The elite circle of New York had a sick tradition. Every year, they selected someone from the bottom of the social ladder to play their “Hunting Game.” Whoever broke the prey first, won. On the deck of a luxury yacht, the Sterling heiress threw a blank check directly at my face. “Still thinking about your dead mechanic husband? Get on your knees and bark like a dog for me today, and I’ll pay your father’s medical bills.” I knelt rigidly on the shattered glass scattered across the floor. Two years ago, I married a mechanic named Jules. He was poor, but he treated me like I was his whole world. Then, Victoria Sterling selected Jules as her prey. To break him for her own twisted amusement, Victoria humiliated him relentlessly. She forced him into an illegal street race in a junk car with severed brake lines. The car careened off a cliff. Jules’s body was never found. My father went to the Sterlings to demand justice, only to have both his legs broken, leaving him bedridden. The double trauma broke my mother’s mind, and she wandered off into a blinding snowstorm, never to be seen again. To find the evidence of the Sterling family’s murderous game, I spent the following year meticulously orchestrating my own downfall, ensuring I would be chosen as the new prey. My goal was simple: use the game to get close to the mysterious mastermind behind it all—Victoria’s fiancé. My memories were interrupted as the VIP booth doors slowly pushed open. Victoria threw herself into the arms of the man walking in. “Julian, you lose,” she gloated. “You bet that she’d remember your past romance and choose death over losing her pride. But look—for a few hundred grand in medical bills, she’s kneeling right here like a good girl.” I raised my head, quietly staring at the face that was currently the center of New York’s high society. I remembered the day I first met Victoria Sterling’s fiancé. That was the day I discovered that the ruthless billionaire I was risking my life to destroy, and the sweet mechanic who used to share my bed, were the exact same person. …… Julian Vance lowered his eyes, his tone light and indifferent. “A loss is a loss. It’s just a few hundred grand. As long as you’re happy.” The booth erupted into a chorus of laughter. Victoria stepped on the check, looking down at me from her pedestal. “Hear that? In Julian’s eyes, you are nothing but a bet.” I didn’t say a word. I just reached out to pick up the check. My father was lying in an ICU with necrotic legs, hooked up to tubes, burning through thousands of dollars the second he opened his eyes every morning. As long as he was alive, let alone kneeling, if Victoria told me to crawl out of this room on my stomach, I would do it. Just as my fingertips brushed the paper, Victoria suddenly kicked it into a spilled puddle of alcohol. “What’s the rush? The dog hasn’t barked yet.” The laughter around me grew louder. I slowly curled my fingers into fists. A year ago, when I first boarded this yacht, I thought I still had a shred of dignity left. I had exhausted every option to infiltrate this party, just to get close to Victoria and find proof of what she did to Jules. But I never expected that, standing in the center of the glittering crowd, I would see the face I had traced in my dreams a thousand times. He was wearing a bespoke suit, his eyes aristocratic and cold. Victoria had linked her arm through his, smiling at me. “Let’s reintroduce ourselves. This is my fiancé.” In that moment, I had lunged forward and ripped open his dress shirt. On the left side of his abdomen, the scar from when he took a knife for me was still there. He was Jules. The mechanic who used to pick me up on a beat-up motorcycle, who bought me a small slice of cake on payday, who held me and promised to give me a good life. And the dead husband whose body was supposedly lost to the cliffs. I asked him why he lied to me. He simply and calmly adjusted his shirt, his voice devoid of emotion. “Evelyn, those two years were just the longest game I ever played.” Victoria had laughed and handed me a bank card. She said that since Julian once had a sliver of genuine affection for me, as long as I stayed and behaved, she would cover my father’s medical bills. And so, for the past year, I lived in his mansion, serving as a disposable toy at their beck and call. “What are you spacing out for?” Victoria swirled her wine glass. “Bark.” I lowered my eyes, my throat impossibly dry. Just as I opened my mouth, a wealthy frat boy beside us suddenly laughed. “Just barking is boring. I heard you bottom-feeders get serial numbers tattooed on your backs. Strip and let us see.” He grabbed the collar of my dress. The fabric tore loudly, instantly exposing my shoulder to the freezing air. I instinctively covered my chest, but another man pinned my wrists down. “Playing the virgin martyr now? You climbed into Mr. Vance’s bed, but you’re afraid of us looking?” “I heard Victoria tattooed that number on her herself.” Someone tugged at the hem of my dress; someone else pulled out a phone to record. I struggled desperately. Victoria sat on the couch, watching with sheer delight. Julian hadn’t moved. He leaned back in the sofa, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, watching coldly as my clothes were ripped apart inch by inch. Until a hand reached for the clasp of my bra.Thud. The man pinning me down was violently kicked across the room. The booth fell into a deathly silence. Julian stood in front of me, his face terrifyingly dark. He took off his suit jacket and threw it over my shoulders, blocking everyone’s view. “Who gave you permission to touch her?” The frat boy clutched his stomach, his face pale. “Mr. Vance, she’s just a prey…” Julian stepped on the boy’s hand, slowly grinding his heel down. “She is my property.” With that, he bent down and scooped me up from the floor. Pressed against his chest, smelling that familiar scent of cedar, I was thrown into a trance, almost feeling like we were back in the past. But a second later, he gripped my chin, forcing me to look at Victoria. “Apologize.” My entire body went rigid. Julian wiped a drop of blood from the corner of my mouth, his eyes entirely devoid of warmth. “You ruined Victoria’s mood.” “So, apologize to her.” Julian didn’t speak a single word to me on the drive back to the mansion. The moment the car doors closed in the garage, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me all the way into the master bathroom. I stumbled and crashed against the shower wall. Before I could catch my balance, freezing cold water poured down over my head. I shivered violently. Julian stood just outside the spray, slowly rolling up his sleeves. “Where did they touch you?” I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to look at him. A second later, his fingers clamped around my jaw, forcing my head up. “Evelyn. I’m asking you a question.” I forced a mocking smile. “Didn’t you see it all?” “Mr. Vance was watching so intently, why bother asking me?” His gaze instantly darkened. He aggressively tore off the ruined fabric of my dress, exposing the glaring numbers tattooed across my shoulder blade—017. A year ago, when Victoria chose me as her prey, she carved that number into my skin herself. It was a humiliation I could never wash off. Julian’s thumb rubbed harshly over the numbers. “Did they see it?” “So what if they did?” I laughed deliberately. “Victoria was right. I’ll do anything for money. As long as they pay my dad’s medical bills, even if you threw me on a poker table tonight, I would—” He choked off the rest of my sentence. Julian pinned me against the freezing tiles, a near-uncontrollable fury surging in his eyes. “Don’t you dare.” I met his glare fearlessly. “Why wouldn’t I dare?” “You can play the hunting game with Victoria. Why can’t I play with someone else?” His breath hitched. A moment later, he let out a low, dark chuckle. “Evelyn, do you really think you have a choice?” He leaned in, whispering directly into my ear. “Your father’s hospital room, your monthly medication, even every breath of oxygen pumped through his ventilator—it’s all provided by me.” “Without me, he won’t survive the night.” The color drained from my face. Julian knew exactly where to slide the knife to make it hurt the most. He used to know that I hated the cold, that I had a low tolerance for pain, that I liked to press my cold feet against his calves when we slept. But now, he only used that intimate knowledge as a weapon to torture me. The water was getting colder. I lowered my eyes, suppressing every ounce of hatred in my soul, and proactively wrapped my arms around his waist. “Jules.” The second that name slipped from my lips, his body went rigid. I pressed my face against his chest, letting my voice tremble. “I was just afraid you didn’t want me anymore.” His hands hovered in mid-air. I knew he didn’t believe me. But I also knew he was completely incapable of resisting that name. After a long pause, he turned off the shower, wrapped me in a thick towel, and carried me back to the bedroom. “Don’t call me that.” His words were harsh, but his arms didn’t loosen their grip. I curled submissively in his embrace, watching as he retrieved the first-aid kit and knelt by the bed to clean my cuts. The posture was exactly the same as before. Back then, if I nicked my finger chopping vegetables, he would turn pale with anxiety. Now, my knees were bruised and bleeding, but his eyes held nothing but suppressed possessiveness. After bandaging my wounds, he went to his study. I knew my opportunity had arrived. Over the past year, I had memorized the blind spots of every security camera in this mansion. The only thing I hadn’t managed to crack was the safe in his study. I slipped on a robe and followed him, wrapping my arms around him from behind. “It hurts.” Julian stopped in his tracks. “The painkillers are in the drawer.” “Get them for me.” He shot me a cold glare, but he didn’t push me away. The safe was hidden in a secret compartment behind the bookshelf. Julian shifted his body to block my line of sight as he punched in the code. But he forgot about the decorative mirror positioned on the opposite wall. Resting my head on his shoulder, I watched his fingers press the numbers perfectly in the reflection.071709. July 17th—our wedding anniversary. And 09—2009, the year we first met. It felt like an invisible hand had ruthlessly crushed my heart. He remembered our past so vividly, yet he could stand by and watch my family be destroyed, watch me kneel like a dog before Victoria, begging for scraps. By the time Julian took out the medicine and turned around, I had already plastered on a fawning smile. He wiped a stray drop of water from my cheek, his gaze unreadable. “Why didn’t you beg me tonight?” I asked softly, “If I begged you, would you have saved me?” He didn’t answer. I stood on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. “Julian Vance… is it that you just can’t stand other people touching your toys, or is it that you still can’t let me go?” His pupils contracted sharply. Right at that moment, the sharp click of high heels echoed from the hallway. The study door was shoved open. Victoria stood in the doorway. Her eyes dropped to the red marks on my neck, and her smile instantly vanished. “Evelyn.” She stared at me, enunciating every word. “It seems I’ve been too kind to you lately.” Victoria didn’t throw a tantrum in front of Julian. Instead, she linked her arm affectionately through mine and announced she was taking me out to “see the world.” Julian leaned against his desk, expressionless. “She’s injured.” “Relax,” Victoria smiled sweetly. “I’m just taking her to play a few rounds. I promise I’ll return her to you in one piece.” Julian looked at me. “Do what you want.” Those four words completely sealed my fate. The car eventually pulled up to the largest underground casino in the city. Victoria shoved me into the center of the highest-stakes table and hung a silver plaque around my neck that read: Collateral. “We’re playing big tonight.” She shoved a mountain of chips onto the table and pointed at me with a smirk. “If I lose, she belongs to you.” The eyes of the wealthy men around the table instantly lit up with predatory hunger. I lowered my voice. “Victoria, Julian told you to bring me back in one piece.” She leaned in, whispering into my ear. “As long as you’re still breathing, you’re in one piece.” Less than half an hour into the game, she lost every single chip. A man reeking of liquor grabbed me by the waist and slammed me down onto the poker table. “Miss Sterling is generous indeed.” He shoved my dress up, and the room erupted into excited whistles. I fought with everything I had, but multiple pairs of hands pinned me down. Victoria sat on the sidelines, sipping her cocktail, thoroughly enjoying my degradation. “Evelyn, aren’t you a master at seducing men? Get your fill tonight.” The man’s hand reached for my chest. My fingers brushed against a heavy crystal ashtray on the table. I grabbed it and smashed it into his skull with all my might. Blood splattered across the green felt. Screaming, the man clutched his head and collapsed. Taking advantage of the chaos, I scrambled off the table, but before I could take three steps, a bodyguard grabbed me by the hair and dragged me backward. Victoria strutted over and slapped me so hard my ears rang. “Ungrateful bitch.” She snatched a steel baton from her bodyguard and aimed it at my right hand. “This hand loves to cling to people, doesn’t it?” she smiled cruelly. “Let’s see how well you seduce men when it’s shattered into pieces.” The steel baton swung high into the air. As it came crashing down, a hand firmly caught it mid-air. Julian stood just outside the crowd, his black shirt carrying the chill of the night air. His gaze swept over my torn dress, then landed on the hands holding me down. The entire casino went dead silent. Victoria’s face paled slightly. “Julian, what are you doing here?” He didn’t answer her. He just walked slowly toward me. The wealthy men awkwardly laughed and let go of me. “Mr. Vance, it’s just a game.” “A game?” Julian repeated the word. Suddenly, he grabbed one of the men’s wrists and violently twisted it backward. A sickening crack echoed through the room. The man dropped to his knees, screaming in agony. Julian didn’t even blink. “Victoria, Evelyn is my toy. Even if she needs to be broken, I will be the one to break her.” He took off his coat, wrapped it around me, and lifted me off the floor. As he passed Victoria, he said coldly, “This is the last time.” Once Julian brought me back to the mansion, his private doctor was summoned immediately. After patching up my wounds, Julian stood by the bed, watching me for a long time. “Why did you go to the casino tonight?” I kept my eyes closed and didn’t answer. He probably thought I stayed by Victoria’s side just to get closer to him. But for the past year, I served Victoria, poured her tea, and endured her torture—not for a man who had already betrayed me. I did it for the seventeen hunting files. Two years ago, when my father demanded justice from the Sterlings, they shattered his legs. Unable to bear the trauma of a crippled husband and a murdered son-in-law, my mother lost her mind and vanished into the snow. I refused to believe it was all a coincidence. Following the clues my father left behind, I discovered that this syndicate of elite heirs was running a “Hunting Game.” They specifically targeted ordinary people—poor, weak, and without connections—designing elaborate traps and placing bets for entertainment. Some victims were driven to financial ruin, others tortured into insanity. Some died without ever knowing that their entire tragedy was just a game on a billionaire’s poker table. And all the game records were securely held by the Vance family. They were both trophies and mutual blackmail to keep the syndicate in line. When Julian finally turned to leave, I opened my eyes. “Julian.” He stopped. Staring at his back, I asked softly, “Did you save me because you still love me?” He stayed silent for a moment before replying with absolute frost. “Don’t flatter yourself.” As the door clicked shut, I let out a quiet laugh. As long as he still thought of me as a pathetic, clinging, delusional ex-lover, that was enough. At 3:00 AM, Julian was finally fast asleep. I walked barefoot into his study, pushed open the secret compartment behind the bookshelf, and punched the code into the safe. The heavy door popped open. There were no jewels inside, only seventeen black files. Underneath each file was a photo of a young, vibrant face. Someone who had just gotten into college. Someone working three jobs to pay for their sibling’s medicine. They were targeted by Victoria’s circle simply because they were vulnerable, turned into disposable pawns on a betting table. At the end of each file was a list of participants. Victoria selected the prey. The others designed the games and placed the bets. The Sinclair family suppressed the media. The Vance family provided the funding and the venues. Almost every powerful family in the city was implicated. I flipped to file 016. The photo showed Julian wearing a faded mechanic’s uniform, standing in front of the rundown apartment we used to rent. Clipped next to it was a legal agreement. [Julian Vance voluntarily participates in the game as ‘Prey’. Victoria Sterling will coordinate a staged death. Upon completion of the game, their engagement will be formally reinstated.] At the bottom were their signatures. Even though I already knew the truth, seeing this contract felt like someone was ripping open my chest all over again. While he was holding me in his arms, promising to fix cars forever just to take care of me, he was already scheduling his fake death. The life I thought we were building was just his little poverty-tourism vacation. I choked back my tears, plugged an encrypted hard drive into the computer, and uploaded the files, videos, and financial ledgers to a cloud server. Then, I set an automated scheduled release for ten minutes from now. The files and decryption keys would be simultaneously blasted to the FBI, federal prosecutors, major news outlets, the victims’ families, and offshore whistleblower platforms. Only my biometric fingerprint could cancel it. Just as the progress bar hit 100%, the green indicator light on the safe suddenly flashed red. My heart plummeted. The moment the safe was breached, a silent alarm must have been triggered simultaneously at the Vance and Sterling estates. I yanked the hard drive out and hurried toward the study door. But before I could even reach the staircase, blinding headlights flooded the front of the mansion. Dozens of armed bodyguards swarmed the property, locking down every exit. Victoria clicked inside in her stilettos. Julian walked in behind her, his eyes locking onto the hard drive in my hand. “Evelyn, cancel the upload.” “There are too many powerful people on that list. If it goes public, they will stop at nothing to torture you to death.” I slowly backed away. “So because they have money and power, the poor people who died just have to accept their fate?” “Julian, you can treat your own death like a fun little game, but those people are actually dead. They are never coming back.” The countdown timer read five minutes. Victoria suddenly raised her hand. A bodyguard placed a tablet on the desk in front of me. On the live feed, an elderly woman with greying hair was tied to a chair. She was so emaciated she was basically a skeleton, yet she was tightly clutching my father’s tattered winter coat to her chest. The blood in my veins turned to ice. “Mom…” In the video, the woman seemed to hear my voice. She slowly lifted her head. “Eve?” She stared into the camera, tears spilling from her cloudy eyes. I lunged for the tablet, but Julian grabbed my arm, holding me back. The camera shook slightly. The cold barrel of a gun was pressed against my mother’s temple. Victoria stared at me. “Cancel the upload. Hand over the hard drive and the cloud access keys. Do that, and I’ll give her back to you.” I stared unblinkingly at the screen. “How do I know you won’t kill her anyway once I give you the evidence?” Victoria took a step toward me. “You are in no position to negotiate.” “Evelyn, didn’t you want to get justice for all those poor people?” “Let’s see what matters more to you: Justice for seventeen strangers, or your own mother’s life.” The timer kept ticking down. Julian tightened his grip on my wrist, his voice laced with a desperation I had never heard before. “Save your mother first. We can deal with the evidence later. Please.” Thirty seconds left. My mother seemed to understand what was happening. Looking at me through the screen, she slowly, gently shook her head. “Eve, don’t listen to them.” The man holding the gun shoved her down harshly. My tears finally broke free. Victoria barked, “Cancel the upload!” I raised my phone. My thumb hovered over the ‘Cancel’ button. Julian visibly exhaled in relief. But in the next second, I bypassed the cancel prompt and tapped ‘Publish Now’. Victoria’s face twisted in horror. “Shoot her!” On the other side of the screen, my mother looked at me and smiled through her tears. A gunshot rang out. At the exact same moment, my phone vibrated in rapid succession.[All evidence successfully published.] The live feed on the tablet went completely black. I stood frozen in place, never to hear my mother’s voice again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “574839”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our seventh anniversary, my fiancé, Julian, and his childhood best friend, Mia, were playing the “Couples’ Quiz” game again. Question one: What is Julian’s favorite food? I wrote: Seafood. Mia wrote: Sushi, which he absolutely hates. Julian gave the point to Mia, his tone casual. “People’s tastes change.” Out of ten questions, Mia got nine right. I, his actual fiancée, only got three. As a reward, Julian handed her the tickets for the Northern Lights cruise—the trip he had promised to take with me. Seeing me stare at Mia’s name printed on the tickets, his expression didn’t even flicker. “I made a typo when I booked them. Calling customer service to change the name is too much of a hassle.” Mia waved the boarding passes, smiling innocently. “It’s just a game reward, Chloe. Let’s not waste them!” This wasn’t the first time. Over the past seven years, the reservation name at romantic restaurants was always hers. The emergency contact on his HR forms at work was her. Even on our wedding invitations, the name printed under “Bride” was hers. Whenever I got upset, Julian would just frown. “It’s a tiny mistake. Do you have to make a scene and embarrass everyone?” I used to think he was just careless. But now, I could no longer lie to myself. It wasn’t the information that was being filled out wrong. It was my place in his heart. I canceled the wedding, terminated the lease on our future home, and deleted his number. Since he wanted to cross me out of his life time and time again… This time, I’d grant his wish. When the front door unlocked, I had just pushed the last cardboard box into the entryway. Julian walked in with Mia, followed by a few friends who had been at the anniversary party. He paused when he saw the half-empty living room. “Chloe, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I taped up the final box without looking up. “I’m moving out.” Mia clutched the two cruise tickets, her eyes scanning my boxes. She let out a soft sigh. “If I knew a silly little game would make Chloe this jealous, I wouldn’t have gone.” Julian tossed his car keys onto the kitchen island. “The tickets are already issued. If she wants to throw a fit, let her. It has nothing to do with you, Mia.” The friends standing nearby laughed awkwardly, trying to smooth things over. “Come on, Chloe. Julian was just joking around. Are you seriously canceling the wedding over this?” “You guys made it seven years. You’re gonna throw that away over a typo on an invitation?” “Besides, what does it matter whose name is on the invite? You’re the one signing the marriage license at City Hall, right?” I looked up at them. “You guys knew?” The living room fell dead silent. The guy who spoke first rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, not that early. Just since the day Mia tried on the veil. We thought it was kind of a funny prank. We wanted to see how long it would take you to notice.” So they all knew. I was the only one kept in the dark. Julian frowned and cut in. “Enough. It’s not a big deal. Stop acting like the world is ending.” He walked over to me and ripped the packing tape off my box. “Put your stuff back. I’ll call the wedding planner. Any cancellation fees you incurred from acting out will be deducted from our travel fund.” I stared at him. “You already emptied the travel fund.” Julian didn’t even blink. “Mia is rarely back in the States. The deposit for the wedding dress alterations and the cruise had to be paid upfront. I just borrowed it for a cash flow issue.” “There was $35,000 of my own savings in that account,” I said. “I’ll pay you back after the wedding. Do you really have to be this petty and calculating right now?” I gripped the edge of the cardboard box. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what belonged to me. He just felt that what was mine didn’t matter. Mia looked down, clutching the tickets. “Maybe I should just pay Chloe back… I’m a little tight on money right now, but I don’t want her misunderstanding you, Julian.” Julian’s tone instantly softened. “This has nothing to do with you.” He looked back at me. “Mia’s health hasn’t been great. I agreed to go on the cruise with her because it’s not safe for her to be at sea alone.” “So you get to use my money and my tickets to do it?” I asked. His brows knitted tightly together. “Chloe, you’re twenty-eight years old. Can you stop fighting over petty nonsense like a high schooler?” I let out a sudden, dry laugh. Even now, he thought this was just “petty nonsense.” Julian leaned over, unzipped my suitcase, and started pulling my clothes out to put them back in the closet. But as he reached into the inner compartment, he found my passport and ID. He froze. “Where are you going?” “None of your business.” I reached for them, but he snatched my passport and shoved it into his suit pocket. “I’m not letting you run off in a fit of rage. The rehearsal dinner is in a few days, and you will be there.” “When you finally calm down, I’ll give this back to you.” He walked straight into his home office and locked my documents inside his digital safe. Before he left the apartment, he didn’t even look back at me. Once everyone was gone, I walked into the office and stood in front of the safe. I typed in the date of our anniversary—the day we made it official. The screen flashed red: Error. When we moved in seven years ago, Julian looked me in the eyes and promised that password would never change. Staring at the keypad, I suddenly remembered Mia’s birthday. I punched in the six digits. Click. The heavy metal door swung open. I guess his “never” had an expiration date of seven years. My passport was sitting right on top. Beneath it was a newly printed stack of contracts from our wedding planner. The bride’s name was still Mia. Even the confirmation sheet for our marriage license appointment at City Hall had Mia’s social security number on it instead of mine. I grabbed my passport and the appointment sheet, grabbed my suitcase, and left. Half an hour later, my phone rang from an unknown number. It was Julian. “Who gave you permission to open my safe?” “The password was Mia’s birthday. It wasn’t hard to guess.” I heard his breathing hitch. “Put the City Hall appointment sheet back. It’s just a prop for the wedding planner.” “Since when do government appointments double as props?” The line was quiet for a moment. “Mia wanted to do a photoshoot with a ‘Just Married’ theme, and she needed the appointment confirmation page for the background. After the shoot, I was going to change the information back to yours.” After the shoot. Change it back. As if typing my name at the very end would magically erase the betrayal. “Tonight is my grandmother’s birthday dinner. You have to be there. They found out you canceled the wedding vendors, and you are going to explain yourself to them.” “I’m not going.” His voice grew irritated. “Chloe, playing hard to get doesn’t work on me.” I hung up on him. That evening, the manager of a luxury hotel called me. Someone had found my jewelry box. It held a jade bracelet—the only heirloom my mother left me before she died. I had looked everywhere for it while packing, never expecting I had left it at the hotel from the anniversary party. I rushed over immediately. When I pushed open the doors to the private dining room, Julian’s entire family was seated around the table. Mia was sitting in the seat of honor next to Julian. On her finger was my engagement ring. Seeing me, she quickly pulled it off. “Chloe, don’t misunderstand. Julian’s grandma said this ring looked good on my skin tone, so I was just trying it on.” Julian’s grandmother didn’t even look guilty. “It’s just a ring. If she wants to wear it for a minute, let her.” In the past, I would have spiraled, agonizing over whether Julian’s family liked Mia more than me, and I would have bent over backward to please them. But now, I just walked straight up to Julian. “Give me my jewelry box.” He pressed his fingers flat against the lid of the box. “Did you leak the video of the anniversary party online?” “No.” “Only a few people knew that video existed.” He stared at me, his eyes filled with a cold, absolute certainty. “Now everyone is calling Mia a homewrecker online. She hasn’t slept in two days. Are you happy now?” I looked at him. “So you’re holding my dead mother’s heirloom hostage to get revenge for her?” He didn’t deny it. “Apologize to Mia in front of everyone, and I’ll give it back to you.” Mia’s eyes welled with tears. “Julian, it’s okay. Chloe is just acting out because she loves you too much.” The rest of the table immediately chimed in. “Mia is so mature.” “Chloe has always loved picking fights over the dumbest things.” I picked up a glass of wine and slowly poured it into the trash can. “I didn’t post the video. And I am not apologizing.” Mia suddenly stood up. “Chloe, you can be mad at me, but please don’t ruin Grandma’s birthday.” I pulled my hand back to leave, but she stumbled forward, knocking over a bowl of boiling hot soup. The scalding liquid splashed directly across the back of my hand. “Are you burned?!” Julian instantly pulled Mia into his arms, checking her frantically. Mia shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m fine. Check on Chloe!” Only then did Julian turn to me. “You know she has terrible balance. Why did you shove her?” He grabbed my wrist tightly, his thumb pressing directly onto my raw, blistering burn. “Apologize to her.” “And if I don’t?” The searing pain drilled into my bones. Instinctively, I tried to pull away, but he only gripped me harder. “Tonight is my grandmother’s birthday. Do you really have to make a scene and humiliate everyone?!” Mia leaned into his chest, sobbing. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sat in Chloe’s seat, and I shouldn’t have tried on her ring.” Julian picked up my engagement ring from the table and slid it back onto Mia’s finger. “If you like it, wear it. It’s just a ring.” Watching this, I suddenly didn’t feel the pain in my hand anymore. I lowered my eyes. I stopped struggling. I stopped defending myself. Thinking I had finally submitted, Julian loosened his grip. I snatched my jewelry box off the table, turned on my heel, and walked out. Behind me, I heard a relative ask, “Aren’t you going to go after her?” Julian’s voice was ice-cold. “Let her go. I want to see how she tries to crawl her way back to me this time.” My footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. All my endless compromises over the years had made him absolutely certain that I couldn’t live without him. But this time, I was truly, deeply exhausted. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A bank notification. The joint account Julian and I had shared for seven years had just been emptied. The remaining $15,000 had been transferred out. The transaction memo read: Wedding dress final payment. The next morning, I took my bank statements directly to the bridal boutique. The manager looked at the papers, her face full of pity. “Ms. Chloe, the final payment did come from your joint account, but the contract is under Mr. Julian’s name. The dress has already been altered. We can’t issue a refund.” “Half of the money in that account is mine,” I said. “I’m sorry, but any disputes over joint funds have to be settled between you and your fiancé.” Just then, the curtains to the fitting room were pulled back. Mia stepped out wearing my custom-made wedding dress. The waistline had been taken in by two inches. Seeing me, her smile grew radiant. “Chloe! What are you doing here?” Julian stepped out from behind her. He had been adjusting her train. He didn’t even look up at me. “Realized you were wrong?” I didn’t answer his question. “That last fifteen grand in the account was my surgery fund.” Three months ago, I found out I was pregnant. But during an ultrasound, my doctor found a rapidly growing ovarian cyst that was threatening the pregnancy and my health. I needed surgery immediately. Julian had promised to take time off and be at the hospital with me before the wedding. But when Mia moved back to the States, he was too busy helping her unpack, booking her dinners, and doing wedding photoshoots with her. My surgery kept getting pushed back. Julian went silent for a moment. “Didn’t the biopsy say it was a benign cyst? Since it’s not life-threatening right now, just wait a few more days.” I looked at him. “The doctor said it’s growing too fast. It’s going to rupture if we wait.” He frowned. “The dress is already altered. If we don’t pay the final balance now, everything we spent on it goes down the drain. I’ll figure out a way to pay for your surgery later. It won’t delay your treatment.” “But you knew exactly what that money was saved for.” Impatience flashed across Julian’s face. “Stop trying to use the baby to manipulate me.” I suddenly lost all energy to speak. In his eyes, my health—my life—was just something that could be pushed to the back of the line. Mia lifted the skirt of the dress and walked over. “Chloe, if you’re really that sick, I don’t have to wear this dress.” “It’s just… the designer stayed up for three nights altering it, and Julian came with me to fifteen different fittings. If we refund it now, all our hard work will be for nothing.” I looked at her. “You used my money, to alter my dress. What ‘hard work’ did you possibly put into this?” Mia’s face went stark white. Julian immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from me. “I transferred the money. If you’re pissed off, take it out on me. Don’t take your anger out on Mia.” He pulled a debit card from his wallet and shoved it into my hand. “There’s five grand on this. Use it to pay the hospital admission deposit. I’ll transfer the rest to you in a few days.” I didn’t take it. The card fell to the marble floor. Mia clutched her chest, her eyes turning red. “Chloe… I grew up never being chosen by anyone. I just wanted to borrow your life for one day.” Julian instantly scooped her up into his arms. When he glared at me, his eyes were piercingly cold. “You know she can’t handle stress, yet you purposely corner her like this. Are you satisfied now?” He carried Mia toward the exit. As he passed me, he paused. “I’ll have my assistant schedule your surgery. Stay the hell away from Mia.” His assistant picked up the fallen debit card and tried to hand it to me, whispering, “Ms. Chloe, your health comes first. Just take it for now.” I didn’t take it. My phone vibrated. It was my OB-GYN. “Chloe, your latest scan results are back. The cyst is compressing the area much worse than before. We can’t wait anymore. Can your family come with you to the hospital today?” I watched Julian carry Mia out the front doors. “I don’t have any family,” I said. The doctor paused. “Then find a friend. The surgery has risks, and you’ll need someone to take care of you during recovery.” “Okay,” I whispered. After I hung up, the digital display screen in the bridal shop began autoplaying a sample wedding video. On the screen, Julian stood at the altar while Mia, wearing my veil, walked down the aisle toward him. In the background audio, a cameraman jokingly asked, “What if Chloe actually leaves you?” Julian looked directly into the lens and smiled lazily. “She won’t.” The day of my hospital admission, Julian texted me an address. “Be here at 7:00 PM to sort out this video mess. The rumors online are starting to drag Mia and her family through the mud. Is this what you wanted?” I didn’t reply. At 7:05 PM, he sent a photo. It was a VIP lounge at a private club. A tripod camera was set up, and on the table lay a printed apology script and an NDA. The script stated that the anniversary video was maliciously edited by me out of jealousy, that the digital wedding invites were faked, and that Mia never interfered in our relationship. “You will be on camera at 7:30 PM to clear her name. If you don’t show up, my lawyers will sue you for defamation and freeze all your assets.” When I arrived at the club, Mia and all their friends were there. Julian checked his watch and pushed the documents toward me. “You have ten minutes. Sign it, then read the script into the camera.” I clutched my violently cramping abdomen and sat down. “I didn’t post the video. I’m not signing anything.” “It doesn’t matter who posted it anymore,” he said, tapping a pen against the table. “Adults solve problems. You’re the only one who can make this go away.” The friends around him chimed in. “Exactly. Mia has compromised enough. You should be over it by now.” “It’s just a short video. You can’t let the internet bully Mia forever.” I looked at him. For the very last time, I spoke. “I’m having surgery tomorrow.” Julian glanced at me, unimpressed. “Last week it was just a benign cyst. Now suddenly it requires emergency surgery tomorrow?” He tossed his phone onto the table, his tone dripping with apathy. “Chloe, our child is not a bargaining chip for your petty jealousy.” Someone at the table, who had clearly had too much to drink, laughed and pulled up an old video on their phone to break the tension. “Man, remember how Julian chased Chloe back in college? That was wild. Mia, do you remember that bet?” Julian’s face drained of color. “Turn that off!” But the video was already casting onto the lounge’s TV screen. The footage showed a nineteen-year-old Julian leaning against the bleachers, looking young and reckless. A friend asked him, “Mia shot you down again? Are you seriously gonna date someone else just to make her jealous?” Julian glanced across the field. The camera panned over. It showed a nineteen-year-old me, carrying a stack of textbooks, walking past the bleachers. “Her,” the Julian in the video laughed. “She looks sweet. Probably easy to string along.” I sat perfectly still, staring at the screen. Every ounce of emotion in my chest evaporated into thin air. So our entire beginning… was just a game. Julian snatched the phone and killed the projection. “That was a stupid joke from seven years ago. It means nothing.” I looked up at him. “The restaurant reservations, the concert tickets, the medical forms, the cruise tickets… for seven years, every ‘typo’ was intentional, wasn’t it?” Julian didn’t answer. Mia spoke up, her voice small. “At first, we just wanted to see if you would notice. But when you fell for it every single time, we just… thought it was funny.” A sudden, blinding spike of pain ripped through my abdomen. I doubled over, cold sweat instantly soaking through my shirt. Julian noticed something was wrong and reached out to catch me, but before he could, Mia suddenly grabbed her stomach. “Julian… I feel so sick.” Julian’s face went white with panic. He immediately dropped his hand, rushed over to Mia, and scooped her up into his arms. I endured the excruciating, twisting pain in my gut. “Julian… take me to the hospital.” He furrowed his brows and peeled my fingers off his sleeve one by one. “Stop acting. Mia is having a panic attack, I need to get her to the ER.” “I’ll come back for you when she’s stable.” Without another word, he carried Mia out of the lounge, never once looking back. I tried to follow him, but the pain became unbearable. My vision went black, and I collapsed onto the carpet. The friends at the table finally realized I wasn’t faking and frantically dialed 911. As the paramedics loaded me into the ambulance, my phone lit up. A text from Julian. “Stop using your health as an excuse. You have three days to go live and clear Mia’s name, or my lawyers are filing the lawsuit.” I didn’t reply. When the ambulance reached the hospital, the surgeon shoved a consent form into my hands. “This is an emergency. When will your family be here?” I gripped the pen, fighting through the agonizing pain, and signed my own name on the contact line. “I don’t have family. I’m signing for myself.” As the doors to the operating room began to close, I pulled out my phone and hit ‘Send’. The anniversary video, the original wedding invitations, the bank transfer logs, and the video of the bet from seven years ago—I sent it all directly to my lawyer. Then I looked up at the surgeon. “Cancel the prenatal care. Schedule the cyst removal. I’m not keeping the baby.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “574838”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my eighth suicide attempt, my terrifyingly powerful mob-boss boyfriend finally settled down. No more underground poker games, no more strip clubs, no more mistresses. His bitter rival laughed at him, saying he was being treated like a dog on a leash by a woman. He just brushed it off with a smile. His crew whispered behind my back, saying I lacked the composure to be a boss’s woman. Dominic’s face instantly turned to stone. He turned to me, his voice softening just for me: “Clara, ignore their bullshit.” “We survived the worst of it together. You think I’d let a couple of rumors break us now? If I did, then me cleaning up my act would have been for nothing.” I believed him. Until one day, I came home early. Dominic looked up from the young girl tangled in his sheets. He gave me a look of deep regret. “I really didn’t want to break your heart.” “I hid it perfectly. Why did you have to come home a day early?” I stared at the wrecked state of the bedroom. I calmly walked over and poured myself a glass of water. His first instinct was to pull the girl tightly into his arms, shielding her. “Lily isn’t like you,” he said. “She’s the reason I finally decided to settle down for good.” “You can either pretend you didn’t see this, or I can make her an official part of this family. You choose. I’ll go with whatever you decide.” In that moment, everything finally clicked into place. I had tried to kill myself eight times. I had caused massive, city-wide scandals. But his ultimate “reformation”? It was never for me. I set the water glass back on the table and spoke softly. “Either works.” “So I’ll step aside for her.” …

On my first day working at Julian’s company, he established a strict rule: Every Saturday night at exactly 9:00 PM was the only time I was allowed to call him. To “avoid rumors” and “maintain professional boundaries,” the call was strictly limited to ten minutes. Any other calls would be ignored. Texting was restricted to one message a day. He told me this was what a mature, professional relationship looked like. I nodded. And I adhered to that rule for four years. Over those four years, I learned to watch the clock and talk as fast as I could to squeeze everything I wanted to say into those ten minutes. Until today. Walking home from the subway, I was mugged. The guy snatched my purse and smashed my phone on the pavement. Panicking and shaking, I borrowed a stranger’s phone to call him. I barely got a single word out before he cut me off. “You’re crossing the line, Chloe. If you need something, wait until Saturday.” He hung up. Standing on the dark street, a sudden, overwhelming urge to see him washed over me. But as I walked up to his apartment building, I saw him walking back with the new summer intern, Mia. They were walking shoulder to shoulder. An older woman walking her dog smiled and teased them. “Julian! Walking your girlfriend home from work again?” “Every single day, rain or shine. You really are a catch!” Julian smiled and accepted the compliment. He held the heavy glass door open for Mia, placing a protective hand on her back as they walked into the lobby. A minute later, the lights in the third-floor apartment flicked on. I stood on the sidewalk in the dark. I pulled out the burner phone I had just bought, opened the clock app, and deleted the Saturday 9:00 PM alarm I had set for four years. No one was going to wait for those ten minutes ever again. He wanted to maintain professional boundaries? I’d give him the ultimate boundary. … I stood outside Julian’s front door. The hallway light flickered above me, an uncanny resemblance to our entire relationship over the past few years. I curled my hand into a fist, hesitated, and finally knocked. A moment later, the door swung open. When Julian saw it was me, his brow instantly furrowed into a deep scowl. “What are you doing here? It’s not our scheduled time. Go home.” In the past, I probably would have apologized and turned around. But tonight was different. The neighbor’s words were still echoing in my ears. “Julian’s girlfriend is so pretty. He walks her home every day.” “I saw them at the mall last weekend, carrying so many shopping bags.” I knew they were talking about Mia. The young intern at the firm. The girl who always cheerfully called me “Chloe” at the water cooler. But I never, ever imagined she would be inside Julian’s apartment. “Chloe, don’t be unreasonable. We agreed to—” I cut him off. “Is someone in there?” He froze for a fraction of a second. “Julian… what’s taking so long with the wine…” Mia poked her head out from the kitchen. When she saw me, her face lit up with a massive smile. “Chloe! Wow, you’re here so late. Are you dropping off work files?” Before I could answer, she grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. I stood in the entryway. The living room used to be entirely monochrome—grey sofa, grey rug. It was a place where I wasn’t even allowed to leave an extra coaster on the coffee table without him complaining about “clutter.” Now, there was a bright pink mug sitting on the table. The throw pillows had been swapped out for fluffy velvet ones. The door to the guest bedroom was wide open. Julian used to always tell me that room was just for storage and it was too messy to go in. I believed him for five years. I had never once stepped foot inside. Now, Mia eagerly dragged me into that room and pulled open the closet doors. It was packed with women’s clothes. Many still had the price tags attached. Reformation, Prada, Zara… brands I could never justify buying for myself. “Oh my gosh, your clothes are so dirty. Did you fall on your way home from work?” She pulled a silk blouse from a hanger and held it up against me. “I guess it makes sense. You don’t have a boyfriend, right? Not like Julian, who walks me home every single day.” “He bought all of these for me. He buys me new stuff every week. I can’t even wear it all! You can have some if you want.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Are you two together?” Her face flushed completely red. “Well… not officially. He hasn’t formally asked me out yet, but it’s basically a done deal.” “He even took me to meet his parents last weekend, so it should be official soon!” My heart turned to absolute ice. The pain from the shattered phone glass digging into my palm earlier tonight was nothing compared to this. On the dining table, a massive spread of spicy Sichuan takeout was laid out. Julian scooped a bowl of soup and placed it carefully next to Mia’s plate. With a natural, practiced motion, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It shouldn’t be too spicy this time. I told the chef to cut the chili oil in half.” She nudged his shoulder playfully. “Aw, Julian! I love whatever you order. You don’t have to micromanage the chef!” I sat across from them, completely invisible. An intruder. Julian had never once asked me what I liked to eat. In the five years we had been together, the number of times we had dinner together could be counted on one hand. I couldn’t handle spicy food, but every time he ordered, it was always something drowned in hot sauce. I used to tell myself he was just forgetful. That he wasn’t good at the “little details.” I was wrong. He wasn’t forgetful. He just didn’t care. I watched as Julian meticulously picked the tiny bones out of a piece of fish before placing it into Mia’s bowl. I suddenly remembered last Saturday. I had called him at exactly 9:00 PM, and he hung up on me without saying a single word. Sensing my gaze, Julian looked up at me. His eyes were completely devoid of warmth. “Chloe, are you finished eating? It’s getting late. If there’s no work emergency, you need to head home.” Mia immediately grabbed his sleeve. “Julian! Don’t be so rude to her! I’ll walk her downstairs, it’s not safe out there so late…” “But you’re staying over tonight…” Before they could finish their little routine, I stood up. “No need. I’ll get myself home.” I walked toward the door, their voices still echoing behind me. “Julian! I know I don’t like it when you’re nice to other girls, but you still can’t be that mean…” The heavy front door clicked shut, cutting off the sound completely. I slowly walked down the stairwell. I opened Julian’s text thread. The last message was from me, sent yesterday: [Work was so exhausting this week, but just thinking about calling you on Saturday makes me happy. How have you been? Make sure you’re eating on time.] He had left me on read. My thumb hovered over the send button. I didn’t know how long I stood there in the stairwell before I finally pressed it. [Let’s break up.] This time, I didn’t look back. I went back to my cramped apartment and collapsed onto my bed. The screen of my burner phone remained black. Two hours had passed. Julian still hadn’t replied. Honestly, I expected it. For five years, he had chosen to ignore almost every single message I sent him. But tonight was different. Tonight, I said the words “break up.” I thought it would warrant at least some reaction. Suddenly, the screen lit up. It was a text from Mia: [Chloe, did you make it home safe?] [You looked awful tonight… did you get dumped or something?] [Honestly, you should just break up with whoever he is. Guys like that aren’t worth it. Not everyone can be as perfect as Julian…] The harsh blue light of the screen made my eyes sting. I didn’t reply. The next morning, I pushed open the glass doors to the main conference room. Julian’s gaze swept over me without a fraction of a pause. When it was my turn to present the quarterly analytics, I barely made it to the fourth minute. Julian’s voice cut through the room, absolutely freezing. “Chloe. Do you think that just because you went on one successful business trip last month, you can start coasting and collecting a paycheck for doing nothing?” “There are basic grammatical errors on this slide. With this kind of pathetic attitude… you can pack your desk.” The room dropped into a dead silence. This wasn’t the first time Julian had publicly humiliated me. At the office, he played the role of the ruthless, demanding boss flawlessly. And I was forced to play the role of the incompetent employee who could never do anything right. I gripped my presentation clicker tightly. “I apologize. I’ll revise it immediately.” After the meeting ended, I stayed behind in the conference room to fix the slides. Through the glass walls, I could see Julian standing in the bullpen, explaining a spreadsheet to Mia. He was leaning over her chair, pointing at the monitor, explaining everything with incredible patience. Patience he had never once shown me. When 5:00 PM finally hit, I packed up my bag to leave. Mia practically skipped over and linked her arm through mine. “Chloe! Don’t be mad about the meeting! I yelled at Julian during lunch. I told him he can’t treat you like that. Next time, I’ll teach him a lesson for you!” “Come on, let’s go stargazing! It’s just a park nearby. Julian takes me there every single night.” I instinctively looked over at Julian. He was standing by his office door, one hand in his pocket. He didn’t make any move to stop her. When we arrived, it was a wide, grassy hill on the edge of the city. The view was clear, and the sky was actually full of stars. Halfway through the night, Mia suddenly pulled a six-pack of beers out of her tote bag. After drinking two, she started whining playfully at Julian. “Julian! You have to tell me the truth right now. Do you love me?! Say you love me! I don’t care, just say it!” Julian laughed helplessly, a soft, indulgent sound, and agreed with her over and over again. I just sat a few feet away on the grass, listening to them flirt. Eventually, Mia passed out, curled up against Julian’s chest. He finally looked over at me. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He pulled a fifty-dollar bill and a keycard out of his wallet and handed them to me. “Take a cab home. I need to drive Mia back. She tosses and turns when she sleeps, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving her.” “Go wait at my apartment. I’ll come back and explain everything to you.” I didn’t refuse. I still had some personal things at his place. I needed to pack them up and make a clean break anyway. The cab pulled up to his luxury high-rise. I stared down at the sleek electronic keycard in my hand. Five years. It took five years for me to finally get a key to his apartment, and it was only because another girl got too drunk. It was hilarious, honestly. When we first started dating, he did give me a key. Back then, we lived in a fifth-floor walk-up in a sketchy neighborhood. No elevator. The key was a cheap, jagged piece of metal cut at a hardware store. When his startup finally took off, he moved into this high-rise and installed a biometric smart lock. My fingerprint was deleted less than 24 hours after he put it in. His excuse was always incredibly logical: We need to maintain professional boundaries. If someone from the office sees, it’ll cause drama. The elevator pinged at the 16th floor. The hallway was dead quiet. I swiped the card and pushed the door open. The living room still looked exactly like it did last night. The two mugs were still on the coffee table. There was a new vanity mirror sitting on the console. Taped to the back of the mirror was a Polaroid photo. Mia was throwing up a peace sign at the camera, and Julian was standing right behind her, a genuine, relaxed smile on his face. I looked away and started packing my things. Honestly, there wasn’t much to pack. When we moved out of the walk-up, Julian told me he would pack all my stuff for me. When I went to unpack later, I found my boxes had been opened and half my things were missing. He told me, “I threw out all the old, cheap junk. I’ll buy you brand new stuff.” I never saw any of that “new stuff.” I dug an old, dog-eared novel out of the nightstand and found a single, mismatched earring. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city had gone completely dark. I sat on the edge of the bed for a while, thinking about things from a very long time ago. Right after college, Julian’s first startup went bankrupt. We squeezed into a tiny, hundred-square-foot studio apartment, surviving on instant ramen. He would stay up drafting business proposals until 3:00 AM, and I would sit right next to him, keeping him company. One night, he suddenly pulled me into a tight hug. “Chloe, just give me two years. Two years, and I promise I’ll put you in a massive, beautiful house.” The sound of the front door opening snapped me back to reality. Julian walked into the bedroom. Seeing my packed bag, his tone softened. “It’s probably for the best that you take all your stuff for now. Once this upcoming promotion cycle is over, we can finally make our relationship…” “Does Mia know we’re together?” Julian paused. He let out that familiar, patronizing sigh. “Chloe, I thought you of all people understood me. After all these years, I never expected you to get this paranoid and suspicious.” “Mia is just a kid. She doesn’t have any of the manipulative motives you’re imagining. She’s sweeter and more innocent than you could ever understand.” He took a step closer. “You’re always so emotional and impulsive. If I wasn’t constantly pushing you at work, what would you have actually accomplished?” “Look, stop being mad. I told you I’m going to marry you. Just wait a little longer, okay?” When I didn’t respond, he pulled a sleek black credit card from his pocket and tossed it onto the nightstand. “The pin is your birthday. Buy whatever you want, don’t worry about the price. I’ll drive you home.” “And keep our relationship quiet for now. Mia’s health isn’t great, I don’t want to stress her out.” I looked at him one last time. His face was a mask of absolute patience and forced restraint. He looked exactly like the man from years ago, but at the same time, there was absolutely nothing left of him. I walked right past him toward the door. “Julian. Do whatever you want. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.” The next day at lunch, Mia skipped over to my desk to ask me to eat with her. I stayed in my chair, ignoring her. She started poking around my desk and bumped into the old novel I had brought back last night. A folded piece of paper slipped out from between the pages. Julian’s name was written on it. Before I could snatch it back, Mia picked it up. Her cheerful smile vanished, inch by inch. She flipped through the pages of the book, her eyes scanning the margins. Suddenly, she slammed the book onto my desk, her voice shrill and piercing. “Chloe! Are you the pathetic mistress Julian’s been hiding this whole time?!” The entire open-plan office went dead silent. My hand throbbed where the heavy book had hit it. “He and I have been—” Mia cut me off, her voice cracking hysterically. “Have been what?! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?! You’re the one sending him those pathetic, desperate essays every Saturday night, aren’t you?!” “Shamelessly throwing yourself at a man who already has a girlfriend! How dare you act like you’re innocent?!” She slammed her heel down on my scattered notebooks. “Have I not been nice to you, Chloe?! I treated you like a big sister! You knew we were getting engaged, and you still tried to be the other woman?!” Mia’s chest heaved. “Get on your knees.” Her eyes were red with tears, but her gaze was absolute ice. “Get on your knees, and maybe I’ll believe you.” One of Mia’s work friends pulled out her phone, pointing the camera directly at my face. “What an absolute slut. I love destroying homewreckers. I’m posting this everywhere.” The whispers from the rest of the office started rising like a tide. “You really never know people…” “Didn’t you notice? Whenever Mr. Vance was involved, she always acted so weird…” “She’s probably been plotting this since day one.” I opened my mouth to explain. Mia looked down at me, the faintest hint of a smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. “Throw her trash out. Mr. Vance won’t tolerate people like her in his company anyway.” And just like that, people swarmed my desk, aggressively sweeping my personal belongings into a cardboard box. When the building security guard walked over, his tone was polite but left zero room for argument. “Ms. Chloe, please leave the premises.” I was practically escorted out of the building like a criminal. The heavy glass lobby doors clicked shut behind me. I had to crouch down on the pavement to gather the pens and papers that had spilled from my box. Suddenly, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down. Julian looked at me, his brows knitted in disgust. “Why are you making such a mess? Get in.” Mia popped her head out from the passenger seat, a sickly sweet smile plastered back on her face. “Chloe! Get in, before you start playing the victim again!” “I really don’t want to post this video online, but we all know you have a million dirty tricks up your sleeve.” I didn’t look at them. I just opened the back door and got in. Mia leaned over the center console, hugging Julian’s arm. “Julian! A new movie just came out, can we go see it tonight? Please?” Julian gave a soft, “Mhm.” He was always quiet when he drove, but Mia always knew how to make him talk. She would say ten things, and he would indulge every single one. I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window, tuning them out entirely. Seeing that I was completely ignoring them, Mia’s voice suddenly pitched higher. “Julian, if that ugly old hag and I fell into a river at the same time, who would you save?” Two seconds of silence. Then Julian’s voice drifted back to me. “You.” CRASH. My vision violently violently shook. The entire world began to spin. Warm, thick blood started pouring down the side of my face. I fought to keep my eyes open. Through the jagged cracks in the shattered windshield, I saw the front seat. Julian’s hands were wrapped tightly around Mia’s head. His entire body was thrown over hers, using his own shoulders to completely shield her from the impact. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room greeted me. I looked over at the empty bed next to mine. “Where are the people who came in with me?” The nurse checking my IV paused. “Oh, the other girl just had some minor scrapes, but she kept complaining about dizzy spells. The gentleman who was driving went with her for a full CT scan.” “Before he left, he told us to make sure we took good care of you.” Took good care of you. Always passing the responsibility to someone else. Never once willing to stay himself. I looked down, ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand, and pressed a cotton ball to the bleeding vein. These past four years had been an absolute, humiliating joke. I was done waiting. After signing my own AMA discharge papers, I went back to the apartment one final time. Five years of my life fit perfectly into one small carry-on suitcase. Anything that didn’t belong to me anymore wasn’t worth fighting for. Finally, I took off the corporate ID badge I had worn for four years and left it face-up on the dining table. I booked a one-way ticket to Seattle. Right before the plane taxied to the runway, I checked my phone one last time. Saturday. 9:03 PM.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “574837”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My girlfriend and my best buddy loved to play “The Wager.” But the subject of their bets was always me. They’d bet on how long I’d wait for them at a designated spot. They’d bet on which puddle I’d step in and slip during a rainy day. They’d bet on whether my nose would run when I ate the extra-spicy jalapeños my buddy sneakily put in my food. Later, my buddy moved abroad, and Olivia and I got married. The three-person game finally stopped. Until late one night, while working at the club, I ran into a group playing “Time Bomb.” I walked in carrying drinks, only to hear Olivia’s voice. “I lost. I stepped on the bomb.” Her friends cheered, “A bet’s a bet! Your penalty is to pick one of the guys here and do a couple’s dance!” The next second, Olivia, who had been “paralyzed” for three years, sprang up from her wheelchair and walked straight toward my buddy, Ethan. They twirled and leaped across the dance floor. Everyone clapped enthusiastically. A friend clapped and yelled, “Olivia, you’re amazing! A fake marriage, faking paralysis—you’ve made Julian our entertainment for three years.” Olivia and Ethan interlaced their fingers. “Well, I lost a bet to him before. A bet’s a bet.” Ethan doubled over with laughter. “We bet on whether Julian would devotedly take care of her for six years. Olivia said he wouldn’t; I said he would.” “Guess what happened?” “A fake marriage certificate tied Julian down tight. Olivia faked being paralyzed, and he never left her side, carrying her up and down the stairs for three years!” “I guess I know Julian better. I won!” Hidden in the dark corner, I smiled bitterly. So, their betting game had never stopped. If that was the case, I was out of this three-person relationship. … Laughter filled the private room. Using the shadows for cover, I set the drinks down and retreated to the corner. Seeing the drinks on the table, Ethan started egging everyone on. “Let’s all guess what Julian is doing right now. Anyone who guesses wrong has to finish all these beers on the table!” Everyone eagerly joined in. Some said I was sleeping, some said I was cleaning, some said I was scrolling on my phone. When it was Ethan’s turn, his tone was certain. “You’re all wrong. Julian definitely isn’t home. He’s out working a late shift to support Olivia.” “It’s the middle of the night, I don’t buy it,” someone doubted. Someone asked, “Olivia, you spend the most time with Julian. What do you think?” Olivia’s gaze was soft. “I’m with Ethan. Whatever he says is right.” Ethan smugly took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. The next moment, every corner of my rented apartment was clearly projected onto the room’s 163-inch screen. The lights were on, but the place was empty. Ethan’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Ha! I won. Everyone who guessed wrong, grab a bottle and chug!” The atmosphere in the room was electric, but I felt a chilling cold wash over me. The little home I had painstakingly decorated over the last five years had been bugged with hidden cameras by Olivia. And I had become a tool for their amusement. After everyone had a round of drinks, Ethan’s spirits were high. “Let’s do another round! Guess what nicknames Olivia and Julian use when they text.” Olivia was peeling a lychee and popping it into Ethan’s mouth. She looked so focused, as if the person they were discussing had nothing to do with her. “Olivia’s been faking this marriage for five years. She probably calls him ‘hubby’ or ‘Julian’ just to keep up appearances.” Everyone thought that made sense. Ethan flashed a brilliant smile. “Looks like I won again.” He quickly typed something on his phone. Then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Olivia: “Baby, what are you doing? I miss you.” I looked down at Olivia’s profile picture, then up at Ethan typing away. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand; I could barely breathe. The next moment, the chat interface was mirrored on the big screen. “Olivia, you’re so cheesy! You actually call Julian ‘baby’.” Olivia glanced at Ethan. “Ethan logged into my account.” “He thinks it’s fun, he always messes with Julian like this.” Everyone gasped. “Olivia, you spoil Ethan too much.” Olivia looked at Ethan affectionately. “Ethan said we always did everything together. This is his first time being so far away alone, and he feels insecure.” “So I let him log into my messaging app, and I gave him access to the cameras at home.” “Whatever he wants, I share everything with him.” With trembling hands, I scrolled up through the chat history. “Baby, the sunrise is so beautiful. I wish I could see it every day.” “Baby, Valentine’s Day is here. I really want some flowers.” “Baby, I heard the boba tea shop on the East Side is really good.” I had replied to all of them: “Okay, Olivia, wait for me.” She wanted to see the sunrise, so I carried her up and down six flights of stairs every day, rain or shine, never missing a day. For Valentine’s Day, I’d rush to the florist early to snag the freshest roses to profess my love. I spent six hours crossing the city just to buy her favorite iced boba tea. I’d be so exhausted I was pale, but I never cared. Because I wanted to give Olivia the best of everything. I hoped our days together would get sweeter and sweeter. But today I learned. My dedication and love were nothing but a game for Olivia and Ethan to recklessly toy with. The room reeked of alcohol. The game was still going. Someone cheered, “Ethan, you won again!” Someone grumbled, “Julian, are you a pig? You do whatever you’re told! You made me lose another round!” “Gotta admit, Olivia, you really know how to train a guy. Teach us how you did it.” Ethan laughed, hugging Olivia, looking triumphant. “The three of us grew up together. Julian has always been like this, super easy to manipulate.” “Every time we use him for a bet, Olivia and my relationship gets stronger.” “I’m really grateful he’s been the security guard for our love.” Everyone burst into laughter. I turned off my phone screen and walked out. I handed my resignation to the manager. When I got home, I searched for all the cameras and covered them with duct tape. Then I started packing my bags and looking for a new apartment online. I didn’t have much; a small suitcase held it all. The rest of the stuff was all things I had bought for Olivia. The wheelchair, the cushions, the massage pillow. The limited-edition plushies, the perfume, the designer bags I had fought to get. Only then did I realize that all these things were piled in a corner, gathering dust. She had never touched them. I found a cardboard box, stuffed everything inside, and went to the apartment complex’s dumpster. As I was leaving, a maintenance guy called out to me, “Hey kid, you’re in 605, right?” When I nodded, he hesitated. “Your wife’s legs are better, huh? I’ve seen her come downstairs with a guy a few times. Are they related to you?” “That boba tea and dessert you bought last time? That guy threw it in the trash, too.” “Keep an eye on your wife. Don’t let just anyone into your house!” I nodded my thanks, tears streaming down my face as I walked back. The truth that a stranger could so easily see… I had been blind to it for six whole years. Back home, I stuffed the last few loose items into my backpack. The lock clicked, and Ethan wheeled Olivia in, laughing and chatting. Seeing me, Ethan walked over and bumped my shoulder. He greeted me as if nothing had happened. “Julian, I’m back!” “Six years, and you’re still the same. So goofy, it’s hilarious.” I forced a stiff smile, hearing the mockery in his words. Leaving the luggage, Ethan helped Olivia from the wheelchair to the couch. He put her arm over his shoulder, pretending it was a struggle. Olivia played along, acting as if her legs were weak and she couldn’t stand. Seeing them acting so seriously, I smirked and decided to play along. Soon, Olivia was on the couch, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Ethan. “What a trip! I’m exhausted! Julian, make me something to eat,” Ethan ordered. Olivia immediately looked at me. “Hurry up, I’m hungry too. Make some seafood pasta; Ethan loves it.” “I only make tomato and egg pasta,” I replied flatly. Olivia’s face changed. “Ethan just got back, why are you throwing a fit again?” I watched her anxious face and found it amusing. “Olivia, I’m allergic to seafood, did you forget?” “I didn’t ask you to eat it, can’t you even touch it?” Olivia dismissed. Ethan blinked. “Hurry up, Julian, I even brought you a gift!” The two of them chimed in perfectly. I didn’t say another word and went into the kitchen. The pasta was done and served. Olivia and Ethan got shrimp pasta, and I got tomato and egg pasta. Halfway through eating, a rash started breaking out on my neck and face. It itched so badly I couldn’t help but scratch it. Ethan started laughing. He moved all the large shrimp from his bowl to Olivia’s. “I won! Olivia, a bet’s a bet. You have to peel the shrimp for me!” “Okay, you’re the best. Julian didn’t even notice.” Olivia smiled affectionately and immediately started peeling the shrimp. They were laughing together, but I was frozen. Seeing this, Ethan poked the rash on my face. “All red and blotchy, like a clown. Julian, why are you so clueless?” “Just now, when you went to the kitchen for chopsticks, Olivia and I made a bet. We sneaked a tiny piece of shrimp shell into your bowl to see if you’d notice.” “I guessed you wouldn’t, Olivia thought you definitely would. I won, buddy. I really do know you best!” The itch on my face turned into a burning, stinging pain. I couldn’t breathe, choking until physical tears streamed down my face. Spot, who had been hiding in the corner, seemed to sense my distress. He suddenly charged out and barked twice at Ethan. Ethan’s crisp laughter stopped abruptly, and his face went pale. “Spot! Back off!” Olivia’s face instantly hardened, and she slammed her chopsticks down hard on Spot’s head. Spot whimpered softly and backed away from Ethan. I quickly shielded Spot behind me. “Olivia, what are you doing?!” “The mutt bites, I’m disciplining him,” Olivia said coldly. “He almost bit Ethan just now, didn’t you see?” My heart ached with a dull pain. “Spot is a retired police dog. You know he doesn’t bite; he was just barking to warn Ethan.” “That’s still not okay.” Olivia’s face was grim. “Julian, control your dog!” Olivia called Spot a mutt. But she was the one who had gone through so much trouble to get him for me, and she used to treasure him too. After my parents’ accident, I lived alone and felt very insecure. Olivia spent a fortune to buy Spot for me, so he could keep me company and protect me. Just now, Spot had barked a warning because he sensed Ethan’s malice towards me. “Alright, don’t fight over me,” Ethan interjected. “It’s just a dog, lock him up and it’ll be fine.” Afraid of another conflict, I locked Spot in the bedroom. Then I went to the bathroom alone to induce vomiting, almost throwing up bile. Besides my neck and face, a dense rash had broken out all over my body. The door opened, and Olivia, sitting in the wheelchair, struggled to get in. She took a towel and wiped the mess from my mouth, her expression complicated. “Ethan’s joke went a little too far, but allergies are a minor thing. Don’t be so dramatic, you’re a grown man.” I didn’t say anything and pushed away the ointment she offered. Her face grew cold again. “Julian, enough is enough.” “Ethan is staying with us for a while this time. What’s the point of you having an attitude every day?” I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I just felt exhausted. Then, Ethan’s laughter echoed from the master bedroom. “Olivia, come quick! I brought you a gift from abroad. CK lingerie, ultra-sheer. Come try it on for size.” The coldness on Olivia’s face instantly vanished. She dropped a “calm down by yourself” and wheeled herself toward the bedroom. I smiled bitterly and took Spot out for a walk. Since Ethan was going to stay, to avoid him and Spot clashing again, I dropped Spot off at a pet boarding facility. Then I called the landlord and canceled next month’s lease. I didn’t get back until the evening. Ethan had already taken over the master bedroom and was asleep. Seeing that I had sent the dog away, Olivia was very satisfied. “Julian, Ethan is exhausted from his trip. The master bed is big and comfortable, let him have it for now. We’ll make do in the guest room.” I looked at her. “What about tomorrow? And the day after? And next week?” Olivia was taken aback, then her face darkened. “He’s your buddy. What’s wrong with letting him have the master bedroom?” “Julian, since when have you been so stingy with your friends?” Looking at her angry face, I felt so tired. When did the three of us become like this? I remember the Lunar New Year when my parents died saving someone from drowning. I held Spot, looking at the city lights outside the window, crying alone. The snow was heavy that year. Olivia rode an electric bike for an hour, navigating that dark, unlit path, to bring me New Year’s Eve dinner. The basket couldn’t hold it all, so she tucked the fried sticky rice balls into her coat to keep them warm. When she took them out, they were still steaming. Her skin got a huge blister from the heat, but she just grinned widely. Ethan also brought dumplings his family had made, steaming hot, making a full table. He smiled, “It’s so wonderful that just the three of us are eating all this food!” On New Year’s Day, the two of them showed up at my house again, bearing gifts. That winter was bitter cold, but Olivia and Ethan spent it with me. It warmed me for many years. But as time went on, the three of us drifted apart. My phone rang suddenly, waking me up. I crawled out of bed; the apartment was empty. I answered it. It was Olivia’s number, but Ethan’s voice. “Julian, 8 PM tonight at the Grand Plaza Hotel. My welcome back dinner. Be there on time.” “I’m not feeling well, I won’t—” Before I could finish, Olivia interrupted me harshly. “Julian, can you stop throwing a tantrum? Ethan wasn’t even going to have a welcome dinner, but he booked a five-star hotel just to apologize to you. Are you really going to disrespect him like this?” “Have you forgotten who protected you and helped you grow up after your parents died?” “You need to learn to be grateful!” My throat was dry, like it was stuffed with broken glass. “Okay,” I said calmly. “I’ll be there on time.” When I arrived at the hotel promptly that evening, only leftovers remained. Olivia’s face was livid. “I said 8 PM, and you show up exactly at 8 PM. Are you that rigid? Couldn’t you come a little early?” “You made all of us wait for you. That’s so inconsiderate.” Ethan gently patted her arm. “Don’t say that. I’m just happy Julian could make it. Stop nagging him!” There were no empty seats, so he casually squeezed me between two women I didn’t know. One of them handed me a glass of wine and said bluntly, “You’re Julian, right? You’re late to Ethan’s dinner, but we won’t make a big deal out of it. Just down this glass and we’ll call it even.” I looked at the red wine in front of me, picked it up, and prepared to down it in one gulp. But the next second, the red liquid inside the glass shot out. It sprayed directly into my eyes and nose, igniting a fiery, stinging pain. My eyes were red and tearing up from the sting, and I couldn’t breathe through my nose. In the private room, sharp bursts of laughter suddenly erupted. Everyone was laughing uproariously. Ethan slammed the table and stood up, laughing so hard he was doubled over. “See? I told you! Julian is the easiest to fool. He’d never spot a trick glass.” “I won again! You each owe me a hundred bucks! Venmo me, Venmo me!” The room was filled with groans and curses. “Damn it! Julian is bad luck! I shouldn’t have bet he’d figure it out!” “Olivia and Ethan really know him best. He’s just an idiot meant to be played with!” But Ethan suddenly stepped forward to defend me again: “Alright, alright, watch your mouths!” “Julian is soft-hearted. How can he handle you guys insulting him? Apologize, or I’ll get mad.” Olivia wheeled herself over, helped me up, and wiped the liquid off my face. The people who were just cursing me immediately played along, snickering. “Hey, sorry about that, man. We were just joking around.” “Didn’t expect you couldn’t take a joke. You’re Olivia’s husband, too. Lame.” Rage flooded my mind. I violently smashed the glass on the floor and bolted out of the room. Behind me, I heard Olivia’s angry shouts. But I didn’t stop, and I didn’t look back. Back home, I grabbed the suitcase I had packed earlier and planned to pick up Spot from the pet store. But when I got there, the owner told me the dog had already been picked up. I froze and called Olivia. As soon as the call connected, Olivia’s screaming blasted through the speaker. “Julian, are you insane?!” “Smashing a glass in front of all those people? Are you trying to humiliate Ethan?!” I didn’t bother replying to that. I just asked, “Olivia, did you pick up Spot?” There was a pause, and then Ethan’s voice came on the line. “Sorry, Julian, I forgot to tell you.” “My little brother lost a glove while snowboarding. So I had Olivia take your dog up the snowy mountain to help find it.” My mind buzzed, and I froze completely. Ethan’s brother had gone to Mount Hemu. The temperature there was freezing, the snow was deep, and the terrain was treacherous. People only snowboarded at the base; they never went further up the mountain. But they had left Spot up there alone. “Spot is a retired police dog with severe cardiopulmonary issues, and he has a limp,” my voice trembled violently. “He’s old! Sending him up that mountain is a death sentence!” “He was bred to serve humans anyway,” Olivia’s cold voice came through. “Julian, this was my idea.” “He barked at Ethan earlier. He needed to be taught a lesson.” “Olivia, he’s really going to die!” My voice was so hoarse it barely sounded human. “Please, just bring him back! I promise I won’t let Ethan see him again!” “It’s too late,” Olivia’s voice was devoid of any warmth. “The news just announced an avalanche on Mount Hemu. All personnel have been safely evacuated. There are no reports of any animals being rescued.” My heart cramped painfully. I sprinted out of the pet store and headed straight for the airport. But I ran straight into Ethan, who was pushing Olivia’s wheelchair. Seeing me, they weren’t surprised. Olivia’s face was dark. “Julian, you embarrassed Ethan at the dinner. Spot’s situation is just a lesson for you.” “Apologize to Ethan, and I’ll hire someone to go into the mountains and rescue Spot.” Seeing her acting so superior, I trembled with rage. I forcefully kicked the legs she had been pretending were paralyzed. “Are you done acting?! You think playing me for a fool is fun, don’t you?!” “Olivia, we’re done!” “Ethan, we’re through!” Olivia stumbled from my kick, almost falling over, and panicked as she stood up. She and Ethan stood there, frozen in embarrassment. But I didn’t give them another glance. I headed straight for the airport and caught the next flight to Hemu. The moment the plane broke through the clouds, my heart felt light and free. This suffocating three-person relationship was finally over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “574836”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my previous life, I had no idea the “exclusive 18th birthday bash” my daughter attended was actually a hunting ground. So, when she begged me to let her wear that new red slip dress out, I played the open-minded, cool dad and said yes. I stood by and watched my beautiful, butterfly-like daughter walk straight into a trap. It wasn’t until 1:00 AM that she finally came home. Her red dress was torn. Her eyes were entirely hollow. I asked her what was wrong, but she just shook her head. I reached out to hug her, and she flinched, violently trembling. Seven days later, she jumped from our second-story balcony. It was only when I was packing up her belongings that I found the truth in her diary. That so-called coming-of-age party was a predatory trafficking ring cloaked in the guise of a high school milestone. I blinked, and suddenly, my daughter was standing right in front of me again. Her eyes were bright and full of life. “Dad, Spencer Sterling is throwing an exclusive 18th birthday party tonight. I want to go.” The floral shears slipped from my hand and hit the counter. Half a rose snapped off. I heard my own voice, hoarse and trembling: “You’re not going.” Maya froze. She was still clutching that gold-embossed invitation card. It featured a silver galaxy motif, white roses, and an elegant script: To the best eighteen years. She stared at me for a few seconds, as if she hadn’t heard me right. “Dad, what did you say?” I set the shears down. My fingertips were still shaking. “You are not going.” This time, I said it with absolute clarity. The smile drained from her face, bit by bit. “Why?” I couldn’t exactly tell her I had reincarnated, could I? So I just stared at the invitation and gave a dry excuse: “It’s not a safe place.” Maya furrowed her brow. “It’s at a private photography estate, booked by Spencer. His family is loaded, Dad. Why wouldn’t it be safe?” Spencer Sterling. Just hearing that name made my stomach churn. In my past life, he was the one who pulled Maya into that group chat. He had smiled so brightly in his videos, claiming he wanted to shoot a “first-ever high fashion editorial” for every girl as a graduation gift. Later, I found out he got a commission for every girl he brought in. The pretty ones, the straight-A students, the soft-spoken ones—they all had different price tags. My daughter had been labeled the “Innocent Valedictorian Type.” I reached out and snatched the invitation card right out of her hand. Maya’s face changed. “Dad, what are you doing?” “This thing is useless.” I ripped the card in half. The sound of the heavy cardstock tearing was soft, but the living room instantly plunged into a dead silence. Maya’s eyes turned red. She had always been a good kid. She rarely talked back to me. She knew it wasn’t easy for me to raise her alone while running a small florist shop, and she knew I hadn’t remarried because I didn’t want her to feel replaced. Because she was so understanding, my regret in the last life nearly destroyed me. How could I have sent such a sweet, obedient child straight into a predator’s den with my own hands? “You’ve never been like this,” she said, her voice shaking. “Haven’t you always told me that I need to have my own social life? That I need to make my own choices?” My throat tightened. Yes. I had said that. In my past life, I even ironed that red dress for her. I gave her money for an Uber, told her to take it easy on the drinks, and to come home early. That night, I thought I was being a great father. Only later did I realize that sometimes, “respecting their choices” means pushing your child to the edge of an abyss and pretending it’s freedom. “We can compromise on other things,” I said. “But not tonight.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “All the senior girls are going. Spencer specifically invited me. Dad, I’ve never been to an exclusive party like this. Just this once.” “There won’t be a ‘this once’.” “You won’t even give me a real reason!” “I did.” “You said it’s not safe, but you have zero proof!” Proof? Does her suicide note from the previous life count as proof? Do the un-washable bruises on her wrists count? Does her pale, lifeless face in the funeral home count? I gripped the edge of the table, barely able to stand. Seeing my pale face, Maya looked momentarily panicked. But she quickly bit her lip, hardening her stance. “Dad, I’m almost eighteen. I’m not a little kid anymore.” I looked at her. She was still nineteen days away from her eighteenth birthday. But those monsters wouldn’t wait for her to blow out her candles before making their move. Her phone suddenly buzzed. She glanced down at it and immediately flipped the screen over. I held out my hand. “Give it to me.” She stepped back. “This is my private phone.” I stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. She had never seen me this aggressive. She completely froze. As I yanked the phone away, she screamed through her tears: “Arthur Hayes, you are crossing a line!” It was the first time she had ever called me by my full name. It felt like a needle driving straight into my heart. I unlocked the screen. A new message popped up in a private group chat. Spencer had sent a photo. A dozen red slip dresses hung on a rack under dreamy, soft studio lighting. His caption read: “Everyone needs to look flawless tonight. No parents allowed, obviously. If adults show up, the vibe is totally killed.” The chat erupted with cheers and heart emojis. Chloe Bennett sent an audio message: “Maya, is your dad seriously not letting you come? How old are you, why is he still locking you down like this?” My thumb hovered over the screen. Maya reached out to snatch the phone back. “You’re invading my privacy!” I didn’t hand it back. I gripped the phone tightly in my palm and said, word by word: “Starting tonight, you are not going anywhere.” Maya locked herself in her bedroom. When the door slammed, the framed photo on the hallway wall rattled. It was a picture from her middle school graduation. She was hugging a certificate, smiling goofily, her braces fully on display. I stood outside her door, my fingers resting against the wood. I could hear muffled crying from inside. “Dad, you’re literally suffocating me.” Those words hit me so hard my vision went dark. In my past life, she had written something similar in her diary. She said she hadn’t dared to tell me what happened that night because she was terrified I would break down, that I would blame myself, and that the whole town would find out what she went through. She was thinking of others right up until her dying breath. So in this life, it was my turn to be the villain. I walked back to the living room and opened her laptop. I knew the password; it was her childhood dog’s birthday. I didn’t want to snoop. But I no longer had the luxury of playing the respectful parent. Her messaging apps automatically logged in. Aside from the massive senior class chat, there was a smaller group called “VVIP Seniors.” It had twenty-six members. Most of the avatars belonged to teenage girls. Spencer had dumped dozens of photos into the chat. Venue layouts, dress fittings, vanity stations, champagne towers, a red-carpet backdrop. Every single picture was glamorous. Glamorous—like bait. I scrolled up. Just last night, the party was supposed to be at a downtown bistro. Then, at noon today, Spencer abruptly announced the venue was changing to “Misty Ridge Estate” out in the suburbs. His excuse was a sudden power outage at the restaurant. But I remembered this clearly. In my past life, they pulled the same last-minute bait-and-switch. That estate was isolated. There were no shops nearby, and cell service was spotty. Uber drivers hated going out there. Someone in the chat asked if their parents could drop them off. Spencer replied: “Please don’t. Tonight is our night. Having parents roll up is a massive buzzkill.” Cassandra Vance’s profile picture also popped up in the chat. She introduced herself as the photography director, speaking with professional warmth. “Girls, once you arrive, you’ll change into the provided dresses. Your phones will be collected by my assistants to prevent any leaks before the official edits drop. We have professional videographers handling the livestream, so don’t worry about content!” I stared at the words “phones will be collected” and a cold sweat broke out on my back. In my past life, Maya wrote about this in her diary. She wanted to call me. But her phone was gone. Someone told her, “Everyone else handed theirs over, why do you have to be so difficult?” I kept taking screenshots. “We have VIP scouts watching the stream tonight. Girls with the best presence might score brand modeling contracts.” “Don’t be shy, it’s a coming-of-age party. Let loose!” “We only have light hard seltzers and fruit wine. A few sips for the vibe won’t hurt.” Maya had only replied once in the chat. “I’m not eighteen yet, is it okay if I don’t drink?” Chloe replied almost instantly: “Omg, it’s literally like two weeks away. Don’t be such a square. Are you scared of your dad or something?” Followed by a string of crying-laughing emojis. I saved every single message. Suddenly, the front door opened. Maya stood in the doorway, her eyes swollen. When she saw the laptop screen, the color drained from her face. “Are you actually going through my messages?” I looked at her. “None of this is normal.” She lunged forward to slam the laptop shut. I held it open. “The venue changed at the last minute, parents are banned, they’re confiscating your phones, and they’re pushing underage girls to drink. Maya, can’t you see it?” Her chest heaved. “You think the absolute worst of everyone.” “I’m not just thinking it.” “Then what is it?” I fell silent for a second. “I’m terrified.” She froze. I wanted to pour out the entire truth right then and there. I wanted to tell her: You will be so traumatized you won’t be able to sleep with the lights off. You will take scissors to that red dress and bury it at the bottom of the trash. You will write in your diary that you feel completely ruined. But I couldn’t. All I could say was: “Dad is terrified something will happen to you.” For a split second, I saw her waver. But then the phone in my hand lit up again. A text from Chloe: “Is your dad hovering? Don’t let him brainwash you. If you bail tonight, literally no one is ever going to invite you to anything again.” The next message was from Spencer: “Maya, I literally had a dress tailored to your exact measurements. I’m going to be so crushed if you don’t show.” Watching those two messages, Maya’s expression shifted. It was a look I knew all too well. The desperation to be seen. To be wanted. To be pulled into the inner circle by the popular, glittering kids. My daughter was brilliant, but she had never been confident. She always felt she was just “average,” just a nerd, while the trendy, social girls lived in an entirely different universe. Spencer knew exactly how to exploit that. “Dad,” Maya whispered. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked just to get them to notice me?” I looked at her. Tears were tracing down her cheeks. “You’re not protecting me. You’re just forcing me back into isolation.” My heart cramped violently. Her words were vicious. But I knew that nothing was more vicious than the fluorescent lights of a morgue. I closed the laptop. “I’d rather you hate me.” She stared at me in pure disbelief. I powered down her phone, locked it in a desk drawer, and pocketed the key. “You’re staying home tonight.” Maya took two steps back, looking at me like I was a total stranger. “Dad, I hate you.” I nodded. “That’s fine.” As long as you’re alive. You can hate me all you want. By 4:00 PM, a few pickup orders came into the florist shop. I didn’t open the doors. I pulled the security gate halfway down. The shop was dim, and the overpowering scent of lilies gave me a headache. There was no sound coming from Maya’s room. It was too quiet. And that scared me even more. After she was assaulted in my past life, she was exactly this quiet. I dragged a chair to her bedroom door and sat down, keeping my phone in my palm, constantly refreshing the 911 dial screen. The laptop was still open on the counter. I kept monitoring the group chats. Spencer was doing a hype stream. On screen, he wore a metallic red blazer, his hair slicked back, standing in front of a starlight backdrop. “Tonight at 8:00 PM, the Galaxy Senior Bash officially kicks off. We aren’t just saying goodbye to high school; we’re meeting our true selves.” People were tipping him in the chat. But a few comments clearly didn’t belong to high schoolers. “What time do the girls in red go live?” “Heard there’s a straight-A virgin in the mix, true or false?” “Where’s the link to the private room?” Spencer smiled, dodging the questions smoothly. “We’ve got a lot of surprises tonight, fellas. Make sure you stick around.” My hands and feet turned to ice. In my past life, I only knew what happened to my daughter, but I never saw the sickening buildup. Seeing these comments, I finally realized: this wasn’t a party that just got out of hand. This was a calculated, premeditated auction. I screen-recorded the stream. I clicked through the links to the event’s landing page. The host was listed as “Misty Ridge Studios,” directed by Cassandra Vance. At the bottom of the page was a digital waiver. Buried in the fine print was a clause: Participants grant default consent for their likeness to be used for commercial promotion. And another: Participants assume full responsibility for any consequences arising from their voluntary participation in interactive events. Voluntary. Yet half the kids going hadn’t even turned eighteen. I took more screenshots. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I picked up. An impatient woman’s voice barked through the speaker. “Is this Maya’s dad? This is Chloe Bennett’s mother.” I didn’t speak. She kept going: “The kids just graduated, they want to celebrate, and you’re making things incredibly awkward for everyone. Chloe says Maya’s been crying all day. You’re ruining the vibe of the whole group.” I let out a dark laugh. So the gaslighting started this early. “My daughter staying home doesn’t affect your kid.” “Of course it does! The Sterling boy already paid for the headcount, the dresses, the photographers. You pulling her out at the last minute makes everyone look bad.” I asked her: “Did you know they moved the venue out to the suburbs?” “Yeah, so? Bigger space.” “Did you know they’re confiscating the girls’ phones at the door?” “It’s a professional shoot, they need to manage distractions. Totally normal.” “Did you know there’s alcohol on site, and adult men tipping on hidden livestreams?” The line went quiet for a second. Then, her tone grew even more annoyed. “Aren’t you being a little paranoid? Kids love streaming nowadays. Look, if you want to be a helicopter parent, fine, but don’t try to scare the rest of us.” She was exactly the same in the last life. Before the tragedy, she accused me of overreacting. After the tragedy, she cried in the parents’ Facebook group, screaming, Why didn’t anyone warn us?! I hit the record button on my phone. “Mrs. Bennett, you are completely aware and consent to Chloe attending this event?” “Obviously. My daughter isn’t a prisoner. I don’t lock my kid in the house like a psycho.” I kept my voice dead level. “Good. I hope you remember saying that.” She scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?” I hung up. Not long after, the senior parents’ WhatsApp group blew up. Someone posted passive-aggressively: “Some parents really have control issues.” “If you won’t even let them go to a graduation party, how are they going to survive college?” “Stop projecting your paranoia onto our kids.” Spencer’s mother even dropped a lengthy voice memo. “My Spencer is just trying to do something nice for his class. We fronted all the costs. If certain parents are that untrusting, they don’t have to come, but please stop with the malicious rumors.” I didn’t reply to a single message. I backed up the group chats, the livestream recordings, the waiver, and the phone call to my cloud drive. Then I texted an old customer of mine. She was a legal consultant for a local news station and had tight connections with the police department. I asked her: “If minors are lured to a private estate under false pretenses, and there’s evidence of underage drinking, illicit streaming, and confiscation of communication devices, will the police act on it immediately?” She replied instantly: “If you have the address and proof, call 911 right now. Do not wait.” I stared at those three words. Do not wait. In my past life, I hesitated for an entire night. In this life, I wouldn’t. At 6:30 PM, I carried a plate of beef stew and rice to Maya’s door. “Maya, eat something.” Silence. My heart plummeted. “Maya?!” Still nothing. I shoved the key into the lock, my hands shaking so badly I could barely turn it. The second the door swung open, a cold draft hit my face. The window was wide open. Bed sheets were tied together, looped around the heavy desk leg, the other end dangling out the window to the ground below. The room was empty. The plate slipped from my hands, shattering and splashing stew across the floorboards. I didn’t scream. I didn’t run outside in a blind panic. The agony of my past life had trained me to stay ice-cold in a crisis. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. When dispatch answered, my voice shook, but I enunciated every single word. “My daughter, Maya Hayes, 17 years old, high school senior. She was coerced into sneaking out of the house. Her destination is the Misty Ridge Estate in the suburbs. It is an organized event suspected of serving alcohol to minors, operating illicit pay-per-view streams, and confiscating minors’ phones. I have chat logs and live links.” The dispatcher asked: “Can you reach the child right now?” “No. I took her phone. They explicitly coached her on how to attend off the grid.” “Sir, do not approach a potentially dangerous location yourself. We are dispatching units to investigate.” I said: “I am forwarding the evidence cache to the precinct’s tip line now.” After hanging up, I emailed the zip file to the police. Then I sprinted downstairs. There were footprints in the flowerbed. The bottom of the bedsheet was caked in mud. I leaned against an oak tree, looking down, and spotted a tiny piece of a broken acrylic nail. My chest seized. She definitely hurt herself on the drop. But she still went. My phone buzzed. Chloe had texted me from a burner number. It was a photo of Maya sitting in the backseat of a car, a hoodie pulled over her head, her eyes completely red. Chloe’s caption read: “Mr. Hayes, Maya just wants to celebrate her graduation. Please stop suffocating her.” I stared at the photo, my breathing ragged and tasting like iron. They already had her. I instantly forwarded the photo and the burner number to Detective Miller at the precinct. Sitting in the back of the police cruiser, my palms were drenched in cold sweat. Outside the window, the city lights blurred past. In my previous life, at this exact moment, I was standing in the shop, wrapping a bouquet of sunflowers for a customer. I had even texted Maya: “Have fun sweetie, come home soon.” She replied with a little rabbit emoji. That was the last time she ever spoke to me like a normal teenager. I bowed my head, and the tears finally broke. The road to the estate grew darker and more desolate. Streetlights became scarce. When the GPS showed two miles left, a massive glow appeared over the tree line. It looked like a pop-up wonderland. White floral arches, balloons, fairy lights, and several black SUVs parked on the lawn. Even through the cruiser’s thick glass, I could hear the heavy bass of the music. It sounded joyful. Energetic. Like nothing sinister was happening at all. The cruisers rolled up with their sirens cut off. Multiple units boxed in the exits. At the front gates, two bouncers in black suits were checking names off an iPad. When they saw the badges, panic flashed across their faces. “Hey, this is a private event, you guys can’t—” Detective Miller flashed his badge. “Routine inspection. Get the owner out here.” The music inside cut off abruptly. Then, someone frantically cranked it back up. I pushed past the uniform cops and saw the massive vanity mirrors deep inside the main hall. A row of girls sat in front of them. Matching red slip dresses. Matching curled hair. Matching glittery makeup. My daughter was sitting in the third chair. Her shoulders were so thin it looked like they could snap. When she saw me, she froze. Then, a deep, burning red flushed her face. It wasn’t fear. It was pure, unadulterated humiliation. And rage. She stood up, tears spilling over her mascara. “Dad… you seriously called the cops on me?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “574835”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I could see the “Happiness Index” hovering above Ethan’s head. When I was chasing him, it was at 10%. From dating to marriage, it climbed from 10% to 100%. But after seven years of marriage, his Happiness Index dropped to 60%, and never went back up. Even when I got pregnant, it only bumped up by 1%. Then one day, I overheard him talking to the new intern at his firm. It was just a simple greeting, but his Happiness Index spiked to 80%. After that, Ethan’s Happiness Index stayed high, never coming down. The day I caught them in bed together, he shielded Chloe and stared at me coldly. “Chloe didn’t do anything wrong. I initiated it. Don’t touch her.” I froze for a moment. Staring at the 92% above his head, I smiled and closed the door for them. “Keep going.” Swallowing my grief, I summoned the system that had been silent for years. “His Happiness Index is about to hit 100% again. This time, I’m ready to leave this world.” … “Seven years ago, when you got married, Ethan’s Happiness Index reached 100%. You rejected me then, refusing to leave this world and return to your own.” “This is your last chance. Are you sure?” The system’s cold, robotic voice echoed in my head. I looked down at my worn silver wedding band and smiled. “I’m sure. I’m ready to leave.” The system chimed. “Understood. Your request has been logged. The day his Happiness Index reaches 100%, you will leave this world. Good luck, Host.” As the system’s voice faded, the sounds of the real world rushed back in. The door wasn’t very thick. I could hear Chloe’s fearful voice inside. “Mr. Sterling, I heard your wife is really intimidating. Anyone she thought was a threat got completely ruined. Is she going to come after me?” Ethan chuckled, his tone teasing. “What, are you admitting you’re mine now?” “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. She’s pregnant, after all. Just don’t provoke her.” The sounds quickly turned intimate again. I walked downstairs with a bitter smile, my heart heavy with sorrow. The truth was, I wasn’t the one who “ruined” those women. Ethan handled them himself. He did it to make me feel secure. Back when Ethan first fell in love with me, his Happiness Index was at a solid 100%. He avoided other women like the plague. If someone hit on him, he’d immediately turn around and brag to me. “Baby, I didn’t give her my number!” Once, a woman slipped something into his drink and tried to get him into bed. He literally slammed his own head into the wall until he bled just to stay awake and get away. “Baby, I won’t ever have anyone but you. Never ever.” “So, please don’t agree to that system of yours. Don’t leave this world.” I stared into his red, tearful eyes, my heart melting completely. I called out to the system right then and there, refusing to leave. After that, he woke up every day like he’d just had a nightmare, holding me tight, terrified I’d vanish. But everything changed after Chloe started at his company. His Happiness Index was no longer tied to me. His joy, anger, sorrow, and delight had nothing to do with me anymore. His eyes, his heart, they were all focused on this young girl. Ethan knew I could see the numbers above his head. Whenever I confronted him, his patience would just wear thinner. “Are you done? I work myself to the bone every day. What’s wrong with needing someone to provide a little emotional support? Isn’t that normal?” “If you keep throwing fits, get out. Let’s see where you’d even go in this world without me.” Looking at the man who was completely different from the one I married, I suddenly woke up. He was so sure I wouldn’t leave him. That’s why he hurt me with such reckless abandon. “Make some chicken soup for Chloe. She’s hungry. Extra cilantro.” The man’s voice broke into my thoughts. I looked up to see Ethan walking downstairs, drying his hair. He seemed to have forgotten I’m allergic to cilantro. I was heavily pregnant. Standing for just a few minutes made my back ache. Yet he wanted me to cook for his mistress. My heart was so broken it felt numb. I looked up and saw the number: 93%. There was no guilt in his eyes, only pleasure. “You were very good just now, Maya. You didn’t make a scene and embarrass Chloe.” “See? Isn’t this better? The position of Mrs. Sterling will always be yours. Tell me, what do you want to buy?” I stared blankly at the hickey on his neck. When we were madly in love, he loved for me to leave marks on him, calling it “self-defense.” “Now other women will see I have a wife when they look at me! It’s great!” But we hadn’t been intimate in years. This time, he let Chloe leave her mark. Who was he defending himself against? Me? I forced a smile and pulled out a divorce agreement I’d printed earlier. “I saw a new bag I liked. It’s a bit pricey, and accounting wouldn’t approve it. Just sign this.” Ethan took the pen, but then paused. He frowned at my bare ring finger. “Where’s your ring? This is the first time you’ve taken it off since we got married. Why?” His Happiness Index dipped to 90%. I paused, glanced at the silver ring I’d thrown in the trash, and smiled. “I was afraid Chloe might get mad if she saw it.” Ethan chuckled, reaching out to hug me gently, but I dodged him. His smile stiffened. He signed the paper and handed it back. “What’s gotten into you today? You’re so sweet. I’ll buy you however many bags you want.” “I’m going to keep Chloe company. Bring the soup up when it’s done, then get some sleep. Thanks, honey.” 95%. Watching him walk upstairs, I sent the divorce agreement to my lawyer to be notarized. Once I got the confirmation, a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. Just 5% more, and I could leave this world forever. Goodbye, Ethan. I hope we never meet again. It was 3 AM by the time the soup was done. My back was screaming. I carried it upstairs. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear laughter from inside. I pushed the door open, but froze in my tracks. The projector was playing a video from my acting days—the time I was almost assaulted by a director and caught on camera by paparazzi. In the video, I was screaming, begging for mercy. The sound made my ears ring. I’d been tricked into going to a hotel room. My clothes were almost completely ripped off. Ethan had burst in and saved me. After that, I quit acting and never appeared on screen again. He bought the rights to that video for the price of a mansion, swearing he’d never let anyone see it. Now, Chloe was watching it. She giggled, hitting pause. The video paused right on the frame where I was stripped down, looking completely terrified. I was trembling violently, feeling the same humiliation and shame as if I were being stripped bare all over again. Chloe smiled sweetly at me. “Maya, I grew up watching your TV shows! Everyone always wondered why you quit acting. I guess this is why~” “Your body isn’t even that great. Why would a director want to assault you? Were you trying to seduce him and it backfired? Hahaha!” It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my throat. I couldn’t speak. A second later, the projector clicked off. Ethan stepped forward to grab my arm, his voice low. “Chloe found the flash drive in my safe. She’s young, she was just making a joke. Don’t take it personally.” The safe? I froze for a second, then snapped my head toward the safe I hadn’t been allowed to open for seven years. It was wide open. Gold bars and valuables were scattered everywhere. Even our marriage certificate had been ripped to shreds and tossed on the floor. Seeing I wasn’t responding, a flash of impatience crossed Ethan’s face. “We can get a new marriage certificate. Stop sulking.” When he put it in the safe years ago, he said to me with the utmost seriousness: “I’m never giving you the chance to take this. We’re never getting divorced, ever!” The number above his head plummeted to 92%. I snapped back to reality, swallowing the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I smiled. “I’m not mad.” “The soup is ready. Come eat.” I bent over painfully, trying to set the bowl on the table. Crash! Chloe smacked my arm, knocking the bowl over. The boiling hot soup, hidden beneath a layer of oil, splashed all over me. My stomach cramped violently. I was numb with pain, my instinct to seek help taking over. “Ethan, our baby—” Before I could finish, Chloe’s eyes filled with tears. She held up her slightly red pinky finger. “Ethan, it hurts.” Ethan’s face darkened instantly. He scooped Chloe up and headed for the door. He completely ignored how pale I was, how much pain I was in. He paused for a second, looking back at me with a bone-chilling glare. “Maya, is this jealousy supposed to be cute?” “If you ever intentionally hurt Chloe again, you can pack your bags.” His Happiness Index tanked to 85%. Fighting the agonizing pain, I grabbed my phone and called 911. I kept pinching the web between my thumb and index finger to stay conscious, not stopping even when the skin tore and bled. I finally made it to the hospital. I forced myself to sign the consent forms before they took me into surgery. When I opened my eyes again, my stomach felt… empty. Tears slid down my cheeks. My baby was gone. That night, the door to my hospital room opened. Ethan stood in the doorway, his Happiness Index skyrocketing to 97%. “Honey, our son is going to have a little sister! Chloe’s pregnant!” I stared at him, overwhelmed by a deep, hollow sadness. When I got pregnant, his Happiness Index only went up 1%. Now, it jumped over 20 points. Seeing my blank stare, Ethan walked over and gently stroked my hair. “Don’t worry. You’ll always be Mrs. Sterling.” “When Chloe has the baby, we’ll put it under your name, okay?” “But Chloe doesn’t want to keep the baby right now. She was so scared when you spilled that hot soup on her.” “Go apologize to her. Promise it will never happen again, and we can put this whole thing behind us. Be a good girl.” When I didn’t say anything, he frowned, losing patience. “Look, I know it was an accident. But the damage is done. She’s young and naive. Why are you picking a fight with her?” “You still have the title. She’s already making a huge sacrifice by being with me without one. Of course I have to cater to her.” “Are you going to apologize or not?” In the past, I would have thrown a fit. I would have made sure everyone was miserable. But now, I just smiled calmly. “Okay. I’ll apologize.” Ethan looked genuinely shocked. “Really? You’re not going to make a scene this time?” I threw off the covers and got out of bed. “There’s no point in making a scene. As long as you’re happy.” Ethan grinned. He wrapped his arms around me happily and kissed my forehead. “Good girl. You’re the best, honey.” His Happiness Index hit 98%. I smiled and relaxed my clenched fists. The last shred of affection I had for him vanished. The man who once stood in front of me, swearing to be on my side forever, was gone. The Ethan standing before me wasn’t the man I loved anymore. He grabbed my hand, leading me out of the room, when he suddenly remembered. “Oh right, why are you in the maternity ward? Is our son okay?” “What happened to your hand?” The cut on my hand was bleeding again. He quickly pulled out a Band-Aid he always carried and put it on me. I used to be so clumsy, always bumping into things. He’d carried Band-Aids for years just for me. But now, it didn’t touch me. It just felt fake. I pulled my hand away and pushed the door open calmly. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Chloe was huddled on her hospital bed, shivering. When she saw me, the tears started flowing. “What are you doing here?! Wasn’t burning me enough?!” Ethan rushed over and held her, looking deeply concerned. “Maya is here to apologize.” I bowed my head. My voice was quiet, but firm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have burned you. It won’t happen again.” “I can’t hear you.” She pouted, acting like a spoiled child. Ethan shot me a look. I raised my voice. “I’m sorry.” “Not sincere enough. Get on your knees and kowtow three times. Then I’ll forgive you.” I snapped my head up. Ethan was frowning, nodding at me. His eyes were full of a heavy threat. I smiled, dropped to my knees, and quickly slammed my head on the floor three times, shouting: “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” My voice echoed through the whole ward. Even Chloe was stunned. She stared at me in shock. She probably never thought I’d actually do it. After all, I used to be so proud. Ethan rushed over and grabbed my wrist tight. He looked completely conflicted. “Maya, what the hell is wrong with you?” He was gripping me so hard it hurt. “You’ve been acting weird the last couple days. Are you playing hard to get?” I smiled, refusing to engage in an argument. “Don’t you like this better?” He stared at me for a moment before slowly letting go. “If you think you’re so tough, keep acting like this. We’ll see how long you last.” It was so weird. I wasn’t mad, I wasn’t fighting with him, I wasn’t making a fuss. And he was actually upset about it? His Happiness Index dropped 1%? Before I could even process that, a flurry of camera flashes blinded me. A mob of reporters blocked the doorway, their lenses all aimed at me. “Miss Maya! Is the casting couch video leaked online real?! Did you initiate it?!” “Is this why you quit acting? Because your attempt at sleeping your way to the top failed?” “Please give us a direct answer! Is it a deepfake, or is it really you?!” One reporter shoved a phone in my face. I froze. My brain exploded. It was the exact same video Chloe had been watching. She leaked it! I spun around to see Chloe cowering in Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, I don’t want people calling me a homewrecker! I don’t want my picture taken!” I lunged forward, grabbing Ethan’s arm, my voice trembling. “Chloe uploaded that video! She’s doing this to humiliate me—” Smack! A slap landed hard on my face. My head snapped to the side. For a second, I went deaf in one ear. Ethan’s voice sounded far away, but it was incredibly cold. “Where would Chloe even get that video? Maya, I thought you were actually behaving, but you were just setting up this whole show.” “Framing Chloe on purpose? Is this fun for you?” “I was going to let you keep the title of Mrs. Sterling, but you just had to pull a stunt like this.” He shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the floor. He wrapped his arm around Chloe and faced the cameras confidently. “The video is real. It’s Maya and a certain director.” “As her husband, I was kept in the dark for seven years. I only found out the truth today. I’m announcing my divorce from Maya immediately! I’ll be pursuing legal action against her!” “This is Chloe. She’s the future Mrs. Sterling, and the woman I love!” Chloe finally stopped hiding. She giggled, planting a kiss on his lips. “Hubby~” “Wow!!! You guys look so good together!!! I ship it so hard!” “Keep shooting! This is huge! They’re gorgeous together! Congratulations!” “When did you two start dating? When’s the wedding? Where is it going to be?” The reporters instantly latched onto the bigger scoop, completely abandoning me. As Ethan turned to leave, he paused and glanced back at me. The look in his eyes was pure disappointment. Then he turned and walked away, never looking back. But I saw it. The number above his head, surrounded by the crowd, slowly ticking up. A few steps out the door, it hit 100%. A blinding white light enveloped me. The system’s voice chimed. “Ethan’s Happiness Index has reached 100%. Congratulations, Host. Initiating departure sequence.” “I will arrange for your identity in this world to be properly disposed of according to normal world logic. No one will ever find you.” “3… 2… 1… Departure successful!” I slowly closed my eyes and whispered. “Goodbye, Ethan. And I hope to never see you again.” The white light vanished, and the Maya who had just been pushed to the floor disappeared without a trace. Ethan, as if reacting to some kind of spider-sense, whipped his head around, his face turning pale. “Where’s Maya?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “574834”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day my husband got his lab results stating he had a zero sperm count, I had just found out I was pregnant. He sat outside the hospital doors until the sun went down. Finally, in a dead-calm voice, he asked me, “Whose is it?” I thought he was just speaking out of shock and frustration. That was until his childhood best friend, Audrey, called him. “Don’t give her the silent treatment to scare her,” she said over the phone. “She’s pregnant. If something happens to her from the stress, you’ll be the one hurting. But Liam… the lab report is right there. If you want to pretend you didn’t see it, I can’t stop you.” Liam didn’t scream at me, nor did he mention divorce. He continued to drop me off at work and accompany me to my OB/GYN appointments. But every time we got back from a prenatal checkup, he would ask, “When are we taking care of it?” I told him countless times that the baby was his. But he would just hold me, his voice as gentle as it had always been. “Clara, I can pretend this never happened,” he’d whisper. “We won’t keep the baby, and we can go back to how we were.” Until my tenth week, when I suddenly started hemorrhaging. By the time he rushed to the hospital, I had just been wheeled out of the operating room. A nurse told him the baby couldn’t be saved. He stood by my hospital bed, his face ashen. I thought, finally, seeing me like this, he would believe me. Instead, he looked at the doctor and asked, “Is the fetal tissue still here? Can I request a paternity test?” I slid my wedding ring off my finger. “When the results come back, mail me the divorce papers.” As for whose baby it was—to me, it didn’t matter anymore. … The nurse handed over the authorization form. I flipped to the last page and signed my name. Liam stared at me, seemingly caught off guard by how decisively I did it. “Clara.” “Sign yours too,” I said. My voice was hoarse, the IV line in the back of my hand trembling slightly. “Sign it and get out. I want to sleep.” The doctor took the clipboard. “The pathology sample will be transferred to a DNA testing facility. It usually takes about seven to ten business days.” Liam immediately pressed, “Is there enough of a sample? Is there any risk of contamination?” The doctor finally looked up at him, exasperated. “The protocol will be followed exactly by the book. Your wife just had a D&C surgery. Let her rest.” The hospital room door clicked shut. Liam sat back down by the bed, pulling the blanket up to cover my exposed feet. “Once the results are out, this will all be over.” I kept my eyes closed. “Yeah. Over.” He must have caught the double meaning. His hand paused on the edge of the blanket. “I never said I wanted a divorce.” “I do.” “You’re in pain right now. Don’t make impulsive decisions.” There it was again. That phrase. Ever since he got that medical report, every word I said was dismissed as “being emotional.” Meanwhile, every cruel question he asked was just him “being cautious” and “seeking the truth.” When the anesthesia wore off, my lower abdomen cramped in rolling waves of agony. I curled into a ball. Liam instantly hit the call button, dropping to a crouch to hold my hand. “The doctor is coming.” After three years of marriage, he was still just as gentle. When I first got pregnant and craved sour soup in the middle of the night, he drove halfway across the city to find a place that was open. Now, my baby was gone, and he sat by my side, only caring about whether or not it shared his blood. When I woke up again, it was dark. Liam wasn’t in the room. From the hallway, I heard Audrey’s voice. “Ten weeks, theoretically yes. But with first-trimester tissue, whether they can successfully separate the maternal DNA from the fetal DNA depends on the sample.” Liam’s voice was heavy. “So the results might be wrong?” “I wouldn’t bet my medical license on it.” “If Clara was willing to sign it, she might actually have nothing to hide,” Liam murmured. “Or…” “Or she looked it up beforehand and knows the lab might not get a conclusive read,” Audrey scoffed. “Don’t let her play you with a few tears before the results are even back.” Liam was silent for a long time before speaking. “She just lost a baby. Watch how you talk about her.” “Fine, my mistake,” Audrey snorted. “Since we were kids, every time you were about to fall on your face, who warned you? Me. But she sheds two tears, and suddenly you’re coming after me!” The door pushed open. Audrey walked in carrying a thermos. She paused when she saw my eyes open. “You heard?” She didn’t try to hide it. I’ll give her that. “I heard.” Audrey set the thermos down and glared at Liam. “Told you to close the door!” Liam’s face darkened. “You should go home.” “I spent two hours making this soup and drove it all the way here without even taking a sip of water. Fine. Guess I’m just in the way.” She walked to the door, then turned back. “Clara, our lab looked at his sample twice. You know exactly what Liam’s situation is.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Looking at the exact same sample before and after it goes into a centrifuge—does that count as two separate tests?” Audrey’s face shifted. “The results were the same both times. Does it make a difference?” “You looked at one sample twice, but you insisted to him that you ran the tests twice.” I stared at her. “He trusted your medical opinion, so he decided I was a cheater and refused to acknowledge his own child.” Liam gripped my shoulder. “Lie back down.” I pushed his hand away. Audrey stood by the door, biting her lip. “I was trying to help you two. If you want to treat me like the enemy, fine!” “Audrey,” Liam called out. “Send me the full lab report.” She glared at him. “I already did. If you didn’t bother looking at it, that’s your fault.” The door slammed shut. Liam pulled up the photo Audrey had texted him. It was cropped right at the line: No sperm observed after centrifugation. Whether there was any text below that, it was impossible to tell. He placed his phone face down on the table. “I’ll go to the clinic and pick up the physical copy myself tomorrow.” “Why didn’t you go today?” He looked at me, saying nothing. Because to him, he already had his answer today. His wife was pregnant, and he had a zero sperm count. What was the point of double-checking? The next day, a doctor from the pathology department came in to log family medical history for the miscarriage screening. After asking me questions, the doctor turned to Liam. “Any history of genetic diseases on the paternal side?” Liam thought for a second. “If the biological father is someone else, shouldn’t you be asking him?” The room fell dead silent. The doctor looked at him, then at me. I picked up my heavy medical binder and hurled it at him. Papers scattered all over the floor. “It’s already dead! Who else do you want to drag in here to identify the body?!” Liam’s face went pale. “I just want to know why it didn’t survive.” “You won’t even admit it was yours! Why do you care why it’s gone?!” He crouched down, picking up the papers one by one. The last sheet had landed in a puddle of water. He wiped it off with his sleeve. “Because you carried it.” The doctor didn’t ask anything else. She gathered her forms and left. Liam clipped the papers back into the binder and placed it out of my reach. “Take your anger out on me if you want, but don’t hurt yourself.” I stared at the red welt on his hand where the binder had struck him. I just felt an overwhelming sense of absurdity. That afternoon, Audrey sent him what she claimed was the “full” explanation, but it was just a raw data sheet. I asked him, “Didn’t you say you were going to pick it up yourself?” “The attending urologist is out of town until next week. Audrey sent the paperwork over.” “You believe every word she says.” “She’s worked in urology for eight years.” “I’m your wife.” Liam frowned. “Why are you comparing those two things?” “I’d love to know the answer to that too,” I said, staring at him. “Why is it that just because she works at a clinic, you believe her when she implies I cheated?” “She never said you cheated.” “Then what exactly are you investigating right now?” He looked away, flipping open my ultrasound report. “This says seven weeks. That week, I was in Chicago on business.” I froze. “Do you honestly think ‘seven weeks and two days’ means we conceived exactly seven weeks and two days ago?” “Doesn’t it?” “Gestational age is calculated from the first day of my last period. Not the day we slept together.” “Audrey said ultrasound machines have a margin of error.” He pulled up the calendar app on his phone from two months ago. “So tell me, which days was I home, and which days did I work the night shift?” “Are you interrogating me?” “I’m just trying to match the dates.” “And after you match them?” “Once they match, I won’t ask anymore.” I snatched his phone out of his hand and locked the screen. “You know exactly what time I leave for work and what time I come home every single day. And now you want me to account for my days, one by one, to prove I didn’t sleep with another man?” “I never said that.” “But that’s exactly what you’re doing.” Liam went quiet for a moment, then took his phone back. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we’ll wait for the DNA results.” That night, my temperature spiked to 100.4 degrees. My surgical site was slightly infected. Liam didn’t sleep a wink. At dawn, when I was shivering uncontrollably, he tucked my hands under his shirt against his warm skin. “Go to sleep. I’m right here.” Delirious from the fever, I leaned into his chest. I had leaned on this chest for six years. When he was only making two thousand dollars a month, he handed me his debit card. When we struggled to conceive, he was the one who shielded me from his mother’s endless nagging. I used to be so certain that even if the whole world doubted me, Liam would stand by my side. But as I rested against his chest, I heard the faint clicking of him texting Audrey. [She said the gestational age is actually two weeks off from conception.] Audrey replied quickly: [Ultrasounds have margins of error too. She can spin the math however she wants right now. Just wait for the DNA.] I sobered up instantly. I sat up, pulling away from his embrace. He reached out to feel my forehead. “Still cold?” “No.” “Then try to sleep a little more.” I turned over, facing the blank wall. The next morning, I was discharged. Liam tied my scarf around my neck and held my hand the entire drive home. I stared out the window. I didn’t pull away, but I didn’t hold his hand back, either. When we got home, I found the nursery completely empty. The crib, the baby clothes, the bottles—everything had been packed into cardboard boxes and shoved into the corner. Liam followed me into the room. “I packed it up. I didn’t want you to look at it and get upset.” “Where’s the ultrasound photo?” He hesitated. “Audrey took it to verify the gestational timeline.” I snapped my head toward him. “That was the only picture we had of it.” “Once everything is cleared up, I’ll go get it back.” “And what if the results aren’t what you want them to be?” Liam fell silent. “Then keeping it will only cause you pain.” The mounting tape was still stuck to the wall. Even my right to mourn my own child had been suspended until he could verify its bloodline. He stayed home to take care of me for two days. He cooked during the day and applied a heating pad to my stomach at night. When I had no appetite, he would patiently reheat the food. When the cramps woke me up in the middle of the night, the moment the bedside lamp clicked on, he was already walking in from the living room. “Hurts again?” I nodded. Liam let me rest against his shoulder, his palm pressing warmly against my abdomen. “The doctor said the DNA report will take a little longer.” I closed my eyes. I was one breath away from asking him to just let the report go. If he just said he trusted me, it would be enough. The next morning, I found a hand-drawn calendar on the dining table. It had my last menstrual cycle, his business trips, his overtime shifts, and all my OB appointments meticulously charted out. A red marker circled a four-day window. He had been out of town for two of those days. I walked into the kitchen holding the paper. Liam was turning off the stove. “You drew this?” He glanced at it, his stirring slowing down. “No matter how I calculate it, the math is off by a few days.” “And?” “Tell me the exact date.” “I told you, you can’t calculate gestational age like this.” “Then explain it to me again.” He set down the spoon. “Clara, I’m losing my mind here. You could clear this up with one sentence, so why are you fighting me on this?” “I told you the baby is yours. Does that count as a sentence?” “I need the date!” “I don’t remember the exact date! We slept together multiple times that month!” I ripped the paper in half. Liam bent down to pick up the pieces, his voice dropping an octave. “The more defensive you get, the harder it is for me to believe you.” “I already told you it was yours.” “But the medical report says otherwise.” “If you believe the report, why are you asking me?!” He froze. I yanked my arm out of his grasp and threw the torn pieces into the trash. The doorbell rang. Audrey stood on the porch holding a manila folder. She walked in and effortlessly pulled a pair of gray house slippers from the bottom rack of our shoe cabinet. I had never seen those slippers before. “Are those yours?” I asked. Audrey paused, then slipped her feet into them anyway. “I came over to drop off paperwork while you were in the hospital. Liam couldn’t exactly make me walk around barefoot.” Liam walked out of the kitchen. “Give me the file and go.” “I just got off a night shift. I haven’t even had a sip of water, and you two are taking your marital issues out on me?” She noticed the torn calendar in the trash. “What’s the point of doing math? Just wait for the results.” I snatched the torn paper away. “Who said you could touch that?” Audrey straightened up. “Clara, why the attitude? I didn’t write the lab report, and I sure didn’t get you pregnant.” “Then why do you have my ultrasound photo?” “Liam couldn’t read the dates. I was just taking a look to help him out.” “If he couldn’t read it, he could have asked his OB/GYN.” “You two are impossible. One is stubborn as a mule, and the other is in denial. Fine, whatever. Just tear your house apart.” She pulled the ultrasound photo from her bag. The corner was creased with a harsh white line. I took it and carefully smoothed it out. “Clara, Liam has bent over backward for you,” Audrey sneered. “Any other man who saw a zero-sperm report would have left you rotting at the hospital.” “So I should be thanking him?” “What are you, a rabid dog? Biting everyone who tries to help?” “Audrey!” Liam snatched the folder from her hands. “That’s enough.” She laughed. “It’s always like this. You beg me to come over, and when things blow up, I’m the bad guy.” I looked at Liam. “You asked her to come?” “I asked her to bring the report.” “You couldn’t get it by email?” “Physical copies are clearer.” Audrey grabbed her purse. “Fine, I’m leaving. Since Liam is fine playing the oblivious cuckold, why should I care?” After the door slammed shut, I tucked the ultrasound into my wallet and pulled out the printed divorce agreement. Liam flipped through two pages and closed it. “The results aren’t back yet.” “It has nothing to do with the results.” “It does to me.” “If the baby was yours, what were you planning to do?” He looked at me. “I’ll apologize. You can ask me to make it up to you however you want.” “And if it’s not?” “Tell me who the guy is, and we’ll leave it at that.” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. Liam’s frown deepened. “I’ve already compromised this much. What more do you want?” “Sign the papers.” “Not happening.” He locked the agreement in a drawer. “I’m not discussing divorce until your body is fully healed.” “Give me the key.” “Clara, stop being unreasonable.” I grabbed a water glass and smashed it against the drawer. Glass shattered everywhere, but the lock held. Liam grabbed me by the waist, lifting me away from the shards. My nails dug into his forearms, leaving bloody scratches. He didn’t let go. “Hit me, curse at me, do whatever you want.” “Just heal first.” That night, Liam stayed in his home office until very late. I got up to find some painkillers. Through the crack in the door, I could hear him on the phone with Audrey. “Are you seriously thinking this through? If it turns out it’s not yours, you’re still going to stay with her?” Liam leaned back in his chair, holding the printed divorce agreement. “Yes.” “You’re out of your mind! Won’t it eat you alive every time you look at her?” “The baby is already gone.” Audrey was silent for a moment. “What about the other guy?” “If she tells me the truth, I won’t pursue it.” “Liam, what the hell are you doing this for?” He looked down, his thumb tracing over my signature on the paper. “I’ve been with her for six years.” “And?” “I can’t live without her.” Audrey scoffed. “You’re not building a life with a wife, you’re worshiping an idol.” “Say whatever you want.” “She’s just using the divorce to scare you. When the DNA test proves she cheated, she’s still going to manipulate you for the rest of your life.” “She’s not really going to leave.” “You’re that sure?” “She wouldn’t be able to let us go.” Liam truly did know me. I couldn’t let go of these six years. I couldn’t let go of the man who had loved me so deeply. Nor could I let go of the baby that had only been with us for ten weeks. But he forgot one thing. When a person is pushed so far that the only thing keeping them there is “I can’t let go,” that’s the only thing left of the love. I went back to the bedroom, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing. The sound of the zipper startled him. He practically ran into the room. “Why are you packing?” “I’m moving out.” He looked at my suitcase, then glanced toward the hallway. “You heard what I said on the phone?” “I heard.” “Then why are you leaving?” Liam grabbed the handle of the suitcase. “Regardless of the results, I never planned on leaving you.” I looked at his bloodshot eyes and the fresh scratches on his arms. He really was terrified of losing me. He really did love me. But the ‘Clara’ he loved was a woman who was carrying another man’s child, who lied, who was stubborn, and who only got to stay in her marriage because of his immense generosity. Even though that version of me didn’t exist. “Liam, you still think this is about whether you want me.” He gripped the handle tighter. “Just wait two more days for the DNA. Two days.” “If the baby wasn’t yours, you’d be keeping a liar you graciously forgave.” “I said I wouldn’t hold it against you.” “And what if it is yours?” His lips parted. “I’ll apologize.” I let out a dry laugh. “And then what? I just go back to playing house with a husband who, while I was bleeding from a miscarriage, prioritized asking for a paternity test?” The color slowly drained from Liam’s face. “My mind was a mess. I wasn’t thinking straight.” “Are you thinking straight now?” He didn’t answer. Because the results still weren’t back. I pried his fingers off the suitcase handle, one by one. “No matter what the results say, I have no reason to stay.” Liam chased me to the elevator. “Go stay with your parents for a couple of days. Once the report is out, I’ll come pick you up.” I pressed the button to close the doors. “Don’t.” “When are you coming back?” The elevator doors slowly slid shut. “I’m not.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “574833”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Julian authorized the release of the life-saving blood I had banked for seven years, giving it to his childhood best friend’s daughter. His colleagues tried desperately to talk him out of it. “What about Clara?” “She has a rare chimeric blood type. She’s at high risk for catastrophic hemorrhaging for the rest of her life. If something happens and she doesn’t have her own blood banked, it’s a death sentence.” Julian was silent for a long time before he answered softly. “Lily is Audrey’s daughter. She’s just a little girl. She needs this blood more than Clara does right now.” Someone still couldn’t bear it. “But Clara is five months pregnant! You, of all people, know the risks of her not having backup blood. If she hemorrhages, you’ll lose both her and the baby!” Julian didn’t hesitate. “Then we just won’t have the baby right now. Clara has always listened to me.” I looked down at the ultrasound report in my hands, my vision blurring. Years ago, Julian was the one who was terrified something would happen to me. He was the one who insisted I draw and bank my blood every single month. Now, for the sake of Audrey’s daughter, he was the one stealing my lifeline. The words Viable Twin Gestation printed on the black-and-white scan felt like a silent, cruel joke. I turned around, walked to the front desk, and scheduled a medical termination. Fine. I would do as Julian wished. I wouldn’t have the babies. And I wouldn’t have him, either. … When I booked the procedure, the nurse’s tone was heavy with concern. “Are you absolutely sure about this?” “With your specific blood type and chronic anemia, a late-term termination is extremely risky. Does… does Dr. Vance know about this?” I nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.” It didn’t matter if Julian knew or not. The moment he took the blood I had banked for seven years, a guillotine had been suspended over my neck. Right before they administered the anesthesia, Julian called me. “Clara, one of the nurses said they saw you at the hospital. Did you come by to grab lunch with me?” Through the receiver, I could hear the hospital intercom in the background—and the sound of a woman’s gentle, coaxing voice. Before I could answer, he kept talking. “I can’t take my lunch break today. Lily isn’t doing too well. Audrey is trying to calm her down, so I need to stay close by.” I sat in the empty, sterile waiting area, staring at the surgical consent form in my lap. “Why exactly is her condition ‘not doing too well’?” I asked. “What?” He clearly hadn’t expected me to say something like that. My voice was dead calm. “I said, Julian, after draining every drop of the life-saving blood I banked for seven years, what right does she have to not be doing well?” Dead silence on the other end of the line. After a long pause, I heard footsteps, and then Julian’s hushed voice. “You found out.” He took a deep breath. “Clara, Lily has the same dual-group hematopoietic cells that you do. Right now, your blood is the only match. She’s just a child. I couldn’t just let her die.” “Couldn’t you?” He must have caught my tone, because his voice dropped lower. “Don’t overcomplicate this. Even if she wasn’t Audrey’s kid, I would still save her.” He sounded so incredibly righteous. As if he had completely forgotten that it was my blood. Blood drawn from my veins, vial by vial, over the span of seven excruciating years. “And what about me?” I asked. Julian paused for two seconds. He sounded exhausted. “Clara, you are perfectly healthy right now.” “And?” “So please,” he sighed. “Stop making a scene, okay?” “Making a scene?” I repeated the words softly. “Julian, I paid the storage fees for that blood. It was banked for my personal medical use, not an anonymous donation. Without my consent, absolutely no one had the right to touch it.” Julian’s voice spiked in irritation. “Well, the blood has already been transfused! I can’t exactly suck it back out of her! What do you want to do, report me to the medical board?!” After a brief, tense silence, he rubbed his temples. I could hear the friction over the mic. “Clara, I don’t have the energy to fight with you right now. We’ll sit down and talk about this properly when I get home tonight, okay?” When I didn’t respond, he sighed again, slipping back into his ‘caring doctor’ persona. “Your anemia gets worse in your second trimester. Make sure you take your iron supplements when you get home.” He knew my anemia flared up terribly during pregnancy. He knew that for the past seven years, I had to endure drawing 200ml of blood every single month just to build that safety net. He knew exactly how impossibly rare my blood type was, and how hard it was to find a match. He knew everything. And he still gave my life away to someone else. He didn’t even bother to ask for my permission. I didn’t say another word. I just hung up. As the nurse prepared my IV, an Instagram notification popped up on my screen. It was a new post from Audrey. The photo showed her and Julian sitting by a little girl’s hospital bed, a small cake placed in front of them. The caption read: [Three full transfusions later, my Lily has finally been given a second chance at life. Thank you to the most amazing doctor, Julian. I am so blessed to have you in my corner.] The comments were flooded with well-wishes from our mutual friends. Julian had commented on it himself: “Wishing our sweet Lily a lifetime of health and happiness.” I placed a hand over the slight bump of my stomach. A bitter, suffocating taste flooded the back of my throat. … When I came out of the operating room, I was bleeding far more heavily than a standard patient. They kept me in the recovery bay until late into the evening before I was finally cleared to go home. Severe anemia compounded with massive blood loss meant that by the time I unlocked my front door, I was on the verge of collapsing. I leaned heavily against the doorframe. I was just about to call out Julian’s name. But a delicate, sweet voice beat me to it. “Dr. Vance, when is dinner going to be ready?” The sound died in my throat. I caught my breath and forced myself to step fully into the house. Audrey was lounging on my living room sofa, wearing my house slippers. When she saw me, her relaxed demeanor vanished. She scrambled to her feet. “Clara! Please don’t misunderstand. Lily woke up crying and was terrified of staying in the hospital. Julian couldn’t bear to see her like that, so he brought us here. Don’t worry, we won’t touch any of your things.” Julian walked out of the kitchen, carrying two plates of steaming food. “Why are you home so late?” His eyes swept over me, but he didn’t notice a single thing wrong. I didn’t answer. I just dragged my exhausted body toward the master bedroom. Audrey rushed over and grabbed my arm. “Clara, I’ll pack up and leave with Lily right now. Please don’t fight with Julian over this. He performed two surgeries today and has been running himself ragged for Lily. He’s so tired.” She made a show of walking toward her suitcase. After two steps, she stumbled, looking dizzy. Julian immediately caught her by the waist. “It’s late. Where are you going to go?” Audrey lowered her eyes, her voice trembling. “I just… I don’t want to make Clara upset.” Julian looked at me, a flash of exasperation in his eyes. “Clara, Lily is traumatized by the hospital, but she still needs constant medical monitoring. Having her here makes it easier for me to keep an eye on her.” “Once she’s stable, Audrey will take her home.” “How long?” I asked. I wasn’t even angry anymore. I was just entirely numb. He thought about it. “Probably two or three months.” Our wedding was supposed to be next month. Which meant, in his mind, even as newlyweds, I was expected to share my marital home with this woman and her child. I gave a weak, cynical smile, looking him dead in the eye. “Stealing the blood I banked for seven years wasn’t enough. Now you’re moving the thieves into my house for the long haul.” “Julian, do you have any respect for me at all?” Julian’s tone instantly hardened. “Clara, that is a disgusting way to speak.” “They are just staying here for a little while. There’s no need to be so dramatic and toxic about it.” Toxic. I looked away. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. Thinking my silence meant surrender, Julian offered one last instruction. “When Lily comes out of her room, make sure you put on a friendly face. Don’t scare her.” I didn’t respond. I just walked into my bedroom and shut the door. Through the wood, I could hear Audrey crying softly. “Julian, does Clara hate me?” “I know we shouldn’t be intruding, but I’m raising Lily all on my own. I was just so scared I couldn’t handle this by myself.” Julian’s voice was incredibly gentle. “She’s just stressed from the pregnancy hormones. Don’t take it personally.” I leaned against the back of the door, my fingernails digging into my palms until they bled. I skipped dinner and fell into a deep, feverish sleep. When I finally woke up, I was burning up. I stumbled out to the living room to find some Tylenol. Audrey had just finished showering and was blow-drying her hair. She was wearing my pure silk bridal robe. The one I had bought specifically for Julian and me to wear on our honeymoon. Julian seemed to notice my gaze. He walked over, lowering his voice to explain. “It was the only brand-new sleepwear we had in the house. I had to give it to her. Don’t overthink it.” I pulled my eyes away. An indescribable wave of exhaustion washed over me. It wasn’t until I opened the medicine cabinet that he realized something was wrong. He reached out, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. His brows furrowed. “Why are you running a fever?” He poured me a glass of warm water and watched me take the pills. Then he went to the kitchen to heat up some soup and brought out an ice pack, gently pressing it to my forehead. “Be a good girl. Once the fever breaks, you’ll feel much better.” He took care of me so naturally. He coaxed me so perfectly. As if the massive, gaping wound he inflicted on me today didn’t exist. As if our relationship was completely flawless. But a weak little voice from the hallway shattered that illusion into a million pieces. “Daddy, what are you doing?” Daddy. What a sick joke. Julian’s hand froze against the ice pack. I followed his gaze. Audrey’s daughter was standing in the doorway of the nursery, clutching a stuffed bunny. I looked past her silhouette into the room, and my eyes suddenly burned with tears. Julian panicked. His voice was rushed, but he deliberately kept it low so Audrey wouldn’t hear. “Clara, it’s just a word. Lily grew up without a father. She’s attached to me and craves a father figure, that’s all. Please don’t read into it.” The tears fell, slipping down my cheeks and landing on the back of my hand. I looked at him, my voice raw and broken. “Why is she sleeping in the nursery?” “Julian… we have a perfectly good guest room. Why did you put her in the nursery I spent months decorating with my own hands?” Julian didn’t answer right away. He pulled his hand back, hurried over, and scooped the pouting Lily into his arms, comforting her. Then, he turned to soothe Audrey, who had teared up at the sight. I sat alone on the sofa. Like an intruder who didn’t belong. Like a wicked witch bullying their perfect, happy little family of three. Once he finished comforting them and closed the bedroom door, cutting off the noise, Julian finally spoke. “Lily liked the fairy-tale decorations in there, so I let her have it.” “Clara, it’s just a room, and they won’t even be here that long. Why are you overreacting like this?” He sounded exhausted. And accusatory. I let out a hollow laugh. Why am I overreacting? Because I designed that room with an overflowing amount of love. Because everything in that room belonged to the babies I was supposed to have. This was no longer my home. Yet he had the audacity to ask me why. I reached into my bag, pulled out the post-op paperwork from the termination, and placed it gently on the coffee table. “Julian—” Before I could finish, the door clicked open again, and Lily walked out. She trotted over to Julian, grabbed his pant leg, and asked timidly. “Daddy, can I really stay here?” “Of course you can.” “Mommy said this is my home now. She said I get to be with Daddy every single day. Is that true too?” Audrey stiffened. Julian instinctively looked at me. I looked right back at him. Waiting to see how he would answer. Two seconds later, he broke eye contact with me. He reached down and affectionately ruffled the little girl’s hair. “Yeah, kiddo. This is Lily’s home now. Daddy will be with you every day, and all those pretty stuffed animals in your room will be with you too.” I stared at him blankly for a moment. Then, I stood up. I reached for the termination paperwork on the table, but Julian grabbed my wrist. He looked at me sternly. “Clara. Be mature about this.” Mature. When that word dropped from his lips, the very last shred of warmth in my chest died. I wrenched my hand out of his grip and walked into the master bedroom. I pulled my suitcase from the closet and started packing my clothes. Julian followed me in and shut the door. “Clara, stop throwing a tantrum.” “Lily is just a sick kid. She’s still recovering. The things Audrey and I say to her—” “I know,” I interrupted, finishing his sentence for him. “You only say those things to comfort her.” “If you know that, then why are you giving me attitude? Why are you picking a fight with a child?” The moment the words left his mouth, the room fell dead silent. Julian seemed to realize he had crossed a line. He took a deep breath and stepped forward to hug me. “Just be a good girl, okay? You’re pregnant and running a fever. Stop being stubborn. I promise I’ll pay more attention to your feelings from now on.” I dodged his embrace. His arms hung awkwardly in the air. At that moment, Audrey knocked softly on the bedroom door. “Julian? Lily says she wants you to tuck her in. Do you have a minute?” Lily’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Daddy, I want to be like the other kids! I want Mommy and Daddy to sleep with me. Please come sleep with Lily!” Julian frowned. A few seconds later, he dropped his arms. “Get some rest. I’ll come back as soon as she falls asleep.” Look at that. That was him ‘paying more attention to my feelings.’ He walked to the door, then suddenly remembered something. “What was that piece of paper you had in your hand?” I crumpled the termination paperwork in my fist, then relaxed my grip. I ripped it into pieces right in front of his face and tossed it into the trash can. “Nothing important.” Julian gave me a weird look, then walked out. My vision swam. I slid down the side of the bed, collapsing onto the floor. At this point, even being disappointed felt like a waste of energy. Halfway through packing, the fever won, and I passed out on the rug. When I finally woke up, I had already missed my shift at work. I walked out of the bedroom to find Julian coaxing Lily to eat her breakfast. When he saw me, he stood up to get me a bowl of oatmeal from the kitchen. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.” Lily looked at me, slowly put down her spoon, and whispered to Julian. “Daddy, I’m done eating. You and Mommy need to take me to go shoot your wedding photos now.” It felt like a needle piercing my heart, but it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. Julian froze. Audrey jumped up in a panic, rushing to explain. “Clara, I was reading her a bedtime story last night, and it had a picture of a couple taking wedding photos. She thought Julian and I… Her body is still weak, so we just pretended we were going to take photos so she wouldn’t get upset…” Hearing this, Lily burst into tears. “Why are we pretending?! Aren’t Mommy and Daddy in love?! You promised last night that you would stay with me forever…” She cried her heart out. Julian was silent for a moment, then finally crouched down to comfort her. His voice was incredibly soft. “Mommy was just joking. Of course we love each other. And we love you most of all.” “Be a good girl and stop crying. You’re going to be our little flower girl today. If your eyes are puffy, the photos won’t look pretty.” I stood in my own living room, completely superfluous. Before he walked out the door, Julian finally looked at me. “Clara, just rest at home today. We’ll have a long talk when I get back.” As if sensing something was wrong, he paused at the door and looked back. “I know you feel wronged. After our wedding next month, I promise I’ll take you to the Maldives for our honeymoon.” I didn’t say a word. I just grabbed the door handle and shut it in his face. Through the door, I could hear Audrey’s anxious voice. “Julian, you’ve done so much for me and Lily. Is this going to ruin things between you and Clara? She looks like she wants me dead.” “Don’t overthink it. She’s just throwing a little fit.” “But she was packing her bags last night! What if she actually leaves you?” Julian was quiet for a second before his deep voice drifted through the wood. “She won’t.” Audrey paused. “You’re that sure?” “Clara loves me. She always compromises for me. We’ve been together for seven years. She won’t be able to let that go.” My endless compromises had given Julian the confidence to hurt me without a second thought. Seven years of love. It was just leverage to him. A guarantee that I would never walk away. In that exact moment, the very last lingering trace of reluctance in my heart shattered into dust. I dragged my packed suitcase to the entryway. I called a demolition crew and paid them to come smash everything in the nursery. Then, I walked out the door and locked it behind me. Just as I reached the lobby of my apartment building, my phone rang. It was Julian. He sounded frantic. “Clara, Lily fainted.” “She’s in the ER triage right now. I’m not sure if she needs another transfusion yet, but I need you to come to the hospital right—” I cut him off. “Julian. We’re done. Let’s break up.” Julian’s voice hitched. “What did you just say?” Audrey’s sobbing voice bled through the receiver. “Clara, this is all my fault! Please don’t threaten Julian with a breakup, he’s so stressed—” I thought about the “family” wedding photo she had posted to her Instagram story barely thirty minutes ago. It was so hilariously pathetic. Julian was about to yell something when a rushed, frantic voice interrupted him in the background. “Dr. Vance! You asked me to pull Clara’s chart to see if she was cleared for a blood draw.” “The system says she underwent a late-term medical termination yesterday morning! She had massive post-op hemorrhaging!”

I am an extra in a trashy Young Adult romance novel. When the innocent, “not-like-other-girls,” low-income scholarship student transferred to our elite private academy… I was studying. When the scholarship student screamed at the “Big Four” billionaire heirs, calling them leeches on society… I was studying. When the billionaire heirs took turns falling in love with the scholarship student… I was still studying. It wasn’t until midterms, when I snatched the rank of Valedictorian right out from under the scholarship student’s nose, that things went sideways. Carter Vance, the heir to the most powerful family in the city, dragged me into a dark storage closet. He locked the door and told me he was going to keep me in there for three days to teach me a lesson. I calmly pulled out my encrypted phone and made a call. I told you, this is a YA romance novel. Who doesn’t have a secret hidden identity these days? Three minutes later, the entire school was surrounded by a hundred tactical helicopters… … Carter Vance stared down at me with the classic, arrogant smirk of a bad-boy billionaire. “Let me tell you something, Penny… Penny what again?” He blanked. The air was quiet for three seconds. I helpfully reminded him. “Penny Bucks.” Carter furrowed his brow in disgust. “What a tacky name.” He paused. “If it wasn’t to get justice for Chloe, I wouldn’t waste half a breath on a girl like you.” I nodded, looking completely understanding. He was the male lead in a cheesy romance novel, after all. Why would he bother remembering a background character’s name? In his eyes, I was probably barely even scenery. I was reincarnated into this world at birth, only to eventually realize I was living inside an overly dramatic, cliché YA novel. The plot revolved around the turbulent, star-crossed love rectangle between the four billionaire heirs and the poor scholarship girl. And I was just a throwaway line in the book: [Ever since Chloe transferred here, the former number one student became the eternal runner-up.] Yep, that’s me. The eternal runner-up. But I believe in making my own destiny. I lived ten years in my past life, and ten years in this one. I have twenty solid years of academic grinding under my belt. Other people get reincarnated into novels and start wild romances. I got reincarnated and immediately started doing AP calculus practice tests. The Valedictorian spot? It was mine, guaranteed. So, when the entire school was obsessing over the billionaire heirs… I was studying. When the mean girls teamed up to bully Chloe… I was studying. When the four heartthrobs fell for her one by one… When they hugged her in the rain on the football field, confessed their love on the school roof, and secretly held her hand in the library… I remained completely unbothered, crushing my SAT prep. They were having earth-shattering romances. I had achieved a state of academic zen. Until the day midterm grades were posted, and my name was hanging brightly at the absolute top of the list. Carter’s tone was vicious. “Do you have any idea that because you stole Chloe’s number one spot, she cried all night?” He backed me into a corner, exuding that oppressive aura unique to fictional alpha males. “She is so kind and works so hard. Why do you have to target her?” I couldn’t help but interrupt. “I’m sorry, but if I recall correctly, Chloe ranked 84th in the grade this time.” “Besides me, there are 82 other people ahead of her.” Carter froze for half a second before his face flushed with rage. “Whatever! That number one spot belonged to Chloe! You stole her rightful place, and that threw her off, which is why she got 84th! This is all your fault!” I mentally applauded his absolute lack of logic. The next second, he shoved me into the school’s old utility closet. The heavy metal door slammed shut, and the lock clicked loudly. “You’re staying in here for three days. Let’s see if that teaches you a lesson,” his voice dripped with condescension through the door. “Maybe next time you’ll remember your place before you try to steal the top spot.” After Carter’s footsteps faded, I looked around the dim closet, which was piled high with broken desks and dusty gym equipment. As I was figuring out the best way to break out, my encrypted cell phone rang. “Penny, my girl! Number one again?! Hahahaha, that’s my daughter for ya!” The voice on the other end was booming with energy. “Your uncles heard you got Valedictorian again, and they went absolutely nuts. They just hauled out a hundred crates of C4, waiting for you to come home so we can blow ’em up and celebrate!” “Oh, hey, you want your mom to come pick you up? She just got her hands on a discontinued heavy assault rifle, she’s dying to show it off.” A drop of sweat formed on my forehead. I quickly brushed him off, insisting I would make my own way home, practically begging them not to come to the school. I hung up the phone, shaking my head with a heavy sigh. Honestly, my parents were a handful. If they found out I was currently locked in a closet by a high school bully, they would literally level the entire campus. Sure, I might be an extra in the plot. But this is a crazy fictional universe, remember? My grandfather is a literal Godfather in the underworld. My dad, Tony “The Bull” Bucks, inherited the syndicate. My mom is the number one assassin on the global hit list, charging a cool $100 million per contract. They met, fell in love over a mutual appreciation for violence, and had me—their precious, one-and-only baby girl. As my dad likes to say: Our family has been thugs and mobsters for ten generations, just to finally produce one genius who knows how to read books. I remember back in elementary school, when I brought home a perfect report card for the first time. My parents looked utterly terrified. They thought I cheated. They thought I threatened the teacher at gunpoint. They even briefly suspected I was switched at birth. They refused to believe I earned those grades myself. It wasn’t until later, when they realized I hated sports, hated fighting, and just wanted to lock myself in my room and read… And when I became fluent in eight languages before puberty… They finally accepted the truth. When I took the high school entrance exams and scored the highest in the entire state… my parents almost passed out. That night, my dad was so hyped he surrounded the headquarters of a rival gang and blew it up like a fireworks show just for me. My mom went out and assassinated the top ten targets on the global bounty board, just so she could give me a “perfect ten” congratulatory gift. However, my only request to them was this: Once I started high school, they were forbidden from revealing my identity. They had to let me study in peace. Every time people found out who my parents were, they would shake like leaves around me. I finally had the chance to just be a normal, background-character nerd, and I wasn’t going to let them ruin it. Thinking of this, I walked over to the closet door and crouched down. Click. Click. The lock popped open. When you grow up in my house, picking a standard padlock is child’s play. That afternoon, I showed up to class right on time. I sat in my seat and opened my textbook like nothing had happened. When Chloe saw me, her eyes instantly turned red. She glared at me for an entire period, looking incredibly wronged and stubborn. During the break, she finally couldn’t take it anymore. She ran over, stood at my desk, and twisted the hem of her skirt. “Penny Bucks, I admit you’re smart. But remember this: that number one spot belongs to me, and I will take it back.” I looked up at her with absolute sincerity. “Well, besides me, you’ll also have to beat the other 82 people ahead of you.” Chloe froze for a second, then covered her face and ran away crying. I shrugged and went back to my practice problems. Not long after, Carter marched over, his face like a thundercloud. He was wearing a custom-tailored dark grey shirt, looking every bit the brooding rich boy. “Penny Bucks, I underestimated you. I guess you didn’t learn your lesson?” He reached out to grab my arm. Just as I was about to dodge, another hand reached out and blocked him. Julian. The heir to the massive Sterling tech empire. He smiled, looking sophisticated and elegant, but his eyes were full of calculation. Julian looked down at me. “Penny, I’ll pay you. Give the number one spot to Chloe. How much?” I tilted my head curiously. “How much are you offering?” Julian’s arrogant smile widened. “Name your price. The Sterling family has bottomless pockets.” I thought about it, then held up a hand, spreading all five fingers. Julian raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening. “Five million? Fine. It’s yours.” He turned to mock Carter. “Carter, don’t always use brute force. Use your brain. Why get your hands dirty when money can solve the problem?” I didn’t rush to accept the deal. Instead, I asked a question. “But the scholarship prize for being Valedictorian is only five thousand dollars. Why don’t you just give the five million directly to Chloe? Doesn’t she just want to be first so she can get the money?” Carter let out a cold laugh. “Chloe isn’t a gold digger like you. The five thousand she earns through her own hard work means more to her than anything. You clearly don’t understand how pure she is.” I nodded slowly. “Well, I didn’t actually want five million.” Julian frowned. “Then what do you want?” “I want…” I slowly lowered four of my fingers, leaving only my middle finger standing straight up. I mouthed two words silently. F—k. You. Julian’s face instantly turned beet red. His sophisticated smile vanished, replaced by a dark, furious glare. “Penny Bucks, don’t push your luck.” I stepped back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the homeroom teacher walking down the end of the hallway. So, I took a deep breath and screamed at the top of my lungs. “MR. DAVIS, I NEED TO REPORT A BRIBE! JULIAN STERLING JUST OFFERED ME FIVE MILLION DOLLARS TO THROW THE EXAMS FOR CHLOE!” Hearing this, everyone in the hallway turned to look at Chloe with weird, judgmental eyes. “Wow, she’s supposed to be a smart scholarship student, but she needs a billionaire to buy her grades?” “Shhh, keep it down, or she’ll get her sugar daddies to come after you.” Chloe was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. She yelled at Julian through her tears. “I haven’t sunk so low that I need to buy my grades! You guys are insulting me!” She turned and sprinted down the hall. Julian chased after her, desperately trying to apologize. Carter stood next to me, grinding his teeth. “You little b—ch, Penny!” Just then, Liam, the heir to the Hawthorne real estate dynasty, leaned against a pillar in the hallway. He spoke in a slow, lazy drawl. “I have an idea.” He smirked, his flirty, playboy eyes glinting with a careless kind of malice. “This bookworm has clearly never been on a date in her life.” “Why don’t I go after her? Once she actually falls for me, I’ll dump her hard. She’ll be too busy crying to study. Let’s see how she gets first place then.” The other guys exchanged a look, a sinister light flashing in their eyes. I, of course, had no idea they were plotting this. After school, I pushed open the ten-foot-tall wrought-iron gates of my family’s estate. The moment I stepped into the living room, a dozen heavily armed, terrifying mob enforcers turned to stare at me. Any one of them could give a normal person a heart attack just by looking at them. But the second they saw it was me, their faces broke into massive, goofy grins. “Hey! If it isn’t our genius niece!” “Little Einstein! Come let Uncle Frankie look at ya. You look skinny! Are they not feeding you right at that fancy school?” I greeted them one by one. “Hi Uncle Frankie, how’s the hitman business? Getting lots of orders?” The man with a massive scar across his face laughed heartily. “Thanks to you bringing us good luck, Penny! We got seven big contracts last month, I’ve been busy!” “Uncle Sal, I heard you cleared out three rival hideouts last month? Are you getting enough sleep?” The normally terrifying enforcer smiled so hard his eyes disappeared. “Word travels fast, kiddo! Don’t worry about me, your uncle’s still got it!” After I finished the rounds, my parents finally pushed their way to the front of the crowd. They were both sporting blindingly bright, rainbow-dyed mohawks. Standing next to each other, they looked like two giant, violent Skittles. My mouth twitched. “…What is going on with your hair?” Tony “The Bull” Bucks scratched the back of his head, giving me a goofy, innocent smile. “Your mom said this is the ‘Rainbow Unicorn’ look. She said it’s what the cool teens are into these days.” “You like it, sweetie?” I forced a tight smile. “It’s very… unique.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder. “I’m going to go study. Finals are in a month.” My dad sighed heavily, yelling at my retreating back. “Man, this kid is perfect in every way, except she works too damn hard!” “She’s nothing like me and your mother. Back in the day, we were busy getting into street fights, skipping class, and making out under the bleachers.” Uncle Frankie slapped him on the back. “Oh, shut up, you’re just bragging! You got a genius kid, be grateful!” The rest of the crew agreed, and the living room erupted into booming laughter. I went upstairs to my room. As soon as I set my bag down, my phone buzzed. It was a friend request on Snapchat. The note read: [Hey, I’m Liam Hawthorne. Can we get to know each other? I feel like you’re really different from other girls.] I stared at the screen for three seconds, a slow smile spreading across my face. Then I turned around, opened my bedroom door, and yelled down the stairs at the top of my lungs. “DAD! I’M GOING TO START DATING!” The living room fell dead silent. Tony’s eyes went wide, his rainbow mohawk practically standing on end. “WHAT?! WHICH PUNK KID IS IT?!” I ignored him, slammed my door shut, and accepted Liam’s friend request. For the next month, Liam “courted” me. Every morning, there was a hot latte on my desk. After school, he was waiting by my locker. On weekends, he took me out on dates. During evening study hall, he sat right next to me. He never opened a single textbook, just stared at me with eyes full of deep, manufactured affection. We were inseparable. He dragged me around from morning till night, giving me absolutely zero time to review for finals. Meanwhile, he completely iced out Chloe. Chloe tried to talk to him a few times with tears in her eyes, but he brushed her off coldly. The school’s gossip forums were blowing up. [Did Liam Hawthorne ditch the scholarship girl for the Valedictorian?!] [The end of the Cinderella era?] Chloe’s fan club cursed me out behind my back, calling me shameless. I pretended I couldn’t hear them. Finally, finals week ended. The day before grades were posted, Liam asked me to meet him on the school roof. When I got there, Carter, Julian, and the fourth heir, Mason, were all waiting. The four of them stood in a protective wall around Chloe. Liam had his hands in his pockets, his chin tilted up arrogantly. His tone was lazy and cruel. “Penny, we’re breaking up. The game is over.” He turned to Chloe, his voice softening instantly. “See? I told you everything with her was fake. I was just messing with her.” Chloe smiled through her tears, though she muttered, “I don’t care who you like.” Liam turned back to me, no longer hiding his malice. “Penny Bucks, I don’t like you at all. Every single day I spent with you made me sick to my stomach.” “I only did it to drain all your study time. Let’s see how you manage to get first place now.” He paused, his voice dropping colder. “It just goes to show, you’re just another superficial, desperate girl. You took the bait the second a rich guy showed you some attention.” He stared at me smugly, waiting for me to break down in hysterics. Instead, I burst out laughing. “Is that right?” I tilted my head. “Sure, let’s break up.” Liam clearly didn’t expect me to be so calm. He froze for a second. “Keep putting up a brave front. Let’s see if you’re still laughing when the grades drop.” Right on cue, everyone’s phones buzzed simultaneously. It was the automated text from the school administration with the final class rankings. “The grades are out!” Liam gave me a triumphant smirk and unlocked his phone. The next second, the color drained from his face. Everyone stared at the rankings in absolute shock. My name was still sitting comfortably at the absolute top of the list. 745 points. An undisputed, flawless victory. And Chloe’s name? She had plummeted to 200th place. Even worse than her 84th place finish at midterms. The moment Chloe saw her grade, she went paper-white. Massive tears rolled down her cheeks as she covered her face and ran away. Liam stared at his screen, his knuckles white from gripping his phone so hard. “How is this possible? I was with you every second of the day! You literally had no time to study…” I looked at him, a hint of genuine pity in my eyes. This past month, when he dragged me to the arcade to play games, I had an earpiece in, listening to AP Chemistry lectures. When he kept me on FaceTime late into the night to play co-op video games, I was doing calculus equations on a notepad just out of frame. Multitasking is a skill I have perfected over two lifetimes. Even when he was sitting next to me whispering sweet nothings into my ear… I was mentally translating his sentences into Latin vocabulary words. I reached out and patted his handsome cheek, sighing like I was actually going to miss him. “Thanks for the free meals, Pretty Boy. I had a lot of fun this month.” Liam stood frozen for two solid seconds. Then, a furious, humiliated flush crept from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. In a fit of impotent rage, he kicked over a nearby trash can. “PENNY BUCKS!!!” I ignored him and walked away. Behind me, I could hear the other three guys ruthlessly mocking him. Finally, Mason spoke in a slow, dark tone. “You guys play too many games. If you want to solve a problem, you have to do it permanently.” He raised a hand and slowly dragged his index finger across his throat. The other three exchanged a look, the mockery fading from their eyes, replaced by cold agreement. Carter nodded. “If Mason makes a move… she’s finished.” The day I picked up my scholarship check, I walked out of the school building and dialed my dad. “Hey, Dad. I’m officially on summer break.” Tony’s booming, joyous voice came through the speaker. “Atta girl! My baby girl took first place again! I’ve already got a massive banquet set up for you!” “Oh, and it perfectly lines up with your Grandpa’s 80th birthday! A bunch of your uncles are flying in. I’m gonna make sure everyone knows Tony Bucks’ daughter is a literal genius! Hahahaha!” I was about to reply when a sudden, sharp pain exploded in the back of my head. My vision went black. The phone slipped from my hand and hit the concrete. As my knees buckled and my consciousness faded, the last thing I saw was Mason’s cold, indifferent face. He looked down at me crumpled on the ground, then turned to the men behind him. “Take her. Dispose of her.” From the phone on the ground, Tony’s voice drifted up. “Hello? Sweetie? Why’d you stop talking? Hello?” Mason leaned down and picked up the phone, intending to just hang it up. But on a whim, he lifted it to his mouth, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Are you Penny’s dad?” “Your daughter messed with the wrong people. Tell her to be smarter in her next life.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. When Tony spoke again, his voice dropped an octave. He sounded like a completely different person. “Who is this? What have you done to my daughter?” Mason felt a rush of adrenaline. He leaned lazily against the side of his car. “Like a bottom-feeder like you could do anything about it if you knew.” “But whatever, I’ll let you know who ended her. Your daughter is in the hands of the Sterling family.” He hung up the phone, tossed it casually into the grass, and climbed into the backseat of his luxury sedan. “Drive.” The car started and rolled out of the school gates. But less than three minutes later, the driver slammed on the brakes so hard the tires screeched. Mason, who had his eyes closed in the backseat, was thrown violently forward. He snapped his head up, furious. “What the hell are you doing?!” The driver’s voice was shaking uncontrollably. “Mr. Sterling… we can’t go anywhere.” Mason looked out the windshield, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. A hundred black tactical helicopters hovered in the sky, completely blotting out the sun. Every single exit ramp and side street was barricaded. Rows upon rows of heavily armed men in black tactical gear repelled down from the choppers, raising assault rifles. “EVERYONE STAY EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE. NOBODY MOVES.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “574832”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel