I got into a massive fight with Ashton because he ate a grape fed to him by Layla. The next day, he had my sister’s targeted therapy medication discontinued. That day, I knelt on the living room floor of the Crawford estate for six solid hours. Only then did he relent, pinching my chin and saying, “Seraphina, your sister’s life is a gift from me. When I want you to be good, you will be good.” So the next time I saw Layla slip a hotel key card into Ashton’s pocket, I stood in the darkest corner of the room, slowly finished the wine in my glass, and didn’t even flinch. 1. At the celebratory banquet for the auction, my director pushed me forward to make a toast. Ashton was surrounded by a crowd. Layla was practically plastered to his side, holding a champagne flute, her smile sickeningly sweet. As I approached, I overheard her say, “Ash, I’ve booked the suite upstairs. I even have some tea ready for you to sober up.” As she spoke, her hand slid naturally into the pocket of his suit jacket. A key card, pushed in by her slender fingers. A few men around them exchanged glances. Someone whistled. “Mr. Crawford, looks like little Layla is planning to take care of you all night.” “You’re a lucky man, Ashton.” Ashton said nothing, just glanced down at his pocket. When he looked up again, his gaze cut through the crowd and landed squarely on my face. I knew that look all too well. It was scrutinizing, expectant, with a hint of defiance. I walked over, holding my wine glass. He smoothly wrapped an arm around my waist, his palm warm against my skin. “What took you so long?” he asked. “I was double-checking the numbers,” I said, handing him my glass. “The director wanted me to give you a toast.” He took it and drank, his brow furrowing slightly. “This wine is terrible.” Layla immediately chimed in. “I have a better one in the suite. An ‘82 Lafite.” Another round of knowing chuckles went through the group. Ashton ignored her, his eyes fixed on my face. “You look pale.” “Just a little tired,” I said. “Then you should leave early,” he murmured, leaning closer. “I’ll have the driver take you.” “No, it’s fine.” I took a small step back. “I’ll get a cab.” His hand suddenly tightened, pulling me back into his embrace. His voice hardened. “Be good.” The words were quiet, but they carried an undeniable weight. My mind flashed back to that night three months ago. It was a similar party. Layla had fed him a grape. I had smashed my glass on the spot. The next day, the hospital called, their voice urgent. “Ms. Xie, your sister’s targeted therapy medication wasn’t approved. Stopping the treatment could have serious consequences. You need to do something, quickly.” “What do you mean?” My voice was trembling. “Everything was fine last week…” I called Ashton like a madwoman. He finally picked up on the seventeenth try. “Ashton, Willow’s medication…” “Yeah, I stopped it. You’ve got quite a temper, don’t you?” I cried. I begged. Finally, in resignation, I knelt on the floor of his living room. He sat on the sofa, reading a document, not even looking at me until my voice was raw from sobbing. “Learned your lesson?” I nodded, tears splashing onto the marble floor. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Give her a week’s supply.” After hanging up, he walked over, bent down, and gripped my chin. The oppressive weight of his presence was suffocating. “Seraphina, your sister’s life is a gift from me. When I want you to be good, you will be good. Understand?” I nodded frantically. “Seraphina?” Ashton’s voice pulled me back to the present. I snapped out of my daze and found him staring at me. Layla sidled up, linking her arm through his. “Ash, should we head upstairs then?” Ashton didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow at me. I picked up my purse and smiled at him. “You two have fun. I’m going to head home.” As I turned to leave, I heard someone whisper, “Wow, she can really take it.” The elevator doors closed, and the reflection in the mirror showed a pale face with perfectly applied lipstick. My phone vibrated. A message from Ashton: “Really? No scene?” I stared at the words, typed and deleted a reply several times, and finally wrote back: “Get home safe.” The city lights blurred past the car window. I looked down, remembering what my sister had asked me last time. “Sera, is the medicine really expensive?” I had smiled and stroked her hair. “Not at all. You just focus on getting better. Don’t worry about things like that.” But the truth was, I couldn’t afford it. Eighty thousand a box, one box a week. Without Ashton, I couldn’t even afford a single pill. So what was Layla slipping a key card into his pocket? Even if she walked into that hotel room with him right in front of my eyes, I would have to smile and close the door for them. Because my sister couldn’t stop her medication. If she did, she would die. So I had to be good. Extra, extra good. 2. At Layla’s birthday party, she publicly put a diamond pinky ring on Ashton’s finger. Ashton was visibly taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure. He glanced down at the ring, then up at Layla’s expectant face, and finally smiled, slipping the ring onto his little finger. Layla immediately stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Ashton didn’t push her away. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. Layla’s face instantly turned crimson, her eyes curving into crescent moons as she smiled. I retreated to the darkest corner, drinking one glass after another. I was gripping the rim of my glass so tightly my fingertips had turned white. Halfway through the party, I escaped to the terrace. I heard familiar, steady footsteps behind me. Ashton leaned against the railing next to me. “What are you hiding out here for?” I didn’t speak, my gaze fixed on a cruise ship on the river in the distance. He took out a cigarette case. Smoke curled from his lips, dissipating into the night. “About the ring,” he paused, “she didn’t tell me beforehand.” I still said nothing, just tightened my grip on my glass. “It’s just a childish game,” he said, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Don’t take it seriously.” The night wind blew past, carrying the scent of cedarwood and smoke from him. I used to love that smell. Now, it just made me feel suffocated. “Ashton,” I finally said, my voice barely a whisper in the wind. “Willow’s latest test results are back.” “She needs to switch to a new medication.” I turned and looked him straight in the eye. “Two hundred thousand a box. One box a week.” He took a slow drag from his cigarette. He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke. “Next month, Layla is going to Europe for a three-month course.” My heart sank. “You’ll go with her.” He stubbed out his cigarette and turned to face me fully. “The day she comes back, the medication starts.” “Willow can’t wait three months,” my voice began to tremble. “Then find a way to make her wait.” He took a step forward, his shadow completely enveloping me, exuding an oppressive aura. “Or, you could find a way to make Layla come back sooner.” I looked up at the face I had loved for three years. “Ashton,” I heard my own voice shaking, “that’s your sister you promised to take care of. You said you would cure her.” “And I am taking care of her.” He took another half step forward. “I’m giving her a chance. I’m giving you a chance.” His breath, laced with the scent of tobacco, fanned across my face. It was a smell that had once captivated me. Now, it just made me sick. “A chance for what?” I asked. “A chance to prove you’re worth it.” He raised his hand, his fingertips brushing against my cheek. “To prove you’re more sensible than Layla, more deserving of my investment.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, I looked at him and said, word by word, “Fine. I’ll go.” He smiled, a victor’s smile, laced with a complex emotion I couldn’t decipher. He reached out to stroke my hair, but I turned my head, avoiding his touch. His hand froze in mid-air. After a moment, he let it drop. “Get some rest,” he said, then turned and walked back into the blindingly bright party. I leaned against the railing, watching his back disappear behind the glass door. The music from the ballroom started up again, light and cheerful. It seeped through the cracks in the door, like a sound from another world. 3. The Parisian winter was bone-chillingly cold. Layla lived in Ashton’s luxurious apartment, sleeping in until noon every day. I stayed in a cramped guest room, preparing breakfast before she woke up and redoing her schedule over and over under her critical gaze. She had endless demands. The coffee had to be at a precise temperature, her clothes had to be perfectly ironed, and even the temperature of her bathwater had to be measured with a thermometer. When she was in a good mood, she would tell me about her Parisian adventures. When she was in a bad mood, she would take it out on me. Every time she frowned, every time her tone held a hint of dissatisfaction, I would think of Willow in the hospital, of the two-hundred-thousand-dollar medication. I would swallow whatever I wanted to say and just lower my head and say, “I’ll do it again.” In the third week, she took me to a gallery opening. A French man stared at me all night. His fingers would “accidentally” brush against my waist, my arm. Layla chatted with him in French. They would laugh from time to time, their eyes sweeping over me. I knew they were talking about me. The flirtatious glances, the suggestive smiles, said it all. On the way back to the apartment, Layla leaned against the car window and said suddenly, “That Frenchman wants to be your sugar daddy. He’s offering a lot.” I didn’t say anything, just continued to fold the shawl she had tossed on the seat. “But I turned him down,” she smiled. “I told him you belong to Ashton, and you’re off-limits.” The car drove along the Seine, the lights from the banks reflecting on the water. I stared at the lights and said nothing. The next morning, before dawn, I was jolted awake by my phone. The caller ID was from the hospital back home. I answered, and the doctor’s urgent voice came through. “Ms. Xie, your sister’s condition has suddenly worsened. She needs surgery immediately!” I shot upright. “What kind of surgery?” “The tumor is pressing on her main airway. She’s having severe difficulty breathing. Without surgery, she has three days at most.” My hand started to shake so badly I could barely hold the phone. “The cost…” “We estimate around eight hundred thousand. And,” the doctor paused, his voice low, “Mr. Crawford isn’t answering his phone. We need a family member to sign the consent forms immediately.” I hung up and, with trembling fingers, called Ashton. Once, twice, three times. All went to voicemail. I called his assistant, who told me apologetically that Mr. Crawford was in a crucial meeting and had given strict instructions not to be disturbed. “My sister is dying!” I screamed into the phone. “Make him answer!” “Ms. Xie, I really can’t…” I hung up and, with shaking fingers, booked the fastest flight back home. The earliest was in six hours. I jumped out of bed and started throwing things into a suitcase. The noise woke Layla. She came out in a silk robe, frowning. “What’s going on? It’s so loud.” “Willow is in critical condition. I have to go back.” “Now?” Her face fell, her tone displeased. “But we’re supposed to go to Versailles tomorrow. Everything’s arranged, the hotel, the guide, it’s all booked.” I stopped what I was doing, looked up at her, and said, enunciating each word, “My. Sister. Is. Dying.” She took a step back, biting her lip. Seeing that I was serious about packing, she turned and went back to her room. The door wasn’t fully closed. I could hear her on the phone with Ashton, her voice choked with tears. “Ash, Seraphina is insisting on leaving. She doesn’t care about my feelings at all, everything was already planned…” I didn’t listen to the rest. I zipped up my suitcase, grabbed it, and walked out of the apartment. The door closed behind me, cutting off her plaintive voice. I didn’t sleep a second during the thirteen-hour flight. The hospital called one after another. Willow’s condition was getting worse. Finally, the doctor said, “Ms. Xie, your sister is waiting for you. She’s holding on, she said she wants to see you one last time.” I covered my mouth, tears splashing onto my phone screen. I landed at four in the afternoon, local time. When I rushed into the hospital, the surgery had already started. A nurse handed me a stack of forms. My hands were shaking too much to sign. The pen kept slipping from my fingers. Finally, I gripped the pen with all my might and carved out my name, one stroke at a time. The surgery lasted six hours. I sat in the hallway for six hours, staring at the red light above the operating room door until my eyes were sore and aching. Every minute felt like a year. The light finally went out. The doctor came out, his face exhausted, his scrubs stained with blood. He looked at me and slowly shook his head. I stood up, my legs giving out from under me. I had to grab the wall to stay upright. “We did everything we could,” his voice was hoarse. “We were too late. The tumor was too deep, and there was massive bleeding during the surgery…” I couldn’t hear the rest of what he said. A nurse wheeled a gurney out, a white sheet covering a small body. I walked over and lifted a corner of the sheet. Willow’s face was so pale, so peaceful. Her long eyelashes made her look like she was just asleep. “Willow,” I whispered, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “Sera’s here.” A nurse tried to take the gurney, but I shook my head and pushed it myself. Down the long hallway, into the elevator, into the morgue. An attendant asked me to fill out some paperwork. I signed, swiped my card. As the machine spit out the receipt, I remembered Ashton saying, “two hundred thousand a box,” and “the day she comes back, the medication starts.” Not anymore. It was all over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “407671”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The call came in the middle of the night. It was my colleague, Jessica. Her mom was in critical condition and needed Rh-negative blood. I was a match. So I went and donated 400cc. Her family didn’t offer a single word of thanks. They didn’t even make me a bowl of soup. Six months later, the phone rang again. “The blood we got last time wasn’t enough. We’re going to have to trouble you again.” I held the phone to my ear and spelled it out, one word at a time. “A 400cc intravenous donation. Compensation for nutritional supplements, lost work, and emotional distress. The total comes to twenty thousand dollars.” “Wire the money first. I’ll go as soon as it hits my account.” 01 On the other end of the line, Jessica Bell’s voice cut out as if the signal had died. The silence was absolute, stretching for three long seconds. It was followed by a volcanic eruption of rage. “Alex, are you fucking insane? This is extortion! My mother is lying in a hospital bed, and you’re demanding money from me?” I moved the phone slightly away from my ear to escape her piercing shriek, my gaze drifting to the inky blackness outside the window. Tonight’s sky was just like the one six months ago—a thick, suffocating darkness that refused to yield. My voice was calm. “That’s my price. If you accept, transfer the money. If not, find someone else.” “Do you have a conscience? This is a human life we’re talking about! How can you just stand by and watch someone die?” Jessica screamed into the phone, her voice cracking. Each word was a sharp, moral dagger, trying to nail me to a pillar of shame. A conscience? An image from six months ago flashed, unbidden, before my eyes. Two in the morning. The donation center at City General Hospital. The needle slid out of the vein in my arm as 400cc of my crimson blood flowed through a tube into a sterile bag. The nurse told me to press down on the cotton ball and get some rest. I was dizzy and nauseous, my face as pale as a sheet, sitting alone on a cold bench in the corridor. Not far from me, Jessica and her father, David Bell, were gathered around the doctor who had just emerged from the operating room. They were showering him with emotional questions and endless words of gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor, thank you! You’re our family’s savior!” “You must be exhausted, Doctor. Please, have some water!” Not once did either of them so much as glance in my direction. I was like a spare chair in the hallway, used and then forgotten, an object of no concern. The warmth that left my body with the blood was nothing compared to the chill seeping into my heart. I sat there alone until the dizziness subsided, then used the wall to steady myself as I shuffled out of the hospital, one slow step at a time. The frigid pre-dawn wind cut through my thin clothes. I pulled my jacket tighter and hailed a cab. As the car passed by Jessica’s apartment building, I could smell it, even through the closed window: the rich, savory aroma of chicken soup wafting from her kitchen. It must have been for David, a nourishing meal to help him recover after a long, stressful night. And me? The person who had just given 400cc of life-saving blood? I hadn’t been offered so much as a glass of water. The memory was a needle, piercing my heart and reawakening the long-suppressed humiliation and coldness. I let out a bitter laugh into the phone. “I’ll say it again. Twenty thousand dollars. I’ll go when the money arrives.” Then, I hung up. Without a moment’s hesitation, I found Jessica’s contact and blocked her number. The moment I did, my world fell blessedly silent. But the screen lit up again almost immediately. An unknown number. I didn’t answer. I let it ring, persistent and demanding. Soon, the text messages started flooding in. “Alex you son of a bitch! You’ll get what’s coming to you!” “If anything happens to my mom, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life!” “Please, Alex, I’m begging you. Just consider it a loan, okay? We have to save her!” “You heartless monster. I hope you die a horrible death!” The tone shifted from desperate pleading to venomous curses in a heartbeat, a perfect reflection of Jessica’s true, self-serving nature. Expressionless, I screenshotted every single message and saved them in a newly created folder I named “Evidence.” Then, I switched my phone to airplane mode. The buzzing, frantic world finally went quiet. I knew this was only the beginning. They had grown accustomed to my “kindness,” to me being “easygoing.” Now that my kindness had a price tag, they could only see it as a betrayal. Since they had no decency, I would teach them about value. 02 The moment I stepped into the office the next day, I could feel the oppressive weight in the air. Colleagues were whispering in hushed clusters, their eyes on me filled with a mix of curiosity and unconcealed disdain. I knew instantly. Jessica’s smear campaign had already begun. Sure enough, just as I sat down, my desk phone rang. It was a call transferred from the front desk. The second I picked up, David Bell’s voice, sharp enough to pierce my eardrum, exploded through the receiver. “You heartless little bastard! How dare you show your face at work!” His voice was so loud and strained that I could hear the whistle of his breath, ragged with fury. I instinctively winced and held the receiver a little further from my ear. The colleague in the cubicle next to me immediately perked up, pretending to shuffle papers while his eyes were glued to my every move. “Our Jessica is such a good person! She thought of you as her best friend, and what do you do? You take advantage of our crisis! What kind of sick game are you playing?” David began to sob, his voice thick with a nasal whine, as if he were the most aggrieved man on earth. “My wife is still lying in the hospital! The doctors say she could go at any moment, and you won’t help save her life for twenty thousand dollars? Can you even sleep at night? Is your blood made of gold?” His words were a dull knife, sawing at my nerves. Especially that line, “Is your blood made of gold?” It was an echo of Jessica’s accusation from the night before. No, my blood isn’t made of gold. But it is a part of my body, the very essence that keeps me alive. Why should I be expected to give it away for free, just to satisfy their sense of entitlement? I calmly turned in my chair, shielding myself from the prying eyes around me, and pressed the record button on my cell phone. “Mr. Bell, if you have something to say, say it. Yelling won’t solve anything,” I said, my tone as placid as if I were discussing the weather. My composure seemed to enrage him further. “Solve anything? Twenty thousand dollars! Why don’t you just rob a bank? You’re trying to ruin us!” “We were doing you a favor by asking you to donate! We were giving you a chance to do a good deed! And you threw it back in our faces!” That sentence ignited the fury I had been suppressing all night. Doing me a favor? So, in their eyes, my sacrifice was nothing more than a gift they had bestowed upon me. I cut him off, my voice cold. “The first time I donated, it was a favor, not an obligation. You people couldn’t even be bothered to say a simple ‘thank you.’ What right do you have to come asking me for anything now?” There was a brief, choked silence on the other end. Then David immediately switched to full-blown tantrum mode. “I don’t care! You have to go to the hospital today! If you don’t, I’ll come to your office and cause a scene! I’ll let everyone see what kind of person you are! A cold-blooded monster who values money more than a human life!” “You just wait! I’m on my way! I’ll make sure you can’t work there anymore! I’ll destroy your reputation!” He was threatening me, his voice growing shriller with every word. I held the phone tightly and replied, each word deliberate. “You’re welcome to try. It will be a perfect opportunity for everyone to judge for themselves who the truly cold-blooded one is: the person who ignored someone for six months, only remembering them when they needed more blood.” “And by the way, every single word you’ve just said, including your insults and threats, has been recorded.” “If necessary, I will be forwarding this recording to my lawyer as evidence.” The line went dead silent, except for the sound of David’s ragged, furious breathing. I didn’t give him another chance to speak. I hung up. I renamed the audio file “Threats from David Bell” and uploaded it to my cloud for backup. I knew a much bigger storm was brewing. They wouldn’t give up this easily. And I was ready to see it through to the end. 03 The office was eerily quiet. Everyone pretended to be busy, but I could feel their stares, invisible threads weaving a suffocating net around me, pressing in from all sides. Jessica was wearing a faded, worn-out t-shirt today. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were bloodshot, and dark circles were bruised beneath them. She wasn’t at her desk. Instead, she was making the rounds in the breakroom, “confiding” in different colleagues. As I got up to get some water, I could clearly hear her voice, strained with suppressed “sobs.” “…My mom is still in the ICU. The doctor says it’s not looking good, she needs a transfusion urgently… I’m just so desperate…” “I thought Alex was my best friend. Last time, he helped without a second thought. I assumed it would be the same this time…” She paused for dramatic effect, letting out a heavy sigh that dripped with helplessness and disappointment. “But who knew… he demanded twenty thousand dollars. Not a penny less, he said. My mom’s life, in his eyes, is only worth twenty thousand dollars…” A male colleague who was friendly with her patted her on the shoulder, his voice filled with righteous indignation. “That’s inhuman. Kicking someone when they’re down like that.” Another female colleague chimed in, “Exactly. Alex always seemed so quiet. I never thought he could be so heartless. It’s a person’s life on the line!” Jessica looked at them with her bloodshot eyes, a grateful expression on her face, before shooting a venomous, wounded glare in my direction from across the room. She had successfully painted herself as a poor, devoted daughter, pushed to the brink and betrayed by a friend. And I was the villain. The cold-blooded opportunist. I walked back to my desk with my water, the weight of their contempt and judgment clinging to my back. A female colleague who had been on decent terms with me walked past my desk, carrying a stack of files. She let out a loud “Hmph.” It wasn’t loud, but in the silent office, it was sharp and clear. Then, as if she’d lost her balance, the files in her hands went flying. “Whoops!” Half of them landed on my desk, knocking over my glass of water. Warm water spilled everywhere, soaking my keyboard and mousepad. “Oh, my bad,” she said, her voice devoid of any real apology. She slowly picked up her papers one by one, never once making eye contact with me. I silently grabbed some tissues and started cleaning up the mess, not saying a word. I was completely ostracized. Just then, my desk phone rang. It was the internal line from my department head, Mr. Rogers. He wanted to see me in his office. I walked straight in. Mr. Rogers gestured for me to sit, his face arranged in a look of paternal concern. “Alex, I’ve heard about what’s going on with Jessica’s family,” he began. He steepled his fingers on his desk and leaned forward slightly, adopting the posture of a man ready to “solve my problems.” “We’re all colleagues here. When someone is facing such a difficult time, we should help if we can. This isn’t just about helping Jessica; it’s about maintaining unity within our department.” I tried to explain. “Mr. Rogers, it’s not what they’re saying. Six months ago, I donated blood, and they…” He cut me off with a wave of his hand, a flicker of impatience on his face. Or maybe, he simply didn’t care about the truth. “Regardless, a life is at stake. For you to just name a price like that… it doesn’t reflect well on the company if word gets out. What will people think of us? That we’re all a bunch of cold, indifferent people here?” His words were a soft blade, each one twisting in a vulnerable spot. He didn’t care about the facts or my feelings. All he cared about was the “company’s image” and “department unity.” “Alex, I need you to look at the big picture and handle this properly. Don’t let your personal feelings affect your work, or your own future here.” That last sentence was a clear warning, a veiled threat. If I didn’t handle this “properly,” my annual performance review, my chances for promotion, would all go up in smoke. This was blatant corporate pressure. I walked out of his office feeling as though the walls were closing in. The rumors, the accusing stares, the pressure from management—it was all converging, layer by layer, threatening to crush me. I sat at my desk, feeling utterly drained. Humiliation, anger, helplessness… they churned inside me. But I didn’t cry. Tears are the cheapest currency in the world. They don’t buy you sympathy, only more contempt. I opened my laptop, ignoring the flashing notifications from work applications, and launched my web browser. In the search bar, I typed, word by word: “Rh-negative blood,” “paid donation,” “legal statutes,” “related case law.” They thought they could break me by isolating and pressuring me. They were wrong. The more they pushed, the more determined I became to fight back. If no one was going to stand with me, then I would become my own armor and my own weapon. 04 Over the weekend, all I wanted was to lock myself away at home, shutting out the noise of the world. But peace was a luxury I wouldn’t be afforded. Around two in the afternoon, the doorbell began to ring, not just rung, but assaulted—a frantic, furious rhythm that threatened to break the button. It was immediately followed by the sound of David Bell’s hysterical wailing. “Alex! Open this door! You murderer! Get out here!” I peered through the peephole. He looked like a madman, his hair disheveled, pounding on my security door with his fists, his face twisted in a mask of rage. A few of my neighbors were already peeking out of their doors. I didn’t open mine. I had no desire to engage with him. My silence only fueled his frenzy. He threw himself on the floor of the hallway, wailing and beating the ground. “Everyone, come and look! It’s the young man in this apartment! His heart is blacker than ink!” “My daughter treated him like a friend, and what does he do? He tries to extort twenty thousand dollars from us while my wife is dying!” “He’s watching her die! There’s no justice in this world! If anything happens to my wife, I’ll haunt him forever!” His voice was shrill and piercing, carrying down the entire hall. Soon, a small crowd of neighbors had gathered. Their whispers seeped through the crack under my door like ants crawling into my ears. “Oh my, he looks like such a quiet young man. How could his heart be so cruel?” “I know, that poor man sounds so pitiful. His wife is waiting for that blood.” “Twenty thousand dollars? That’s no different than murder.” Every word was an invisible knife. I couldn’t stand this public trial, this humiliation. I yanked the door open. I just wanted him to shut up. The moment he saw me, a vicious light flared in his eyes. Like a starving wolf spotting its prey, he sprang up from the floor and lunged at me. He grabbed my arm, his nails digging deep into my flesh, and tried to drag me out into the hallway. “You’re coming with me to the hospital! You’re donating today whether you like it or not! You don’t have a choice!” His strength was astonishing. I struggled, but he held me in a death grip. In the chaos, David raised his hand and, with all his might, brought it down across my face. CRACK! The sharp, echoing sound reverberated through the hallway. A searing, white-hot pain exploded across my left cheek. My ears rang. I was completely stunned. Stunned by the blow. And completely awakened by it. In that instant, all the humiliation, the anger, the restraint—it all coalesced into a cold, hard flame that shot from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. With every ounce of strength I had, I shoved him away. David, caught off balance, stumbled back several steps and landed hard on the floor. I retreated inside, slammed the door, and threw the deadbolt, my back pressed against the cold metal, my heart pounding in my chest. Without hesitating, my trembling hands dialed 911. The police arrived quickly. The second David saw the uniforms, he transformed into a master actor. He collapsed onto the floor and began to cry even more theatrically than before. He pointed at my closed door, sobbing to the officers that not only had I refused to save a life, but I had also assaulted him, an elder. Just then, the sound of frantic footsteps came from the stairwell. Jessica had arrived. It was as if she had timed it perfectly. She rushed up to the officers, breathless, her face a mask of grief and desperation. She pointed a shaking finger at my door and screamed at the police. “Officers, it’s him! That’s Alex!” “My mother is in the hospital waiting for blood to save her life, and he’s using it to extort twenty thousand dollars from our family!” She pulled her phone from her pocket and held it up to the officers, her face contorted with a triumphant grimace, as if she held irrefutable proof. “I have a recording! He admitted it himself! Officers, this isn’t extortion—it’s attempted murder!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “407670”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first day I was brought back to the Donovan estate, my biological parents laid down the law. “Even though you’re back, don’t think for a second you can compete with Sophie.” I looked at the power play this family was putting on and smiled as I pulled a contract out of my bag. “I believe you’ve made a mistake. Our parent-child relationship is a legal fact. But for me to play the role of a docile, obedient daughter who also serves as a stepping stone for your adopted child? That’s a premium emotional service.” “And it’s going to cost you.” 1 My biological father, Richard Donovan, tossed a black card onto the table. “There’s ten thousand dollars on this. It’s your allowance for the next six months.” “Now that you’re a Donovan, you will follow the Donovan rules.” “First, you are not to bully Sophie. She may not be our biological daughter, but we’ve raised her for twenty years. Don’t you dare think you can replace her.” “Second, do not discuss your identity with outsiders. For now, we will be telling everyone you’re a distant relative.” “Third, leave your backwater habits behind. Keep a low profile and do not embarrass the Donovan name.” Beside him, my mother, Anabelle, dressed like the socialite she was, added her own conditions. “Sophie is a very sensitive girl, and her health is fragile. She can’t handle any stress. You need to be considerate and not do anything to make her cry.” According to the plot of the novel I knew, the long-lost biological daughter—me—is brought back, desperate for affection, only to be gaslighted and manipulated by her entire family. My parents and brother find me vulgar. The adopted daughter, Sophie, undermines me at every turn, both openly and behind my back. And my fiancé, Marcus Blackwood, humiliates me every chance he gets. The original me, in an attempt to fit in, desperately studies etiquette, grovels for approval, and walks on eggshells around everyone. In the end, she’s still thrown out of the family and dies alone, consumed by despair. Now that I’ve taken her place, I looked around at the hundred-million-dollar mansion and decided to think bigger. If playing the part of the loving daughter is a death sentence, I’ll play the part of a consultant. And consultants get paid. I picked up the card with a small smile. “My apologies, but I’ve done my due diligence.” “Donovan Industries reported a net profit of four billion dollars last year.” “And from what I understand, Miss Sophie’s monthly expenses alone run well into six figures.” “Since you’re both so concerned about Miss Sophie’s feelings and so worried that your daughter from the country will embarrass you, why bring me back at all?” “Could it be because the Blackwood family specifically requested an alliance with the true heiress?” Richard, who had been about to stand, froze. His eyes sharpened. “Who told you that?” I smiled and pulled a printed document from my bag titled Functional Family Member Performance Agreement. “That’s not important. What’s important is the business I’d like to discuss with you both.” “Integrating a stranger, even one who shares your blood, into a family unit is, in essence, a high-risk merger and acquisition.” “I know you had no choice.” “Since we’re all uncomfortable, let’s commercialize it. You need me to act as a mascot, a tool for a marriage alliance, and, when necessary, a foil to highlight Miss Sophie’s superior grace. I am willing to cooperate on all fronts. But not for free.” Richard and Anabelle’s expressions soured. Reading the room, I pressed on before they could play the family card. “Mr. Donovan, Mrs. Donovan, please don’t talk to me about blood being thicker than water. That’s an outdated concept.” “In the world of business, providing emotional value and taking the fall for others are services that command a premium.” “If I’m mistreated in this house, that’s a workplace injury. If you expect me to handle a scumbag like Marcus Blackwood, that’s hazardous duty, billed on a case-by-case basis, and you will be taking out a top-tier life insurance policy in my name.” “As for the ten thousand you just offered? That’s what you give a beggar. Considering the unique and irreplaceable nature of my position, I require a monthly salary of fifty thousand dollars, a full benefits package, and an annual bonus to be negotiated separately.” “Are you insane? You really are from the sticks, with that crass, money-grubbing attitude!” My older brother, William, who had been watching silently from the side, finally spoke. I shook my head. “There’s no hollow affection between us, only a relationship maintained by money. So it’s only right that I get paid for my services.” “What do you say? Think of the return on investment. Fifty thousand a month for a peaceful and harmonious household. Sounds like a bargain, doesn’t it?” Richard, ever the capitalist, was the first to regain his composure. He truly felt nothing for this unrefined, unpresentable stranger of a daughter. Fifty thousand dollars was less than the price of a single bottle of wine from his cellar. If the price of one bottle could secure him a compliant, professional, and trouble-free tool for the marriage alliance… the deal was exceptionally cost-effective. After all, in the world of the wealthy, problems that money can solve aren’t really problems at all. He picked up a fountain pen and signed the contract with a decisive stroke. “You’d better be worth it. Stay in line.” 2 The next day, I officially started my new job. At breakfast, the adopted daughter, Sophie, drifted into the room like a delicate willow in the wind. I had to admit, the product the Donovans had poured their money into was exquisite. She met every aesthetic standard for the damsel-in-distress archetype. The moment she saw me, her eyes welled up. “Victoria, why are you glaring at me? What did I do wrong?” “I’m sorry, whatever it is. Please don’t be angry with me.” Before I could respond, she looked timidly at the other three. “Dad, Mom, William… should I not be down here for breakfast?” “I know I’m just the adopted daughter. I don’t have the right to eat at this table. I’ll go.” Richard and Anabelle’s hearts immediately went out to her, and they were about to scold me when I spoke first. “Miss Sophie, your performance is subpar.” Sophie looked confused, tears clinging to her lashes. “Wh-what?” I sized her up. “As the Donovan family’s signature socialite, your core competencies are beauty, fragility, and evoking pity. But look at your facial control.” I pointed to the corner of her mouth. “When you cry, the downward curve of your lips is too exaggerated. It looks stiff and theatrical.” “Furthermore, as the favored one, acting so meek in front of an ‘outsider’ like me makes you seem small-minded. It reflects poorly on Mr. and Mrs. Donovan’s upbringing.” “If anyone else saw this, they’d think there was a quality control issue with the Donovan brand.” Richard, who had been ready to yell at me, paused. He actually thought I had a point. The Donovans were a prestigious family. How could their daughter act so timid and submissive? “Then what do you suggest?” he asked. “I can act as her competitive analyst and part-time image consultant.” I adopted a more professional posture. “From now on, I will simulate various scenarios for her: the wicked older sister, the demanding mother-in-law, even the cunning romantic rivals she might encounter in the future. I’ll conduct comprehensive situational drills.” “Through my pressure, we will improve her resilience. Through my critiques, we will perfect her public image. I guarantee that when she marries into another prominent family, she will be a formidable presence and a credit to the Donovan name.” Sophie was dumbfounded. She had never heard “bullying” described in such a refreshingly corporate way. “Rest assured, this service is included in my monthly salary. I only require the subject’s cooperation.” “For instance… now.” My gaze sharpened, my tone turning imperious. “Come here and clear my plate.” Sophie instinctively looked to her parents. I sneered. “What are you looking at them for? In the future, when your powerful mother-in-law demands you serve her, are you just going to cry for your mommy?” “Did you think being a society wife was easy?” Richard mulled it over for a moment and then, to my surprise, nodded. “Victoria is right. Sophie, it’s time you started training.” Sophie, her face a mask of shock and humiliation, carried my plate to the kitchen. I turned to Richard with a slight smile. “See, boss? This is called the catfish effect.” “Sardines only improve their survival rate when they’re being chased by a catfish.” “A flower raised in a greenhouse has no core competency. It has no value on the open market.” For the first time, the way Richard looked at me held something different. A flicker of reassessment. 3 I adapted to my job as the “true heiress” quickly. In the original story, the protagonist was always jealous of Sophie and would dress in flashy, garish outfits to one-up her, only to be mocked for being tacky. I had no need for that. I was here to work. Every day, I wore sharply tailored business attire, my hair pulled back neatly, and I moved through the house with an air of purpose. When I saw Richard, it was, “Good morning, Mr. Donovan.” When I saw Anabelle, “Mrs. Donovan.” To William, “Mr. William.” And to Sophie, “Miss Sophie, your foundation looks a bit cakey today. I suggest trying a different formula.” One day, the male lead from the novel, my nominal fiancé, Marcus Blackwood, came to visit. This heir to a fortune was notoriously arrogant and unruly. He was in love with Sophie, but his grandfather was forcing him to marry the true heiress, so he was openly hostile toward me. “So you’re the one from the countryside?” Marcus sneered, looking down his nose at me. “You have a passing resemblance to my aunt and uncle, I suppose. A shame about the lack of refinement.” “You can put a pig in a dress, but it’s still a pig. Don’t think returning to the Donovan family means you can just climb the social ladder.” Such painfully cliché lines. I couldn’t be bothered with this idiot. Sophie nestled against him, her eyes welling up again. “Marcus, don’t say that about my sister. She’s trying her best. We shouldn’t mock her.” “Sophie, you’re just too kind,” Marcus said, pulling her into a protective embrace before glaring at me. “I’m warning you, stay away from me. Don’t get any foolish ideas. The only woman I will ever marry is Sophie.” Fine. I admit it. My tolerance for idiots is zero. I put down the tablet I was holding, which contained the company’s latest financial report that Richard had asked me to review. That’s right. After repeatedly proving my value, Richard had finally agreed to let me get involved in some of the company’s peripheral business. I cherished every opportunity to work, but this moron was disrupting my focus. “Mr. Blackwood, regarding our engagement—this non-performing asset—due to its uncontrollable risks and extremely low rate of return, I have no interest in acquiring you.” Marcus’s brow furrowed. “What did you say? A non-performing asset?” “Isn’t that what you are?” I met his angry gaze without flinching. “Poor emotional regulation. Inappropriate public conduct. A complete lack of basic respect for a potential business partner, engaging in blatant personal attacks.” “As a future spouse, your performance is severely inadequate.” “You!” Marcus shot to his feet, trying to intimidate me with his height. “Stand still.” My voice was a sudden, sharp command. The sheer force of my presence made him freeze instinctively. “Since you’re so determined to be Sophie’s white knight, you should at least have the assets of one.” My eyes scanned him from head to toe, as sharp as an X-ray, finally settling on his midsection. “Unbutton your shirt.” Marcus was completely bewildered, unsure how the situation had taken such a sharp turn. “What?” “What are you trying to do?” “Get your mind out of the gutter, you pervert.” I cut him off with a cold eye-roll. “I am currently conducting quality control for the family gene pool. In the current market, there’s a surplus of alpha CEO types. Looks and physique are the only hard currency.” “Sophie is so delicate and fragile. She’s bound to be harassed by all sorts of vultures at social events.” “If you don’t even have a six-pack, how are you supposed to protect her? How can you be a fashionable accessory she can proudly display on her arm?” “Are you planning to defend her with that foul mouth of yours?” Marcus’s face turned beet red. He hated being looked down on, especially in front of the delicate Sophie. “I work out three times a week! I have plenty of muscle!” I raised an eyebrow, my expression dripping with disbelief. “Talk is cheap. For all I know, you’re all bark and no bite. An empty suit with a soft body underneath.” Then, I turned to Sophie with a sigh. “Sophie, darling, I’m not trying to cause trouble.” “But if Mr. Blackwood isn’t even willing to show this small token of sincerity, I doubt he truly loves you.” “And even if he does, you should be careful.” “Men like him look impressive on the outside, but they’re often all show. A man who lacks the confidence to show his physique is probably insecure. It might even mean he… has performance issues in other areas.” At my words, Sophie frowned and began to scrutinize Marcus. “Marcus, if Victoria is just trying to help our future, maybe you should just show her. It’s no big deal.” “I’d also like to see if you really have a six-pack.” Marcus stared at Sophie in disbelief. Under our united front of “it’s for the greater good,” this proud heir experienced the first real gaslighting of his life. 4 Gritting his teeth, desperate to prove to the woman he loved that he was “man enough,” and to wipe the smug, condescending look off my face, Marcus acted on impulse. He ripped open his shirt. “Open your damn eyes and look!” Sophie gasped, covering her mouth with a blush. Marcus shot me a defiant look, as if he’d just won a great victory. “See that, you country bumpkin? Can you shut up now?” However, I didn’t show the slightest hint of the slapped-in-the-face embarrassment he expected. Instead, I stepped closer, my expression neutral, inspecting him as if I were picking out a cut of pork at the market. “Body fat percentage is average, at best. The lines aren’t well-defined.” “On a scale of Hero to NPC, you’re barely a background character.” “Alright, button up. You’re an eyesore.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “407669”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The real heiress was a kleptomaniac, and my entire family enabled her. “Go on, sweetie, take whatever you want. Mom and Dad are top lawyers. We’ve got your back!” But when she stole the fountain pen I treasured above all else, I called the police. In return, my parents sent me to prison. “Aurora has been through so much. If this is her only little hobby, what’s wrong with us indulging her?” “Don’t think that just because we raised you for a few years, you can compete with our real daughter. You occupied her place for ten years. You’re the real thief!” “And let me tell you, if you ever cross your sister again, it won’t be just a month in a cell.” Is that so? Then let’s see just how much you’re willing to tolerate from your precious little thief. I looked at the real heiress, a challenge in my eyes. “Stealing a few trinkets is nothing.” “My brother has key evidence for his trial next week. I dare you to steal that.” A week later, my brother confidently presented his evidence in court. Seconds later, the bouncy, animated butt of Crayon Shin-chan was dancing across the massive courtroom screen. “Elephant, oh elephant, why is your trunk so long… I don’t care, I don’t care…” … The day Aurora was brought home, she stole our mother’s most precious necklace. When Mom couldn’t find it, she slapped me across the face. “You little bitch! We just brought our real daughter home, and you’re already stealing things to stake your claim on the inheritance?” I tried to explain. “I didn’t take it. If you just look again, maybe…” “A thief and a liar? I should have known. What good can come from an orphanage?” “You grew up in a family of lawyers, and you still couldn’t shed your degenerate nature!” “No wonder your parents were taken by that earthquake. Must have been karma for all the bad things they did!” “Give me the necklace, right now, or I’ll send you to prison!” Just then, Aurora came skipping into the room. I saw the necklace instantly, dangling around her neck. I pointed it out to Mom. “Is this the necklace you’re talking about?” Mom’s expression and tone softened in a heartbeat. “Oh, Aurora, sweetie, you took Mommy’s necklace? Why didn’t you tell me?” Aurora clutched the necklace protectively. “What do you mean, your necklace? What proof do you have that it’s yours?” “Did you see me take it?” “If you didn’t see it happen, then it’s mine!” Mom looked confused. “What are you saying, sweetie? If you like it, Mommy can give it to you…” “I don’t want you to give it to me! Pfft! I got it with my own skills!” “My classmates’ pens, toys, hair clips… I can make them all mine.” “My old parents used to praise me all the time. They said I was clever and saved the family money!” Mom paused for a moment. “That couple… that’s what they taught you? To steal… to take other people’s things?” Aurora’s face was full of pride. “Yup! When my old mom went grocery shopping, I’d help her by grabbing a few potatoes.” “When she tried on makeup at the mall, I’d help her by grabbing a few lipsticks.” “I’m really good at it. She said I could support myself for the rest of my life with this skill!” Mom hesitated. “Aurora, honey, that’s not right. From now on, if you want something, just tell Mommy, and I’ll get it for you…” Aurora shook her head. “I don’t want you to give it to me! I like taking things myself!” “You’re mean! I don’t like you! My old mommy would have told me I was amazing!” “I want to go find my old mommy!” As Aurora turned to leave in a huff, Mom quickly grabbed her arm. Dad, drawn by the commotion, came over with a sigh. “Let it go. If it makes Aurora happy, just let her be.” Mom hugged Aurora and cooed, “Aurora is so clever! You can take care of yourself with your own special skills!” “Mommy loves you the most. Please don’t go looking for your old mommy, okay?” Aurora beamed and nodded. I was stunned. “Mom,” I said, “what she’s doing is theft. It’s illegal. We should be correcting her.” “Today she took your necklace. What if she’s caught doing this outside…” Mom cut me off, her voice vicious. “So what? We’re a family of lawyers. You think we can’t protect our own daughter?” “My daughter can do whatever she wants. Who are you to lecture us?” “Aurora has skills to support herself. What are you without us?” Her voice was thick with self-righteousness, as if she hadn’t been the one disgusted by the idea of theft just moments ago. Aurora shot me a look over Mom’s shoulder, a tiny, triumphant smirk on her face. The next day, I saw Aurora sneaking out of my room. I rushed inside and found the fountain pen on my desk was gone. That pen was a memento from my late mentor. It was the only thing I had left of her. Ten years ago, she had shielded me with her own body during the earthquake, saving my life. I ran out and grabbed Aurora, trying to keep my voice gentle. “Aurora, did you happen to see the pen on my desk?” Aurora clutched her hands behind her back and burst into tears, wailing. “Why are you calling me a thief? Did you see me do it?” “Who would want your stupid pen? You need proof to accuse someone! Where’s the pen?” My parents rushed over at the sound of her cries. “Aurora, what’s wrong? Who upset you?” Her crying intensified. “It’s Grace! She keeps saying I took her pen and called me a thief!” “I knew it! You all look down on me! I’ll just leave!” My parents immediately started comforting her. “Hush, Aurora, no one looks down on you. You’re the best.” “Grace, apologize to your sister right now!” Tears of frustration streamed down my face. “I can apologize, but please, just make her give the pen back. You know it was a memento from my teacher…” “Grace, that’s enough! What proof do you have that Aurora took your pen?” I pointed at her hands, still hidden behind her back. “Then let me see her hands.” Aurora shook her head, a smug look in her eyes. “She’s slandering me. I don’t have to show her anything.” My parents stared at me coldly. “The burden of proof is on the accuser. Aurora is not obligated to cooperate with you.” I nodded. “Fine. Then let’s check the security camera in my room.” My brother, Wesley, walked over and shrugged. “Sorry. The footage seems to have been accidentally deleted.” “Grace, you know, falsely accusing Aurora is a crime.” I stared at them in disbelief. “You’re all lawyers. You know that theft is wrong. How can you enable her like this?” They looked at me with contempt. “Even lawyers have people they want to protect.” Seeing everyone rally to her side, Aurora’s expression turned defiant. “So what if I took it? I’m not giving it back to you! Neener-neener!” “If you want it, come and find it yourself!” I lunged forward, grabbing for the hands she held behind her back. My father kicked me, sending me sprawling to the floor. “How dare you? Who do you think you are, trying to search her?” “Even the police need a warrant for that!” I looked up, my voice filled with despair. “Fine. Then let’s have the police help me find it.” Wesley reached for my phone, but I had already hit the emergency dial button. “Grace, you…” My father shot Wesley a look. “Let’s teach your sister a lesson today.” The police arrived quickly. My parents greeted them at the door. “Officers, thank you for coming. I’m afraid our adopted daughter is upset that we brought our biological daughter home, so she filed a false police report to frame her.” An officer turned to me. “You’re the one who called? What’s the situation?” “My fountain pen is missing. My sister, Aurora, took it. I just want her to give it back.” My parents jumped in. “She’s lying. Who would take a stupid pen?” The officer looked at me sternly. “Do you have any evidence?” I shook my head, defeated. “She was hiding it behind her back, but after I called you, I don’t know where she put it.” “The security footage was also deleted…” “Grace, did you deliberately destroy the camera footage just to frame your sister?” “Officers, filing a false police report is a criminal offense. Please, arrest her.” “This daughter of mine needs to be taught a lesson.” I shook my head frantically. “I didn’t file a false report! I’m telling the truth…” Mom’s voice was like ice. “Aurora is our biological daughter. She can have anything she wants. Why would she need to take your worthless pen?” Dad stepped forward, his voice calm and authoritative. “Officers, we are legal professionals. We understand the societal harm caused by false reports and slander.” “If she can frame her sister over something so trivial today, she could pose a much greater threat to society tomorrow. We urge you to handle this strictly. It’s for her own good, to educate and save her.” In the end, I was the one taken away for disturbing the peace. Thanks to my parents’ “professional defense,” what should have been a ten-day detention turned into a month. The day I was released, my parents warned me, their faces cold. “If there’s a next time, it won’t be just a month in a cell.” “If you like prison food so much, we have no problem letting you rot in there.” “If you want to test our skills, go ahead and make trouble.” Aurora threw the fountain pen at my face. “Here’s your junk. I don’t want it.” I trembled as I picked it up. The barrel was maliciously dented, the nib snapped in two. My parents took Aurora’s hand. “Aurora is so clever. We don’t steal worthless junk like this.” “Didn’t you say you wanted to practice at the mall, sweetie? Come on, let’s go show Mom and Dad what you can do.” “Take whatever you like. If anything happens, we’ve got your back.” Wesley chimed in, “Don’t worry, sis. I’ve got your back too!” “Aurora, tell me, who’s better? Us, or your old family?” Aurora clapped her hands. “My new mom, dad, and brother are the best! You even let me steal from fancy malls!” “I feel so much more accomplished now!” The four of them left, cheerful and excited. I was stunned. In just one month, the word “steal” had become a badge of honor in this house. Mom, Dad, have you thrown away your values and your professional ethics just to please your biological daughter? That night, Aurora returned, triumphant, surrounded by her adoring family. She came to my room to gloat. “Look! This perfume is worth over six hundred dollars. I got it without paying a cent!” “And this ring? The price tag was over a thousand.” “The salesclerks are probably still searching for it. They almost suspected me, but Mom and Dad said a few words and shut them right up.” “What do you think? You have the guts to call the cops on me?” “Oh, that’s right, you don’t. Because Mom and Dad will just send you back to prison.” “You’re so pathetic. Ten years in this house and they treat you like dirt.” “I’ve only been back a few months, and they worship me.” I looked up at her and laughed, my voice dripping with contempt. Aurora’s smug expression vanished. “What are you laughing at?” I raised an eyebrow. “At how naive you are.” “They only indulge you because you steal things that don’t matter.” “And you’re already showing off because of a little affection? You must be starved for love.” “When I was a kid, I accidentally tore up some of their legal documents and replaced them with my drawings. When they found out, they didn’t even have the heart to scold me.” “You think stealing a few things from strangers proves they love you? How pathetic.” Aurora glared at me. “Don’t try to manipulate me! You’re just jealous!” I shrugged. “Think what you want. I can tell you’re not so sure yourself.” “You know deep down that they’re only indulging you because you just got here. But they raised me for ten years.” “Do you dare steal something important to them? No, you don’t.” Aurora’s eyes burned with hatred. “You bitch! I’ll show you just how much they adore me!” My parents and Wesley had recently taken on a case for Zinberg Corp., the most powerful company in the city. After losing the initial trial, Zinberg Corp. had hired our family’s firm.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “407668”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When Elias McKay was disowned, the city’s elite eagerly awaited my downfall. I’d abandoned my arranged fiancé for this “promising” man, only for his stepfamily to seize control, turning him from golden boy to stray dog overnight. I was labeled shortsighted and gold‑digging. Elias stood under a bridge, smoking. I walked over in heels and slipped a small box into his suit pocket. He looked down—a pack of three ultra‑thin condoms. “What’s this supposed to mean?” His voice was rough. “We didn’t use protection that last night before you vanished.” I patted his shoulder. “Sell them for a meal. Consider it severance.” Elias stared before letting out a low laugh. “Audrey Reed, you’re ruthless.” “Just matching your style,” I replied, turning to leave. He caught my wrist, grip crushing. “If we’re ending this, return the Patek Philippe Celestial you took from my house years ago.” That watch was his mother’s last gift before she died. I’d meant to give it back when he recovered. “I lost it,” I lied. Elias’s eyes darkened. He released me. “Get out.” I walked away. My phone buzzed instantly: “Matt Noth—Elias’s half‑brother, the McKay heir now—wants to see you. 8 PM, penthouse suite, The Platinum Hotel.” 1. Truth be told, I was even poorer than Elias. My father was a gambler, my mother ran off, and I’d been working since I was sixteen to support myself. For the three years I was with Elias, all my living expenses came from him; I hadn’t saved a dime. Now that he was down and out, I couldn’t even cover next month’s rent. My phone vibrated with an unknown number. “Miss Reed? I have a job for you. Interested?” “What kind of job?” “The new golden boy of the McKay family, Elias’s half-brother, Matt Noth. He wants to see you. Tonight at 8 PM, penthouse suite, The Platinum Hotel.” I sneered. “He wants me to… entertain him?” “Conversation, five hundred an hour.” “Miss Reed, I hear you’re a bit short on cash lately. Matt said if you agree to come, he’ll pay a ten thousand advance.” I looked at the watch in my drawer, remembering Elias under the bridge, smoking. “Send me the address.” When I walked into The Platinum Hotel wearing my only presentable little black dress, the security guards’ gazes were like they were sizing up a commodity with a price tag. The penthouse suite door was ajar. Matt Noth stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, a striking resemblance to Elias. “You came?” He didn’t turn around. “Close the door.” I closed it. When he finally turned, I noticed he was thinner than Elias, with a more feminine cast to his features. His gaze, when it landed on me, held a calculating scrutiny, as if appraising my worth. “My brother has good taste,” he said, walking towards me, his fingers hooking under my chin. “Too bad he’s an idiot. Got into a huge fight with the family over you, and now look, he’s got nothing to show for it.” I slapped his hand away. “Mr. Noth, I’m here for conversation, not to sleep with you.” “Is there a difference?” He chuckled. “Women like you, don’t you just do whatever for money?” I turned to leave. “Twenty thousand,” he said. “Stay tonight, the money will be in your account by morning.” My hand was already on the doorknob. “Thirty thousand,” he upped the ante. “Audrey Reed, your gambler father went to Vegas again yesterday and racked up an eighty thousand debt with loan sharks. What do you think those debt collectors will do when they find you?” A chill ran down my spine. How did he know? “I’ve looked into you,” Matt’s voice was laced with amusement. “Thoroughly. You stole a classmate’s eraser in third grade, got disciplined in middle school for fighting, and in high school, working at a karaoke bar, a customer touched your leg, and you smashed a bottle over his head… Tsk tsk, quite the firecracker.” I slowly turned around. “Fifty thousand.” Matt loosened his tie. “Spend three days with me. After that, I’ll clear your father’s debt and give you another hundred thousand. You can go wherever you please.” I stared at him. “Does Elias know you’re so interested in his ex-girlfriend?” “He knows,” Matt’s smile was malicious. “I’m doing it on purpose. Ever since we were kids, I’ve wanted everything he had. Toys, rooms, our father’s attention… now it’s your turn.” “What if I refuse?” “Then you won’t be leaving this hotel tonight.” He pressed a button on his phone, and footsteps sounded outside the door, at least four or five people. “I don’t like being refused.” 2. My mind raced. Fighting was clearly out of the question. Call the police? Matt was bold enough to do this, he must have everything covered. “I need to think about it,” I stalled for time. “You have ten seconds,” Matt began to count down. “Ten, nine…” When he got to three, I spoke. “I agree.” He raised an eyebrow. “That quick?” “But I have conditions,” I said. “First, half the money has to be transferred to my account now. Second, you can’t touch me these three days – I mean any physical contact. Third, I want to see Elias once.” Matt narrowed his eyes. “See my brother? Still carrying a torch for him?” “I want to tell him to his face that I chose you.” I forced a smile. “That’s what makes it truly exciting, isn’t it?” He stared at me for a long time, then burst out laughing. “Fine! Audrey Reed, you’ve got guts!” He pulled out his phone and made the transfer. “Twenty-five thousand, half upfront. The rest tomorrow morning. As for seeing my brother… I’ll take you tomorrow.” My phone vibrated with the deposit notification. I looked at the string of numbers, my heart pounding. Matt gestured to the sofa. “Now, drink with me.” I can’t remember how much I drank that night, only that Matt kept badmouthing Elias. He talked about how Elias had bullied him as a child, how he was their father’s favorite, and how Elias pretended to be high-minded but had a messy private life. “He’s slept with more women than you’ve had hot meals,” Matt guzzled some whiskey. “Do you really think he loved you? He just wanted to spite my dad, to prove he was independent.” I clutched my glass and said nothing. “But you’re pretty impressive yourself,” he leaned closer, his boozy breath hot on my face. “To make him break with his family over you. Too bad, though, my dad gave me everything before he died. Elias is a pathetic loser now, can’t even support himself. You still expect him to save you?” “I don’t expect anything from him,” I said. “Smart girl,” Matt patted my cheek. “Stick with me, and you’ll be set.” He drunkenly slumped onto the sofa and fell asleep. I carefully got up, rummaged in my bag for the sleeping pills I’d prepared, crushed them, poured them into his remaining drink, stirred it, and then helped him drink it. Matt mumbled a few words and then completely passed out. I quickly searched him, found his phone, unlocked it with his fingerprint, and went to his contacts. Sure enough, Elias’s number was there, saved as “Useless Brother.” I jotted down the number, deleted the record, and put the phone back. Then I took a wad of cash from his wallet, about two thousand, and snagged the Rolex from the table – that should fetch another fifteen thousand or so. After all that, I took a picture of the sleeping Matt and sent it to my phone. Just to be safe. It was 3 AM when I left the hotel. I hailed a cab and gave the address of the bridge Elias had mentioned earlier. The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Miss, that’s not a safe area.” “Just drive.” When we arrived, Elias wasn’t there. The bridge underpass was empty, save for a few homeless people sleeping. I tried calling the number. It rang three times, then picked up. It was Elias’s voice, tired and hoarse, asking who it was. “It’s me,” I said. “Where are you?” A long silence followed. “Audrey Reed?” “Matt found me,” I said bluntly. “He wanted me to spend three days with him, offered me a hundred thousand, and said he’d clear my dad’s debt. I agreed, took twenty-five thousand as a deposit, and now I’m on the run.” Another pause. Then I heard him curse under his breath. “Send me your location,” he said. “Stay put, I’m coming to get you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “407667”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I lived with Larry Evans for three years. We occasionally slept together, but we never kissed. It was the purest form of “friends with benefits.” Until I accidentally saw him and his secretary acting intimately, her freely entering and leaving his private space. I understood, and discreetly packed up my things. That night, as I left, I sent him a farewell text: “I’m going back home to get married. Let’s not keep in touch anymore.” Later, I was seeing off a blind date. I turned around and met Larry’s gaze. He could no longer maintain his facade of gentle rationality, pressing me against the wall in a fit of rage: “What does he have that I don’t? Money, power… or is he just better at pleasing you?” 1. Near the end of the workday, a sudden heavy rain poured down. My colleague, Maya Chen, had forgotten her umbrella and sidled up to me, hoping to share mine. I didn’t refuse. As I looked down, opening the umbrella, I heard Maya sigh with envy: “It really is best to be a secretary, isn’t it? First dibs. Anna Miller has only been here three weeks and she’s already sharing an umbrella with Mr. Evans. After three months, will we all be calling her Mrs. Evans?” I looked up. My gaze pierced through the rain, settling on the black umbrella. Two figures walked side-by-side. Larry strode ahead, and Anna jogged to keep up behind him. She ran too quickly, lost her balance, gasped, and stumbled towards the ground. Larry reached out just in time, steadying her by the waist. The scene unfolded perfectly, like a classic romance drama on TV. I averted my eyes, shook the umbrella handle, and thousands of raindrops plummeted to the ground, creating ripples. “Aren’t you going? If the rain gets any heavier, we won’t be able to leave.” I prompted. Maya, seeing I wasn’t responding, poked my arm helplessly. “That’s Mr. Evans, young, accomplished, and impeccably principled – everyone at the company puts him on a pedestal. Aren’t you even a little tempted?” She finished, not waiting for my answer, then made a dramatic gesture, clutching her heart as if in pain. “Anyway, my heart is aching to see someone else claim Mr. Evans’s passenger seat.” Maya’s theatrics made me chuckle. I took out my car keys and pressed the button; the lights of my Audi on the roadside flashed on. I playfully lifted her chin and smiled, “You might not get to sit in Mr. Evans’s passenger seat, but how about sitting in mine?” 2. Dropping Maya off took a bit longer than expected. When I pushed open the door, Larry had just finished placing the last dish on the dining table. He was wearing comfortable loungewear, and the apron he had on seemed to be a matching couple’s set the mall had given us during our last grocery run. Under the warm yellow light from above, the usual aloofness that came from his immersion in the business world melted away, leaving only a gentle, soft demeanor. Larry stepped forward, took my bag, and hung it on the coat rack. Then he bent down, taking out my slippers and placing them by my feet. His fingertips naturally brushed against the ankle strap of my high heel, a warm sensation against my cold skin. I stiffly took half a step back, declining his help. “I can do it myself.” Larry paused, but said nothing. “I made your favorite pork ribs with pumpkin. Go wash your hands and eat while it’s hot.” I silently changed my shoes and walked to the sink. As the water ran through my fingers, my thoughts drifted. Three years of living together, and Larry and I had done quite a few things that crossed the line. Helping me take off my shoes was a trivial matter. But just now, as Larry leaned in, an unusual sense of resistance welled up inside me. I knew why, but I didn’t want to admit it. It was because of Anna, and because of myself. Over these three years, living together day after day like a frog slowly boiling in warm water, I’d forgotten that Larry and I’s beginning was nothing more than a drunken, passionate haze. I’d forgotten that his kindness towards me was simply good manners. I had uncontrollably fallen in, mistaking physical needs for love. Anna’s appearance had jolted me awake, a harsh realization. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late to pull away now. 3. I ate that meal without much enthusiasm, taking only a few bites before putting down my chopsticks and going upstairs to wash up. When I came out of the bathroom, Larry was waiting outside the door. His brow was furrowed, and his gaze, fixed on me, was filled with worry. For a moment, I didn’t know how to act towards Larry, so I simply ignored him. As I brushed past him, Larry grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, as if he meant to leave an indelible red mark on my skin. “Today, you…” I sensed what Larry was about to ask. So, I cut him off. “Is it… time?” A flicker of surprise crossed Larry’s eyes. I didn’t give him a chance to react, stepping onto my toes and initiating a kiss. But gradually, Larry took over the lead. His palm pressed against the back of my head, deepening what had started as a tentative kiss. Larry couldn’t even wait the few steps back to the bedroom. He pushed me back into the bathroom. The humid steam hadn’t yet dissipated in the bathroom. Through my thin nightgown, I was pressed against the cold, damp tiles. Larry was my only source of warmth. I could only wrap my arms around his neck, forced to endure everything he brought. I bit my tongue, suppressing the tremor in my throat. It felt like a competition; speaking first would be revealing my hand, losing everything. I didn’t want to lose too badly. Sweat matted my hair to my forehead. Larry reached up and pushed it away. He lowered his head, tenderly kissing away the tears that spilled from my eyes. “Don’t hold back, call my name, please?” It was always like this. Larry was always like this, using soft, coaxing tones, weaving illusions of love that made me fall into them. Before an uncontrollable sob could escape, I bit hard into Larry’s shoulder. Even tasting the metallic tang of blood, I didn’t let go. Larry grunted in pain, then chuckled softly in my ear, “I really can’t do anything with you.” In the end, I had no strength left. Larry carried me back to the bedroom. In a daze, I felt my left hand being gently stroked. I curled my fingertips and asked in a hoarse voice, “What’s wrong?” Larry seemed not to have expected me to still be awake. He coughed lightly, as if covering something up, then intertwined our fingers. “Nothing, go to sleep.” 4. Everything that happened on that rainy night dried up with the bright, clear day. I had been on a business trip for over half a month, working non-stop, and had no mind to revisit those memories. So, when I carried my suitcase and entered the password, only to run directly into Anna, I couldn’t help but feel a moment of bewilderment. Anna was wearing a lace slip dress. I recognized it immediately as the one I had tucked away in Larry’s closet. Anna’s gaze, initially joyful, turned into a subtle hostility when she saw it was me. She curved her lips into a smile and, in the tone of a hostess, greeted me: “Miss Reed, is there something you need?” I rubbed my temples, which ached from exhaustion. I didn’t shriek questions at Anna about why she was there, nor did I press Larry about his whereabouts. I simply returned a calm smile. “I’m just packing up some things, and then I’ll be leaving.” After all, I had lived there for three years. I went up and down several times before managing to pack all my belongings. I even took the rose bush I’d grown on the balcony, even though Larry had been the one watering it all these years. I was loaded down with bags. Anna glanced at me and prompted, “Miss Reed, you should check carefully to see if you’ve left anything behind.” She tilted her chin, a hint of sharpness in her otherwise sweet, compliant face. “After all, there’s a new person here, and old things should be thrown out. If anything’s left behind, it would be a shame for you to have to pick it out of the trash.” The curve of my lips didn’t change. “Now that you mention it, I just remembered… I do have one last thing I haven’t taken.” My gaze swept over Anna, my eyebrows slightly raised. “The slip dress you’re wearing is mine. Do you want to take it off for me?” “You!” Anna covered her chest, her face flushing with indignation. I didn’t want to descend into a verbal battle with her. I waved my hand and said blandly, “Never mind. I have a bit of a germ phobia. It’s yours.” 5. I returned to my old rented apartment with my heavy luggage. Even after moving in with Larry, I had never given it up. Probably because I was too pessimistic, feeling that everything with Larry was nothing but a mirage. Eventually, I would wake from the dream. It was fortunate that I was so pessimistic, allowing me a place to stay now. I quickly washed up. Unable to fight off the exhaustion from working non-stop, I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke again, it was already evening. Endless darkness swallowed me. My heart suddenly skipped a beat, filled with an indescribable loneliness. This feeling was like being abandoned by the world. Fortunately, this mood didn’t last too long, broken by the sudden ring of my phone. I picked up, and my mother’s voice reached my ear. What she said wasn’t new. It was just the same old worries, asking if I was eating and sleeping well, if work was going smoothly—the same familiar questions she’d repeated for years. I listened quietly, responding occasionally. Finally, a slight catch in my mother’s gentle voice. “Audrey, are you coming home for the holidays this year?” I wasn’t sure why my mother was asking about holiday plans so early, but I answered truthfully: “Not sure yet. Why?” There was a pause before she replied, “It’s nothing. Mom just hasn’t seen you in a long time and misses you a bit.” Her words hit me like a hammer to the chest. A dull ache of sadness welled up. I grew up in a single-parent home. My concept of family was always vague. My childhood memories were only of my father, idle and drunk every day. He had a bad reputation, involved in gambling, drinking, and womanizing. When he won money, my mother and I had it better; at least we weren’t beaten. But when he lost, it was different. He’d get violent from the alcohol, grab my mother’s hair, and drag her into the bedroom, where only a single bare bulb dimly glowed, like a butcher dragging prey to slaughter. The old house was in disrepair, and the door didn’t close tightly. At just five years old, I was forced to watch my mother suffer through a narrow crack in the door. Inside, my mother’s piercing screams echoed. Outside, I cried, my hands bruised and bloody from hitting the door. I couldn’t break it down. I couldn’t stop the torture from continuing. This went on for a long time. Until the day my father’s veined fist landed on me. My usually submissive mother suddenly fought back. She grabbed a kitchen knife and swung it wildly. “You animal! If you dare touch Audrey, none of us will live!” Her black hair was disheveled, and blood seeped from the wound on her forehead. At first glance, she looked like a demon crawled out of hell. My father was startled and stormed out, cursing. My mother put down the knife, suddenly losing all strength, and pulled me into her arms. Tears dripped, soaking my hair, and her voice choked out, “Don’t be afraid, Audrey. Mom will take you away.” Later, my mother single-handedly supported our home. She fought tooth and nail to put me through school. All I could do was study hard, work hard, and succeed so she could enjoy a peaceful life. But these years, I had only focused on making money, forgetting that what she truly needed was companionship. I looked at my savings; that string of zeros was enough for me to be set for the rest of my life. I no longer had a reason to stay in the city. After realizing this, I spent a week settling work handovers and processing my resignation. That night, as I left, I felt completely unburdened. I didn’t even bring a suitcase. Before boarding the plane, I sent Larry one last text message. It was a period at the end of our three years. “I’m going back home to get married. Let’s not keep in touch anymore.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “407666”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After trying on the wedding dress, Ethan gently pulled the seatbelt over and fastened it for me. “Babe, I’ve seen you in the wedding dress. I won’t be attending the wedding.” I froze in shock. “What do you mean?” He smiled and kissed my forehead. “I’ve fallen for a younger woman. She has a temper and refuses to be a mistress. I got a marriage certificate with her this morning.” “I’m someone else’s husband now. If I go through with our wedding ceremony, my wife will be heartbroken.” My mind buzzed, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “Why?” His tone was apologetic yet innocent. “Babe, you’re the one I love most, but men… we’re always drawn to eighteen-year-old girls.” “If you still want a wedding, find a man to pretend to be the groom. Don’t shortchange yourself—it breaks my heart.” I pressed the pregnancy test result deeper into my pocket. He was right. I shouldn’t shortchange myself. Ethan acted like nothing had happened, habitually ruffling my hair. “She’s incredibly stubborn. If I didn’t get the marriage certificate with her, she wouldn’t let me touch her at all.” “I pursued her for nearly half a year. She only gave me her first time yesterday.” I stared at him as if someone had their hands around my throat, my limbs turning cold. But he smiled deeply. “Right in the seat you’re sitting in. Like a little wildcat—scratching and clawing, then melting into softness.” Following his lingering, reminiscing gaze, I looked at the windshield. Palm prints, large and small, overlapping. Not yet faded. A wave of nausea surged up my throat. I gripped the seatbelt so hard my eyes reddened. He cupped my bloodless face, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Why are you crying? You’re still Mrs. Walker.” In Ethan’s seductive eyes, there was still that impossibly thick affection. As if he wasn’t the one who’d just casually mentioned getting a certificate with another woman, or the one with that intoxicated look while describing passionate entanglement in my seat. The absurd sense of disconnection swept through my entire body. I couldn’t breathe. He sighed helplessly. “I know you’re uncomfortable, but she’s sensitive. If I attend the wedding, she’ll definitely cry. She’s different from other women—pure and virtuous, wanting only devoted love. I pursued her for half a year before she gave herself to me. I have to take responsibility. You’ve always been understanding and considerate. You’ll understand, right?” Half a year. We’d been planning our wedding for half a year too. So while he personally handled every detail of the wedding I wanted—the style, the venue, the flowers, the invitations— He was also working tirelessly in places I couldn’t see, doing everything in his power to sleep with another woman. I curled my frozen fingers, numbly closing my eyes. “Since you’ve married someone else, let’s end this.” He paused for two seconds, then laughed. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” “You’ve been with me since you were eighteen. You’ve had two abortions. If you leave me, what man out there would want you?” I stared at him. My heart felt like red-hot coals were rolling across it. Ten years. We’d lived under bridges, shared single bowls of instant noodles. In the hardest times, we could only drink water to fill our stomachs. Because we had no money, we couldn’t afford birth control or proper abortions. In the freezing cold, I deliberately exposed myself, climbed stairs and threw myself down them. Through the pain, crying until I was exhausted, I lost two children. Ethan had knelt by my hospital bed, stabbing himself twice. With bloody hands trembling, he covered my eyes, speaking word by word in my ear: “Peyton, I’ll make sure you live a good life. If I ever wrong you, may I die a terrible death.” That promise was heavy. I believed it for half my life. But now, it was easily defeated by a woman he’d known for six months. I didn’t understand how someone who loved me so much could suddenly turn rotten. His phone rang with a special ringtone. One that had appeared many times at night. Ethan always said it was clients. Because I trusted him so much, I never doubted. Now I realized how stupid I’d been. He didn’t answer immediately, his voice calm like he was pacifying an unreasonable child. “Why make trouble over a plaything? We have ten years together. Are you really going to give up over a piece of paper?” “You’re not young anymore, Peyton. No parents, no mother, no job. Only I’ll take care of you. Keep making a scene and it won’t end well.” He pulled the car to the roadside. “Take a taxi home yourself. I’m picking her up. Think carefully about what I said.” The car door closed like a heavy slap. Watching the speeding car disappear, I bent over the roadside, vomiting until my face was covered in tears. Ethan was wrong. No one gets a marriage certificate with a toy. That certificate I’d waited ten years for and never received. True love never changes—it just transfers. I looked up at the gloomy sky, my heart hollow and drafty. After a long while, I picked up my phone and made a call.

When I got home, Ethan’s Bentley was parked outside. Through the cracked car window, a man’s languid panting drifted out. “Call me darling.” “Darling…” “Who do you love most?” “You, of course…” “Such a good girl. I’d die for you.” I stood there, my face drained of color. Even though the summer sun was scorching and hot, I felt like I was standing in freezing cold. An hour later, Ethan walked in with his arm around a petite woman. Seeing me sitting in the living room, Sophia acted like she’d suffered a great injustice, her eyes instantly welling up. “Why is she here? Didn’t you say this was our home?” “Are you lying to me? You still can’t let her go, can you?” “Even if I love you, I’ll never sell my dignity to be your mistress. I’m leaving right now!” Ethan hurried to stop her, hugging and embracing her, trapping her in his arms. “What are you thinking? The marriage certificate has the official seal on it. You’re my wife. This is our home. She’s here to pack her things.” He looked at me without explanation or apology. “Peyton, the suburban villa is quiet with few people around. Go stay there for a while.” My mind went blank for a moment. Before anger could arrive, my heart felt a dull, physiological pain. Three years ago, when we moved into this villa, Ethan had held me with reddened eyes. “Peyton, this is our home from now on. You, me, and our children.” But now, this man who promised me a home was kicking me out of it three years later. “Peyton, my wife isn’t happy. I don’t want to say it twice.” He smiled, but his lowered voice carried clear warning. My sore throat felt blocked by soaked cotton. I realized in a daze that he wasn’t joking. After a long silence, under his confident certainty, I nodded hoarsely. “I understand.” Ethan stared at my retreating back, something stirring in his eyes. He suddenly strode forward and grabbed me, his voice softening slightly. “There’s an event this afternoon. Come with me.” Just as I was about to refuse, he interrupted first. “It’s Sophia’s first time at this kind of event. Help her with her dress and give her support.” I froze, feeling absurdly like laughing. Thinking of the little time I had left, I didn’t argue. Before the event, Sophia claimed she had no suitable dress. From my wardrobe, she precisely picked out the most luxurious birthday gift Ethan had ever given me—a unique dress worth six hundred million dollars with matching jewelry. She held Ethan’s arm while I carried her train, becoming the center of attention at the entire event. The guests’ mockery and whispered gossip followed me like shadows. “Mr. Walker really knows how to handle women. Having his wife carry his mistress’s train—she doesn’t dare say a word.” “What Mrs. Walker? Don’t you know Mr. Walker already got a certificate with this little mistress? Peyton is just trash who’s been used for ten years. She’s nothing.” “How stupid must she be to get nothing after ten years? Pathetic. Living like something worse than a dog—she might as well be dead.” I fled the banquet hall and hid in the restroom. But I heard someone teasing Ethan. “Ethan, Peyton followed you for ten years. Did you really get a certificate with that innocent girl?” “She wanted security. It’s just a piece of paper. What can it change?” “What if Peyton runs away? Won’t you regret it?” My heart tightened, but I heard him laugh carelessly. “Peyton’s whole world is me. After following me for ten years, I’ve already broken her in. She’s no different from a dirty old rag now.” “I know her too well. When I get tired of playing around, she’ll still be standing there waiting for me like a good girl.” I couldn’t hear the rest. I walked to the sink, desperately splashing water on my face, finally biting down on the flesh between my thumb and index finger. Watching water mix with humiliated tears splash into the sink, I didn’t cry out loud. Ethan, this time you bet wrong. This dirty rag you despise won’t wait for you anymore. Turning to leave the restroom, I was suddenly struck across the face.

I covered my burning cheek, turning my head in disbelief. Sophia rolled her wrist, the gentleness on her face peeling away. “You heard everything. Ethan already got a certificate with me, and you’re still shamelessly clinging to him? How cheap can you be?” “If you love being a mistress and getting used by men so much, go to a brothel.” “Though a freebie like you who’s been played for ten years is only fit to pair up with trash from the slums.” My head buzzed, my vision filled only with the woman’s sharp, mean face and constantly moving mouth. I laughed in fury, but Sophia didn’t give me a chance to fight back. She suddenly screamed, tore open the front of her dress, and threw herself backward. “Peyton!” A cold voice exploded behind me. Ethan rushed over, helping Sophia up and pulling her into his arms. She cried so hard she could barely stand, tears flowing instantly. “Ethan, I’m the mistress. I ruined your relationship with Miss Reed. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have appeared. I’m a vicious homewrecker.” As she spoke, she slapped herself hard twice across the face. Ethan grabbed her hands, his eyes trembling. “Who said those things to you?” Sophia bit her lip, clutching her clothes desperately. “Please, don’t ask.” But when her eyes swept over me, she shook her head in fear. “Someone like me can’t afford to offend wealthy ladies like you. Ethan, I’m not worthy of you. Let me go. I don’t want to die mysteriously someday.” He frowned, his gaze turning hostile as he stared at me. “Explain!” I lowered my hand, revealing my swollen red cheek. “You should ask what she said.” “Miss Reed!” Sophia shrieked, her voice sharp and piercing. “I did slap you, but only because you threatened me with my parents’ lives. They’re just ordinary people. If you’re not satisfied, let me hit you back. I’m begging you, don’t hurt them.” My eyes turned red with anger. “You’re lying. It was clearly you who—” “Enough.” Ethan cut me off coldly, looking at me with disappointment. “Peyton, I’ve spoiled you.” “Do you think just because you have no parents, I can’t touch you?” Perhaps I’d expected it all along. Perhaps my heart had grown cold long ago. I laughed hollowly, my eyes burning painfully. “So what do you want to do to stand up for your wife?” He walked slowly toward me, methodically removing from my finger the ring he’d personally made for me when he earned his first fortune. He turned to his assistant. “Call the police. My wife’s jewelry was stolen. We’ve caught the thief red-handed.” I forgot how to move, my mind completely blank. Ethan’s rise to success hadn’t been easy. He was accustomed to ruthlessness. I was his only weakness. Regardless of right or wrong, he always sided with family over justice. In River City, no one dared use dirty tricks on me. But now, the person plunging the knife into my heart was him. Ethan caressed the ring, his cold features becoming increasingly unfamiliar through the tears welling in my eyes. “Peyton, you’re too disobedient. Go inside and reflect for a few days.” “Don’t worry, it won’t be long. When you come out, I’ll put the ring back on your finger myself.” I pulled my lips into a mocking smile. As the police officers walked in and handcuffed me, I expressionlessly withdrew the hand he was holding. The suddenly empty sensation made Ethan frown uneasily. He stared at my retreating back with the strange feeling he’d never be able to hold onto me again. Just as he was about to step forward, Sophia grabbed his arm first.

“Ethan, thank you for standing up for me. I was so scared just now.” He clicked his tongue and pinched her face affectionately. “What compensation do you want?” Sophia smiled and snatched the ring from his hand, tossing it into the trash. Seeing his expression change, she immediately teared up guiltily. “Is it that important?” She made as if to dig through the trash. “Then I’ll find it for you. After all, it’s ten years of history. Even though she hurt me, I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” Ethan pulled her back by the waist, his heart melting completely. “How could it be more important than you? Don’t dirty your hands. Here’s my black card—buy whatever you want.” Sophia huffed indignantly and refused. “I don’t want your money. I only love you as a person.” “Yes, yes, yes. I want to spend money on my wife. If you don’t spend it, I’ll feel terrible.” Only then did she reluctantly accept it. Three days later, I was brought out of solitary confinement in a daze. I was escorted directly to a private room in a club. Pushing open the door, Ethan and Sophia were sharing a grape on the center sofa. The grape dropped, and they took the opportunity to kiss deeply. The cheering from the surrounding men and women nearly blew the roof off. I don’t know how long passed before Ethan noticed me standing at the door. He stared at my gaunt, pale face, his expression immediately darkening. “What happened? Did someone bully you inside?” Before I could speak, Sophia giggled. “Miss Reed really knows how to manipulate men. With your relationship with Ethan, who would dare bully you? You must have spent a lot of time on this sickly makeup—it looks so realistic.” Ethan’s movement to stand up fell back down because of her words. He knocked out a cigarette, lighting it with the flame Sophia offered. Smoke blurred his features. Only those eyes looking at me showed suppressed impatience. “Since you’ve reflected, come apologize to Sophia.” Sophia wore all white, sitting obediently in Ethan’s arms, swirling a glass of alcohol with unknown proof. “Actually, I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” “But you insulted my parents. Anyone would be upset, right?” She paused, as if remembering something, making a strange exclamation. “I forgot—your parents abandoned you as a child. You’re a pitiful creature nobody wanted.” I said nothing. She placed the drink on the coffee table and smiled. “Apologize.” I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Sophia shook her head. “Just words aren’t sincere enough. This drink is sixty proof. Drink it.” I stared at the glass of bubbling green liquid, instinctively looking at Ethan. During those years building his empire with him, I’d drunk myself into a perforated stomach at countless business dinners. I’d been in the ICU several times. Ethan had been terrified. He never let me touch alcohol again. He knew better than anyone how close I’d come to dying on the operating table. But now the man before me only exhaled a smoke ring indifferently, as if casually commenting on nice weather. “Peyton, it’s just one glass. Your tolerance isn’t that low.” I’d stopped expecting anything long ago, yet my heart still clenched uncontrollably. I picked it up and swallowed it down. The burning pain seared from my throat straight into my stomach. My lower abdomen cramped. I staggered back two steps in pain. “Miss Reed has such a good tolerance. Then drink these few glasses too.” Sophia pointed at a row of colorful drinks on the table. My face turned cold. Sophia looked at Ethan pitifully. “Ethan, she called me a mistress and threatened to kill my parents. My spirit has been so badly hurt. I’m only asking for this tiny bit of compensation. Is that too much?” “Of course not.” Ethan held her, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, saying matter-of-factly, “Peyton, I want to help you too, but what you did was too much. Listen to Sophia. Once she’s appeased, you can atone.” I nodded calmly. Clutching my knife-twisted abdomen, I picked up the decanter on the table. “A few glasses aren’t enough to atone. I’ll chug the bottle.” When the bottle hit the floor, I couldn’t help spitting blood everywhere, collapsing weakly to the ground. Sophia stepped back several paces in disgust. “Miss Reed, it’s just one bottle. Did you really need to use blood packs?” Ethan was also convinced by this explanation, frowning impatiently. “Enough. How long are you going to keep up this act? Sophia has been merciful enough to you. Still not embarrassed enough? Get up.” I didn’t speak, just looked up at him. The woman closest to me suddenly screamed. “Blood—her pants are covered in blood. This is… she’s having a miscarriage…” Meeting Ethan’s face instantly drained of color, I showed my first genuinely sincere smile of the day. “I’ve paid her back with your child too. Is that enough?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “379958”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On a reality show, my sister and I both fell into the water. My husband, Holt, jumped into the water without a second thought to save my sister. He held her close with concern and urgency, leaving without looking back. I was left behind, nearly sinking to the bottom of the lake before the crew finally pulled me out. The next day, when I handed Holt the divorce papers, he glared at me darkly. “Lila can’t swim, so I saved her first. Are you seriously jealous over this?” I looked calmly into his eyes. “Yeah. Sign it.” Holt and I quietly obtained our divorce certificate. Holt kept his handsome brow furrowed, but at this point, it couldn’t stir even a fraction of emotion in me. He tucked the certificate into his pocket. “I’ll drive you.” I shook my head. “No need.” Holt seemed dissatisfied with my attitude. “Tessa, there’s no need to be like this. We’ve been together for three years, after all. Divorce doesn’t mean we have to act like strangers.” I was shocked for a second, barely believing these words could come from Holt’s mouth. After all, now that Lila had returned, he should be thrilled that I was smart enough to get out of their way. “Mr. Sterling, to me, divorce means divorce. We’re not family, and we can’t be friends either.” “You…” “Besides, we don’t have children. There’s no need to stay in touch.” My words angered Holt, and he turned and left. I watched his retreating figure and sighed helplessly. But when I thought about my bank account balance, all that unhappiness vanished in an instant. Although I was Tessa Grant of the Grant family, I hadn’t received any money from them. Instead, the divorce made me a small-time millionaire. There was no way I could get half of Sterling Corporation, so when I had the lawyer draft the divorce agreement, I only asked for twenty million dollars. Holt agreed, and he also gave me luxury properties in New York and Los Angeles, three domestic properties, and six apartments in prime downtown locations. This was enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life. Looking at these cold numbers, I suddenly couldn’t help but laugh out loud. How wonderful. I could finally start living for myself. After the divorce, in just one day, I moved into a penthouse apartment in the city center. Having it registered in my name gave me an unprecedented sense of security. I thought leaving Holt would be painful and devastating. After all, during our three-year marriage, I had loved him. But unexpectedly, that night I slept exceptionally well. The long-lost relaxation let me sleep until noon the next day.

Holt and I had a business marriage. Grandpa Sterling and Grandpa Grant were war buddies who, after surviving life and death together, arranged this match. But originally, this marriage was meant for Lila. The reason was simple—she was the rose the Grant family had raised for eighteen years. As for me, I was the Grant family’s biological daughter who had been switched at birth. Someone like me would never have had a chance to meet someone like Holt—a golden boy, an heir. Much less fall in love. Until I was eighteen, when the Grant parents found me, tearfully telling me I was their biological daughter, and that a nurse’s mistake at birth had caused our separation. At that time, I was living in an orphanage. When I saw my parents arrive in their luxury car, I thought my future days would be easier. At least I wouldn’t have to collect trash to sell for tuition money. The orphanage was poor, and not every child could go to school. But I didn’t receive the guilt and compensation from my parents. Only cold treatment. I thought, as long as I can go to school, it’s fine. They said the fake daughter’s parents had passed away, so they wouldn’t send her away. But their daily treatment of us was worlds apart. I didn’t feel like the Grant family’s Tessa. I felt more like the maid’s daughter. It wasn’t until my parents asked me to enter a business marriage that I learned the handsome young man Lila had always followed around had been in a serious car accident. They said his leg would never heal, and he would limp for the rest of his life. Lila cried and screamed that she would never marry a cripple. So this mission fell to me. I could have refused. But when I thought of that face, so handsome under the sunlight, which I hadn’t seen in a year, I agreed as if possessed. That year I was twenty, about to start my sophomore year. My parents made me take a leave of absence, and I got married at a young age. When I went to see him, he threw a terrible tantrum, smashing a vase at my feet and shouting for Lila to come. But Lila had already gone abroad to study, funded by our parents’ black card. The Grant parents’ business relied on Sterling Corporation. Lila didn’t want to marry a cripple, but they needed someone to stabilize the relationship between the two families, so they pushed me forward. That was the first time my mother, Mrs. Grant, showed me any kindness. She cried about how difficult things were for the family, cried about how pitiful Lila was, cried about how Mr. Grant’s hair was already turning white. I remained unmoved. I said, why are you telling me all this? If I want to marry him, it’s not because of you. It’s because of Holt himself. When I was a freshman, Holt was a senior. He was the famous campus heartthrob and campus king. The confession wall was filled with countless confessions, and countless daughters of wealthy families tried to win his favor. But at that time, only Lila was by his side. Because of this, Lila became the object of everyone’s admiration. She proudly talked about how unique she was to Holt, how she occupied an unshakable position in his heart. I appreciated people with good looks, but what I appreciated more was his academic achievement. His obsession with and dedication to mathematics led him to publish many SCI papers. I had read every single one, and they had even solved several problems I’d been stuck on. I was impressed by his talent. It wasn’t hard to go from admiration to love. On our wedding day, Holt didn’t smile once. I was so nervous that I kept trembling and wiping the sweat from my hands. I almost fell when Holt took my hand. The people around us laughed. I felt like something that couldn’t be presented in public. I faintly heard people mention Lila, and Holt’s face darkened even more. I thought, he must love Lila. Otherwise, why would he resent me so much? In that instant, I regretted it—regretted my marriage and regretted my secret crush. That night, Holt vented on my body, but his leg wasn’t working well. It hurt so much that I pushed him down, stopped him from moving, and sat on top of him myself, slowly taking him in. Before long, both our breathing grew heavy. Holt’s face flushed red, and I too was lost in my own movements.

There wasn’t much conflict in the Sterling household. Here, I actually felt more comfortable than I had at the Grant house. I loved reading and still loved researching academic problems. Although I had taken a leave of absence, I hadn’t forgotten to study. As for Holt, he went from not coming home for days at a time to coming home on time every day. Even when work was busy, he would send me messages saying where he’d gone. I learned massage techniques from a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner. I wondered if Holt’s leg could slowly improve through massage. Once I had the idea, I started doing it. At first, I was a bit shy when I told Holt about my plan. Later, I became skilled at massaging him. After six months, I could even recite all the acupuncture points on the human body from memory. Holt went from protesting at first to accepting it, and eventually waited for me to give him a half-hour massage every day. I felt my hands were getting stronger. Life was actually quite boring. So when I went to Sterling Corporation once to deliver documents Holt had left at home, a short drama editor noticed me. He asked if I wanted to try playing a supporting role in their drama—a scholar character. He thought my temperament was perfect. I agreed on impulse, and Holt didn’t object either. Unexpectedly, that short drama became a huge hit, and even I, as the third female lead, gained my own fans. I found it novel. I had never imagined entering the entertainment industry, a place that had nothing to do with me. Sterling Corporation had many businesses. Rain Entertainment was just a very small part of it. Holt said as long as I didn’t use the Sterling name outside, I could do whatever I wanted. So gradually, I got an agent, Lynn, and a small assistant. I also took on fourth, fifth, and sixth female lead roles in several big IP dramas. I became an unknown small-time actress. Sometimes scrolling through Twitter, I found it really interesting. I would lie in bed reading fan comments to Holt while massaging his leg with one hand. Without paying attention, I pressed somewhere I shouldn’t have. Holt let out a muffled groan. I thought I’d hurt him and quickly dropped my phone to check, but Holt pressed me down on the bed. Kissing came naturally, and what followed was just as natural. We became more and more in sync, both finding pleasure in it. From that point on, our relationship advanced by leaps and bounds. He would bring me my favorite little cakes, buy me clothes and jewelry, and occasionally take me to movies or walks by the lake. We were like an ordinary couple. Holt’s leg was getting better and better under my massage. Even the doctor called it a miracle. Now when Holt walked, as long as he didn’t move too fast, you couldn’t tell he had a limp at all. In the third year of our marriage, Lila came back. The day she returned, Holt surprisingly didn’t cling to me. My parents also called for the first time in three years, asking Holt and me to come home. Lila had been gone for three years and had never come back. At the only family gathering during Chinese New Year, Mr. and Mrs. Grant would awkwardly say that Lila was busy with her studies. Holt’s face was cold, and he said nothing. I didn’t know what he was thinking. After all, even though I was their biological daughter, I had barely been back to the Grant house since getting married. But the preferential treatment that should have gone to the Grant family had never stopped flowing their way. When Holt and I arrived at the Grant house, I saw a graceful young woman throw herself into Holt’s arms like the wind. I watched from the side. Holt didn’t push her away either. Tears fell from that woman’s eyes in large drops, soaking Holt’s suit. Watching this scene, my heart felt like it was being pricked by needles. I deeply regretted agreeing to return to the Grant house. Seeing me beside them, Lila straightened up. “I’m sorry, I was just so happy.” Holt’s temple twitched. With a cold face, he took my hand and led me to our seats. Lila looked at us with shock in her eyes. The meal was unbearable. Mr. and Mrs. Grant didn’t ask me once how I’d been doing recently. Instead, they desperately tried to get Lila and Holt to talk, saying things like “Lila has been thinking about you this whole time, Holt.” It suddenly struck me that my parents seemed to be pimping out Lila. From that day on, Lila appeared constantly around Holt and me like a fly. And Holt went from resisting at first to accepting her in less than a month. Lila wanted to enter the entertainment industry, so Holt had Rain Entertainment’s top agent handle her. Lila came and went from the Sterling Corporation building like the lady of the house. Everyone assumed she was Mrs. Sterling. After all, I had hidden my identity at Rain Entertainment. No one knew about my relationship with Holt. But Lila was different. She would loudly call Holt to act cute on the phone, then bring takeout to Holt’s office. As for me, after Holt coldly scolded me the first time I visited, I never went again. Everyone else thought I was some unknown actress trying to seduce the CEO. Lila was pure and lovely. With Holt’s backing, she quickly became popular, with resources constantly flowing her way. When Lynn asked me if I knew Lila, I said I didn’t. Lynn started gossiping about Lila, saying she was a diva who relied on her relationship with the CEO to snatch whatever endorsements she wanted. It wasn’t until three of my endorsements were stolen that I realized Lila was targeting me. As for Holt, since I entered this industry, he had never given me any preferential treatment. When we ran into each other in the building, he would act as if he didn’t see me. At that time, I hadn’t thought about divorce yet. After all, I really did like Holt.

Until something happened that seemed small to him. It was the first time I felt that Holt and I couldn’t go on anymore. It started with a popular wilderness reality show that invited both Lila and me. The whole process had been fairly harmonious. Lila played the role of a lively, cheerful celebrity, while I dutifully excelled in the games. That day, Holt rarely came to visit the set. The directors around him all courteously exchanged pleasantries with him. That’s when the accident happened. The bamboo bridge by the lake was old and in disrepair. When both Lila and I stepped onto it, it suddenly collapsed. Both of us fell into the lake. The surroundings erupted in chaos. The crew members all started to go into the water to save us. But what no one expected was that Sterling Corporation’s CEO, Holt, would be the first to jump into the lake. I couldn’t swim. When I saw Holt come in, I thought he was coming to save me. After all, I was his wife, no matter what. But when I saw him grab Lila and start swimming toward the shore, my heart suddenly felt at peace. I had only one thought: So after three years together, he doesn’t love me at all! Holt seemed not to notice that I had also fallen into the water. He picked up Lila and got into his Maybach. That urgency, that heartache—as I sank to the bottom of the lake, all I saw was the car driving away. By the time the crew pulled me out, I had passed out. It was just that coincidental. Everyone thought someone would save me, but Holt’s intervention made everyone forget about me. When the assistant director shouted to save me, everyone finally remembered I existed. I was rushed to the hospital. The reality show was suspended. When I woke up, only my agent Lynn was by my side. She was terrified, her eyes red as she looked at me. I moved my body. It seemed like nothing serious. “Lynn, it’s not like I died.” “Don’t say that! You scared me to death, Tessa. How could you be so unlucky? It’s all Mr. Sterling’s fault for making such a big show of saving Lila that everyone forgot about you. Don’t you feel hurt?” “I don’t.” My heart was very calm. I had foolishly thought Holt and I were husband and wife, that married couples were one. Reality had given me a harsh blow. I thought, Holt and I—this is where our fate ends. That afternoon when I was discharged, I saw Holt supporting Lila, with my parents following behind them. They were smiling, like a happy family. Lila leaned weakly on Holt, and my parents gently draped a coat over her. They seemed to have completely forgotten about me. I stared at their backs in a daze, then took out my phone and found the number of the lawyer Lynn had recommended to me. I asked him to draft a divorce agreement for me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “379957”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Everyone thought I’d lost my mind—my husband just died, and I burned down the factory we’d built together. But they didn’t know that a week ago, I caught my supposedly dead husband embracing his first love, smugly plotting: “The marriage certificate between me and that stupid woman is fake. Once I fake my death and she helps me pay off the debts, the factory will still be mine.” I stood behind a tree, my whole body ice-cold, yet I wanted to laugh. Turns out what I’d desperately protected all these years was never really my home. Since he faked his death to escape, dumping all the debts on me, I didn’t mind adding fuel to the fire myself. This blaze would completely “burn” the old me to death, along with his factory, reducing everything to ash. Outside the villa’s ornate iron gate, I saw the man who should have died in the fire. He was carefully supporting Lucy, whose delicate face glowed above a belly swollen with six months of pregnancy. And I could clearly see—the gemstone bracelet on Lucy’s wrist and the gold earrings dangling from her ears were the dowry my parents had specially made for me. Years ago, when I first took over factory management, Harrison had gently persuaded me: “Jewelry gets in the way when you’re working. It’d hurt if you bumped it.” I’d believed him and locked all my jewelry in an iron box, never imagining he’d secretly taken them out and given them to his childhood sweetheart. This was the devoted husband who’d promised to take care of me for life. He tightened his arm around Lucy’s waist, his voice sticky-sweet like melted candy: “Haha, Lucy, don’t worry. The factory’s buried in a million dollars of debt right now. Once that stupid woman fills the hole, Edith will call us right back.” “The factory manager position is mine. Then our little family of three…” Lucy stroked her swollen belly, asking coquettishly: “But Vivian is so capable. After she pays off all the debt by herself, will she really give the factory back to you?” Harrison laughed. “That factory was left to me by my dad. She’s just an ‘outsider’.” “I’ll tell you a secret, but keep it quiet—Vivian and I never actually got our marriage license. My mom had someone forge the certificate years ago. She still has no idea…” I trembled with rage, my teeth grinding audibly. A week ago, when I discovered the missing funds in our accounts, I confronted Harrison. Knowing he was exposed, he knelt and begged for forgiveness, claiming his failed investments were all “for our home.” He grabbed my pant leg, pleading with me to get money from my family to save us. But a million dollars was an astronomical sum. Even draining my parents dry wouldn’t cover it. I refused to drag my family down, but softened at his seemingly remorseful expression and agreed to shoulder the debt together. Now I could see—the moment he realized we’d have to suffer and repay together, he’d already planned this fake death to slip away, leaving me holding the entire mess. This man was utterly vicious. “Vivian, Harrison? He’s not dead?” Grace, my trusted confidant who’d accompanied me, had stopped at the station to get a cup of coffeeand arrived a few steps behind. Seeing this scene, she immediately flared up with anger. “He found a mistress and deliberately wants you to handle the factory’s debts alone.” I quickly pulled her behind a sycamore tree to hide. Grace asked, confused: “Vivian, Harrison wronged you. He’s the one who should be hiding. Why are we hiding?” I’d already calmed down. I looked at Grace and asked: “Grace, all these years, how do you think I’ve treated Harrison?” Though Grace didn’t understand why I was suddenly asking this, she answered honestly: “Vivian, you’ve been incredible for the factory. You handled so many things personally. Without those contracts you negotiated, our factory would have collapsed long ago.” “Harrison… when problems hit the factory, he pretended to be sick and hid. When you were running a fever negotiating contracts, he was drinking at the card table. If you hadn’t mortgaged your own dowry, how could their family property and land still be intact?” I smiled bitterly. “Harrison inherited the family business but couldn’t preserve its foundation. You can see that truth clearly. Too bad he’s willfully blind.” “Vivian, Harrison is living it up in that villa with his mistress while leaving you to shoulder all that debt. You should divorce him.” I laughed coldly. We never even got a marriage license—what divorce? “Does he think I’ll still stupidly exhaust everything to protect the family assets for him like before? Haha…” “Since Harrison chose to fake his death, I’ll grant him his wish.” My lips curved upward, the flames of anger burning away my grief. Since Harrison dared to fake his death and enjoy himself, I could sever our marital bonds just as decisively. In this world, he wasn’t the only one who could fake a death.

“What does Vivian plan to do?” Grace gripped my hand, righteous indignation in her voice. “We absolutely can’t let those cheating dogs get away with this.” I naturally wouldn’t let them off easy, but this matter couldn’t be rushed. “Grace, don’t go back to the factory yet. I need you to spread word about Harrison building a villa in this town to keep his mistress. The more widely it spreads the better—ideally it should reach Edith’s ears today.” Since I was an outsider in Harrison’s mouth, I had no need to preserve the dignity of the old Harrison family. Fight with me? They weren’t qualified. Did Harrison think he could live carefree in that villa with his childhood sweetheart, raising their child? Then I’d reclaim the villa right now, leaving them without even a place to stay. As soon as I returned to the factory, Harrison’s mother, Edith, came looking for me. I secretly took a breath, suppressed my surging anger, and squeezed out a grieved expression to greet her. She grabbed my hand, her voice urgent yet soft: “Vivian, you can’t listen to outsiders’ gossip. Harrison was honest and straightforward—how could he mess around outside?” “He can’t even rest in peace after death.” I lowered my eyes, my nose tingling: “Mrs. Harrison, I naturally trust Harrison’s character… but did our family really buy a villa in the neighboring town?” Edith’s hand suddenly stiffened. She froze there, her eyes darting around rapidly before shaking her head like a rattle drum: “No, no. How could there be? Don’t talk nonsense.” Seeing her reaction, I understood completely. Earlier I’d heard Harrison smugly say that once I finished paying the debts, his mother would call him to “come home and enjoy the good life.” I’d thought perhaps the old lady just felt sorry for her son and knew nothing about his dirty deeds. But now… she clearly knew everything. Perfect. Since you mother and son colluded to treat me as an outsider and play me for a fool, don’t blame this outsider for showing no mercy. I helped Edith sit in a chair and had just poured half a glass of water when the debt collectors arrived exactly as I’d anticipated. The moment Edith saw them coming, she immediately tried to abandon me and flee. But the lead creditor grabbed her by the back of her collar at the door, yanking her stumbling back into the chair. She deliberately fell sideways, drawing out a wail of my name: “Vivian, they’re hitting people.” In the past, I would definitely have already stepped in front of Edith, taking everything upon myself. But now I just coldly watched Edith perform, then pretended to cry myself: “Gentlemen, my husband’s body is barely cold. What can we widows and orphans use to repay debts?” The lead creditor spat: “Cut the act. That villa in the neighboring town was Harrison’s doing, wasn’t it? It’s enough to cover the debt.” I hastily waved my hands: “Sir, I just asked my mother-in-law—there’s no such thing.” Then I turned to Edith for confirmation. “Edith, right?” Edith’s neck stiffened, her eyes darting wildly as she randomly nodded twice. With such a guilty appearance, how could the creditors not see through it? The leader slapped down a paper on the table: “The property owner’s name is yours, old lady Harrison.” Edith’s face turned white as a sheet as she stammered: “It’s… it’s my retirement savings house…” “Retirement house?” The creditor sneered, pulling out a mortgage agreement. “Sign. Use it to settle the debt right now.” Edith clutched her clothes and shrank back. That was her son’s love nest—how could she give it up? She stood and rushed to grab my arm: “Vivian, think of something. How will I survive without that house?” I sneered internally but looked distressed on the surface as I pried her hand away: “Mrs. Harrison, with Harrison gone, the old house is enough for us. This million in debt—we could work ourselves to death and never repay it…” Hearing this, the creditor erupted in fury, pressing Edith’s neck toward the table: “Your son’s dead so you think you can renege on debts? If you don’t sign today, I’ll chop off your hand and use it for your thumbprint.” Edith threw me a pleading look, which I ignored. She gritted her teeth and pretended to faint. The creditor laughed coldly and delivered a sharp slap. The crisp sound exploded. Edith jerked awake in pain, no longer daring to play tricks, trembling as she signed and stamped the document. Only then did the creditors swagger away. Edith’s rage attacked her heart, and she actually did faint. Grace happened to come by and urgently asked if we should send her to the clinic. I pulled my lips into a smile: “Where would we get extra money? Just send her back to the old house.” Grace immediately called a worker to fetch a cart and send Edith back, then looked at me worriedly: “Vivian, now that we’ve set a precedent of using property to settle debts, the other creditors will probably come knocking very soon.” I smiled. “I know.” Haha, I was afraid they wouldn’t come knocking. “Grace, go check how much inventory is still in our warehouse. Before nightfall, pack it all up and take it away. Remember—quietly, don’t let anyone else know.” Grace blinked her almond eyes and asked: “Vivian, where should we ship this packed inventory?” “New York.” I met her searching gaze. “What do you say? Do you dare venture out there with me?” Grace’s eyes lit up at these words: “As long as Vivian is willing to take me, I’ll go through fire and water.” I smiled and patted her head, then turned my sharp gaze toward the roiling dark clouds outside the window. A storm was coming. Harrison and his pampered childhood sweetheart would have nowhere to hide from the rain tonight. 4 Since the villa in the neighboring town was seized, debt collectors descended like a plague of locusts. I’d already settled the workers’ wages in advance and let them leave early. The creditors entered the factory unobstructed and quickly emptied it of machinery, equipment, tables and chairs. When there was nothing left to take from the factory, creditors set their sights on the old house. Edith was furious, demanding why I wasn’t finding solutions. “Vivian. Aren’t you supposed to be so capable?” So much for Edith’s act now. I covered my face and sobbed: “Edith, I’ve exhausted every option… at least most of the debt is cleared now.” Edith slammed the table in fury: “The machinery and equipment have all been taken—what is the Harrison family supposed to do in the future?” I lowered my eyes, deliberately adding fuel to the fire: “Edith, as long as we’re still here, there will always be a way.” Sure enough, the next second, Edith picked up a teacup and hurled it at me. I staggered back on cue, porcelain shards exploding near my ear. “You jinx. Why don’t you just die.” When the debt collectors entered, this was exactly the scene that greeted them. I laughed inwardly while tears streamed down my face: “Edith, don’t worry. I’ll go back to the factory right now and find a solution. I’ll definitely bring our factory back to life.” Without waiting for Edith’s response, I “stumbled” out clutching my forehead. Behind me, her cursing was cut off by the creditors’ rebuke: “Old woman, less talk. Hurry up and hand over assets to settle the debt.” I left the old house and ran into Grace returning. Before seeing Edith, I’d instructed Grace to do two things: First, using Edith’s name, demand my gemstone bracelet and gold earrings back from Lucy. Second, in Edith’s tone, send Harrison some money, telling them to “take the money and run far away to avoid the storm.” My dowry—why should it benefit Harrison. “Vivian, I got everything back.” I nodded. With this, everything was ready. I cried all the way back to the factory, then waited until evening when everyone should be eating dinner, and set a fire just like Harrison had done. However, Harrison had only burned a small warehouse at the time, while I ignited the entire factory.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “379956”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Alysa Johnson knelt in the pouring rain, her clothes soaked through, outlining curves that shouldn’t have been visible on a sixteen-year-old. Three supercars worth tens of millions were parked around her. “Please, give me back my medication…” The lead boy pressed his foot down on the back of her hand, grinding it into the ground, his laughter excited. “Sleep with me for one night, and I’ll give it to you.” This was the scene I saw when I transmigrated into this novel. As the original character, the vicious stepmother who would trade her stepdaughter to business partners for resources, I figured if I was going to be evil, I’d at least do it with class. I walked over, carrying a golf club I’d just bought, said nothing, and swung it directly at the boy’s kneecap with full force. His scream drowned out the thunder. I pulled up the stunned Alysa and wiped the muddy water from her face. “Remember this. From now on, whoever makes you cry, you make them bleed.” Lila POV The rainstorm hammered against the asphalt like popping corn. The titanium alloy club in my hand was still vibrating with the aftershock of shattering bone. That swing had felt perfect. No resistance, just a crisp “crack,” followed immediately by pig-like squealing. Ethan curled up in the muddy water like a cooked shrimp, clutching his knee, screaming until his voice cracked. The rich kids around him who’d just been filming with their phones and egging him on instantly went silent, like chickens with their necks wrung. They stared at me wide-eyed, not one of them daring to help him up. After all, none of them had ever seen anything like this. In their world, wealthy socialites maintained composure. Even when angry, they’d elegantly throw a check or splash some wine. Who the hell just swung a metal golf club and crippled someone’s leg? I wiped the rain from my face and looked down at Alysa, still kneeling on the ground. The kid was terrified. Those eyes described in the novel as “dewy like a fawn’s” now held only fear, her whole body trembling like a sieve. She looked at me, then at Ethan writhing on the ground, her lips quivering, unable to form a complete sentence. “What are you spacing out for?” I planted the club on the ground with a sharp clang, making those spoiled heirs collectively take a step back. “His leg’s broken, not yours. Stand up.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the storm with piercing clarity. Alysa instinctively tried to push herself up, but her hands were covered in bloody marks from where Ethan had stepped on them. The moment she applied pressure, pain shot through her and her knees buckled again. I didn’t help her. I just watched coldly. If she didn’t even have the strength to stand up, saving her this once would be pointless. This damned plot inertia would eventually push her back into the mud as a plaything. Alysa seemed to sense my coldness. She bit her lip, tears mixing with rainwater streaming down her face, but she didn’t make a sound. Using her elbows, she shakily pulled herself up. Good. Though pathetic, at least her spine was still straight. I bent down and picked up the crushed asthma inhaler from beside Ethan’s still-twitching hand. Filthy, covered in mud and sand. I wiped it on Ethan’s custom suit worth hundreds of thousands until it was clean, then turned around, grabbed Alysa’s chin, forced her mouth open, shoved the inhaler in, and pressed it twice. The medication entered her throat, and Alysa’s rapid wheezing finally began to settle. “Thank… thank you.” Her voice was barely audible, still trembling. “Don’t thank me.” I released her and turned to look at the group of rich kids who’d retreated to their cars, my gaze finally settling on Ethan, still wailing on the ground. “Mr. Hayes, how does it feel?” Ethan’s face was covered in cold sweat, his features twisted in pain, glaring at me viciously. “Lila… you crazy bitch! You dare hit me! My family won’t let this go! I’ll kill you! I’ll destroy your whole family.” “Alright, save your energy.” I cut off his impotent rage, playing with the club in my hand as I approached step by step. The bodyguards finally snapped out of it and tried to rush forward. I raised the club directly at Ethan’s other leg. “Anyone moves, I’ll put him in a wheelchair for life. Symmetrically broken.” The bodyguards froze. Everyone could see I really would do it. I crouched down, the cold club head tapping Ethan’s pale face. “I know who your father is. I know the Hayes family runs this city. But Ethan, did you forget? Those with nothing to lose don’t fear those with everything. Crazy people don’t fear idiots.” I lowered my voice to a volume only he could hear. “That illegal offshore account your dad has, and those twin illegitimate children he’s keeping in the western suburbs. Mrs. Hayes doesn’t know about them yet, does she? Tell me, if I sent all that information to her email, do you think she’d come after me first, or your dad?” Ethan’s eyes widened in shock. He stared at me in disbelief, even forgetting his pain. This was the perk of transmigrating into this novel. My head was full of every wealthy family’s dirty secrets. “Looks like you’re not stupid. You understand.” I stood up, looking down at him. “Today’s lesson was about being human. Did you learn it?” Ethan gritted his teeth. Though hatred remained in his eyes, fear dominated. I laughed derisively, turned around, opened the car door, and shoved the still-dazed Alysa into the passenger seat. “Get in.” Even after my taillights disappeared into the rain, none of them dared move. The car’s heat was on full blast. Alysa huddled in the leather seat, gripping the seatbelt tightly, staring blankly ahead. I glanced at her and tossed a towel from the glove compartment. “Dry off.” She mechanically took the towel, drying her hair, then suddenly asked quietly. “They’ll come after us, won’t they?” The kid wasn’t stupid. In this world’s setting, the four major families were gods. Laws meant nothing to them. Ethan’s broken leg. The Hayes family would never let it go. “Scared?” I steered with one hand and lit a cigarette. The original character didn’t smoke, but I needed nicotine to suppress the adrenaline spike from earlier. “I’m… I’m not scared for myself.” Alysa lowered her head, looking at her swollen hands. “But I’m scared of dragging Dad down, and… dragging you down.” Even in this household where the original character had treated her badly-even cruelly-this kid still worried about implicating others. This was the terminal illness of abuse novel heroines: kindness bordering on weakness, consideration that made you furious. “Dragging me down?” I exhaled a smoke ring and laughed coldly. “Alysa, listen carefully. In this world, besides yourself, no one can drag you down. As for revenge…” I looked in the rearview mirror at the headlights flickering in the rainy night and smiled. “Let them come. If I dared break his leg, I’m prepared to tear a hole in the sky. Starting today, this show has a new director.”

Lila POV Early the next morning, the Lin family mansion’s gate was blocked. The show of force was substantial. Three black Rolls-Royces completely blocked the entrance. Over a dozen black-suited bodyguards emerged, surrounding a middle-aged couple. The man’s face was dark, the woman dripping with jewels and looking sharp and mean. They were Ethan’s parents, Marcus Hayes and Vivian. Behind them followed four elite lawyers carrying briefcases. This wasn’t about negotiating compensation. This was about causing trouble. My convenient husband James Johnson was currently circling the living room like an idiot, sweating profusely in panic. “Lila! Look what you’ve done!” James pointed at me sitting leisurely on the sofa drinking coffee, his finger trembling. “That’s the Hayes family! Ethan Hayes! And you dared break his leg! Are you trying to destroy our whole family? Now they’ve come knocking with a whole legal team. They’re going to put us in prison forever!” Alysa huddled at the stair landing in her pajamas, face pale, eyes red. She wanted to come down but didn’t dare, just gripping the railing tightly. I set down my coffee cup and looked at James with disgust. This was the scumbag father from the original novel, the epitome of selling his daughter for advancement. When trouble came, all he did was shift blame and beg for mercy. No backbone whatsoever. “Panicking about what?” I stood up, straightened my silk robe, and walked unhurriedly to the entrance, opening the door. Outside, Vivian saw me and immediately rushed forward, raising her hand to slap me. “You bitch! You dare hit my son! I’ll tear your face off today!” If this were the original Lila, she would’ve taken the slap. Or knelt and begged for mercy. But I wasn’t her. I raised my hand and precisely caught her wrist, applying slight pressure and twisting. “Let go! You crazy bitch!” Vivian screamed in pain, her delicate makeup contorting. Marcus said coldly, his face dark. “Let go! Lila, are you going to assault someone again? Believe it or not, I’ll have the police arrest you right now!” I released Vivian’s hand and wiped mine with a wet wipe in disgust. “Arrest me? On what grounds? Because your son committed school bullying, or because you want to break into private property?” “What nonsense are you spouting!” Marcus’s face turned iron with rage. “You deliberately injured someone! My son is still in the hospital with a comminuted fracture! We have surveillance footage. Can you deny it?” “Surveillance footage…” I smiled, turned back to the living room, and picked up the remote from the coffee table. “Perfect. I also have some videos I’d like you both to enjoy.” The massive projection screen in the living room slowly descended. I pressed play. What appeared on screen wasn’t last night’s rainy scene, but various angles and scenarios. Ethan forcing a classmate to drink urine in the bathroom. Ethan cutting a girl’s hair and sticking gum in it. Ethan and his gang locking Alysa in the equipment room and releasing dogs on her. And last night, the complete high-definition footage of him stepping on Alysa’s hand, forcing her to agree to sleep with him. Even with sound. “Beg! Who do you think you are acting pure! Your mother was a whore, and you’re just a little slut!” The voice echoed through the spacious mansion hall, particularly jarring. James froze. Marcus and Vivian froze too. They hadn’t expected me to have these. I’d bought all of these last night at high prices from those lackeys. Those rich kids were scum, but they loved money more, and had no loyalty. Give them enough cash and they’d sell out their own fathers, let alone Ethan. “I’ve made dozens of backup copies of these videos.” I leaned against the sofa back, looking at the Hayes couple’s pale faces. “If I go to the police station, or if the Johnson family goes bankrupt, these videos will immediately appear on every major news website’s homepage, in the Department of Education’s complaint inbox, and in the email boxes of every major shareholder of Hayes Corporation.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Marcus roared. “This is blackmail! Extortion! Even if you release them, it’s useless. I have ways to suppress it!” “Is that so? Mr. Hayes certainly has influence.” I smiled even more brightly. “Then what about this?” I pulled out a document from under the coffee table and casually threw it on the floor, where it slid right to Marcus’s feet. Marcus looked down suspiciously. Just one glance, and his pupils earthquake. It was a record of him embezzling company funds to purchase overseas property, along with the illegitimate child’s birth certificate and DNA test report. Vivian was still shrieking. “Why waste words with her! Just trash this place!” “Shut up!” Marcus whipped around and slapped Vivian across the face. The slap was vicious. Vivian was completely stunned, covering her face and staring at her husband in disbelief. “Why did you slap me?” Marcus ignored her, turning to stare at me intently, cold sweat trickling down his temples. He was a smart man. School bullying could perhaps be suppressed with money and connections. At worst, his reputation would stink a bit. But embezzlement and illegitimate children. Once exposed, his position at Hayes Corporation would be finished, and the Lee family wouldn’t spare him. “Lila,” Marcus’s voice trembled. “What do you want?” James watched from the side, completely dumbfounded, unable to understand how the situation had suddenly reversed. I pointed at Alysa at the stair landing. “First, have your son transfer schools or repeat a grade. I don’t want to see his face at school again.” “Second, compensation for Alysa’s emotional distress. Ten million. Not a penny less.” “Third,” I paused. “Have your son publicly apologize to Alysa over the school’s PA system. I’ll write the content, he’ll read it exactly as written, and it better be heartfelt. If I detect even a hint of insincerity, I’ll consider it breach of contract.” Marcus gritted his teeth. “The first two are fine. The third… could we do it another way? The Hayes family still needs face.” “Face?” I laughed derisively, stood up and walked to him, lowering my voice. “Mr. Hayes, dignity is for people, not for scum. When your son did those things, did he think about others’ dignity?” “Or would you prefer your wife’s family to learn that those twins you’re keeping outside are already in elementary school?” Marcus’s whole body shook. He looked at me like I was a monster. “Fine… I agree.” Marcus forced those three words through clenched teeth. Vivian was still screaming. “Why should we! Are you insane? Apologize to that little bitch? And pay money?” “Take her away!” Marcus completely ignored her tantrum, signaling the bodyguards to drag Vivian out. Not until the Hayes family completely disappeared did James come back to his senses, collapsing onto the sofa and looking at me with awe and… fear. “Honey… where did you get all that stuff?” I ignored him and turned to look at Alysa still standing at the stair landing. She stared at me blankly, tears still clinging to her lashes. I walked over and wiped away her tears. “Did you see clearly?” I pointed toward where the Hayes family had left. “That’s high society. As long as you have them by the throat, they’ll kneel faster than anyone.” “In this house, right now, the person I choose to protect, even Satan can’t take away.”

Lila POV The day Alysa returned to school, the sky was blue and the clouds white, but I knew beneath that calm surface was nothing but filth. Though Ethan had transferred, the mess he left behind remained. The Hayes family’s influence at the school ran deep. The ringleader was gone, but plenty of bootlickers remained. Not to mention the male second lead, Adrian Locke‌. He was student council president, aloof and ascetic, also the enforcer of rules at this elite school. Upon entering the classroom, we discovered Alysa’s desk was missing. Her assigned spot was empty, just a lonely chair lying on the floor. The entire class was silent, dozens of eyes watching us mockingly, like we were monkeys at the zoo. Alysa’s face instantly paled, instinctively reaching for my sleeve. “Oh, if it isn’t that ‘Miss Johnson’ who drove away Mr. Hayes?” A girl spoke sarcastically, twirling her pen. “What, even the desk found you too dirty and threw itself away?” The whole class burst into laughter. Alysa bit her lip and bent down to pick up the chair. “Don’t move.” I grabbed her hand and scanned the classroom. “Who did this?” No one spoke. Everyone was watching the show. Some even pulled out phones to film. Just then, the classroom door opened. A boy wearing gold-rimmed glasses with every button fastened to the top walked in. Adrian. He didn’t even glance at me, walking straight to the podium and saying coldly. “The school is conducting an asset inspection. Damaged public property must be paid for. Miss Alysa’s desk had too much graffiti, seriously affecting the school’s appearance, so the maintenance department has taken it for disposal.” What a sanctimonious excuse. “Until new desk and chair are approved, Miss Johnson can stand and listen to class.” Adrian pushed up his glasses, a trace of barely concealed disgust in his eyes. “It’s also a good time to reflect on why, out of everyone in the entire school, only your desk got graffitied.” Typical victim-blaming. Alysa trembled with anger. “You drew it! It was all… all insults about me!” “Do you have proof?” Adrian asked coolly. Alysa was speechless, tears welling up in her eyes. I laughed. This little bastard, looking all proper, but more rotten than anyone. “Reflect?” I released Alysa’s hand and walked up to Adrian. “Adrian, is it? Since you love making people reflect so much, how about everyone reflects together.” I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Come in.” As soon as I spoke, deafening drill and hammer sounds came from the hallway. Then over a dozen construction workers marched in. “What are you doing!” Adrian finally changed expression. “This is a classroom! Who gave you permission to enter!” I ignored him, directly pointing at the desks and chairs in the classroom. “Get to work. Except for the podium, tear down all the desks and chairs.” The workers had already been paid. Their efficiency was extremely high. Before those pampered students could react, drills were whirring, screws flying, desk boards being violently dismantled. “Ah! My limited edition stationery!” “Are you crazy! This is destruction of property!” “Security! Call security!” The classroom descended into chaos. Adrian rushed up to me, furious. “Lila! This is illegal! I’m calling the police!” “Go ahead.” I pulled out a stack of documents and slapped them against his chest. “This is a complaint receipt from the Department of Education, along with relevant legal provisions. And… I’ve already donated ten million to the school board, specifically to improve the learning environment for this class.” I pointed at the desks and chairs being dismantled. “Since this garbage isn’t good enough for our Alysa, none of you should use it either. I’ve ordered top-of-the-line ergonomic chairs and height-adjustable desks for the entire class. Fifty-eight thousand per set.” The class instantly fell silent. Fifty-eight thousand per set? These rich kids had money, but the school’s desks and chairs were just ordinary stuff. The students who’d been cursing moments ago suddenly looked different. “However.” I changed my tone, looking at Adrian’s livid face. “This batch of donations specifically excludes Adrian.” “Since you think standing during class helps with reflection, please stand from now on. After all, as student council president, you should lead by example and reflect more on why you’re so unlikeable.” Adrian trembled with rage, pointing at me. “You… this is discrimination! Isolation!” “Isolation?” I laughed coldly, surveying the whole class. “No, I’m just returning the methods you use to isolate others.” “Also,” I walked to Alysa’s side, pulled her to the center of the podium facing everyone. “From now on, if anyone dares draw even one stroke on her desk, I’ll remove everyone’s desks and you can all stand for class. Anyone who doesn’t want to stand, watch the people around you.” Unreasonable, but most effective against these refined egoists. Half an hour later, brand new top-tier desks and chairs were moved into the classroom. Only Adrian’s spot by the podium remained empty. Alysa sat in that expensive chair, touching the smooth desktop, looking up at me with light in her eyes for the first time. “Ma’am…” “Call me Lila.” I patted her shoulder. “Remember this. When do victims need to reflect? Do you think school rules are toilet paper? From now on, whoever tells you to reflect, you make them reflect on their whole family.”

Lila POV Alysa’s “fragile constitution” was a real pain. Even though I wanted to armor her up like an iron warrior, this damned character setting would occasionally rear its head. Like during this week’s PE class. It was just simple jogging warm-ups. Alysa was running along when she suddenly tripped over her own feet on flat ground. With a small cry, she pitched forward. Normally, this kind of fall would at most scrape her knees. But the plot god’s twisted humor kicked in. Rip. Alysa’s supposedly loose athletic shirt actually tore open from the collar. Two buttons flew off somewhere, exposing a large expanse of snow-white skin and the edge of her pink bra underneath. The boys playing basketball nearby instantly swarmed over like sharks smelling blood. “Holy shit! Fan service!” “That skin is so white, it turns red from just a fall?” “If this isn’t seduction, what is?” That seemingly innocent classmate Nathan even pulled out his phone. Alysa lay on the ground, dying of shame, frantically covering her chest, tears about to fall again. This kind of plot full of male gaze and vulgar taste made my blood pressure spike. I wasn’t just watching from the sidelines. I charged onto the field with scissors. I took off my coat and wrapped Alysa up tightly, blocking those lewd stares. “What are you looking at? Never seen cheap clothes before?” I shouted, and those boys dispersed somewhat reluctantly, but their eyes kept drifting toward Alysa. I helped Alysa up, took the scissors without a word, and cut off a piece of her athletic shirt. “Let’s go. To the hospital.” Alysa cried and asked. “Am I really that shameful? Am I… slutty?” This was the brainwashing this damned world had given her. I smacked the back of her head. Not hard, but enough to clear her mind. “Slutty? Are you out of your mind?” I held up the cut fabric piece in front of her eyes. “Look carefully. This fabric isn’t even pure cotton. The synthetic fiber content is over the limit, and the stitching uses the cheapest thread. This school charges hundreds of thousands a year and gives you this garbage to wear?” I dragged her straight to the principal’s office and threw the fabric in the principal’s greasy face. “I’m suing the school’s procurement department for corruption and bribery, and for providing substandard products to minors.” The principal was stunned. “This… Lila, this was just an accident…” “Accident? I’d say it’s attempted murder!” I pointed at Alysa. “This happened on the field. What if it was in the chemistry lab? This kind of flammable synthetic fabric. Are you trying to roast my daughter alive?” My words were extremely harsh, but they genuinely scared the principal. Next, I took Alysa to the best private hospital. Not for the fall injuries, but for orthopedics and endocrinology appointments. “Doctor, please give my daughter a full-body checkup, especially balance function and muscle strength.” I told the doctor. “I suspect she has serious vestibular dysfunction and muscle weakness. Otherwise why would she trip while walking normally?” The full examination cost tens of thousands. When the results came out, the doctor looked at the report and pushed up his glasses. “Well… indeed, core strength is very poor, and cerebellar balance is a bit weak. Also, the skin barrier is damaged. It’s too thin, which makes it prone to redness and swelling.” Alysa held the report, stunned. “So I’m not… naturally slutty?” She asked quietly. “Of course not.” I slapped the report against her chest. “This is called lack of exercise, called sub-health! Understand?” “Those boys said you looked provocative when you fell? That’s because their brains are full of pornographic garbage. In a doctor’s eyes, you’re just a patient who needs rehabilitation training.” Alysa looked at all the professional medical terminology on the report and suddenly smiled. A smile of relief. “Then… Lila, what should I do?” “What should you do?” I laughed coldly. “If the clothes are poor quality, blame the manufacturer. What kind of logic is it to blame yourself for having breasts? This fabric that tears with one pull. Did the school procure it according to lingerie standards?” “As for your body…” I looked her up and down. “Starting tomorrow, Pilates and Muay Thai. Since you can’t stand steady, practice until no one can push you down.” Alysa nodded vigorously, a new determination in her eyes. I hoped she understood that her body wasn’t a pillar of shame for pleasing others, but armor that needed to be fortified.

Lila POV The male third lead, Nathan, had a baby face but a twisted heart. He had a baby face and cute little fangs when he smiled. He was in the same club as Alysa. His favorite thing was using that innocent tone to say the most twisted things. Like putting thumbtacks in Alysa’s dance shoes. That day Alysa came home limping. Her soles were full of bloody holes, socks stuck to the flesh. While treating her wounds, my hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage. “Who did this?” Alysa winced in pain but didn’t dare say. “Maybe I was just careless…” “Careless enough to step on over a dozen thumbtacks? Were you practicing iron palm?” I checked the surveillance footage. Sure enough, it was Nathan. He’d been sneaking around the dance studio locker room door. After Alysa changed shoes and came out, he hid in a corner smirking, watching Alysa’s face pale with pain as she forced herself to keep dancing. His expression was like he was appreciating some artwork. This little pervert enjoyed watching people endure pain. Fine. Liked playing these games? The next day I had someone tow away Nathan’s prized limited edition sports car.That was his eighteenth birthday gift, one of only three in the world. The kid treasured it like nothing else. He wouldn’t even let anyone touch it. I had his car towed to an abandoned quarry on the outskirts, parked it right on the cliff’s edge with half a wheel hanging over. Then I filmed a video and posted it directly to his Instagram. I’d gotten his account from Alysa’s phone. In the video, I held a wrench, gesturing at his brake pads. Caption: “I heard you like thrills? This car has a nice view by the cliff. The brake line seems a bit loose though. Want to come up and try it out?” Less than ten minutes later, Nathan’s call came through. “Lila! Are you insane! That’s my favorite car! Do you know how much it costs!” He screamed into the phone, his voice trembling. “How much?” I casually tapped the hood. “Is it worth more than my daughter’s feet?” “You… if you dare touch my car, I’ll kill you!” “Oh my, so scary.” I smiled at the camera, then pointed the phone at the brake caliper and made a cutting motion with a “snip.” “Don’t! Don’t cut it! I was wrong! I was wrong!” Nathan completely broke down on the other end, begging through tears. I laughed coldly. “So you do know pain? I thought twisted people like you had no pain receptors.” That afternoon, Nathan came running to the quarry in tears. When he saw the car was actually intact, just positioned for the shot, he collapsed on the ground, a large wet stain spreading across his pants. He’d literally pissed himself from fear. I leaned against the car door, looking down at this demon who usually acted like a little angel. “Scared yourself into pissing? Where’s your persona?” Nathan’s face turned bright red, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. “A child’s prank?” I crouched down, tapping the unused wrench against his face. “Then you’ll have to endure this adult’s prank too.” “Remember this. Next time you dare put anything in Alysa’s shoes, I won’t just touch your car. I’ll cut your tendons.” “Don’t shake. The game’s just beginning.” I stood up, looking disgustedly at the puddle on the ground. “Go change your pants. The smell is awful.” From then on, Nathan took detours whenever he saw Alysa. The twisted excitement in his eyes was gone, replaced only by deep fear. Watching this scene, though Alysa thought it was a bit excessive, she couldn’t help but giggle when she saw Nathan’s pathetic state. “Lila,” she said quietly. “Turns out when you strip the demon naked, he’s just a little pants-wetter.” I patted her head. “Yes. As long as you’re crazier and more ruthless than them, they’re nothing.”

Lila POV So-called high society galas were really just large-scale human markets. To salvage his crumbling business, James Johnson forced Alysa to attend a business cocktail party. He made it sound nice. “Let you see the world, meet some people.” In reality, he wanted to sell Alysa for a good price. The male fourth lead, Mr. Todd Shaw, a notorious playboy who claimed he never fell for anyone, walked toward Alysa with a wine glass, smiling. “Alysa, long time no see. You’ve gotten even more beautiful.” That drink was drugged. Alysa could smell something wrong. This was also a plot device. Whenever the female lead appeared at such events, she’d inevitably be drugged, then inevitably have some indescribable encounter with the male lead. Alysa felt her body starting to heat up. That was the plot’s forced mechanism taking effect. She looked at me in panic. I was standing by the buffet table eating lobster. Receiving her distress signal, I put down my plate and walked over casually. “Todd, is it?” I inserted myself between them, blocking Shaw’s lewd gaze. “I heard the Shaw family’s stocks have been crashing lately. Still have the mood to go hunting?” Todd frowned. “Who the hell are you? Get lost. I’m talking to Alysa.” “I’m her mother.” I smiled, and while he wasn’t paying attention, with lightning-fast hand speed, I switched the glass he’d handed Alysa with the one in his own hand. This was hand speed I’d developed doing crisis PR. I specialized in dealing with all kinds of troublemakers. “Since Todd is so enthusiastic, I’ll drink this on Alysa’s behalf.” I raised the actually clean glass and clinked it against his now-spiked one. He didn’t suspect anything, just wanted to get rid of this nuisance quickly so he could make his move on Alysa. “Fine, fine. Drink up and get lost.” He tilted his head back and downed it in one gulp. I watched the red liquid slide down his Adam’s apple, my smile deepening. “Alysa, let’s get some air over there.” I pulled Alysa away and left. Less than ten minutes later, the show began. A commotion suddenly erupted in the center of the hall. The previously composed man now had a flushed face and unfocused eyes, frantically tearing at his tie and shirt. “Hot… so hot…” He shouted while hugging a Roman column in the hall’s center like a dog in heat. Then, under the gaze of hundreds of guests, he started performing a striptease. The scene was absolutely eye-searing. “Oh my god! Is that Todd?” “Did he take drugs?” “Quick, film this! This is too wild!” Everyone around was holding up phones taking photos and videos. I pulled Alysa to the second-floor railing and started a livestream on my phone. “This is what they call high society breeding?” I commented coldly. Alysa watched the man making a fool of himself below. Her previous fear evaporated, replaced by disgust and absurdity. “Lila, was that… the drug he prepared for me?” “Yes.” I said flatly. “Since he likes aphrodisiacs so much, let him go perform himself.” “Want to scheme against my daughter? First see if his kidneys can handle it.” Todd’s drug was too potent. Not only did he strip completely naked, he also tried to forcibly kiss the arriving security guards, and finally was carried away in an ambulance foaming at the mouth. I heard that due to excessive cardiac stress, he might not function in that department anymore. This was what you called physical castration. From then on, the entire circle spread tales of Todd’s “heroic deeds,” and his reputation was completely ruined. Alysa watched the viral videos on her phone, looking thoughtful. “So this is real counterattack.” “Don’t dirty your own hands, yet completely destroy the opponent.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “379955”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster