, choked voice came through. “Jason, one of the puppies seems to be choking on milk, and I still have customers in the shop. I’m completely overwhelmed.” “It’s not going to die, is it? I’m so scared…” Jason’s face filled with concern. “Don’t cry. I’ll be right there.” With that, he rushed off without looking back. He even forgot to lock his study, which he normally never let me enter. As if possessed, I walked in, only to be stabbed in the eyes by what was under the desk. That year, I was the station’s most promising new reporter, assigned to interview the old director. But the old man was arrogant and turned me away. After several days of working overtime, I had low blood sugar and fainted in the garden. Jason was the one who saved me. He said the old director was stubborn and wouldn’t change his mind once it was made up. I hung my head in disappointment. The next second, an orange candy was pushed into my mouth. Jason winked at me playfully. “But I admire people who work hard, so interview me instead.” Later I learned he was the city’s youngest medical professor. So many people wanted to interview this genius heartthrob of the medical world but couldn’t, yet he made an exception for me alone. That’s how Jason and I became connected. Later, we each got busier and busier. Jason looked at me with difficulty. “Hermione, I know becoming a top reporter is your dream.” “But the elders in our family need someone to care for them. Could you resign? I promise I’ll treat you well for the rest of my life.” And I knew equally well that becoming an outstanding doctor was his dream too. So I compromised. I didn’t resign, but transferred to the relaxed logistics department. At least that way I could stay close to the work I loved. On many sleepless nights, I’d trace my reporter’s badge under the lamp. Every time Jason caught me, he’d feel incredibly guilty and promise over and over that he’d treat me well. But now, that reporter’s badge I treasured so much was being used by him to level a table leg. I used Mia’s birthday to open his safe. On top was a thick kraft paper envelope. Inside were all kinds of photos of the two of them together. Hugging, kissing, walking hand in hand on the beach. There were also receipts for him buying Mia a house, funding her business startup, paying for renovations. Even though the shop lost money every month, he kept subsidizing her.

The words on the envelope’s cover were in Jason’s handwriting. “Forever willing to forge ahead through thorns for your dreams.” I stared at those words for a very long time. My mind flashed through these five years of caring for his parents, doing laundry and cooking, cleaning the house. I thought of the envy and heartache I felt watching my former colleagues full of passion, working overtime preparing interview manuscripts. Suddenly I laughed out loud. So he did know how to protect someone’s dreams after all. I photographed everything and put it back in place, finally making my decision. “Hello, Ms. Kelly. I heard the station is selecting someone to go to Central Asia as a war correspondent, and no one has signed up yet.” “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go.” Kelly paused, then said happily. “Great! I thought it was such a shame when you applied to transfer to logistics. This is a rare opportunity. It might be a bit dangerous, but your resume will be completely different when you return.” “Prepare yourself well then. You’ll be leaving in the next few days.” Hanging up the phone, I started packing. There was nothing left in this house that I cared about. Except for the sweater Mom had knitted for me before she died—I had to take that. She’d knitted me plenty of clothes when I was young, but later I grew up and Mom grew old, her eyesight not what it used to be. I didn’t want her to strain herself, so I told her not to knit anymore. After I got pregnant, I suddenly became very sensitive to cold. Mom secretly knitted me a sweater anyway. Her eyes were red from straining them, but she waved it off casually. “Homemade ones are warmer. I picked out good yarn.” “You care about the child in your belly, and I care about my child too.” I was both touched and heartbroken. I’d never brought myself to wear it. But now, that sweater was gone. Remembering the scene when I came home, I was about to call Jason to ask. But then I saw Mia had posted on Instagram. “Hehe, I just mentioned the babies were cold since they were just born, and someone brought over sweaters~ Thanks on behalf of the babies, Daddy~ Of course, this mommy’s alteration skills aren’t bad either, if I do say so myself.” So Jason had gone to celebrate those puppies’ birth with her. In the picture, they had their heads together, bodies pressed close. Each held three puppies in their arms. And I recognized at a glance. The ‘dog clothes’ those puppies wore were altered from the sweater Mom had knitted for me. When I pushed open the pet shop’s glass door, I happened to catch Jason and Mia eating cake with the same spoon. Jason had severe germophobia. At home, his dishes had to be disinfected and stored separately, and serving utensils had to be used when sharing food. Once, after cleaning the house all day, I was exhausted and parched, so I drank from his cup. He didn’t say anything at the time, but that night, the cup appeared in the trash. Afterward, Jason explained to me that it was an occupational habit from working at the hospital. Turns out it depends on the person. Seeing me, Mia raised an eyebrow and smiled sarcastically. “Hermione’s here? Jason and I have never drawn boundaries since childhood—I hope you don’t mind.” “Jason, what did I tell you? There’s no way she’d divorce you.” “After all, a woman who failed in her career and can only rely on handouts from her husband—without you, how would she support her child and take care of her parents? She followed you all the way here. She’s really clingy.” “Sigh, compared to her, I’m just too thin-skinned. Guess I’ll just have to keep being a strong independent woman~” Jason affectionately pinched her nose. “Fine, you’re the smartest, okay? You’ve been clever since childhood.” Then he looked at me, as if forgiving a child who didn’t know any better.

“Alright, Hermione. Since you came to make peace, I’ll pretend I never heard about the divorce.” “Go home and clean up the house first. These puppies were just born and their condition is unstable. I need to stay with Mia for a few more days to observe them.” Listening to these two people talk, I found it laughable. One being a mistress so righteously. One whitewashing his affair so sanctimoniously. I ignored Jason and smiled sarcastically. “Since Miss Mia is so capable, stealing another woman’s man is one thing, but why did you conspire with my husband to steal my clothes?” “Dare I ask what kind of ‘strong woman’ you are? The mistress kind?” Several female customers who were selecting pet supplies looked at Mia in surprise. “So this handsome guy isn’t your boyfriend? But you were using the same spoon… that’s not very appropriate, is it?” “Yeah, I just complimented you two on being a good match and you didn’t deny it. Turns out he has a wife?” Mia’s face flushed red as she was cornered. Seeing her like this, the women curled their lips in disdain, put down the items they’d already selected, and hurried out. Mia’s eyes reddened as she complained to Jason pitifully. “Jason, is Hermione deliberately here to sabotage my business?” “I just thought that sweater was warm and soft, perfect for the puppies. She’s already spent so much of your money—what clothes doesn’t she have? Why does she have to slander me like this?” “Those were all my regular customers. How will they see me now? Can I even keep doing business?” Jason tenderly wiped her tears, then turned to glare at me angrily. “Hermione, I’m the one who took the clothes. Why are you taking it out on Mia? It’s not like it’s worth that much money. When did you become so petty?” “You’ll gain weight later in your pregnancy anyway and won’t be able to wear it. Just have your mom knit you another one.” “It’s not like it’s made by some international master craftsman. Why are you treating it like it’s so precious?!” Looking at his condescending expression and the disdain in his eyes. I couldn’t help but slap him across the face, roaring. “Yes, what my mother made IS precious! Because she can never knit me clothes again!” “While you two were being all lovey-dovey, and you’d rather accompany her dog through labor than answer my calls for help, my parents died!” Jason’s eyes flew wide open. He instinctively released Mia. “What did you say? How could…” Before he could finish, Mia suddenly shoved me hard. “How dare you hit someone?!” “It’s just a crappy sweater! Who cares? I’ll give it back to you!” She stripped the clothes off the puppies and viciously threw them into a litter box the employee was about to take out. “Saying your parents died—I just saw your uncle and aunt at the supermarket this morning!” “I just can’t stand women like you who use pregnancy to lie and manipulate, making scenes and doing everything possible to control your husband. You’re a parasite, a disgrace to women everywhere!” The litter box hadn’t been cleaned yet. The clumped feces stuck to the sweater, giving off a foul smell. Mom’s love had ultimately been ruined beyond recognition. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know the boss would…” The employee was frightened by my bloodshot eyes, looking completely helpless. Anger and hatred burned my internal organs. I turned toward the instigator and raised my hand high. But before my palm could land on Mia’s face. Jason’s slap struck me. It made a crisp sound in the quiet shop.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407882”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

In the fifth year of our marriage, Lucas knelt in the pouring rain, begging me to save him. He said his company had lost a financial gamble and owed five hundred million dollars. If I mortgaged the century-old manor my parents left me, it would save his life. To avoid dragging me down, he proposed a fake divorce. My heart ached so much my whole body trembled. J ust as I was about to sign with the property deed in hand, I accidentally saw a message he sent to his first love: “That idiot Sophia has taken the bait. Once I get my hands on the manor, I’ll tear it down and build a French château with a rose garden as our wedding house.” So there was no bankruptcy, no desperate situation. He just wanted to bleed me dry to pave the way for his first love. I let out a cold laugh, turned around, and knocked on the door of his uncle—the terrifying billionaire of the Blackwood family: “Mr. Blackwood, I heard you need a legitimate Mrs. Blackwood?” Lucas knelt in the pouring rain for three full hours. Lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating his pale, haggard yet still handsome face. I rushed out with an umbrella, my body trembling with heartache as I desperately tried to pull him up from the mud. “Lucas, have you lost your mind? Your stomach condition can’t handle getting soaked in the rain!” He gripped my hand tightly in return, his eyes bloodshot, his voice so hoarse it seemed to be dripping blood: “Sophia, I’m finished.” “The company’s financial agreement failed, and the cash flow is completely broken. A five-hundred-million-dollar hole—if I can’t fill it within three days, I’ll face criminal charges for economic crimes. I’ll go to prison!” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my mind going blank. Five hundred million? Lucas only owned a subsidiary under the Blackwood Group. How could he suddenly owe such a staggering debt? He suddenly pulled me into his embrace. Rain mixed with his tears fell ice-cold onto my neck. “Sophia, I’m sorry. I’m useless. I couldn’t protect our home.” “The lawyer said the safest option is for us to divorce immediately. I’ll bear all the debts alone and absolutely won’t drag you down.” He lifted his head, his eyes filled with heartbreaking despair and deep affection. “But Sophia, I don’t want to go to prison… Can you help me? If you just temporarily mortgage that century-old manor your parents left you to the bank, we can get the last bit of lifesaving money. Once this blows over, I swear I’ll redeem it!” I froze. That century-old manor on the hillside was the last keepsake my parents left me before they died in a car accident. It held all my childhood memories, every tree and blade of grass, and the shrine with my parents’ ashes. Five years ago, when Lucas proposed to me, he swore in the manor’s rose garden that he would spend his life protecting me and the manor. But now, he was asking me to mortgage it. “Lucas, that’s where my parents…” My voice trembled. “I know! I know it’s your life!” He suddenly broke down, pounding the ground as muddy water splattered. “If there were any other way, I’d rather die than ask you this! Sophia, are you going to watch me die?” Seeing him in such pain, my heart softened. Five years of marriage—he had always been gentle and considerate toward me. How could I watch him go to prison? “Alright.” My eyes reddened as I nodded through tears. “I’ll mortgage it. We’ll go handle the paperwork tomorrow.” Lucas’s body shook violently. He pulled me into a tight embrace, the force nearly breaking my ribs. “Sophia, thank you, thank you… I’ll repay you for the rest of my life, even if it means working like a slave.” In that moment, I truly believed we were going through a life-and-death trial together. Until that night. Lucas developed a high fever from the rain and fell into a deep sleep after taking fever medicine. His phone slipped into the gap between the bed and the wall, the screen constantly lighting up. Worried it might be an urgent matter from company executives, I picked it up to check. Just one glance made me feel like I’d fallen into an ice pit. On the screen was a message from “Victoria White.” “Lucas, did you sign the divorce papers? That manor from the Hayes family has such a great location. I want to tear it down and build a French château with a rose garden as our wedding gift. You promised me that once I returned to the country, you’d give me the best of everything.” I stared at those lines of text, my blood instantly freezing, my whole body cold as ice. Victoria White. Lucas’s first love who went abroad and whom he could never forget. My fingers trembling, I opened their chat history. I scrolled up. The more I scrolled, the more my heart felt like it was being sliced apart, shattered into fragments on the ground. “That idiot Sophia has already taken the bait. Tomorrow we’ll handle the divorce and mortgage.” “I made the fake five-hundred-million account very clean. Damien won’t notice. Once the money is laundered into the offshore account, I’ll take you far away.” “I’m sorry you had to wait so many years, Victoria. Once I get the manor, that plain-Jane Sophia will have no more use.” Every sentence, every word was like a poisoned blade stabbing viciously into my heart. So there was no failed gamble. No five-hundred-million-dollar debt. No desperate situation. This was a carefully planned scam from beginning to end! He not only wanted to trick me into leaving with nothing, but he also wanted to take my parents’ last legacy to build a new house for his first love! I didn’t cry. When the pain reaches its extreme, tears won’t flow. I calmly took out my own phone and photographed these chat records, page by page, all of them. Then I put the phone back in its place and turned to look at Lucas sleeping peacefully on the bed. His brow was relaxed, and the corners of his mouth even carried a faint smile. He was probably dreaming about marrying Victoria White in a French château. I tugged at the corner of my mouth, revealing a cold smile uglier than a ghost’s. Lucas, you want to use my life to please another woman? Fine. I’ll see who ends up dead with nowhere to be buried.

The next morning when Lucas woke up, I was already sitting on the sofa, holding the divorce agreement in my hands. He froze for a moment. Wild joy flashed in his eyes, but he quickly covered it with guilt and pain. “Sophia, you didn’t sleep all night?” He walked over, wanting to touch my face with concern. I turned my head to avoid him and said flatly, “Let’s go to the law firm. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can deal with the debt.” Lucas’s hand froze in midair, then he sighed. “I’m sorry for putting you through this, Sophia. Once I get through this crisis, I’ll definitely remarry you in a grand ceremony.” I looked at his deeply affectionate face, my stomach churning with nausea. At ten in the morning, we went to the law firm and signed the divorce agreement. As we walked out of the law firm entrance, Lucas’s mother, my former mother-in-law Dorothy Lane, was already waiting beside a black Maybach. The moment she saw me, she immediately put on an anxious expression and rushed over to grab my hand. “Sophia, I know you’ve been wronged! But Lucas is at a critical moment of life and death. Did you bring the property deed for that manor? Quick, let’s go to the bank right now to handle the mortgage!” The greed in her eyes was practically overflowing. I pulled my hand back and looked calmly at this mother-son pair. “Dorothy, I can’t mortgage the manor today.” Dorothy’s expression changed instantly, her voice rising sharply: “Why not?! Sophia Hayes, are you going back on your word? Do you want to watch Lucas die?!” Lucas panicked too, grabbing my shoulder: “Sophia, what’s going on? Didn’t we agree?” I watched their frantic expressions, sneering inwardly. “Lucas, you forgot—that manor is a national first-class historical protected building. According to the latest regulations, this level of asset mortgage requires a thirty-day public notice period and review by a third-party asset evaluation agency. Otherwise, the bank simply won’t approve it.” This was the policy I’d looked up last night. Lucas froze, his face turning pale: “Thirty days? Why does it take so long? I can’t wait thirty days!” “There’s no way around it. That’s the regulation.” I looked at him innocently. “Unless you can find someone with special privileges to smooth things over at the bank. But I’m a woman without power or connections. I can’t do that.” Dorothy stamped her feet in frustration: “What are we going to do! Lucas, don’t you know a lot of people?” Lucas gritted his teeth, his eyes flickering. Of course he knew people, but he didn’t dare use the Blackwood family’s connections. Because the five-hundred-million debt was fake to begin with—if it alerted the real power holder of the Blackwood family, he’d be finished. “Fine, thirty days it is.” Lucas took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the darkness in his eyes. “Sophia, during this time you must cooperate with the evaluation agency. Don’t let anything go wrong.” “Don’t worry.” I smiled faintly. Not only would I cooperate, I’d prepare a big gift for them. After parting with them, I took a cab directly to a top-tier private investigation agency. I had just walked into the lobby when I stopped in my tracks. In front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the VIP reception room stood a man. He wore an impeccably tailored black haute couture suit, his tall figure upright like an unsheathed sword. His hand casually toyed with an antique watch. His profile was as cold and chiseled as a sculpture, radiating an aura of authority that warned people to stay away. Damien Blackwood. Lucas’s uncle, the true helmsman of the Blackwood Group. In the entire business world, no one didn’t fear the name Damien Blackwood. He was ruthless and decisive. At twenty-five, he took over Blackwood Industries and within just five years doubled its empire. Lucas didn’t even dare breathe loudly in front of him. I hadn’t expected to run into him here. As if sensing my gaze, Damien turned his head slightly. Those deep, cold black eyes locked precisely onto my face. He showed no surprise, merely stopped toying with his watch. “Sophia Hayes.” He spoke, his voice low and magnetic, carrying an inexplicable pressure. I took a deep breath and walked forward: “Damien.” “You and Lucas are divorced.” He used a statement, not a question. My heart skipped a beat. How did he know? We’d only finished the paperwork less than two hours ago. Damien looked at me, the corner of his mouth curving into an extremely faint cold smile: “For his fake five-hundred-million account, you’re even planning to hand over your parents’ legacy. Sophia Hayes, is your brain filled with water?” I jerked my head up, staring at him in shock. He knew! He actually knew everything! Damien strode toward me on his long legs. He was a full head taller than me, his aggressive presence instantly enveloping me. He leaned down slightly, his eyes sharp as they bored into mine: “What, got sold out and you’re still planning to help count the money?” I bit my lower lip hard, meeting his gaze, my voice cold and hard: “Since Damien knew it was a fake account, why didn’t you expose him?” “The Blackwood family has too many branch families. Occasionally we need a few clever fools to liven things up.” Damien’s tone was casual, as if discussing trash. “Besides, that’s your husband, your money. Why should I care?” Yes, why should he care? In Damien Blackwood’s eyes, Lucas and I were nothing but insignificant ants. I took a deep breath, suppressing the bitterness and anger in my heart, looking at him without backing down. “What if I don’t want to be the fool who gets sold?” Damien raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly interested in my response. He pulled a black gold business card from his pocket, his slender fingers holding it as he handed it to me. “Tonight at nine, penthouse suite. Figure out what you want, then come knock on my door.” With that, he turned and left, leaving only a cold, retreating figure. I looked down at the business card in my hand. Its edge was sharp, almost cutting my finger. I knew this was a dangerous transaction. But to get revenge on Lucas and Victoria, to protect my parents’ manor, I had no other choice.

At nine o’clock that evening, I stood punctually at the door of Damien Blackwood’s suite. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the doorbell. The door opened quickly. Damien had just showered. He wore a black silk robe, the collar slightly open, revealing a large expanse of firm, hard chest muscles. Water droplets slid down his sharp jawline and disappeared into the depths of his robe, exuding a fatally sexy and dangerous aura. He held a glass of whiskey in his hand, his deep gaze sweeping over me. “Come in.” The suite’s main lights weren’t on. Only the city’s neon lights from outside the floor-to-ceiling windows filtered in, light and shadow interweaving. I stood nervously in the center of the living room, watching as he walked to the bar, poured another glass of liquor, and pushed it toward me. “Want a drink?” “No.” I got straight to the point. “Damien, what do you need me to do for you to help me?” Damien let out a soft laugh, carrying his glass as he walked up to me, looking down at me from his superior height. “Sophia Hayes, what makes you think I’ll help you?” “Because Lucas touched the Blackwood family’s money.” I looked directly into his eyes. “Although his three-billion-dollar hole is fake, he misappropriated project funds from Blackwood subsidiaries to set up his scheme. Damien hates most when people play tricks under your nose. You need an excuse to legitimately clean house.” A flash of appreciation appeared in Damien’s eyes, but it vanished in an instant. He suddenly reached out, gripping my chin and forcing my head up. The man’s fingers carried an icy temperature, the force immense, making it hurt. “You’re a bit smarter than I expected.” His voice was low, carrying dangerous allure. “But to clean house, I have a hundred methods. Why would I choose the most troublesome one to cooperate with your revenge game?” I was forced to tilt my head back, breathing rapidly. His breath completely enveloped me. That intense male hormones and superior’s authority made me almost unable to think. “Because…” I gritted my teeth and steeled myself. “Because you hate Victoria White.” Damien’s eyes instantly turned cold, the surrounding air seeming to freeze. I’d bet correctly. Victoria White’s father had once been a senior executive at Blackwood Group. He was sent to prison by Damien himself for embezzling company funds. Victoria had been abroad these years, constantly using the Blackwood family name to swindle and deceive. Damien extremely detested this woman. “Continue.” He released his grip, coolly uttering one word. I rubbed my reddened chin and quickly said: “Lucas plans to officially announce his takeover as CEO at next month’s Blackwood subsidiary anniversary gala, and simultaneously announce his engagement to Victoria White. If on that day he’s thoroughly disgraced in front of all the city’s elite, Victoria will also become a complete laughingstock. Isn’t that the scene Damien most wants to see?” Damien looked at me quietly, emotions I couldn’t understand surging in those unfathomable black eyes. After a long while, he suddenly smiled. That smile was cold, cruel, yet carried a trace of fatal attraction. “Sophia Hayes, when a dog bites you, not only do you want to kill the dog, you want to skin it, pull out its tendons, make it into a specimen for exhibition.” He turned and walked to the desk, picked up a thick document, and tossed it in front of me. “This is all the evidence of Lucas misappropriating public funds, forging debts, and purchasing private islands abroad for Victoria White.” My whole body shook. I immediately rushed over and opened the file. Every transfer, every forged contract—all clear and shocking. Lucas, how ruthless you are. For one woman, you not only wanted me to lose everything, but you also wanted to climb up by stepping on my bones and blood. “This is just a deposit.” Damien walked behind me, his warm breath spraying on my ear. “To get the more lethal cards, you need to pay a price.” “What price?” I turned my head, but unexpectedly crashed into his deep eyes. We were extremely close—so close I could see each of his distinct eyelashes. Damien’s gaze slowly moved down, landing on my lips, his voice hoarse beyond measure. “Become my woman.” My pupils contracted sharply. I instinctively stepped back. “Damien, what kind of joke is this?” “I never joke.” Damien pressed forward step by step, pinning me against the cold floor-to-ceiling window. “Sophia Hayes, if you want to trample Lucas underfoot, you need someone who stands higher and more stable than him. And I am your only choice.” He reached out, his slender fingers gently caressing my cheek, his eyes deep as the sea. “What’s wrong? Unwilling? Or do you still have lingering feelings for that waste?” “No!” I blurted out, my eyes full of hatred. “I wish he were dead!” “Very good.” Damien’s lips curved with satisfaction. He lowered his head, his thin lips brushing past my earlobe. “Then prove it to me. Go back and continue playing your devoted ex-wife. Keep them stable. When the time is right, I’ll personally bring you out of the game.” I leaned against the glass, my heart pounding like thunder. I knew I was making a deal with the devil. But as long as I could send Lucas and Victoria to hell, I was willing to fall into the abyss. For the next two weeks, I displayed astonishing acting skills. Every day I made soup for Lucas, showed concern about his “debt” progress, and even proactively contacted the evaluation agency, appearing eager to mortgage the manor. Lucas believed me completely and became increasingly gentle and considerate toward me, as if we’d returned to our honeymoon phase. Until that afternoon when I went back to our former marital home to retrieve some forgotten documents. Just as I unlocked the door with my fingerprint, I heard flirtatious laughter coming from the living room. “Dorothy, this sofa set is too dark. I want to change it to cream white. And those floor-to-ceiling window

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407881”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Before the school stage play performance, my daughter Betty came home clutching a dingy cardboard costume, secretly wiping tears in the corner. I asked her what role she was playing. She mumbled quietly, “A trash can.” Her teacher posted the program schedule in the group chat, explaining: “Every child is important. Trash cans are also part of urban civilization.” But when I clicked on it, I discovered that the school board chairman’s daughter was playing the princess, and the PTA president’s son was playing the prince. And my daughter’s name was placed at the very bottom of the “Background Props Group.” My daughter’s teacher messaged me privately: “Mrs. James, don’t be too fussy. Your family hasn’t really contributed much to the class.” I looked at the contract on the table that I’d just signed and smiled. That cardboard costume was hastily thrown together from delivery boxes. Square and boxy, painted with a layer of gray, with the words “Trash Can” crookedly stuck on the chest. My daughter Betty stood in the entryway, fingers twisting the hem of her clothes, eyes red as if she’d just been crying. She’s seven years old this year. Usually she’d feel bad for half a day if her dress hem got a little muddy, but now she clutched that dirty cardboard costume, trying hard to act like it didn’t matter. “Mom, Samantha said this role is important too.” Her voice got smaller and smaller. “Everyone needs to protect the environment, so we need trash cans.” I crouched down and took the cardboard costume from her arms. The gray paint wasn’t completely dry yet and got all over my hands. I suppressed my anger and asked her, “Didn’t you say before that you were going to play the little artist with a paintbrush?” Half a month ago, she practiced her lines in front of the mirror every night. “I’m going to paint the sky blue and paint every child into springtime.” One line, she’d practice seriously more than ten times. She even showed me her sketch. Rainbows, stages, balloons, and a group of children standing in the center. She said the teacher praised her drawing as the best and would let her be the opening little artist for Children’s Day. Betty lowered her head. “Samantha said Christiana is more suitable for the little artist.” “Her dad is the school board chairman. The principal said she has to stand in the center.” I picked up my phone and opened the class group chat. The program schedule had just been posted: “Childlike Hearts Toward the Future.” Princess: Christiana. Prince: Mendez. Little Artist: Christiana. Flower Team: PTA members’ children. Background Props Group: Betty, Trash Can. I stared at that line for a long time. My phone buzzed again. Teacher Samantha sent me a private message. “Mrs. James, I know you might feel a bit uncomfortable, but children need to adapt to the group.” “Many parents contributed money and effort for our class’s Children’s Day activity this time.” “You’re usually busy with work, don’t participate in the PTA, and don’t really contribute to the class. The teacher can only consider everything comprehensively.” “The trash can role also has great educational significance. Please don’t let your child misunderstand.” I looked at the words “contribute” and almost laughed out loud. Three hours ago, SUN School had just sent someone to my office to sign the sponsorship contract for the entire Children’s Day event with me. Stage, lighting, live streaming, photography, balloons, interactive gifts. Total price: eight hundred sixty thousand dollars. The contract’s Party A was James Entertainment under my name. The school representative had nodded and bowed, saying this Children’s Day gala was an important window for showcasing the school’s arts education achievements, and hoped we could cooperate long-term. I only made one request at the time. Make sure all the children happily celebrate Children’s Day. The representative smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Ms. James. Our school has always put children first.” Now it seemed they valued not children, but the parents behind the children. I didn’t immediately reply to Samantha. I placed the cardboard costume on the table and asked Betty, “Did anyone laugh at you during rehearsal today?” Tears immediately fell from her eyes. “Mendez said I was just there on stage for them to throw waste paper at.” “He also stuffed his finished yogurt box into my costume.” “Samantha saw it and said it was part of the performance effect.” My fingers clenched bit by bit. Betty hurriedly wiped her tears. “Mom, can I not go tomorrow?” I hugged her. “Go.” Her body stiffened. I gently stroked her head. “But not to be a trash can.”

Early the next morning, I took Betty to school. The stage had already been set up on the playground. The main backdrop featured the rainbow and balloons from Betty’s drawing. Even the little sun in the lower right corner that was slightly crooked was exactly the same as in her draft. But the signature on the backdrop read: Christiana. I stood at the edge of the playground, staring at those words, and suddenly understood. Betty hadn’t just had her role stolen—her artwork had been stolen too. Samantha saw me, and a flash of impatience crossed her face. “Mrs. James, parent viewing doesn’t start until this afternoon. You can’t go backstage right now.” I smiled. “I’m here to help my child change clothes.” Samantha glanced at the clean white jacket in my hands. “Didn’t we already distribute the costumes?” As she spoke, she pointed to the cardboard on the ground nearby. That gray trash can costume had been carelessly thrown in a corner, with footprints from several children next to it. Betty instinctively hid behind me. Samantha frowned. “Betty, what are you hiding from? Didn’t you agree yesterday that you’d cooperate with the teacher today?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for several nearby parents to hear. PTA president Rachel walked over. She wore a champagne-colored suit with a volunteer badge pinned to her chest. “Samantha, you can’t spoil children. If they don’t understand, you have to teach them.” She glanced at me and smiled lightly. “So many of us parents have been working tirelessly. Which child hasn’t followed the arrangements? Some people don’t contribute money or effort, but when it’s time to go on stage, they complain about the role.” “How can there be such a good deal?” Her son Mendez was standing nearby wearing his prince costume. Hearing his mother backing him up, he immediately made a face at Betty. “The trash can is here.” “Later I’ll throw paper balls at you. You’d better catch them.” Betty’s face went pale. I turned to look at Mendez. “Who taught you to talk like that?” Rachel’s expression darkened as she pulled her son behind her. “A child making a joke, and you, an adult, have to make a big deal of it?” Samantha also spoke up. “Mrs. James, today is Children’s Day. Everyone’s happy. Please don’t make the atmosphere awkward.” I asked her, “Can a child be happy being called a trash can?” Samantha’s brow twitched. “It’s just a role name.” “Besides, environmental protection themes need someone to play the trash can. Betty has a quiet personality, so she’s more suitable.” I took out my phone and opened a screenshot of the original program schedule Betty had shown me last night. “Then why did it originally say Betty would play the little artist?” Samantha’s expression changed. “Program adjustments are normal.” Rachel crossed her arms and sneered. “Mrs. James, I advise you not to make a scene.” “This school isn’t run by whoever has the loudest voice.” “Christiana’s father is the school board chairman. Our family handled the gift procurement for this Children’s Day. Other parents also contributed to class activity fees.” She looked me up and down. “And you?” “Besides dropping off and picking up your child on time, what else have you done?” “You don’t contribute resources but want your child to have center stage. Isn’t that teaching your child to freeload?” I suddenly laughed. “So children’s roles are assigned based on parent contributions.” Samantha immediately interrupted. “I didn’t say that.” But Rachel didn’t think she’d said anything wrong. “Pretty much.” “That’s how society works. Letting children understand early isn’t a bad thing.” “Children with resources get more opportunities. Children without resources learn to cooperate. When she grows up, she’ll thank us for letting her adapt to society early.” She said it so righteously. Although Samantha didn’t respond, she didn’t refute it either. I looked down at Betty. She was clutching my hand, her little face deathly pale. I crouched down and smoothed the stray hair from her forehead. “Did you hear that?” “It’s not that you’re not good enough.” “It’s that they’re dirty themselves and call their disgustingness ‘reality.’” Betty stared at me blankly. Rachel’s expression turned ugly. “Who are you calling dirty?” I stood up. “Whoever feels guilty knows who I’m talking about!”

Samantha, probably afraid I’d keep making a scene, reached out to pull Betty. “Go change first. The performance is about to start.” Betty took a step back. “Teacher, I don’t want to play the trash can.” Samantha’s expression completely turned cold. “Betty, what did the teacher tell you yesterday?” “Group activities can’t have problems because of one person.” “Your mother doesn’t understand, so you have to not understand too?” Tears welled up in Betty’s eyes. Mendez quietly laughed nearby. “If you don’t perform, you won’t get a Children’s Day gift.” Rachel lightly patted Mendez’s head. “Mendez, don’t talk nonsense.” But her face clearly showed indulgence. Just then, the backstage curtain was pulled open and a little girl in a white gauze dress ran out. Wearing a crown on her head and holding a paintbrush in her hand—it was the school board chairman’s daughter, Christiana. She saw Betty and wrinkled her nose. “Samantha, why hasn’t she changed into the trash can yet?” “After I finish painting the rainbow at the opening, I need to throw the waste paper in.” “If she doesn’t stand there, where am I supposed to throw it?” Children speak without restraint, but some children’s malice never grows from nothing. Samantha quickly coaxed her. “Christiana, don’t worry. It’ll be ready soon.” She turned to look at me and lowered her voice. “Mrs. James, please don’t make this difficult for me.” “The school board chairman and principal will be here soon. We can’t mess up the program.” I asked, “Who set the program?” Samantha didn’t answer. Rachel clicked her tongue impatiently. “What exactly do you want?” “It’s just a role. If you’re dissatisfied, why didn’t you join the PTA in the first place?” “Our family alone advanced tens of thousands for gift procurement for this Children’s Day.” “Christiana’s family donated a dance studio to the school.” “What right does your child have to compete with them?” Just as I was about to retort, Principal Antoine walked over with several administrators. He was all smiles. “Why is everyone gathered here?” Rachel immediately went up to him. “Principal Antoine, it’s nothing serious.” “A parent is dissatisfied with her child’s role assignment and is making a scene here.” Samantha also added in a low voice. “Mrs. James isn’t cooperating with the school’s work and is interfering with the program.” Principal Antoine looked at me, his smile fading a bit. “Parent, today is the school-wide Children’s Day performance. City officials will also be here.” “If you have any issues, we can communicate after the event.” “Please don’t disrupt normal order right now.” I looked at him. “What if the problem is your order itself?” Principal Antoine’s face darkened. “Parents need to watch what they say.” “Our SUN School has been running for many years. We prioritize children’s comprehensive development above all.” Rachel sneered nearby. “Principal Antoine, don’t waste words on her.” “Some parents are like this—they don’t support the school normally, but make a big deal out of everything.” “We can’t indulge this kind of attitude.” Samantha, as if finding a backer, reached for the trash can costume on the ground. “Betty, go change.” Betty didn’t move. Samantha’s voice rose. “Betty!” “If you don’t change, today’s entire class program will be delayed because of you.” “When your classmates blame you, don’t come crying to the teacher.” Betty was so scared she trembled. I gripped her shoulder. “No need to change.” Principal Antoine frowned. “Security, please escort this parent to the waiting room.” Two security guards were about to step forward. My phone rang. The caller was my assistant. “Ms. James, the lighting team has completed final testing, and the live streaming link is also set up.” “The school is urging us to send the final payment confirmation.” I looked at Principal Antoine and pressed speakerphone. “Don’t send it yet.” My assistant paused. “What do you mean?” I said, “Notify the on-site execution team. James Entertainment is withdrawing all stage, lighting, live streaming, photography, and gift sponsorship for this Children’s Day performance. Now!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “407880”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster