At my mother’s birthday dinner, I did the one thing no one expected. I set up the projector, connected my laptop, and hit play. For the next ten minutes, the room was filled with years of secretly recorded audio clips and a scrolling list of bank transfers. My relatives sat in a stunned, suffocating silence. My mother’s face went from a celebratory flush to a sickly, ashen gray. I leaned in, flashing her a bright, empty smile. I told her that this “tribute” to her parenting was my final gift to her—something for the whole family to savor. The irony was, this all started because she’d had the nerve to tell me that the seventy thousand dollars sitting in my savings account wasn’t mine. To her, it was a “Family Fund” meant to buy my younger brother a new BMW. Back then, I had simply nodded, playing the part of the dutiful daughter. But inside, I was already counting down the days until tonight. … 1 The day began like any other, with a rare, suspiciously sweet phone call from my mother, Diane, inviting me over for dinner. An hour later, I was sitting at the scarred oak table in her cramped kitchen, listening to her dictate exactly how she planned to spend every cent of my hard-earned money. “Casey, honey, Kyle found this gorgeous BMW M3 he’s obsessed with,” she said, sliding a plate of overcooked roast beef toward my brother without looking at me. “You’ve got that seventy thousand saved up. I need you to wire it over to him tonight.” Kyle, my brother—five years younger and ten times more entitled—didn’t even look up from his phone. His mouth was full of food as he chimed in. “Make sure it’s the full amount, Case. I’m not doing a loan; the interest rates are a total scam right now. You can figure out the rest later. Oh, and see if you can pull some extra from your 401k for the taxes and insurance, okay?” My knuckles turned white as I gripped my fork. “Mom, that money is my life savings. I’ve been working sixty-hour weeks for years to finally put a down payment on a place of my own.” “A place of your own?” Diane finally looked at me, her lip curling in a dismissive sneer. “What does a single woman need a house for? You’re just going to get married eventually, and then all that equity goes to some stranger’s family. It’s a waste.” She leaned forward, her voice softening into that manipulative purr she used when she wanted something. “Think of the big picture. This car will help Kyle’s image. He’s trying to get into high-end real estate; he needs to look the part. When he makes his first million, don’t you think he’ll take care of his big sister?” “Totally, Case,” Kyle added, wiping his greasy hands on his napkin—and then, seemingly by accident, brushing them against my silk sleeve. “Once I hit it big, I’ll buy you a mansion.” A cold, hard knot formed in my chest. “Real estate? Kyle, you’ve had four jobs since graduation, and you haven’t kept one for more than three months. Why does a guy who sleeps until noon need a seventy-thousand-dollar car to ‘look the part’?” “Casey!” Diane slammed her hand on the table. “Watch your tone! Kyle is your brother. Just because he hasn’t found his footing yet doesn’t mean he won’t be successful. If his own sister won’t back him, who will? Do you want to see this family name disappear into nothing?” “Is his old Honda suddenly not working?” My voice was trembling. “That piece of junk?” Kyle scoffed. “My friends are all driving European imports. I’m the only one showing up in a clunker. It’s embarrassing. Honestly, it’s like you don’t want me to succeed.” His wife, Tiffany, who had been quietly scrolling through her phone, finally chimed in with a saccharine poison. “Casey, look at it this way. Kyle is the head of this family’s future. If he does well, we all do well. Why sit on that cash while it loses value to inflation? Investing in Kyle is the smartest move you could make.” I looked at their faces—hungry, greedy, and utterly devoid of empathy. They weren’t asking. They were notifying me. They were telling me to hand over the years of missed vacations, the skipped meals, and the late-night shifts so they could pour it all into a bottomless pit of entitlement. “Do you have any idea how much we sacrificed to raise you?” Diane started, pivoting to her favorite weapon: the guilt trip. “We put clothes on your back, food in your mouth, sent you to college… and now that you have a little success, you’re too selfish to help your own blood?” “You’re a leech, Case,” Kyle muttered. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” “Is that what you want?” I asked, my voice cracking with a desperation I didn’t know I still possessed. “Do I have to give up everything until I have nothing left to give before you’re satisfied? Do I have to die for you to be happy?” Diane let out a sharp, jagged laugh that set my teeth on edge. “Die? Casey, if you died tomorrow, the least you could do is make sure that money went to your brother’s car.” That was it. The final thread snapped. The last flickering hope I held for a mother’s love was extinguished by a blast of icy reality. I looked at them and felt a sudden, bizarre sense of clarity. These people weren’t my family. They were predators. After a few seconds of dead silence, I lowered my head. When I looked up again, I forced a calm, almost eerie smile onto my face. “Fine,” I said, my voice as flat as a heart monitor’s drone. “I’ll buy the car.” The table went quiet. Even Tiffany looked up, surprised. They hadn’t expected me to cave so quickly. Diane’s face cleared instantly, a fake warmth radiating from her. “Oh, honey! I knew you’d see reason. That’s my good girl.” Kyle grinned, pumping his fist. “Yes! Case, you’re the best. Seriously. I’ve got your back from now on.” I watched them celebrate, watched them laugh as if Diane hadn’t just told me she’d value my corpse only for its net worth. Somewhere deep inside, the girl who wanted to be loved finally stopped breathing. 2 I returned to my tiny, one-bedroom apartment—the one with the leaky faucet and the $1,200 rent—and locked the door. For the first time all day, I could breathe. I sat in front of my laptop, the blue light illuminating my pale face. I logged into the backend of my blog. Most people knew me only as “The Echo,” an anonymous account with over three million followers. It was my only sanctuary. Thousands of people sent me their secrets, their traumas, and their stories of injustice. I was the one who offered them comfort through my writing. The irony was nauseating. In the real world, I was a doormat. Online, I was a pillar of strength for the broken-hearted. I scrolled through the messages. “Echo, my parents took my graduation money to pay for my brother’s wedding. I can’t even afford my insulin.” “My boss keeps telling me I’m worthless and that I’ll never find another job. I feel trapped.” I felt every word. My family was just a microcosm of a much larger, systemic rot. A dark, frantic idea began to take root in my mind. If they wanted to squeeze the life out of me, if they wanted to treat me like a resource instead of a human being, then I would show them exactly what a resource could do when it was depleted. I didn’t post a scathing rant immediately. That would be too easy. They’d just play the victim and call me ungrateful. No, I needed to be surgical. I opened our family group chat and played the role of the compliant daughter. “Mom, I’ll start the transfer tomorrow. Since it’s a large amount, I have to clear some things with the bank and take a morning off work. It might take a few days.” “Kyle, send me the exact specs and the dealership info. I want to make sure everything is perfect.” The chat exploded with heart emojis. Diane: “Thank God! I knew you were a sweetheart, Casey!” Kyle: “You’re a legend, Case! I’ll go to the dealership with you when the funds clear!” Tiffany: “@Kyle: Love you babe! @Casey: Thanks, sis!” I watched the screen, nauseated by their hypocrisy. I screenshotted every message, every fake “I love you,” and saved them to a secure folder. Then, I began the real work. I pulled the footage from the hidden camera I’d installed in my mom’s kitchen months ago after I suspected Kyle was stealing cash from her purse. I went through years of Venmo history and bank statements. Rent for Kyle – $1,500. Kyle’s new iPhone – $1,200. Mom’s ‘medical bills’ (which were actually Tiffany’s designer bags) – $3,000. Every cent was a piece of my soul they’d carved away. At the same time, “The Echo” started a new series. I posted a prompt: “When was the exact moment you realized your family didn’t love you—they just loved what you could do for them?” Within hours, the comment section was a sea of blood and tears. I curated the most heartbreaking stories, the ones that mirrored my own. I also reached out to a journalist who had been pestering me for an interview for months. I sent an anonymous tip: “I have proof of a systemic case of familial financial abuse and emotional extortion. It involves high-level evidence: recordings, transcripts, and financial records. Are you interested?” The reply was instantaneous. “Absolutely. Your identity will be 100% protected.” Everything was moving. I felt a cold, sharp thrill. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t the victim. I was the architect. Two days later, Kyle called. The “gratitude” was gone, replaced by his usual impatient whine. “Case, where’s the money? The sales guy at the BMW dealership has called me twice. Can you hurry it up? Some of us have lives, you know.” I leaned back in my chair, staring at the progress bar of a video I was rendering. “Almost there, Kyle. Banks are slow with five-figure wires. Just hang tight.” 3 My mother insisted on a big dinner for her 60th birthday at a high-end steakhouse in the city. She wanted all the relatives there to witness her “triumph.” The private room was packed. My aunts and uncles were draped over Diane and Kyle, their voices thick with practiced flattery. “Diane, you’re so lucky!” Aunt Martha gushed. “Kyle is doing so well, buying a BMW? He’s really the star of the family.” “And Casey is such a good sister,” another uncle added. “Giving up seventy thousand dollars just like that? That’s real family loyalty.” Diane beamed, her vanity on full display. “Oh, you know how it is. The kids are just so successful. Casey’s just doing her part. It’s what we do for each other.” Kyle was strutting around the room like he’d already won the lottery, his chest puffed out, enjoying the attention he hadn’t earned. Tiffany was clinging to his arm, making sure everyone heard her say, “Kyle promised the first ride is for Mom. She’s worked so hard; she deserves a little luxury.” I sat in the corner, a ghost at my own execution, picking at a salad. Finally, an aunt turned to me. “So, Casey, now that your savings are going to your brother, what about you? Any plans for a house? Or a husband?” Diane jumped in before I could breathe. “Oh, Casey? She’s got her books and her little job. She’s too picky anyway. Besides, a woman should use her money to support the men in her family. Who else is going to protect her when she’s old?” The words felt like needles under my skin. But I just took a sip of water and felt the weight of the digital recorder in my pocket. Kyle stumbled over, clearly a few drinks in, and slapped my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Case! When I’m a millionaire, I’ll give you a nice little allowance for your wedding. If you ever find a guy who can stand you! Haha!” Tiffany smirked. “So, Case, the car… the money is all set, right? You aren’t just talking big to impress the family, are you?” I put my glass down and looked her straight in the eyes. I gave her a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Don’t worry, Tiffany. You’ll get exactly what’s coming to you. All of you will.” She blinked, confused by my tone, and drifted away. The atmosphere reached a fever pitch. It was time for the cake. A massive, three-tier cake was wheeled in. Diane stood up, basking in the candlelight. She made a show of making a wish, then blew out the candles to a round of applause. “Casey, honey,” she said, her voice projecting to the back of the room. “Since everyone is here, why don’t you give Kyle his gift? Let everyone share in the joy.” Every eye in the room turned to me. Some were curious, some were envious, a few looked pitying. Kyle and Tiffany were practically vibrating with greed. I stood up slowly. Instead of a check or a bank card, I pulled a sleek black USB drive from my purse. The room had a projector and a screen—Diane had intended to use it for a slideshow of her “glory days.” I walked over to the laptop, my movements steady. “Mom, don’t worry,” I said, my voice eerily polite. “The money is ready. But before we get to that, I wanted to show everyone a little tribute I put together. A look at how ‘harmonious’ this family really is.” I plugged the drive in. Kyle frowned. “Case, what are you doing? Just give me the card.” Diane’s smile faltered. “Casey, don’t be dramatic. Just sit down.” I ignored them. I clicked on the folder labeled Birthday Surprise and hit play.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “449089”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’ve recently acquired the neighbor from hell. She owns a plant—a rare, spindly thing she claims absorbs “cosmic energy”—and it has become the focal point of the entire building’s misery. It started when she decided the electromagnetic radiation from my electronics was poisoning her precious “Aether Lily.” She demanded I kill my power twenty-four hours a day. No lights, no TV, and absolutely no Wi-Fi. I tried the rational route. I explained that I work remotely, that the internet is my livelihood, and that there is zero scientific evidence that a router affects plant biology. I told her if she was that worried, she should line her own walls with lead. She didn’t take it well. “Is the internet more important than a life?” she shrieked. “If my Lily withers, you’ll be paying for it. I’ll sue you for crimes against nature!” When communication broke down, her behavior went from eccentric to unhinged. She started patrolling the hallway with a handheld EMF detector. Then, while I was away on a business trip, she actually picked my lock. She broke into my home and drowned my router, my TV, my MacBook, and even my phone chargers in a bucket of water. She called it “radiant purification.” I was ready to call the police and press every charge in the book, but then I saw a post on a local rental forum that felt like a gift from the universe. A self-described “Signal Architect” was looking for a new place. Apparently, he’d been evicted from his last complex for boosting his Wi-Fi signal to such a degree that it interfered with the local radio station. He was desperate for a landlord who would let him blast high-frequency signals all day, every day. I called him immediately. With people like her, you don’t win by being reasonable. You win by finding someone even crazier. I was going to give her a neighbor who spoke her language—the language of total signal saturation. 1 The pounding on my door was frantic, rhythmic, and loud enough to rattle the frame. Then came Agnes’s shrill voice, cutting through the wood like a jigsaw. “Lydia! I know you’re in there! Your radiation levels are spiking again! My Aether Lily is dropping leaves!” I pulled the door open. Agnes stood there, her face a mask of pinched, self-righteous fury. She was cradling that bizarre, variegated plant against her chest like a sickly infant. This was the third time tonight. “Agnes,” I said, my voice tight. “It’s ten p.m.” “And? Does wellness have an expiration date?” She shoved the plant toward my face. It looked like a common hosta that had been through a blender, but she’d reportedly paid five figures for it at some ‘holistic auction.’ She claimed it purified the local magnetic field and cured everything from insomnia to gout. To protect it, Agnes had turned her own apartment into a Faraday cage and expected the rest of us to join her in the Stone Age. The other neighbors on our floor had already fled, breaking their leases just to escape her. Now, it was just the two of us left in this wing of the building. “I’ve told you,” I said, trying to maintain a shred of patience. “Wi-Fi signals don’t harm plants. I have a deadline. I’m not turning off the router.” “Science is a lie told by corporations!” she screamed. “You’re selfish! You’re murdering a living soul! Do you have any idea what this plant is worth?” I didn’t have the energy for a debate. I started to close the door, but she jammed her foot in the crack, waving her EMF meter around like a holy relic. The device let out a sharp, jagged beep. “Aha! Dangerously high! You’re a killer, Lydia! A killer!” I shoved the door shut, locked the deadbolt, and put on my noise-canceling headphones. I could still hear her muffled cursing, but I blocked it out, focusing on the blue light of my screen. 2 The next morning, I found a makeshift “shield” made of tinfoil taped to my front door. It fell off the moment I opened it. I crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the trash without a second thought. Over the next week, Agnes escalated. She put superglue in my locks. She found the utility closet and snipped my fiber-optic line in the middle of the night. I called the police, but when they arrived, Agnes turned into a tragic figure. She clutched the plant and wept big, fat crocodile tears. “Officer, she’s the aggressor! Her radiation is poisoning my Lily! Look at the yellowing on the edges—that’s electronic rot!” She pointed to a leaf that was naturally yellow. The cops, clearly out of their depth with a “neighbor dispute,” gave her a warning and told us to work it out. I had the locks changed and the cable guy out to repair the line, thinking that would be the end of it. Then, my firm sent me to Chicago for a week-long conference. I was barely at the airport when I got a call from the building manager. “Lydia? We have a leak coming from your unit. It’s soaking through the floor into the apartment below.” My heart dropped. I authorized them to enter with a locksmith. Thirty minutes later, the manager sent me a video. My living room was a graveyard. My router, my 65-inch OLED TV, my PC tower, my laptop—even my electric toothbrush—were submerged in a massive plastic utility tub filled with water. The water had overflowed, warping the hardwood floors. Agnes was standing right there in the frame, clutching a set of prayer beads, chanting under her breath. “Purify. I am purifying the source,” she muttered. In the video, the manager shouted, “Agnes, what the hell are you doing?” She looked at the camera with the serene, terrifying gaze of a martyr. “I’m saving her. These devices are demons. They create karmic debt. I’m doing her a favor.” I was shaking so hard I nearly dropped my phone. I booked the first flight back. By the time I walked through my door, the police had already taken Agnes down to the station for a statement. My home was a wreck. The floors were buckled, and every piece of technology I owned was a “cold, dead corpse” at the bottom of a bucket. The next day, at the precinct, Agnes remained unrepentant. “I was doing a good deed! She should be thanking me! If I hadn’t stepped in, she would’ve developed radiation sickness by Christmas!” She even tried to counter-sue, claiming my “high-frequency environment” had caused her mental distress and “nutritional deficits” in her plant. Because there were no cameras inside my unit, she claimed I’d left the door unlocked and she’d entered to “investigate a smell of ozone” to save me. With no witnesses, the police chalked it up to a messy civil dispute. She was ordered to pay me three thousand dollars for property damage. Three thousand. My PC build alone cost more than that. I watched her walk out of the station, cradling her “Aether Lily” with a smug, triumphant grin. You can’t reason with a fanatic. But you can overwhelm them. I sat on my ruined floor, scrolling through my phone until I found the post again. Title: I boosted my Wi-Fi so hard I got evicted. Looking for a new HQ where I can run high-gain antennas 24/7. Rent is no object. The user was “Signal_Junkie_99.” I sent him a DM immediately. 3 Me: I saw your post. I have a three-bedroom. You can blast whatever signal you want. In fact, the stronger, the better. He replied instantly. Is this a setup? Are you a fed? I gave him the cliff notes version of the Agnes saga. I told him I had a neighbor who was “allergic” to technology and I wanted a tenant who could provide a “counter-frequency” to her nonsense. Say no more, he replied. I’m a specialist in signal saturation. You give me a room, and I’ll turn that floor into a 5G fortress. Your neighbor won’t know what hit her. “Can you meet today?” I asked. I’m in the parking lot of a motel with my van. I can be there in twenty minutes. His name was Arlo. He was in his early twenties, tall, lanky, and wearing a T-shirt that said ‘DOES NOT PLAY WELL WITH ANALOG.’ He looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in a month, but his eyes lit up when he saw the “Aether Lily” charms and hex signs Agnes had started hanging in the hallway. “Interesting decor,” Arlo said, pushing up his glasses. “Artistic expression,” I replied, opening the door. He stepped inside and winced at the water damage. “Rough. But the bones are good. I can work with this. I’ll take the two smaller bedrooms—one for sleep, one for the ‘Array.’” “Electricity and high-speed fiber are on me,” I said. “I only have one rule.” “Shoot.” “Keep the signal at max. Twenty-four-seven. And I want the antennas pointed directly at that wall.” I gestured toward Agnes’s unit. Arlo grinned. It was a sharp, tech-savvy smirk. “Understood. Operation ‘Static Storm’ is a go.” 4 Arlo moved in like a whirlwind. He hauled up crates of servers, tangled nests of Category 6 cables, and several high-gain directional antennas that looked like something stolen from NASA. He set up his “Command Center” in the bedroom sharing a wall with Agnes. Within hours, the room was bathed in the blue glow of LED fans and the low, industrial hum of cooling systems. “Lydia, check this out.” Arlo handed me a professional-grade signal meter. The needle didn’t just move; it slammed against the right side of the gauge. “This is just ‘Idling’ mode,” Arlo whispered. “Once I spin up the ‘Storm Matrix,’ the density will be ten times this.” “Perfect,” I said. That night, as I was drifting off, a blood-curdling scream erupted from next door. It was Agnes. It sounded like she’d seen a ghost. Then came the thumping—she was throwing herself against the shared wall. “WHO IS IT? WHO IS DOING THIS? MY LILY! MY LILY IS VIBRATING!” I pulled my duvet up, listening to the chaos next door with a sense of profound peace. Arlo poked his head out of his room and gave me a thumbs-up. “Phase one complete. The neighbor is ‘sensor-aware.’ Moving to phase two.” The next morning, Agnes was waiting at my door. She had massive dark circles under her eyes, and her hair looked like a bird’s nest. She held her EMF detector, but the needle was spinning in frantic, useless circles. “It’s you! I know it’s you!” she shrieked, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “What did you do? The air tastes like metal! My detector is broken!” I leaned against the doorframe, sipping my coffee. “Oh? Maybe it’s just the new router. It’s a high-performance model.” “Router? No router does this!” She tried to push past me. “Agnes, trespassing is a crime. Remember the police talk?” Arlo stepped out behind me, yawning. He was in a wrinkled t-shirt and boxers, looking every bit the unbothered gamer. Agnes stared at him with pure disgust. “Who is this? You brought a man into this nest of filth? No wonder the energy is so foul!” Arlo adjusted his glasses. “Ma’am, first off, I’m a legal tenant. Second, electromagnetic waves don’t care about your morals. And third, that device in your hand is a glorified random-number generator. It has the processing power of a toaster.” Agnes sputtered. “You… you liar! Who are you?” “I’m a systems engineer,” Arlo said flatly. “If you’d like to discuss Maxwell’s equations or the inverse-square law of signal degradation, I’m free at noon. Otherwise, you’re blocking the airflow to my vents.” Agnes let out a frustrated wail, clutched her plant, and fled back into her unit. 5 Agnes went quiet for two days. During that time, Arlo finalized the “Storm Matrix.” Three massive directional antennas were mounted inside the window, aimed like cannons at the wall separating our units. “We just need a catalyst,” Arlo said, tapping away at his keyboard. “Something to push her over the edge.” The catalyst arrived on the third day. Agnes had hired help. A man in flowing linen robes, carrying a wooden compass and smelling of heavy incense, began pacing the hallway. An “Energy Consultant.” He stopped in front of my door, and his compass needle started spinning like a top. “Darkness!” the man gasped. “The malignant force is coming from this void!” Agnes nodded fervently. “I knew it! They’re using black tech to kill my Lily!” “Fear not,” the ‘Consultant’ said, waving a bundle of sage. “I shall cast a ‘Solar Seal’ to lock this evil away.” Arlo and I watched through the peephole. Arlo started laughing. “Oh, he wants to play magic? Let’s give him a soundtrack.” Arlo hit a button on his phone. Suddenly, a hidden Bluetooth speaker I’d placed near the door began to blare a deep, distorted, bass-heavy chant—something that sounded like a robotic exorcism. “REBOOTING SYSTEM… PURGING ANALOG INTERFERENCE… DATA IS ETERNAL… BIOLOGICALS ARE OBSOLETE…” The Consultant jumped nearly a foot in the air. His face went pale. “What… what kind of spirit is that?” Arlo switched the audio. A booming, synthesized voice echoed in the hallway: “I SEE YOU, FRAUD. YOUR SAGE HAS NO POWER OVER THE GRID. LEAVE NOW OR BE UPLOADED.” The Consultant didn’t wait. He dropped his sage, nearly tripped over his robes, and sprinted for the elevator. Agnes stood there, jaw-dropping, as her “expert” abandoned her. 6 Agnes didn’t give up, but she did get weirder. She bought rolls of industrial tinfoil and began wallpapering her entire apartment. She even covered her windows, effectively turning her home into a giant baked potato. Arlo was unimpressed. “She’s building a crude Faraday cage. But her seals are terrible. It’s actually reflecting the signals back into her own living room, magnifying the effect. She’s microwaving herself.” He was right. Agnes looked worse every day—gaunt, twitchy, and exhausted. Then came the “cleansing fires.” She started burning clumps of dried herbs in the hallway to “neutralize the magnetic rot.” The smoke was thick and acrid, triggering coughs from anyone who walked by. The building manager warned her three times, but Agnes just screamed about her “right to breathe clean energy.” One night, the smoke got so bad it started seeping under my door. Arlo looked at the haze and then at me. “Lydia, how do you feel about a little forced ‘purification’?” “What do you have in mind?” “She loves smoke. Let’s give her the full experience.” Arlo did something to the building’s smart-relay system—nothing permanent, just a “stress test.” At 2:00 AM, the smoke density in the hallway hit a specific threshold. Suddenly, the fire alarms for the entire floor erupted. The shrill, piercing shrieks were accompanied by the building’s overhead sprinkler system. Agnes burst out of her apartment, instantly soaked to the bone. Neighbors from the other wings came running out in their pajamas, seeing the hallway filled with herb-smoke and a dripping, hysterical Agnes. “You lunatic! You almost set the building on fire!” a neighbor from 4B yelled. The fire department arrived ten minutes later. They found the charred remains of her “cleansing herbs” and the water damage she’d caused. Agnes was hauled away by the police for “reckless endangerment” and “violation of fire codes.” She was held for five days. It was the most peaceful five days of my life. Arlo used the time to upgrade his setup to “Cyber-Fortress 2.0.” “Lydia, I’ve been running some diagnostics on the side,” Arlo said one afternoon, looking uncharacteristically serious. “On what?” “On Agnes’s apartment. While she was gone, the signal interference dropped, but I noticed something strange. There’s a massive power draw coming from her unit. And a very specific, high-frequency electromagnetic hum.” “You think she’s got some weird health machine in there?” “No,” Arlo said, peering at a spectrum analyzer. “Whatever is in there, it’s drawing more juice than a commercial refrigerator. And it’s been running 24/7 for months.” I had a sinking feeling. Agnes wasn’t just a crazy plant lady. She was hiding something.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “449088”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years later, on a nondescript business trip to a city I barely knew, I found a lost little boy on a rain-slicked street corner. After I dropped him off at the local precinct, the officer asked the child for a parent’s contact information. When the phone rang and a familiar, baritone voice answered—saying, “Daddy’s almost there”—my hand tightened around my paper coffee cup until the cardboard buckled. Half an hour later, Maxwell, a man who was supposed to be a thousand miles away standing behind a university lectern, came bursting through the station doors, breathless and frantic. The moment our eyes met, the panic on his face froze into a mask of pure shock. I stood up slowly from the wooden bench, looking at this man I hadn’t seen in five years. A cold, sharp smile curved my lips. “I have to hand it to you, Professor. In all these years, you didn’t just manage to keep your tenure—you managed to keep a secret son, too.” My mind drifted back to that rain-soaked night five years ago. He had been on his knees in front of me, begging me to spare his young teaching assistant, Lydia. “Don’t destroy her future,” he’d hissed, his eyes bloodshot, willing to sever ties with his prestigious family just to protect that girl. In the end, I had compromised. My terms were simple: Lydia had to leave the city forever and sign an iron-clad agreement never to return. For years, people behind my back whispered that I’d traded my dignity for a payout—that I’d treated my marriage like a business merger. But looking at the timid little boy clinging to Maxwell’s leg, I realized that my delayed retribution had finally arrived. “Now tell me,” I asked softly, my voice devoid of emotion. “Do you think you’ll be keeping that ‘Distinguished Professor’ title after today?” … 1 “Katherine, please… let me explain.” Maxwell pulled the boy behind him, a protective instinct that stung me more than I cared to admit. “This isn’t the place,” I interrupted, picking up my designer handbag. “Have that woman come pick up the child. You and I need to talk.” “Lydia isn’t… she isn’t well…” “Maxwell.” I looked at him with eyes as cold as a morgue. “Do you want me to call your father right now, or should I just have my lawyer send the formal notice?” Maxwell’s mouth snapped shut. The agreement I held in my safe was enough to strip him of his chair at the university, his reputation, and every cent he possessed. The boy—Henry—suddenly poked his head out and shouted at me, “You’re a mean lady! Leave my daddy alone!” A child’s words are often the sharpest weapons. Maxwell scrambled to cover the boy’s mouth, looking at me with genuine terror. “You’ve raised him well,” I said, the corners of my mouth twitching. “It seems Lydia hasn’t learned much over the years, but she’s certainly perfected the art of turning people against me.” I turned and walked out of the precinct. Outside, the snow was beginning to fall in heavy, suffocating flakes. It was biting cold. I thought about five years ago, the night I caught him. Maxwell had knelt before me, sobbing that Lydia was an orphan, a girl from the sticks with nothing and no one, begging me to give her a chance. I had just suffered a miscarriage then. I was at my most fragile, my body hollowed out by grief. I had signed the papers and set two conditions: First, Lydia would drop out and leave the city, never to return. Second, Maxwell would sign a post-nuptial agreement: if he ever strayed again, he would leave with nothing but the clothes on his back. His father, Alistair—a titan in the academic and corporate world—had nearly beaten him with his cane. But to appease my family and quiet the storm, he had allowed it. Maxwell had sworn to me then: “Katherine, it was a moment of madness. I only love you. My money, my life—it’s all yours. Just don’t expose this. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” For five years, he had been the model husband. No matter how busy he was, we FaceTimed every day. Gifts arrived for every holiday. He even skipped a multi-million dollar contract signing just to spend a quiet weekend with me. I actually believed that time had healed the wound. But it turned out Maxwell hadn’t just kept her in his heart; he had built a secret life with her. The snow stopped. Maxwell had his driver take the boy home. He didn’t dare leave, and he didn’t dare let me go. We sat in a sterile, overpriced coffee shop next to the station. “Katherine, it’s not what you think,” Maxwell said, his hands clasped against his forehead, his voice a low tremor. “Lydia… she did leave the city back then. Just like you asked.” “But she realized she was pregnant after she left. I couldn’t just abandon her. I was terrified of you finding out… and the boy, Henry… he has asthma and a heart condition. The medical bills were astronomical. She couldn’t handle it alone.” “So you brought them back?” I stirred my latte, the metal spoon clinking rhythmically against the porcelain. “And not just back—you put them in a luxury apartment and played house once a week.” “Maxwell, is this charity, or are you keeping a mistress?” “I was only seeing the child!” he argued desperately. “Katherine, the boy is innocent. Henry is sick. Every time he has an attack, he screams for his father. What was I supposed to do? Let him die?” “So you let me live like a fool instead?” I countered. “Did you think that as long as you kept them out of my sight, it didn’t count as a betrayal? What were your vows worth, Maxwell?” 2 Maxwell fell silent. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and ignored it. A moment later, my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered, and the soft, frail voice of Lydia drifted through the line. “Katherine… it’s Lydia.” “I know you’re with Maxwell right now. Can I… can I just say a few words?” I put the phone on speaker and set it on the table. “Katherine, everything is my fault. All of it,” Lydia said, her voice trembling with a sob that sounded practiced yet devastatingly effective. “I was too weak. I couldn’t support Henry on my own, so I crawled back to Maxwell like a coward. He’s a good man. He’s just being kind to a sick child… please don’t blame him.” “If you can’t have us here, I’ll take Henry and leave right now. Even if we end up on the street, I won’t cause you any more trouble…” Suddenly, the sound of a child’s hacking cough erupted from the phone, followed by Lydia’s panicked shushing. Maxwell’s face drained of color. He lunged across the table, grabbing my phone. “Lydia? Is he having an attack? Don’t move—the inhaler is in the cabinet! I’m coming!” He hung up and looked at me, his eyes wide with a frantic, pleading light. “Katherine, it’s his asthma. It could be fatal. I have to go… we’ll talk at home, okay? Please.” I looked at this man. One second he was begging for my forgiveness, and the next, his soul had already flown to her side at the first sign of trouble. I understood her game. Lydia didn’t need to scream or fight me. She just needed to be fragile. She knew that Maxwell’s hero complex was her strongest leash. “Go ahead,” I said, leaning back against the leather booth, my expression unreadable. “But Maxwell, if you walk out that door, we are truly done.” Maxwell hesitated for a fraction of a second. He looked at me, torn, but then he gritted his teeth. “Katherine, a life is at stake. I can’t ignore that.” He turned and ran out without looking back. I watched his silhouette disappear into the night. I picked up my cold coffee and swallowed the bitter dregs. It tasted like ash. I pulled out my phone and dialed Alistair’s private line. “Alistair, I’m in the city. I’m coming to see you.” I drove straight to the research center where the family patriarch was overseeing a summit. Alistair was in his office, his presence as looming and intimidating as ever. He didn’t look surprised to see me. “Katherine,” he said, setting down his tea. “You look terrible.” “You already knew, didn’t you?” I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Lydia had the child. She’s living in a company-owned apartment on your dime. Your network is everywhere, Alistair. There’s no way you didn’t know.” Alistair paused, his sharp eyes measuring me. He sighed. “Maxwell is soft-hearted. He’s a fool.” He put the cup down. “I’m aware of the boy. He’s a bastard, yes, but he carries our blood. He’s sickly, and Maxwell taking care of him… well, that’s just human nature.” 3 “Human nature?” I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Then what was that agreement Maxwell and I signed? A scrap of waste paper?” “Katherine!” Alistair’s voice took on a warning edge. “You are the mistress of this house. You need to think about the long game. As long as that woman stays in the shadows and doesn’t threaten your position, what does it matter if you let Maxwell save face?” He paused, his gaze dropping to my flat stomach. “It’s been five years, and your womb has remained empty. This empire needs an heir. Maxwell securing a backup… it’s for the good of the family.” A chill washed over me that had nothing to do with the winter outside. To them, my inability to conceive was a sin. Maxwell’s infidelity was “soft-heartedness,” the mistress was a “backup,” and my anger was simply “small-mindedness.” “What if I told you I want a divorce?” I stared him down. His face darkened instantly. He slammed his teacup onto the mahogany desk. “Don’t be ridiculous!” “You think divorce is a game? Our stock prices can’t handle that kind of scandal right now. That post-nup you hold—it’s your security, but it’s also a tether. You think you can just strip him bare, ruin his reputation, and walk away? Not that easily.” Alistair narrowed his eyes. I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. In this family, there was no warmth—only the cold calculus of interest. There was a knock at the door. An assistant stepped in, looking awkward. “Sir, Professor Maxwell is here… and he brought the boy.” Maxwell walked in, holding Henry in his arms, with a trembling Lydia following behind him. “Father.” Maxwell didn’t even look at me. He brought the child straight to Alistair. “Henry heard his grandfather was here and insisted on seeing you.” Henry, despite his pale face, managed a small, rehearsed smile. “Hello, Grandpa.” Alistair’s stern expression softened instantly. “Good boy. Very polite.” He reached out and patted the child’s head. Lydia stood in the corner, stealing a glance at me. It wasn’t the look of a victim; it was a flash of triumph. If Alistair accepted the grandson, she was no longer an interloper—she was a hero of the bloodline. And I was the one on borrowed time. Maxwell looked at me, his confidence returning. “Katherine, even Father agrees. Just think of the family…” The nausea I’d been suppressing all day suddenly surged. I bolted for the private restroom in the office and retched until my throat burned. When I came out, Lydia was suddenly on her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face. “Katherine, I know I shouldn’t have come back. But Henry needs surgery for his heart. The best specialist is here in this city. I did it to save my son!” She looked up, her face a mask of tragic beauty. “Once the surgery is over, I’ll take him away. You’ll never see us again. Katherine, you’re a woman… you’ve lost a child before. Please, have mercy on a mother’s heart.” 4 Yes, I had lost a child. And because of that, I felt absolutely zero sympathy for her. She was, and would always be, the woman who chose to build her life on the wreckage of mine. “Katherine… the surgery is next week,” Maxwell said, his voice tight. “But the costs and the follow-up care are… substantial.” I looked at him. “And?” “I need to pause the funding on your current research project. I need to liquidate those assets to pay for Henry’s treatment.” I felt the world tilt. “Maxwell, do you have any idea what pausing that project means? Three years of my life and millions in grants—gone.” “Money can be replaced! My son’s life cannot!” Maxwell roared. “Enough!” My vision blurred. A weight like a mountain pressed down on my chest. The nausea returned, more violent than before, followed by a dizzying blackness. I clutched my stomach and collapsed. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Maxwell was sitting by my side, staring at a piece of paper in his hand, looking stunned. He jumped up when he saw me open my eyes. “Katherine! You’re awake?” He leaned in close. “How do you feel? Does your… does your stomach hurt?” I frowned and pushed his hand away. “What are you doing, Maxwell?” He didn’t speak. He just handed me the paper. Intrauterine pregnancy. Six weeks. I froze. “The doctor said… your body was already weak from the last time,” Maxwell whispered, his eyes red. “This pregnancy is a miracle, but you’re at high risk. The stress almost caused a miscarriage. You have to stay in bed. No excitement. No stress.” “It’s a miracle, Katherine. It’s a sign from God.” He tried to hug me, then pulled back, afraid to touch me. “Wait until Father hears! He’ll be overjoyed!” Watching his jubilation, I felt nothing but a profound, sickening irony. “You’re happy, Maxwell?” I asked coldly. “Of course I am! It’s our baby!” “Well, I’m not.” I touched my belly, my gaze icy. “I don’t want it.” I pointed toward the door. “I won’t bring a child into a world where they have a father who plays favorites and a half-brother waiting to steal their inheritance. I’d rather end it now.” “No!” Maxwell screamed, his eyes bloodshot. “That’s my child! You have no right—I won’t allow it!” “You won’t allow it?” I laughed. “It’s in my body, Maxwell. I decide if it stays or goes.” I sat up straight, my eyes piercing. “I’ll give you a choice.” “Either you send Lydia and that boy out of the country today—no contact, no money, never to return—or I walk into that OR right now and terminate this pregnancy.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “449087”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My sister and I each had a “Kinship Jar.” Inside those jars, we didn’t store coins. We stored the love and care we received, a currency that could be traded at the “Empyrean Exchange” for anything life could offer. When I was nineteen, my father was involved in a horrific car accident. His body was shattered, a puzzle of broken bone and torn flesh. Once again, our family stood before the glass doors of the Exchange. I tried to nudge my younger sister, Kayla, forward, but my mother’s hand clamped onto her shoulder like a vice. With a sudden, violent jerk, she hauled me toward the counter instead. “You’ve spent your whole life doing nothing for this family while we showered you with love,” she hissed, her voice trembling with a terrifying blend of grief and entitlement. “It’s time for you to pay us back. Don’t you dare tell me you’re unwilling.” “Besides,” she added, her grip tightening until my skin bruised, “the contents of that jar were given to you by us. It’s only right that you return them to save your father.” I was shoved toward the cold marble counter. Beside me, a young woman—a stranger whose jar was evidently empty—suddenly disintegrated. She didn’t just die; she erupted into a silent, macabre firework of crimson and ash. I wanted to scream, but my throat was frozen. Because, Mom, my jar has been empty for years. When I was seven, you were dying of cancer. I emptied my jar—all the “sacrifices” of your pregnancy and early years—to buy back your health. When I was twelve, our brother, Jackson, lost his leg in a street fight. I traded the years of Dad’s “protection and guidance” to make his flesh and bone knit whole again. 1 Bits of bone and red mist settled into the corners of the hall. Terrified, I clutched my ceramic jar and ducked behind a fluted pillar, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was certain I was next. The clerk behind the counter didn’t even blink. This was just another Tuesday at the Exchange. “Her jar was empty,” the clerk said, his voice as mechanical as a ticking clock. “You, as her parents, put nothing into it. Naturally, there was nothing to withdraw.” “A child like that,” he continued, glancing at the remains of the girl, “is what the system classifies as a ‘failure.’ Utterly unloved. Therefore, she was liquidated.” The girl’s parents didn’t look sad. They stepped over the pieces of their daughter, cursing her name. “Empty? How could it be empty?” the father spat. “We raised her! We skimped and saved for her! She must have been a slut, giving all our love away to some boy on the street.” “A total waste of skin,” the mother added, wiping a drop of blood off her shoe. “Ungrateful brat. She deserved to pop.” My mother watched them with a sneer of superiority. “If they had actually given her anything, the jar would have produced,” she whispered to Jackson. “Lying snakes. Thank God I actually love my daughters.” Then, her eyes locked onto me. She grabbed my arm and hauled me off the floor. I felt my teeth chatter as the floor grew slick with the other girl’s remains. “Mom, please… I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go like she did…” “My jar is empty, too,” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “Use Kayla’s. Please, use Kayla’s jar.” The color drained from my mother’s face, replaced by a dark, mottled rage. She pinched the underside of my arm, twisting the skin. “Grace, are you trying to embarrass me? You want these people to think I don’t love you? That I never cared for you?” “I’ve been a stay-at-home mother since the day you were born! I ruined my back carrying you! And now you have the audacity to tell me your jar is empty?” “You’re only saying that because I can’t see inside the ceramic. Well, stop lying. The Exchange closes in ten minutes. Save your father. Now.” She dragged me toward the counter. Panic surged through me, primal and raw. In a desperate blur, I sank my teeth into her wrist. She shrieked, and I felt the salt of my own tears flooding my mouth. “Why is it always me?” I screamed, the words tore from my chest. “Why can’t Kayla give something for once? It’s always me. It’s her turn!” My mother always spoke of her “sacrifices,” of her “undying devotion.” But I never understood. If the air in our house was thick with love, why was it only Kayla’s jar that ever rattled with the sound of gold? “God, you’re so petty,” Kayla said, rolling her eyes as she checked her reflection in her phone screen. “The stuff in my jar is for my future,” she said casually. “I’m going to trade it for a modeling contract, for fame, for a face that never ages. You aren’t doing anything with your life anyway, Grace. Why are you being so selfish about Dad?” Jackson stepped forward, his face a mask of disgust. He reached out with one massive hand, grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, and literally threw me onto the counter. “Mom and Dad worked themselves to the bone for you,” he growled. “And you can’t do one thing in return? You heartless bitch.” I stared at the clerk’s fixed, artificial smile. My mind was a loop of the girl who had just exploded. I gripped the edge of the marble counter until my knuckles turned white, looking at my mother with absolute desperation. “If I pop like that girl did… Mom, if I blow up, will you believe me then? I’m not lying.” “You are lying,” she snapped. “Your father and I treated you and Kayla exactly the same. Her jar is overflowing. Why would yours be empty?” She reached out and forcibly pried my fingers off the counter. I wanted my father to live. But I didn’t want to cease to exist. A sudden thought struck me. I rolled off the counter, clutching my jar to my chest, and bolted for the exit. I ran until my lungs burned. “I’m sorry,” the clerk’s voice echoed through the hall, amplified by the high ceilings. “The Empyrean Exchange is now closed. We will reopen in seventy-two hours.” The look on my mother’s face was pure venom. She caught up to me in the parking lot, fist bunching into my hair as she dragged me toward the car. When she finally finished hitting me, I sat in the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I forced a small, obedient smile, looking up at her through swollen eyes. “Mom… I’ll be good. In three days, I’ll save Dad. I promise. Just… please don’t hit me anymore, okay?” I told myself she was my mother. She couldn’t possibly not love me. If I could just earn even a tiny bit of affection in the next three days—just one gold coin of genuine care—I wouldn’t have to die. And Dad would come home. 2 Because I hadn’t “obeyed” and brought Dad back immediately, my mother spent the entire car ride screaming. When we got home, she forced me to kneel on the cold floor in front of Dad’s refrigerated casket. “Stay there,” she commanded. “Apologize to him until you mean it.” I knew better than to argue. I was used to the role of the family’s living sacrifice. At dinner time, the smell of garlic butter wafted through the house. Mom was preparing shrimp—Kayla’s favorite. Every time Mom made a “special meal,” I would hear the faint clink of a coin hitting the bottom of Kayla’s jar. Mom would beam and say, “I do it all for my girls. As long as you’re happy and healthy, the work is worth it.” I am severely allergic to shellfish. I watched them from the hallway, my stomach aching. I wanted that love. I wanted a coin of my own. Once, I had asked her why she never made my favorite meal. She had just shrugged and said she forgot. “Next time,” she’d say. “I’ll do yours next time.” But next time was a phantom that never arrived. “Mom?” I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. “Could I maybe have some roasted potatoes? Just… just one small bowl?” I looked at her, hoping. If she made them for me—if she showed that tiny bit of consideration—the jar might rattle. I could save Dad. But Mom slammed the colander into the sink with a deafening crack. “Eat? All you think about is your stomach! You don’t deserve to eat. If it weren’t for your cowardice, your father wouldn’t be sitting in a box of ice right now.” “You’ve broken this family,” she spat. “And you have the nerve to ask me to cook for you? You’re dreaming. No dinner for you today. Or tomorrow.” I went back to the casket and knelt in the dark. I watched through the doorway as the three of them—Mom, Jackson, and Kayla—laughed and ate like a real family. By midnight, a fever had taken hold of me. My face felt like it was on fire, and my breath came in ragged gasps. “Mom…” I wheezed as she walked past me toward the kitchen, a paring knife and an apple in her hand. She didn’t even look down. I reached out and snagged the hem of her robe. “Mom, please… I’m burning up. Can you take me to the hospital? Or just… just check on me?” She frowned, looking at me with annoyance. Before she could speak, Kayla skipped out of her bedroom. “Mom! Is my apple ready? You promised!” My mother’s face transformed instantly. The hardness vanished, replaced by a soft, doting glow. “Almost done, sweetie. Don’t eat too fast, though. There’s a storm coming tonight, and I don’t want you getting a tummy ache from the cold.” Clink. Kayla’s jar sang. She looked over her mother’s shoulder at me and flashed a small, triumphant grin. See? her eyes said. The love is all mine. Again. In the past, I would have just felt small. But now, with the clock ticking toward my execution, a hot coal of resentment flared in my chest. “Mom, don’t you love me? Why don’t you care that I’m sick?” The question seemed to shock her for a second. Then, her face contorted. She lunged forward and slapped me so hard my head hit the floorboards. “Grace! How dare you? After everything I’ve done? I raised you! I kept you fed and clothed! And you say I don’t love you?” “You’re a monster,” she cried, covering her face. “An ungrateful, black-hearted monster.” I scrambled to sit up, my head spinning. “But the jar hasn’t made a sound in years, Mom! I’m dying of a fever and you won’t even—” “Shut up with the jar!” Jackson’s voice boomed from the stairs. “You’re just jealous of Kayla. If you had just saved Dad like a good daughter, Mom wouldn’t be upset. This is your fault. You deserve to feel like crap.” Mom looked at me with a cold, theatrical disappointment, wiping a stray tear. “Fine. Since you think I’m such a ‘bad mother,’ then I guess I’ll be one. From now on, you’re on your own. If you think someone else loves you more, go find them. Don’t call me Mom anymore.” She began to treat me like a ghost. She didn’t speak to me, didn’t look at me, and didn’t cook for me. Even when I collapsed from the fever, she didn’t move. She eventually told Jackson to “dump me at the clinic” so the neighbors wouldn’t see a body on the porch. I refused to believe it. I refused to believe that the woman who gave me life didn’t have a single drop of affection left for me. So, I found a heavy, jagged stone in the garden. I took it into the bathroom and, screaming into a towel, I smashed it against my own forearm until the bone cracked and blood soaked through my shirt. “Mom!” I sobbed, stumbling into the living room. “Mom, I’m hurt! It hurts so much!” For a heartbeat, I saw it. A flicker of genuine alarm in her eyes. I saw the golden coin of “Care” materialize in the air, a shimmering phantom hovering above my head, ready to drop into my jar. “Wait,” Kayla said, her voice sharp. “The old man next door lost a bowl of chicken blood today. I saw Grace sneaking around his yard.” She looked at our mother with wide, pitying eyes. “Mom, you work so hard. Why is she trying to trick you with fake blood just to make you feel guilty?” I panicked. “It’s not fake! It’s mine! Look at the bone, Mom! I did this because the jar is empty and I need you to care so I can save Dad!” I thrust my jar into Kayla’s hands. “You can see it! Tell her! Tell her it’s empty!” My mother turned her gaze toward Kayla. 3 “Kayla,” Mom said, her voice trembling. “You tell me the truth. Is your sister lying, or is that jar really empty?” “I can’t believe I spent twenty years of my life on you,” Mom added, looking at me with burgeoning hate. “Only for you to tell me it was all for nothing.” I held my breath, looking at Kayla with a pleading intensity. Kayla blinked, then hugged Mom’s arm tightly. “Grace’s jar is just as full as mine, Mom. I don’t know why she’s lying. She’s just so ungrateful for everything you’ve done.” The world turned gray. “You’re lying…” I whispered. “Enough!” Mom stood up, her face a mask of stone. “I’m done feeling sorry for you. Since you’ve decided I’ve given you nothing, then you have no mother. From now on, you’re a stranger in this house.” My arm was still bleeding, the pain throbbing in time with my heartbeat. She didn’t care. She wouldn’t even look at the wound. She began to avoid me entirely. When I saw her at the school gates picking up Kayla during a torrential downpour, the teacher asked why she hadn’t brought an umbrella for me, too. Mom just scoffed. “In her eyes, I don’t love her. Why would I waste an umbrella on someone who doesn’t appreciate me? Even a stray dog wags its tail when you feed it. She’s lower than that.” I followed them home, walking twenty paces behind, drenched to the bone and shivering. “Mom, maybe I should share with her?” Kayla asked, stopping and looking back at me with a performative frown. At that exact moment, a massive oak tree, its roots loosened by the storm, gave way. The wind roared as the trunk began to tilt directly toward us. I tried to run, but my soaked clothes weighed me down. The branches slammed into my legs, pinning me to the asphalt. Kayla was buried under a heap of smaller branches and leaves. “Grace, you curse!” Mom screamed, rushing toward the wreckage. “Everything bad that happens is because of you! If Kayla hadn’t stopped to pity you, she wouldn’t have been hit!” “Kayla! My baby!” Mom dove into the leaves. I didn’t even hope she would save me first. I just hoped she wouldn’t forget me once Kayla was out. But she didn’t stay. Mom pulled a scratched, crying Kayla from the debris and began to run toward the car, cradling her as if she were made of glass. “Mom! Please! Don’t leave me!” I shrieked, clutching at her ankle as she passed. “My leg… I think it’s broken! Help me!” I looked up at her, begging for a single look of concern. Just one. She didn’t even glance down. She kicked my hand away with a sharp grunt. “I have to get Kayla to the ER. I’ll send someone back for you later.” By the time a bystander called an ambulance and I reached the hospital, Mom was already in the waiting room. When she saw me on the gurney, she didn’t rush over. She stood up and snarled. “Because of you and your ‘broken leg,’ I was late getting Kayla checked. If her face is scarred, I will never forgive you.” I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Is my leg really worth less than a scratch on her face?” Mom faltered for a second, her lips thinning. She closed her eyes. “Why do you always have to compete with her? You do nothing for this family. We’ve kept you for nineteen years for free. The least you could do is show some grit.” “I just wanted you to love me,” I whispered, the fight finally leaving my body. “I just wanted you to care. That’s the only way the jar works.” I looked at her, exhausted. “You want me to pay you back? I’m trying. But if I go into that Exchange with an empty jar, I will pop. I will die, Mom. I don’t want to die.” Mom rolled her eyes, the empathy completely gone. “Here we go again. How long are you going to keep up this charade? If I’d known you’d be this much drama, I would have stopped at one child.” I didn’t have the strength to explain anymore. I knew then that the jar would never ring again. She didn’t love me. She didn’t believe me. Perhaps she had stopped loving me the very second Kayla was born. I thought about what the clerk had said. A failure. Liquidation. Fine. If I was the thing that made this family miserable, then maybe my “liquidation” would finally bring them peace. 4 During the two days I spent in the hospital with Kayla, her jar was filled to the brim yet again. She sat at her bedside table, scribbling a shopping list in a notebook. “So, Grace,” she said, tapping her chin with a pen. “Besides Dad’s life, what else are you going to trade for? Next week is Mom and Jackson’s birthday. You’d better have something good.” Jackson leaned against the doorframe, checking his phone. “I’ve been eyeing the head cheerleader at the university,” he said, not even looking at me. “I want you to trade for her to be ‘hopelessly in love’ with me. Got that, Grace?” Mom walked in then, nodding in agreement. “I don’t need much,” Mom said. “Just something practical. A solid gold cuff, maybe two hundred grams. And when your father comes back, he’ll need a new job. Something executive level. Trade for that, too.” Before I could speak, Kayla piped up. “Honestly, Grace looks so reluctant. Maybe I should just do it? I’ll save Dad and buy the gifts.” She sighed dramatically. “We’re family, after all. I shouldn’t be so stingy.” Mom stroked Kayla’s hair, her expression softening. “I know you have a good heart, honey. But this has to be Grace. She needs to learn what it means to be a daughter. She needs to understand the weight of her debt.” She turned to me, her eyes like chips of ice. “Grace, if you are so selfish that you won’t even save your own father, then don’t bother coming home. You’re dead to us.” I looked up at her. “So… if I pop like a firework… that’s okay with you?” Mom laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Then you pop. Who’s to blame but you? Your father and I gave you everything. If you’re empty, it’s because you’re a liar who traded our love away for something else behind our backs.” Kayla giggled. “Maybe she has a secret boyfriend? I saw her talking to that boy, Marcus, after school.” Mom’s face went purple. She didn’t even wait for me to explain. She went to the school the next day and withdrew me from my classes. She screamed at me in the middle of the hallway, in front of everyone. “School? What for? So you can learn how to lure men? No wonder you’re so ’empty,’ you’ve been giving it all away to every boy who looks at you! You’re a slut! A pathetic, thirsty little girl!” Even after Marcus came forward with proof that we had only ever discussed a math project, Mom didn’t apologize. She just sat on the porch, cracking sunflower seeds. “Since you’re not in school, get a job. You clearly have a ‘rebellion’ problem. You need to see how hard life is.” She sent me to work in a hotel kitchen, scrubbing industrial pots. After one morning, my hands were raw, cracked, and bleeding from the lye. I earned thirty dollars. “Do you understand the struggle now?” she asked when I got home. I stared at my shaking, stinging hands. “I understand,” I whispered. Jackson sneered. “Is that all? You should be on your knees, thanking Mom for her hard work.” I did it. I knelt on the floor, my voice hollow. “Thank you, Mom. You work so hard.” “Good,” she said. The day the Exchange reopened, Mom did something rare. She made me a glass of warm milk. But as I held the glass, the jar remained silent. I realized then—she didn’t make the milk because she loved me. She made it because she wanted me to be strong enough to complete the transaction. I drank it. When I woke up, I was bound to a chair in the middle of the Empyrean Exchange. “Save your father first,” Mom commanded, her face flushed with excitement. “Then the jewelry and Jackson’s girl.” I didn’t fight her. I looked at the clerk. He gave me that same mechanical smile. I reached out and pushed my jar across the marble. The system began to chime, a high-pitched, digital pulse that echoed in the vast hall. I turned my head one last time to look at my mother. I saw the greed in her eyes, the joy of a woman about to get everything she wanted. And then, my body shattered. I didn’t feel pain. I felt a sudden, violent expansion, as if I had become the wind. My blood sprayed across her face, hot and metallic.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “449086”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I brought the ceramic mug to my lips and took a slow sip. The iced coffee slid down my throat, a sharp, freezing contrast to the stifling heat of the afternoon. Then, the male voice drifting over from the window booth made my blood run cold. It was a voice I knew better than my own. It was Thomas. “Babe, when are you finally going to tell him?” he asked, his tone dripping with an easy, confident affection. The woman sitting across from him let out a soft, dismissive laugh. “What’s the rush? You know how ridiculously picky he is.” “It’s been three months,” the woman added, her voice taking on a whining edge. “He hasn’t sent a single text to even check in.” Three months ago, my aunt had set me up on a blind date. We met up twice. The chemistry was flat, the conversation forced, and we simply let it fade out without another word. At the time, Thomas had thrown an arm around my shoulder and said, “Let it go, Dan. I can tell from a mile away she’s a flake. I’m just looking out for you, man.” My neck stiffened. Slowly, involuntarily, I turned my head toward the window. There was Thomas. He was leaning in, resting his chin affectionately against the shoulder of the woman who had just spoken. The smile on his face was sugary, intimate, and entirely genuine. 1. Thomas and I had been friends for ten years. We shared a cramped dorm room in college, surviving on cheap beer and instant ramen. After graduation, we stayed in the same city. We bought each other absurd birthday gifts, hyped each other up on Instagram, and spent every holiday together when we couldn’t make it home. Everyone in our social circle considered us brothers. I thought so, too. When I turned twenty-three, my mom started dropping heavy hints about me settling down. “Look at Thomas,” she would say over the phone. “He’s such a good friend, always keeping an eye out for a nice girl for you.” And he was. Thomas really did keep an eye out for me. My first setup was at twenty-three. She was the cousin of one of Thomas’s coworkers, a junior analyst at a corporate bank. We had one date. It was decent. Thomas told me he’d ask around about her at the office. Three days later, he shook his head. “She’s toxic, man. My coworker says she has awful anger management issues. Don’t even bother.” So, I didn’t bother. The second setup happened when I was twenty-four. A friend of a friend, an architectural designer. We went out twice, and she seemed genuinely interested. Thomas stepped in. “Let me vet her for you.” Afterward, he pulled me aside. “Dan, she’s way too slick. She’s playing games. I’m telling you this because I care about you—cut your losses.” I cut my losses. The third was at twenty-five. A match from Hinge who worked in tech. We texted for a month before finally agreeing to meet. Thomas insisted on coming along to “break the ice.” He showed up forty minutes late to the bar. The girl and I had been sitting in agonizing, stilted silence the entire time. She never texted me again. Thomas patted my back. “See? No patience at all. I’m doing you a favor, letting you see her true colors early.” I believed him. The fourth time. The fifth time. The sixth time. Thomas was there for every single one. He analyzed them, vetted them, asked the invasive questions I wouldn’t—”Does she have student debt?” “Is she looking for a meal ticket?”—and always delivered the final verdict: She’s not the one. I was twenty-eight now. Seven setups. Seven failures. And every time, Thomas was there to pour me a drink and offer his wisdom. “Don’t stress it, man. It’s good that you have high standards. Better to be alone than settle for the wrong person.” I would look at him. His eyes were always so unbelievably sincere. And I would smile back. “Yeah. No rush.” Back in the coffee shop, I sat in silence until the ice melted and my coffee was watered down to nothing. From start to finish, Thomas never noticed me. When he finally left, his fingers were laced tightly with the woman’s. As they walked past my section of the café, he didn’t even glance in my direction. I pulled out my phone and scrolled back through my texts from three months ago. Thomas: She’s a total flake, man. I’m just looking out for you. I stared at that glowing blue bubble for a very long time. Then, I kept scrolling. Back in time. The seventh setup. He said: She’s way too plain. You can do so much better. The sixth setup. He said: Sales reps never have any work-life balance. The fifth setup. He said: Look at her Instagram. It’s all partying and expensive dinners. She’s not looking for anything serious. Fourth. Third. Second. First. Every single time, he had a bulletproof reason. Every single time, I swallowed it whole. I set my phone face down on the table and looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, bruised shadows across the pavement. A memory suddenly surfaced, sharp and uninvited. After every failed date, Thomas would insist on taking me out to dinner. And over burgers or tacos, he would always ask, casually, “So, she never reached out again?” I would say no. And he would laugh, a bright, easy sound. “Told you. Completely unreliable.” I had never once questioned it. But sitting there now, a cold dread pooling in my stomach— Why did he always need to confirm that they hadn’t texted me? I flipped my phone over. I didn’t open our text thread. I opened Instagram. Not my profile. Theirs. I still followed a few of the women I’d gone out with. Some hadn’t blocked me or removed me. Number seven—the one from three months ago—had a private profile. Dead end. Number six—from last year. I scrolled back. Two months after our date, she posted a photo at a vineyard. In the corner of the frame, there was the back of a man’s shoulders. He was wearing a distinct, vintage-wash denim shirt. Thomas owned that exact same shirt. My thumb hovered over the screen. I kept scrolling. Number five—from two years ago. She had posted a flat-lay photo of two lattes and a slice of cake at a rustic indie café. I recognized the café. Thomas had dragged me there once. He told me it was his “secret hidden gem.” I put the phone down. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic, trapped rhythm. But I didn’t move. Suspicion wasn’t enough. I needed proof. 2. My apartment became a war room. Seven dates. Seven women. I booted up my laptop and started building a master timeline. Text logs, social media screenshots, dates, timestamps, and Thomas’s corresponding alibis. Date Number One. The banker. March 2019. After one meeting, Thomas labeled her “toxic.” I cut contact. Three days later, Thomas posted an Instagram story tagged at a high-end sushi lounge. I hate sushi. Thomas had always complained about raw fish, too. But that specific restaurant? It was the exact place Date Number One had raved about during our dinner. She said their salmon sashimi was to die for. I had even sent Thomas a screenshot of her recommendation at the time. Date Number Two. The architect. May 2020. Thomas called her “slick.” I stopped texting her. The very next week, Thomas bailed on our weekend plans, claiming he was buried in paperwork. Yet, that weekend, he posted three separate times—from a trendy mall, a boutique movie theater, and a Michelin-starred bistro. Did he go to a romantic bistro by himself? Date Number Three. Tech industry. August 2021. The day Thomas came as my wingman and showed up forty minutes late. The girl ghosted me. I had spent two years believing I was just that uninteresting. But thinking back on it now… the day he showed up late? He was wearing a brand-new jacket. His hair was freshly styled. He smelled like expensive cologne. Who gets dressed to the nines just to play wingman for their buddy? I dragged the data points across the screen, lining them up. Out of the seven women, I could definitively place Thomas in the immediate orbit of four of them. Always right after I walked away. Always right after he promised he was just looking out for me. I sat back in my desk chair, staring at the glowing mosaic of screenshots. Outside, the city had gone completely dark. I hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights in my apartment. A quiet, devastating thought bloomed in the back of my mind. In ten years of friendship, Thomas had never posted a single photo of me on his social media. Ten years. We were supposedly closer than brothers. Not one photo. I had scrolled through his entire grid. There were group shots with his coworkers, throwbacks with other college buddies, endless photos of his wife. But no Daniel. He had an excuse for it once. “Dan, you hate having your picture taken. I’m just respecting your boundaries.” It was true. I wasn’t big on photos. But in a decade? Not even a candid? I closed my laptop. The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. I could hear the slow, rhythmic thud of my own pulse. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was remarkably steady. I wasn’t consumed by fiery, blinding rage. I just felt impossibly, hollowly cold. 3. The next morning, I made a move. I tracked down the phone number for Date Number Three. The tech girl. The one where Thomas was forty minutes late. I sent her a text: Hey. I know it’s been years, but do you have ten minutes for coffee? I have a question about the day we met. She replied almost instantly with a question mark. Then she dropped a pin for a Starbucks near her office building. When I walked in, she looked a little different—her hair was shorter, she looked a bit more tired—but she carried herself well. “What did you want to ask?” she said, taking a sip of her iced Americano. “After that day at the bar… why did you completely ice me out?” She blinked, genuinely taken aback. “You really don’t know?” “Know what?” “Your buddy,” she said, setting her cup down on the wooden table. “The guy who showed up late. He added me on Snapchat before he left.” I stayed completely silent. “He told me you had a severe history of mental illness. He told me to run while I could.” A laugh, sharp and jagged, scraped its way out of my throat. “Mental illness.” “Yeah.” She looked at me, her expression a mix of pity and lingering unease. “He said you were clinically unstable. That you had an ex-girlfriend, and when she broke up with you, you tried to slit your wrists. He told me he was doing me a favor, warning me. Said he was worried you’d snap, so I shouldn’t tell you we spoke.” I nodded slowly, letting the sheer magnitude of the lie wash over me. “And then?” “And then?” She offered a brittle smile. “Then I blocked your number. Who’s going to take that kind of risk?” I leaned forward. “Did he ever ask you out after that?” She hesitated, her eyes dropping to the table. “…Yes.” “How many times?” “Three or four.” She sighed. “Eventually, it gave me the creeps. He was way too aggressive about it. He didn’t act like a guy who was just worried about his mentally ill friend.” I stood up, pushing my chair back. “Thank you.” As I turned to leave, she called out, her voice tight. “Hey. Were you ever actually… sick?” I looked back over my shoulder. “What do you think?” I walked out of the coffee shop and stepped onto the glaring, sunbaked sidewalk. The heat was oppressive, but I suddenly felt the urge to throw my head back and laugh. A history of mental illness. Slit wrists. The absolute audacity. The sociopathic ease of it all. I pulled out my phone and started typing out messages to the others. Number Four. Number Five. Number Six. Not all of them replied. But the two who did gave me the exact same missing puzzle piece. Your buddy warned me. The only thing that changed was the flavor of the poison. For Number Four, the lie was that I was drowning in gambling debt and looking for a rich wife to bail me out. For Number Five, the lie was that I had a deranged stalker ex-girlfriend who made my life a living hell. I screenshotted every confession. One image. Two images. Three. The chain of evidence was growing heavy in my hands. I leaned against a streetlight, staring at my phone screen. Thomas’s WhatsApp profile picture was a minimalist illustration of a white lotus. Clean. Peaceful. His bio read: Kindness is a choice. I stared at those words until the letters blurred together. Then I pocketed my phone and started walking home. That was enough for today. Tomorrow, I would dig up the rest. 4. On the seventh day, I found the final piece of the puzzle. It wasn’t one of the ghosts from my dating history. It was Thomas’s wife. Megan. I knew Megan. Sort of. I had gone to their wedding. I slipped a generous check into a card for them. But I wasn’t one of Thomas’s groomsmen. He had told me, looking deeply apologetic, that his younger cousin had begged for the spot and he couldn’t say no. I had clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, man. I’ll be in the front row getting all the embarrassing photos of you.” But I never sent him a single photo. Because when I reviewed my camera roll the next morning, I realized every single picture of the altar was severely blown out and blurry. Thomas’s cousin had teased me at the reception. “Damn, Dan, you’re terrible with a camera.” I had just laughed it off. Thinking about it now… the seat Thomas had explicitly reserved for me was directly in the glare of the stained-glass windows. Of course the photos were blown out. I was shooting blind into the sun. Megan had met Thomas in 2019. March 2019. The date was burned into my brain, because that was the exact month of my very first setup. The bank analyst. I pulled up Megan’s Facebook page.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “449085”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Ethan once told me the faint aroma of food clinging to my skin was the scent he’d treasure for the rest of his life. He sat on a cold bench outside my kitchen for an entire night, waiting for me to perfect a single sauce. I thought that was love. Then he gave away the winery I’d dreamed of my entire life to another woman during a global livestream, casually saying, “As long as you like it.” I made scenes. I went crazy. I threw away my dignity trying to win back his heart. But when he didn’t hesitate to carry his mistress out of a fire without even glancing back at me, I finally understood. Once sincerity rots, it can never be mended. That night, I made him one final dish. I called it “Oblivion.” Anna’s POV The glow from the kitchen fire illuminated my calm face. The aroma of French slow-roasted squab filled the air. Black truffle juices sizzled softly under the high heat. Today marked the day L’Éternité officially earned its third Michelin star. And my third wedding anniversary with Ethan. For this celebration dinner, I’d turned down all media interviews and stood in the kitchen for six straight hours. Ethan once said the thing he treasured most in this life was the faint scent of food on my skin. He’d sat on a freezing bench outside my kitchen for an entire night, waiting for me to perfect a single sauce. He’d spent a fortune building me the finest private kitchen in all of America. “Miss Anna…” My assistant Lynn pushed open the kitchen door, her steps frantic. She clutched her tablet tightly, her eyes evasive. “How long until he arrives?” I placed the final gold leaf garnish on the plate, my voice gentle. Lynn bit her lip. Her eyes suddenly reddened as she handed over the tablet. “Mr. Sinclair… he probably won’t make it.” On the screen was a livestream of a top-tier winery auction in Bordeaux, France. At the center of the frame stood Ethan in a bespoke tailored suit, his posture impeccable, his handsome face wearing a casual smile. He’d just bid one point five billion dollars for the legendary “Moonlight Winery.” That was my lifelong dream. I’d curled up in his arms countless times, describing how I’d buy that winery and use its grapes to create a signature sauce just for him. He’d kissed my forehead then, murmuring a promise. “I’ll definitely buy it for you.” And now, before the eyes of the world, Ethan casually handed the ownership documents to a young woman beside him. Her name was Chloe, a recently viral food blogger known for her innocent eyes and clumsy yet heartfelt cooking videos. Chloe covered her mouth in excitement, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to Ethan’s cheek. “Thank you, Ethan! I’ll definitely use these grapes to make you the best wine ever!” Ethan didn’t pull away. Instead, he indulgently touched her hair and spoke casually into the camera. “As long as you like it.” The kitchen fell deathly silent. Lynn watched me nervously. A year ago, when Ethan was linked to an actress, I drove my car straight into hers. Six months ago, when he was photographed on a yacht with a strange woman, I had people destroy that yacht the same night. Everyone knew I loved Ethan intensely. Obsessively. Even madly. I wouldn’t allow anyone to touch him. “Anna, PR is asking if we should handle that girl the usual way?” Lynn asked carefully, afraid I’d overturn this meticulously prepared dinner any second. I stared quietly at Ethan’s doting smile on the screen. That smile once belonged only to me. Now he’d given away my dream, my treasured promise, so casually to another woman. There was no hysterical screaming, no angry destruction. I just felt my heart squeezed by an invisible hand. The pain so extreme it turned into a strange numbness. “No.” My voice was eerily calm, calm enough to frighten Lynn. I pulled out a chair and sat down, picking up my knife and fork to cut into the squab that had grown slightly cold. I placed it in my mouth. The premium ingredients filled my mouth, but I tasted nothing. Each swallow felt like shredded glass scraping down my throat. “Miss Anna…” “Tell everyone to leave early. The restaurant will be closed tomorrow.” I swallowed the last bite and picked up my napkin, dabbing my lips with perfect grace. For two years, I’d made scenes, gone crazy, trampled all my dignity trying to keep this man’s heart. But once sincerity rots, it can never be stitched back together. I removed my Michelin chef’s whites that symbolized my honor and tossed them casually over the chair. I was tired. I didn’t want to fight anymore.

Anna’s POV Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows onto the kitchen island. I held a cup of black coffee, head down as I revised next season’s menu in my notebook. My expression was focused and cold, as if last night’s betrayal that had exploded across the internet didn’t exist at all. The sound of the security code unlocking came from the front door. Ethan walked in carrying the cool air of Bordeaux and a barely noticeable sweet perfume scent. He stood at the entrance, his gaze sweeping over the quiet living room, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. He removed his suit jacket and walked to the island, looking down at me from his height. “I’m back.” He spoke with a testing tone that also carried his usual arrogance. I didn’t even lift my head, just crossed out a line in the recipe. “Mm.” He laughed coldly and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “You saw the news? You finally understand that making scenes doesn’t work?” I looked at this familiar yet strange face, my eyes showing no ripple of emotion. “The winery is just an investment for Sinclair Group. Chloe’s image is perfect for brand ambassador. Don’t overthink it.” He released my chin, explaining naturally. “I’m not overthinking.” I lowered my eyes and continued reading the menu. “Good.” Ethan drummed his fingers on the counter, his tone brooking no argument. “Tomorrow is Chloe’s twenty-fourth birthday. She’s always admired you and wants to try your cooking. Clear out L’Éternité’s VIP room, create a special menu personally, and throw her a birthday party.” He wanted his wife to personally cook for his mistress in the restaurant that had just earned three Michelin stars. This was grinding my dignity into the ground. Ethan stared at me intently, as if waiting for me to explode. However, my hand holding the pen only paused for one second before I continued writing the menu as if nothing had happened. “Alright.” My voice was as calm as stagnant water. “I’ll arrange the menu.” Ethan froze. “As long as you behave, the position of Mrs. Sinclair will always be yours.” He smiled with satisfaction. I pulled out a thick stack of documents from beside me and pushed them toward him. “This is the authorization for next quarter’s imported premium ingredients. As the controlling shareholder, you need to sign.” Ethan didn’t even look. He simply pulled out his fountain pen and signed his name at the bottom of each page. “Just decide these small matters yourself from now on. Don’t bother me with them.” After signing, he pushed the documents back and turned toward the bathroom. I quietly watched his retreating figure, then flipped to the third page from the back. It was a drafted divorce agreement. In the property division section, I’d chosen to leave with nothing except the restaurant brand I’d created before marriage. And in the lower right corner, Ethan’s signature was clear and glaring. The ink wasn’t yet dry. Just like our marriage, finally reaching its end. That evening, L’Éternité’s VIP room was brilliantly lit. Ethan sat at the head of the table with Chloe nestled beside him, surrounded by several of Ethan’s friends. Everyone wore mocking expressions, waiting for me to appear. Everyone knew my terrible temper. They were certain I’d cause a scene at tonight’s banquet.

Anna’s POV The door to the private room opened. I wore crisp white chef’s whites and white gloves, followed by a line of servers. I directed the service expressionlessly with elegant movements, as if truly serving a group of ordinary diners. The final signature dessert was brought to the table. It was my signature creation, “Snowfall.” White truffle ice cream processed with liquid nitrogen, paired with an extremely complex vanilla extract that melted instantly on the tongue like dissolving snowflakes. This wasn’t just the restaurant’s signature dish. It was the dessert I’d personally made for Ethan when he proposed five years ago. “Chloe, try it. This is Mrs. Sinclair’s signature creation. People wait six months outside just to taste it,” one wealthy patron said. Chloe glanced at me timidly, then picked up a spoon and placed a small bite in her mouth. After just one second, she frowned slightly and set down her spoon. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” Ethan immediately turned his head, his tone showing undisguised concern. Chloe bit her lip, looking somewhat aggrieved. “Miss Anna’s technique is truly excellent, it’s just… this dessert tastes too cold. It feels like eating something made by a precision machine. Ethan, I don’t understand all those sophisticated techniques. I just feel that food should be warm, should have soul…” The room fell instantly silent. These words were tantamount to publicly slapping a three-Michelin-star chef in the face. Everyone looked at Ethan, waiting for him to defend his wife. However, Ethan only glanced at “Snowfall” before pushing the plate away without hesitation. “Chloe’s right.” Ethan lifted his head, his gaze piercing coldly toward me. “Anna, your cooking has become too commercialized. Your head is full of techniques. You’ve completely lost the soul of food. Yesterday, Chloe fried me an egg at home that had more flavor than this dessert you worked so hard on.” The others let out low chuckles. I stood there, staring at the pushed-away plate. Once upon a time, Ethan had waited three hours for me in subzero snow just to taste “Snowfall.” When he took the first bite, his eyes reddened as he said, “Anna, this is the most soulful flavor I’ve ever tasted in my life.” Now he said it wasn’t as good as his mistress’s fried egg. The pain in my chest had gone numb. I even found it somewhat laughable. I didn’t explode as they expected, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply raised my hand calmly and snapped my fingers. “Clear them away.” The servers stepped forward to remove the desserts. But I picked up the two plates of “Snowfall” in front of Ethan and Chloe. I turned and walked to the trash can in the corner. Then I flicked my wrist. The exquisite porcelain plates, along with the expensive desserts, crashed into the garbage. “Anna! What are you doing!” Ethan shot to his feet, his face livid. I removed my white gloves and tossed them on the table, my gaze cold as ice. “Since Mr. Sinclair’s palate has degraded to only appreciating fried eggs, stop wasting my premium ingredients here. Garbage belongs in the garbage can.” With that, I didn’t spare Ethan another glance and strode out of the room.

Anna’s POV Early morning, the moment I stepped into the restaurant, the purchasing manager rushed up to me drenched in sweat. “Miss Anna, we have a problem! Our exclusive white truffle supplier in Alba, Italy suddenly terminated our contract unilaterally! That’s the core ingredient for next month’s new menu. Without it, our Michelin star review will be seriously affected!” My brow furrowed. “They’re willing to pay the penalty?” “They said… Sinclair Group acquired their estate. All white truffle production has been absorbed internally.” My movements froze abruptly. Sinclair Group. Ethan. Without hesitation, I drove straight to Sinclair Group headquarters. Top floor, CEO’s office. The secretary tried to stop me but couldn’t block me as I radiated cold fury. I pushed open the heavy double doors. Behind the massive desk, Ethan leaned back in his chair. Chloe wore an obviously oversized men’s dress shirt, sitting on his lap with a delicate silver spoon in hand, feeding him an extremely precious slice of white truffle. Hearing the door open, Chloe yelped and curled into Ethan’s arms like a frightened rabbit. Ethan patted Chloe’s back reassuringly, then looked at me coldly. “Don’t you know to knock? Where are your manners?” I slammed the rejected procurement contract onto his desk, papers scattering everywhere. “You cut off my white truffle supply?” I stared at him, my voice icy. Ethan casually adjusted his cuffs. “Chloe’s preparing to launch her own high-end food brand recently. She’s focusing on truffle sauce. She needs the best raw materials. Your restaurant already has three stars. One less dish won’t affect anything.” Chloe peeked out from his embrace, her eyes reddening. “Miss Anna, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Ethan would take your allocation. If you really need it, I can give you some…” “Shut up.” I didn’t even glance at her, my gaze locked on Ethan. “Ethan, that’s L’Éternité’s lifeline. I spent three years securing that exclusive contract. You destroyed my achievement to make her cheap canned sauce?” Ethan frowned, impatience flashing in his eyes. “Anna, don’t be so petty. Chloe’s just starting out. She needs publicity. As a senior, you should support her. They’re just a few mushrooms. I’ll compensate you ten times the money afterward.” A few mushrooms. I looked at this man before me. He’d not only betrayed our marriage but was now brazenly trampling on the professional faith I held as dear as life. He knew exactly what it meant to me, yet for a beauty’s smile, he tore my kingdom apart so easily. “No need for compensation.” I suddenly smiled, though the smile never reached my eyes, radiating bone-deep coldness. I looked deeply at Ethan one last time. That gaze held no more love, no more hatred. Only barren, desolate emptiness. “I hope her canned sauce is worth your one and a half billion.” I turned and left, my spine straight. That evening was a charity gala that had all of New York buzzing. As a special guest, I donated a sugar sculpture called “Ember’s Grace.” I’d spent an entire month painstakingly creating the phoenix from extremely fragile sugar threads. It was breathtakingly beautiful, with a starting bid of five million dollars. This wasn’t just an artwork. It was an important chip for demonstrating my capabilities to the international culinary world. Ethan attended with Chloe. She wore a pure white haute couture gown, like a delicate white flower, clinging tightly to Ethan’s arm. Five years ago, my family faced disaster. Ethan descended like a god and cleared all our debts. Later, in a kitchen fire accident, Ethan inhaled massive amounts of smoke trying to save me, causing severe damage to his taste nerves. For an entire year, everything tasted like nothing to him. He became volatile and irritable. Only the special soup I continually prepared for him allowed him to taste even a hint of flavor. He’d held me once, his eyes red, saying, “Anna, you’re my life, my only sense of taste in this world.” But now his taste had recovered, and his life had become someone else. The gala reached its climax when “Ember’s Grace” was wheeled onto the display platform. Under the lights, the sugar threads refracted dazzling brilliance. Chloe pulled Ethan forward, apparently wanting a closer look. “Wow, so beautiful…” Chloe exclaimed, then suddenly stumbled, her entire body pitching straight toward the display. CRASH. A tremendous sound. Ember’s Grace, which took a month to create, instantly shattered into fine sugar fragments.

Anna’s POV The entire room erupted in chaos. Chloe sat collapsed among the scattered sugar pieces, covering her face with both hands, crying pitifully. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… my ankle twisted…” I stood a few steps away, staring at the crystalline fragments covering the floor, my mind briefly blank. That represented countless sleepless nights, every ounce of effort I’d poured into my work. Ethan rushed forward and swept Chloe up from the ground, anxiously checking her hands and feet. “Are you hurt anywhere? Does it hurt?” After confirming Chloe was fine, he whipped around and glared at me furiously. “Why did you place such a fragile item by the walkway?! Are you trying to kill someone?!” I watched his enraged appearance and found it utterly absurd. “Ethan, are you blind?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly to everyone’s ears. “The display is six feet from the walkway. Did she fly over there?” “Anna! Enough!” Ethan cut me off sharply. “Chloe already apologized. What more do you want? It’s just a broken sugar sculpture. Is it worth getting this angry over?” I closed my eyes and swallowed the bloody taste rising in my throat. During the subsequent auction, to comfort the shaken Chloe, Ethan announced on the spot that he’d bid ten million dollars for a box of burnt cookies Chloe had supposedly “personally baked” for charity. All the cameras focused on them, praising Ethan’s devotion. Meanwhile, the Michelin chef whose work was destroyed stood alone in the shadows like a forgotten joke. I didn’t look at them again. I turned and walked out of the banquet hall. The night wind cut through me, chilling me to the bone. My love, along with that phoenix, had shattered completely into dust. Several days later, a video went viral across the internet. Chloe posted an episode on her personal channel titled “Original Spring Secret.” In the video, she wore an apron, using clumsy yet “creative” techniques to prepare an extremely complex molecular gastronomy dish. I watched the video on screen, my blood instantly freezing. That wasn’t any original creation! It was the brand new spring signature dish I was preparing to unveil at next month’s global launch! The recipe was extremely complex. Aside from myself, no one else knew it. The only possibility was that my private notebook draft had been leaked. Online sentiment shifted instantly. Chloe’s fans began viciously attacking L’Éternité, accusing me, the supposed three-star chef, of being a thief who’d plagiarized an influencer’s creativity. The restaurant’s reservation line was flooded with cancellations and abuse. I immediately pulled up the home security footage. The video clearly showed that two days ago when Ethan brought Chloe to the villa to get something, Chloe had snuck into my private study and photographed the notebook contents with her phone. I had evidence. I grabbed the USB drive and called Ethan. “Have your PR department issue a clarification statement immediately. I’ll simultaneously release the surveillance video of Chloe stealing the recipe.” Thirty minutes later, Ethan didn’t issue any statement. Instead, he rushed straight back to the villa. He walked quickly to the main console and, under my icy gaze, pressed the format button without hesitation. All the surveillance records vanished instantly. “Have you lost your mind?” I stared at the blackened screen, my voice trembling. Ethan turned around, his brow furrowed, his tone carrying unquestionable firmness. “Anna, Chloe’s about to sign with a major international brand. If a theft scandal breaks now, her entire career is destroyed!” “What about MY career?!” I raised my voice sharply, my eyes reddening. “I’m being cyberbullied across the internet for plagiarism! My restaurant’s reputation is destroyed! Ethan, that’s my life’s work!” “You already have three Michelin stars! You can spare one dish!” Ethan gripped my shoulders, trying to convince me with his twisted logic. “You have so many recipes. Just write a new one! Consider this dish a gift to Chloe. I’ll compensate you. I’ll buy you the best downtown location and open ten new restaurants!” Looking at this man before me, I suddenly found him as alien as a monster. He not only wanted to strip away my love but also destroy my pride, forcing me to bear the infamy for a thief. “You want me to bow my head and confess to a thief?” I asked softly, my voice drifting like a ghost. Ethan’s eyes flickered, but he continued. “As long as you stay silent, this will blow over quickly. Anna, I’m begging you to let Chloe go.” For another woman, he begged me for the first time. I looked at him and suddenly laughed. The laughter echoed through the empty villa, desolate and desperate. “Fine.” I stopped laughing and looked at Ethan, my eyes hollow and terrifying. “I’ll stay silent.” Ethan breathed a sigh of relief and reached out to hug me, but I dodged him. I turned and walked upstairs. With each step, another shovelful of dirt was added to the grave in my heart.

Anna’s POV Three days later, at the law office, I received the legally binding divorce certificate. Because I’d walked away with nothing and waived all property disputes, the process went unusually smoothly. Ethan’s grandfather sighed for a long time on the phone but could do nothing. Leaving the law office, I returned once to the Sinclair family villa. My private research kitchen was there, containing a recipe book my late grandfather had left me. It was the only thing I wanted to take. Pushing open the research kitchen door, I froze. Chloe stood at the stove wearing my backup chef’s coat, holding a blowtorch, attempting to recreate a high-difficulty flambé dish. “What are you doing here?” I said coldly. Chloe startled, and the blowtorch in her hand jerked sideways. Blue flames instantly ignited the oil-resistant paper stacked nearby. The fire fed on the kitchen oils and spread like a beast. Chloe screamed and dropped the torch. Flames shot up the curtains. Thick smoke rolled as alarms shrieked. Ignoring Chloe’s screams, I immediately covered my nose and mouth and rushed toward the innermost safe, quickly entering the code and retrieving the yellowed recipe book. Just then, the kitchen door was kicked open violently. Ethan charged in like a madman. Through the firelight, he immediately spotted Chloe collapsed on the floor coughing from smoke, and me standing by the safe, separated by a wall of flames. He didn’t hesitate for even a second. Ethan stripped off his expensive coat and wrapped it around Chloe. He scooped her into his arms and turned without hesitation, rushing out of the inferno. I stood in place, watching through the dancing flames and acrid smoke as that man’s broad back disappeared through the door. He didn’t even look back at me. Didn’t ask once if I could get out. The temperature rose around me, yet I felt plunged into freezing water. I didn’t call for help or shed tears. I simply calmly placed Grandpa’s recipe book into a fireproof bag, then dampened a towel to cover my nose and mouth, avoided the worst of the fire, and walked out through the back emergency exit. Outside the villa, fire trucks had arrived. Ethan knelt on the lawn, clutching Chloe tightly, shouting frantically at the paramedics. “Check her quickly! She inhaled smoke!” I held the fireproof bag, standing quietly in the shadows, watching this tender scene. Only after Chloe was loaded into the ambulance did Ethan suddenly seem to remember something. His face turned deathly pale as he turned and tried to rush back into the still-burning villa. “Anna! Anna’s still inside!” His voice was hoarse with unprecedented panic. An icy hand landed on his shoulder. Ethan whipped around and, seeing me, pulled me into a death grip, his entire body trembling. “You’re okay… thank God, you scared me to death…” I didn’t struggle, letting him hold me. I felt his violent heartbeat, smelled Chloe’s perfume clinging to him. “Ethan.” I spoke softly, my voice completely flat. “Let go. You’re dirtying my clothes.” I pushed him away coldly and walked into the night without looking back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “402163”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Five years ago, Ethan knelt for three days and nights to marry me. That wedding of the century is still talked about today. For five years, even if I asked for the moon, he would give it to me. I thought I was the happiest woman in the world. Until I came home early and caught him holding his mistress, saying the same sweet words he’d once said to me on our bed. “Ivy, I love you more than I ever loved Charlotte.” In that moment, I finally understood. A tycoon’s love has a shelf life of only five years. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I quietly signed the divorce agreement, sold the old house my parents left me, and wiped my identity clean. In twelve days, Charlotte Thompson would cease to exist in this world. And Ethan, only after I disappeared, went crazy searching for me everywhere. Too bad. It was too late. Charlotte POV Ethan was ruthless in business, but he gave all his tenderness and affection to one person. I was an ordinary person with no power or influence. Five years ago, to marry me, Ethan knelt at home for three days and nights before his family agreed to let me marry him. That wedding that shocked New York is still remembered today. For five years, Ethan doted on me constantly. If I casually mentioned wanting cherries, he’d have his private jet fly overnight to bring me the freshest cherries from Chile. When I caught a cold and had a fever, he canceled a billion-dollar acquisition and stayed by my side at the hospital for three days and nights. But this man who loved me like his life brought his mistress back to our home and had sex with her on our bed. Three days ago was supposed to be our fifth wedding anniversary trip. I’d planned it for so long, arranging everything I could think of. Excitedly, I dragged my suitcase to the airport with Ethan. Then his phone rang. He answered, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter. Finally, he looked at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. There’s a major problem with a company project. I have to go back and handle it.” I didn’t want to make things difficult for him, so I smiled and pushed him toward the exit. “It’s okay. I’ll go ahead by myself. Next time you can come with me.” Ethan kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ll come find you as soon as I’m done.” A solo trip is inevitably lonely. The more I walked those streets I’d been looking forward to, the more I missed Ethan. Every time I saw some novel little trinket, I couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it would be if Ethan were here. On the third morning, I changed my flight on impulse, wanting to come home early and surprise him. But what awaited me was this scene. The bedroom door was ajar, and muffled panting and the sound of the bed shaking came from inside. I froze outside the door. Through the crack, I could see everything clearly. On the nightstand, our wedding photo sat right there. The photo of us smiling sweetly seemed to have become a prop to enhance their pleasure. Ethan’s hand gripped the slender waist of the woman beneath him, his other hand tangled in her long hair as he flipped her over and pressed her down beside the wedding photo. The woman was thoroughly ravaged by him, panting and moaning while tears streamed down her face. Ethan leaned down to kiss away the tears from the corners of her eyes. “Let me hear your voice.” “Can’t bear to let me go?” “Don’t cry. Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll be gentler.” I stood frozen in place, my entire body ice cold. These tender words. Ethan had said them to me on countless nights. So his tenderness wasn’t reserved for me alone. In a daze, many images flashed through my mind. On our wedding day, Ethan held my hand and looked seriously into my eyes. “Charlotte, in this life, I’ll only love you. That will never change, even until death.” One year on my birthday, he went to a snowy mountain to bring me a bouquet of fresh avalanche lilies. His lips turned purple from the cold, but he still smiled and said, “As long as it’s something you want, I’ll get it for you.” Last year on our fourth anniversary, he held me on the balcony watching fireworks and swore in my ear, “Charlotte, we’ll always be together. When we’re eighty, I’ll still hold you like this.” I believed it all. I never imagined he was lying to me. Ethan’s promises had a shelf life of only five short years. Back then, my parents didn’t agree to me marrying Ethan. My mother held my hand and said a tycoon’s love is harder to sustain than an ordinary person’s. I didn’t believe it then. Now, watching those two entwined bodies on the bed, I had no choice but to believe. I wanted to rush in and confront that man, confront that woman. But I didn’t want to cry in front of them both, to become a clown. In the end, I bit my lip and silently backed out of the house. I walked down the street feeling lost, my mind completely blank, unable to make sense of anything. I dialed Ethan’s number. The call was answered, but it wasn’t Ethan who spoke. “Charlotte Thompson, you came home just now. I saw you.” It was that woman’s voice! I stopped in my tracks, unable to say a word. But Ivy didn’t give me a chance to catch my breath. “A man like Mr. Sterling. Who wouldn’t want him?” “You’ve occupied the position of Mrs. Sterling for too long. It’s time for a change.” The call was disconnected. I wandered the streets and randomly found a hotel to check into. In the past two years, both my parents had passed away. Before he died, my father gripped my hand tightly and said, “If you’re wronged at the Sterling house, just leave. Keep that old house of ours. It’s your last safety net. If worse comes to worst, sell it. It’ll be enough for you to start a new life.” I didn’t sleep all night. The next morning, I did three things. First, I contacted a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. Second, I listed my parents’ old house for sale. Third, I processed the paperwork to close my accounts. Closing the account would take twelve days. After twelve days, there would no longer be a Charlotte Thompson in this world.

Charlotte POV “Charlotte, when are you coming back? I’ll pick you up.” I stared at the message Ethan sent on my phone, dazed for a long while. If I hadn’t witnessed that scene last night, I’d probably still be immersed in the sweet anticipation of coming home. Excitedly sending him my flight information, planning to throw myself into his arms the moment I saw him. Now, all I could do was stare at that message and feel the dull ache in my chest. “Six-thirty tonight.” I knew Ethan too well. He wouldn’t let me go easily. I had to leave without a sound. “Okay, I’ll come early to pick you up.” At six-thirty that evening, I stood at the airport exit with my suitcase again. I kept waiting, but never saw the man’s figure. Dark clouds gathered overhead, the air thick and heavy, just like my mood at that moment. My phone buzzed. An email from a stranger’s address. The email contained only one photo. In the photo, a woman’s delicate finger had a small cut, and a hand with distinct knuckles was carefully putting a bandage on it. I knew that hand all too well. It was Ethan’s hand. With one line attached: “He won’t be picking you up.” I clutched my phone, staring at that glaring photo, my chest aching more and more. I didn’t want to believe it. I could accept that Ethan had physically cheated, but I didn’t believe he would abandon me for that woman. The next second, Ethan’s message popped up. “Charlotte, something came up at the company last minute. I can’t make it for now. Take a taxi home yourself.” This message landed on my face like a resounding slap, making my heart bleed with pain. Thunder crashed in the sky with a boom. Dark clouds churned and gathered, and raindrops began to fall. In an instant, a torrential downpour enveloped the entire airport. The day my mother passed away, there was also a rainstorm like this. I cried until I nearly fainted. Ethan held an umbrella, holding me tightly in his arms. The rain soaked half his shoulder, but he didn’t care at all. Back then, his eyes were red as he told me, “Charlotte, from now on, I’ll be with you every rainy day. I’ll never let you get caught in the rain alone again.” That promise was made just a few hundred days ago. And now I had to stand alone in the pouring rain. Except this time, Ethan had personally orchestrated this rain. I took a taxi home. The house had been cleaned spotless. Not even a single strand of hair remained. My period happened to start today. After getting caught in the rain and catching a chill, the pain made me break out in cold sweat. I couldn’t be bothered to eat. I hastily peeled off my wet clothes and collapsed onto the bed. In the middle of the night, I groggily felt a warm hand pressing on my lower abdomen. I opened my eyes to see Ethan’s anxious face. “Charlotte, you’re awake?” The man leaned down to kiss me. Instinctively, I turned my head slightly and dodged. Ethan froze, thinking I was still angry. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. There really was an emergency at the company today. I couldn’t get away.” His voice was full of apology and exhaustion. “I made you get caught in the rain. It’s my fault.” I stared at him blankly. The anxiety and self-reproach in his eyes seemed so genuine, his tone so sincere it didn’t seem fake. That’s when I realized lies could be told with such apparent sincerity. “Charlotte? Don’t be angry. Did you not eat? I made you warm milk.” Ethan got up and left, quickly returning with a cup of milk. “Charlotte, drink it.” He handed me the cup, his large hand naturally covering my lower abdomen again. Every time my period pain was severe, Ethan always took care of me like this. When the pain was at its worst, he would even warm my belly with his hand all night long. But now, all this attentiveness had turned into blade after blade, cutting at my heart. I wished he would be cold to me now. That way I could leave without any lingering attachment. I drank the milk irritably, catching a glimpse of his phone lighting up from the corner of my eye. He didn’t move, still steadily warming my belly. But the phone rang again. Ethan frowned and rejected the call. Less than a minute later, the ringtone sounded once more. Ethan finally picked up the phone impatiently, walked to the window and spoke in a low voice for a few moments, then looked at me with difficulty: “Charlotte, the company matter isn’t resolved yet. Something else came up…” The warmth left my lower abdomen, and the pain instantly intensified. I instinctively curled up. A flash of heartache and guilt crossed Ethan’s face. He struggled for a moment but ultimately didn’t change his mind. “Charlotte, I’ll be right back.” With that, he turned and left as if escaping. As the door closed, I finally let my tears fall. On the nightstand, the two people in the wedding photo smiled brightly. Now it all seemed like mockery. On this bed beneath me, the scenes from last night tore apart the love I’d held unwaveringly all these years. So-called lifelong companionship. In the end, someone broke their promise early after all. The milk had gone completely cold. Ethan, if you knew our time together had entered its final countdown, would you regret leaving tonight?

Charlotte POV The “live updates” in the emails were too timely. I knew exactly what they did last night. The woman slipped and fell in the shower, scraped herself a little, and Ethan took her to the hospital in the middle of the night in the rain. Not only that, he used his connections to summon the best specialist overnight to examine her injury, staying busy until almost dawn before returning. I don’t know how long I cried before falling asleep. When I opened my eyes again, it was already bright outside. The bedroom door opened, and Ethan walked in looking apologetic. “Charlotte, you’re awake?” Seeing my swollen red eyes, Ethan’s own eyes reddened with heartache. “It’s my fault. I didn’t stay with you last night. I didn’t take care of you. Are you upset?” He leaned down and kissed my hair. “I’m not going anywhere today. I’ll spend the whole day with you and make it up to you, okay?” That day, Ethan truly didn’t leave my side. He didn’t answer any calls from the company. Even when his assistant came to deliver documents, he turned them away at the door. He cooked for me himself, watched my favorite movies with me, massaged my abdomen. Impeccably gentle. Yet I only felt increasingly bitter. For me, he could throw aside the entire company without hesitation. For that woman, he could abandon me without hesitation. The ranking in his heart was already very clear. I never wanted him to put me before his career. But no one could accept that there was such a woman in his ranking. And this woman had now risen to first place. In the evening, Ethan had a business association gala he absolutely had to attend. I said I wasn’t feeling well. The first time I didn’t accompany him to an event. Late at night, the door lock clicked. But it wasn’t Ethan who pushed open the door. It was that woman. The woman supported the drunk Ethan, the man’s tall frame leaning crookedly against her. She walked right in supporting Ethan, smiling smugly. “Mr. Sterling had a few too many drinks tonight. I brought him home.” Then she skillfully helped Ethan into the master bedroom, took off his shoes and socks, changed his clothes, tucked in the covers. Completely ignoring my presence. I sat in the living room watching all this, neither moving nor speaking. In the days I didn’t know about, this woman must have come to my house more than once. The woman came out of the bedroom and expertly turned into the kitchen, took out honey and began brewing tea. Before long, she came out carrying a cup of tea and set it on the living room table. “I’ll leave the rest to you. Remember to give Mr. Sterling this tea. The alcohol was strong tonight. His stomach will hurt.” She seemed to be ordering me around. In five years of marriage, no one had ever dared speak to me like that. Without a doubt, this courage was fed to her by Ethan himself. I looked at her expressionlessly. “Your name?” The woman laughed. “I thought Miss Thompson was magnanimous enough to accept even this. Ivy.” With that, she turned and left. I walked into the bedroom, looked at the sleeping Ethan for a while, then turned and went to the study. I took the divorce agreement from the drawer, returned to the master bedroom, and shook Ethan. “Mr. Sterling, there’s a document that needs your signature.” Ethan thought it was Ivy. He didn’t even open his eyes. “Ivy, don’t drink. Let me drink it.” He thought he was still shielding Ivy from alcohol. I bit my teeth, suppressed my anger, and urged him, “Sign it first. The document is urgent.” Ethan was heavily drunk and couldn’t see clearly who was in front of him. Perhaps he trusted Ivy too much. He took the pen and signed his name on the divorce agreement. Looking at the signed agreement, the anger that had been stuck in my chest for two days finally dissipated a bit. I took the blanket and went to the guest room alone. I didn’t want to sleep with him. The next morning, as soon as I woke up, Ethan called. “Charlotte, I left a contract in the second drawer of the study. I need it urgently. Can you bring it to me?” I brought the documents to Sterling Group, but it wasn’t the former assistant who greeted me. It was Ivy. “I said I’d go get it myself, but Mr. Sterling was afraid I’d work too hard, so he had to trouble you to make the trip.” Ivy smiled and reached out to take the documents. I dodged to the side, my tone turning cold. “Move.” Ivy pouted, seemingly prepared for my coldness. “Mr. Sterling is in a meeting. Let me take you to the reception room to wait.” I laughed coldly. “What’s your position?” Ivy raised her chin defiantly. “I’m Mr. Sterling’s personal assistant.” “Since you’re a personal assistant, don’t you know that when I come to the company, I always go straight to Ethan’s office?” As I spoke, I unceremoniously strode past Ivy and went straight to Ethan’s CEO office. The office was empty. My gaze fell on Ethan’s desk. On the desk sat a small pot of succulents blooming beautifully, pink and tender, very cute. Obviously this thing was placed by Ivy. Ethan never allowed anyone to place anything unrelated to work on his desk. On his desk, there wasn’t even a photo of us together. Before long, Ethan finished his meeting and pushed open the door. “Charlotte, thank you for your trouble.” He smiled and walked over to pull me into his arms. I dodged to the side, but my gaze remained on that pot of succulents. Ethan followed my gaze. He coughed unnaturally. “A plant from an employee downstairs. I haven’t had time to throw it out yet.” I raised my hand and threw the pot of succulents directly into the trash can. “Since you didn’t have time to throw it out, I’ll do it for you.” Ethan chuckled softly, his large hand circling my waist. “Okay.”

Charlotte POV Ethan applied a bit of pressure, pulling me into his embrace. “Don’t be angry. What do you want to drink? I’ll pour it for you.” I laughed lightly. “Since when does Mr. Sterling have to pour water for me himself? Is your assistant that useless?” Ethan just assumed I was angry. He called toward the door, “Ivy, come in.” Ivy pushed open the door and entered. The moment she saw us embracing, her expression darkened instantly, then quickly recovered to an obedient, gentle appearance. “Mr. Sterling, what do you need?” “Go pour her a coffee. One sugar.” Ivy reluctantly agreed and turned to leave. I spoke unhurriedly. “So she’s your assistant. I made this trip today specifically to deliver documents to her?” Ethan froze. “Why would you say that, Charlotte?” “She just said you were afraid she’d work too hard, so you made me make this trip. She even told me to wait in the reception room.” I looked up at him. “I almost thought I’d walked into the wrong company and that Sterling Group had changed CEOs.” Ethan’s expression darkened abruptly. Just then, Ivy came in carrying coffee. “Mrs. Sterling, your coffee.” “If you don’t know the rules, get out of the secretarial department.” Ethan’s voice was cold and cruel. “At Sterling, anyone who makes my wife unhappy will be fired immediately.” Ivy’s eyes immediately reddened. She stood there with her head lowered, not saying a word, looking quite pitiful. Ethan was about to tell her to leave, but I spoke first. “You can’t say that. She cares about you very much. Last night when she brought you home, she even went to the kitchen to brew tea for you.” Ethan’s face had turned ashen. It seemed he hadn’t planned to deal with Ivy initially. But I kept bringing these things up. “Ivy, go to HR immediately and process your resignation. You’re fired.” Ivy’s head shot up. She looked at Ethan in disbelief, tears streaming down her face. “Mr. Sterling…” I didn’t miss the flash of heartache on Ethan’s face. I looked straight at him without speaking. Ethan had no choice but to continue. “Don’t you understand? You’ve been terminated.” Ivy slammed the door and ran out. Ethan immediately held me tightly in his arms. “Charlotte, as long as I’m here, I won’t let you be wronged.” “She’s just a new assistant. She’s inexperienced and offended you.” “I’ll never let her bother you again. Don’t be angry anymore, okay?” He said it very casually, as if he’d really just fired a rude assistant. But I clearly saw that when he mentioned Ivy, even though he said she was “inexperienced,” his expression involuntarily softened. He had her in his heart. I pushed against him but couldn’t break free, so I stopped struggling. His parents still didn’t like me. On one hand, they looked down on my humble origins. Mainly, after all these years I hadn’t gotten pregnant, and they wanted Ethan to have an heir as soon as possible. Ethan naturally knew this, so he never let me go to his parents’ house alone. Once we entered their home, he’d protect me closely, afraid I’d be wronged. But tonight, just as we reached his house, Ethan’s phone rang right on time. Ethan walked a few steps away to answer. I stood there watching his back. Ethan returned with a furrowed brow, looking conflicted. “Charlotte, something urgent came up at the company. Can I…” Even he couldn’t say it himself. I nodded. “Go ahead.” Ethan froze. I used to be most afraid of coming here. Without him accompanying me, I didn’t want to take a single step inside. But he walked toward the exit while instructing me, “My parents won’t make things difficult for you. I’ll come back as soon as I’m done.” I didn’t respond further. I turned and walked into the villa. When his parents saw I’d come alone, they kept mocking me. “You should know your status and position.” “Take good care of Ethan, and only then can you secure this position.” “All these years you two don’t even have a child. Ethan married you, and your status already doesn’t match him. Are you going to leave him without an heir too?” “Don’t think that just because Ethan dotes on you now, you’ll always be his wife. If Ethan finds another woman and you don’t even have a child, just wait to be thrown out!” I listened silently to it all. “You’re right. If Ethan finds someone else, I’ll divorce him immediately.” They fell silent for a moment. “That’s not what we meant.” His mother continued, “I’m saying you should have a child quickly. Only with a child can you truly secure your position as Mrs. Sterling.” But I no longer wanted the position of Mrs. Sterling. I didn’t care what else they said. I got up and left the villa. When I returned home, Ethan wasn’t back yet. My inbox happened to have a new email. It was a photo of Ivy’s new company onboarding notice. It was a store under Sterling Group. The position was senior sales representative. So Ethan couldn’t keep her by his side, so he arranged for her to go to a company under Sterling and kept her there.

Charlotte POV When Ethan came home that night, he was still full of apologies, apologizing one sentence after another. Listening to those practiced apologies, I only felt like each sentence was a knife gouging at my heart. Since when had our time together consisted of nothing but apologies and forgiveness? Ethan’s shirt was still wrinkled, and the faint scent of perfume on his collar reminded me of who he’d abandoned me to see tonight. I looked at him steadily. “Mom and Dad said when you have another woman, my good life will be over. I said I’d divorce you then.” Ethan’s expression changed immediately. He pulled me into his arms. “Charlotte, what are you talking about? What other woman? There’s no other woman. Only you. In this life, there’s only you.” My heart ached so much it felt like it would explode. The urge to tell him I knew everything had never torn at my reason as crazily as it did now. But in the end, I swallowed all those words. I couldn’t say it. In just over a week, I’d be gone. If I said it, I wouldn’t be able to leave. Ethan once said that unless he died, he would never let me leave. That night, I lay on the bed with my back to him, hiding far away on the edge. The gap between us could fit a grown man. Ethan looked at that empty space in the middle of the bed, seeming to sense something was wrong. He moved closer, holding me tightly in his arms, his chin resting on top of my head. I didn’t respond, but I didn’t refuse either. Who knows, this might be the last time we’d fall asleep embracing like this. The next day, the real estate agent called saying a buyer was interested in my old house and wanted to meet with me. The price I’d set was quite a bit lower than market value, so our negotiation went very smoothly. On the drive back after signing the contract, the sky was overcast and thick fog had risen on the road. Visibility was less than sixty feet. As my car reached an intersection, a car that came speeding around the corner crashed into me. The violent impact made my forehead hit the steering wheel, and everything went dark. My arm was also trapped in the car. Blood trickled down from my temple. I didn’t have the strength to get out and deal with the hit-and-run driver. I could only use what little energy I had left to call the police. After calling the police, I instinctively wanted to call Ethan. I dialed several times, but the line was always busy. My vision grew increasingly blurry, the light gradually fading. In a daze, I seemed to see Ethan’s anxious figure running over from not far away. I wanted to call out to him but couldn’t make a sound. And Ethan wasn’t running toward my car. He was running toward the other car, the one that had hit me. He reached in and carefully lifted the person inside out, looking heartbroken, anxiously negotiating something with the police. I saw clearly. The person in his arms was Ivy. My world plunged into darkness. When I woke up again, I was already lying in a hospital bed. My forehead and arm were both wrapped in bandages. My whole body ached. I picked up my phone. The screen was empty. No missed calls, no unread messages. Of course. His mistress had been in a car accident. How could he have time to care about me? I laughed at myself mockingly. I shouldn’t have had any expectations of him. I kept reminding myself. When the time comes, just leave. Absolutely no wavering, no lingering attachment. He wasn’t worth it. Ethan’s call didn’t come until the afternoon of the next day. “Charlotte, why aren’t you home?” More than a full day had passed since the accident, and Mr. Sterling only just noticed I wasn’t home. “I was in a car accident. I’m at the hospital.” My tone was calm. “What? Which hospital? When did this happen?” I pulled at the corner of my mouth. His first concern was the time and place, not how badly I was hurt. “Yesterday morning. Central Hospital.” The sound of a phone dropping came through the receiver. Soon the phone was picked back up, and Ethan’s voice trembled slightly. “Charlotte, how badly are you hurt? I… I’ll be right there!” I didn’t answer. I simply hung up. I opened my email. Sure enough, there was another new message. This time it was a video, from the next room over. Ethan had stayed with Ivy all night, very attentive to her. The man leaned down by Ivy’s ear, his voice hoarse and frightening. “You’re pregnant. Why were you driving? Wherever you want to go, I’ll have the driver take you!” I closed my eyes tightly. So they had a child. No wonder that night he’d rather leave me alone at his parents’ house than stay with his mistress. No wonder when he heard I’d been in an accident, he was so anxious he didn’t even check whose car had been hit. I thought I’d have tears. But strangely, this time not a single tear fell. Good thing I’d processed the divorce with him. Otherwise this child would have to be a bastard. I laughed coldly to myself. Before long, Ethan burst into the hospital room. The man’s hair hung messily over his forehead, his suit and tie were askew, his eyes bloodshot. His expression looked worried, guilty, and panicked all at once. “Charlotte, how are you? Where are you hurt? I’m sorry, I…” The excuse “there was an emergency at the company” had been used too many times. Clearly, even Ethan himself couldn’t keep up the pretense this time. I lifted my eyes and looked at him quietly. “The one who hit me was Ivy, wasn’t it?”

Charlotte POV Ethan’s face instantly turned deathly pale. “You didn’t answer my calls because you were on the phone with Ivy the whole time, right?” I continued. Ethan shook his head desperately, his eyes full of panic, his lips trembling but unable to form a complete sentence. “Do you know how to handle this?”Ethan was overjoyed and nodded repeatedly. “Don’t worry, Charlotte! I absolutely won’t cover for her!” “I just felt sorry for her struggling alone in the big city. She reminded me of you from before. She doesn’t know anyone here. She called me, so I went. I really didn’t expect the person she hit would be you!” “Don’t worry! There’s absolutely nothing else between us, I promise!” Ethan kept explaining. I could no longer hear him, nor did I care. Before Ethan arrived, I’d already called the lawyer and had them contact a private investigator to look into this accident. I didn’t believe this was just a coincidence. Even less did I believe Ethan truly wouldn’t cover for Ivy. For the next two days, Ethan put off all his work and stayed at the hospital taking care of me full-time. He didn’t go to the next room even once. That day, I was eating the grapes Ethan had peeled for me when my phone suddenly rang. It was the real estate agent. The house had been successfully sold. All procedures were complete, and the full payment had been transferred to my account. Ethan overheard part of the phone conversation. He immediately became tense, his brow furrowing. “Charlotte, what house? What agent? You’re selling a house? Which one?” My expression didn’t change. “An agent asking if I had any houses to sell. They said the market’s good right now, could get a good price.” Ethan let out a long breath, then immediately objected. “They’re talking nonsense. The market’s bad right now. Lots of people are lowering prices to sell.” “Just keep the house your parents left you. That’s your home.” My heart ached. I no longer had a home. To leave him, I could only leave my home behind. On the other end, Ivy finally lost all patience. She sent me several emails a day. One moment saying Ethan thought I was old. The next saying I couldn’t get pregnant. Then showing off the luxury apartment Ethan bought her near the company. Ivy seemed very anxious but never dared appear in front of me. It seemed Ethan didn’t allow her to appear before me. Ethan’s phone kept ringing those days too, but he never answered once. He was determined to maintain his image as a devoted husband to the end. On the day I was discharged, Ethan specially threw a small celebration party for me. I didn’t have many friends in New York. Those who came were all Ethan’s friends. Because of Ethan, everyone had always respected me. At the party, they competed to congratulate me on my safe discharge. I smiled and exchanged a few pleasantries. Midway through, I got up to use the restroom. When I returned, the door to the private room was ajar. I walked to the door, about to push it open, when I heard clear conversation coming from inside. “What were you thinking? You obviously love her so much, can’t bear to leave her. Why did you have to cheat?” Ethan was silent for a moment before speaking. “Ivy reminds me of Charlotte from before. Back when Charlotte first came to New York to make it on her own, no one helped her. She had it rough. I wanted to compensate her.” He wanted to compensate me, but the one who got the compensation was Ivy. I laughed bitterly. Someone else asked, “Aren’t you afraid Charlotte will find out and divorce you? That car accident was so dangerous. She almost discovered the truth!” “She trusts you, that’s all!” Ethan’s face looked somewhat dazed. He must have been thinking of my trust in him. “Yeah, Charlotte trusts me. I won’t hurt her. But Ivy is also wonderful. I can’t give her up.” “Charlotte won’t divorce me. Not unless I die.” That person lowered his voice and continued probing. “Tell me, is Ivy… more tempting in bed than Charlotte? Otherwise I can’t believe even a devoted man like you would cheat.” Ethan glanced at him with displeasure. “Why are you asking so many questions?” But then he added, “Ivy is indeed more tempting. Charlotte can’t compare to her in that regard.” I stood outside the door, trembling with rage. This whole group of his friends actually knew about Ivy’s existence! And he was discussing bedroom matters in front of so many people! Just then, someone got up to leave. The door was pulled open, and the person came face to face with me standing in the doorway. “Charlotte…?” That person’s face instantly turned deathly pale. The private room immediately fell silent. Ethan shot to his feet, his face ashen. “Charlotte, when did you get here?” I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “I just arrived.” “What, were you all talking about some secret? Afraid I’d hear?” Everyone immediately covered for Ethan. “We were all praising Ethan for having such a wonderful wife!” I laughed bitterly to myself. Even at this point, they thought I didn’t know anything.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “402162”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

During the onboarding training for new interns, my boyfriend Ethan was assigned as the training group leader. He utterly despised that rebellious girl who refused to follow the rules. He said she showed up late and left early every day, wearing heavy smoky makeup, with none of the professionalism expected of an intern. I comforted him with a smile: “The training only lasts a month anyway. Just bear with it and it’ll be over.” Until a month later, at the farewell dinner marking the end of training, I had planned to go with Ethan. But he refused. “They’re all just new hires. If you come, they’ll definitely make a fuss. You should just rest at home.” I nodded in agreement, but coincidentally that evening a friend invited me to dinner at a location very close to Ethan’s farewell party. After the meal ended, I suddenly wanted to see him. Through the glass window, I saw that amid the jeering and cheering, that intern girl he supposedly disliked the most was straddling his lap. “Ethan, everyone’s shipping us as an enemies-to-lovers couple. Have you considered dumping your girlfriend and being with me?” Ethan fell silent for a moment, then raised his hand as if to push her away. “She and I have been together for five years. I could never hurt her for anyone.” But unexpectedly, the girl flashed a bold smile and pulled him by the collar, offering her red lips. And Ethan didn’t refuse. I stared at this scene in a daze. Beyond the heartache, I suddenly felt like laughing. So Ethan’s germophobia could be easily cured by a girl he’d only known for a month. Five years together, and we’d done everything intimate couples do—except kiss. All because he found it disgusting. I’d always been accommodating, thinking that someday he might accept me. But now, I suddenly didn’t want to accommodate him anymore.

Amid wave after wave of cheers, the kiss lasted a full three minutes. When it ended, Ethan’s pale lips were already smeared with Harper’s lipstick. “How was that, Ethan? You enjoyed it too, didn’t you?” “I’m a good judge of character. Even though you say you hate me, you really can’t resist me. You’re physically attracted to me.” Watching her smug expression, Ethan pressed his lips together, feeling a subtle embarrassment at having his thoughts exposed. “Think whatever you want, but I already have Nina. We’re getting married soon.” Harper let out a scornful laugh, completely unconcerned. “That’s fine. As long as there’s love, I don’t care about titles like ‘girlfriend.’” “When we were kissing just now, your heart was racing and your movements were clumsy. Ethan, was that your first kiss?” Ethan froze for a moment, tacitly confirming it. The people around immediately started jeering. “Ethan, you’re not lying to our Harper, are you? You’ve been with your girlfriend for five years and you’re saying you’ve never kissed? Who’s going to believe that?” “Exactly! Harper, watch out—you might be getting played!” Harper glared at them angrily, also thinking she’d been deceived, and got up indignantly. But Ethan pulled her back into his arms. “I’m not lying to you. It really was my first kiss.” “I have germophobia. At home, I won’t even touch her plates and forks… Kissing her, I find it disgusting.” My heart trembled uncontrollably. Ethan was taciturn by nature, not someone who liked to explain. Every time we fought or had a misunderstanding, he was a man of few words, leaving me to process my emotions alone. But now, with Harper, whom he’d only known for a month, he was willing to lower himself. Harper’s expression visibly brightened, her eyes full of mockery. “You can’t even stand kissing her, yet you’ve been with her for five years? You really can endure!” Ethan didn’t refute it. He just lowered his eyes and said with a sigh, “If I’d met you earlier, I definitely wouldn’t have gotten together with her.” Harper was delighted by his words, grinning as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Watching them lost in each other, I clenched my fists, my stomach churning. Forcing myself to calm down, I took out my phone and called Ethan. My special ringtone played. Ethan instinctively tried to push Harper away. But Harper wrapped herself around him again, dissatisfied. By the time Harper finally ended the kiss, I’d already called four times. Ethan took a moment to compose himself. Once his breathing steadied, he answered. His voice was the same as always—cold, but tinged with the unique gentleness he reserved for me. “What’s wrong, Nina? The music was too loud just now. I didn’t notice you calling.” A mocking smile tugged at my lips. I didn’t expose his lie, instead saying softly: “Ethan, I came to surprise you.” “Turn around.”

Through the glass door, Ethan and I locked eyes. The smile on his face froze abruptly, and his complexion visibly paled. Before Harper could react, he strode away, walking toward me. “Nina, when did you get here?” I smiled, lying casually: “Just now.” Ethan visibly relaxed. Behind him, Harper walked over step by step. “Ethan, so this is your girlfriend?” “She’s not bad looking, but she seems pretty old.” Ethan frowned, reprimanding her: “Don’t talk nonsense!” Harper’s expression immediately darkened, and she turned and left. Watching her retreating figure, regret flashed in Ethan’s eyes. The next moment, he handed me off to two male colleagues who were watching the drama unfold. “Nina, let them keep you company for a bit. I need to use the restroom.” With that, he took off in the direction Harper had gone. Half an hour later, Ethan finally returned. Harper followed behind him. Her dress was wrinkled and her makeup smudged. My heart sank, the nausea intensifying. “Sorry about that, Nina. I was in a bad mood earlier and neglected you.” “Since you’re here, let’s play some games together.” Harper looked at me with a smile, her eyes full of provocation. Before I could refuse, Ethan had already spoken for me: “She can’t hold her liquor. Don’t go too hard on her.” More than just “can’t hold her liquor”—I’m allergic to alcohol. Ethan knew this full well, but he’d just finished placating Harper and didn’t want to upset her over something so trivial. My heart felt like it was being crushed by a rock. I could barely breathe. I knew nothing about drinking games to begin with, and with Harper leading the charge against me, I quickly lost. She poured a full glass and handed it to me. “Nina, everyone else who loses has to drink three glasses, but since it’s your first time playing, one glass is fine.” Watching her act so magnanimous, an indescribable anger rose in my chest. “I’m allergic to alcohol. I can’t drink.” Harper acted surprised: “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “How about we let Ethan drink it for you? You two are a couple—he shouldn’t mind, right?” She flashed a malicious smile and handed the glass to Ethan. Ethan pressed his lips together and didn’t take it. He looked at me, his tone apologetic but also slightly reproachful. “Nina, I have germophobia. I can’t use the same glass as someone else. You know that.” “It’s just one drink. Have it yourself. Don’t make things difficult for me.” The string that had been stretched taut in my heart suddenly snapped. I looked at Ethan, my nose stinging uncontrollably. Then, gritting my teeth, I took the glass and drained it in one gulp. The alcohol made my eyes water, and my stomach burned painfully. Ethan instinctively moved to support me, but I shook him off. “You all keep playing. I’m heading home.”

I went to the hospital first to get an allergy shot before returning home, where I tossed and turned all night. Ethan didn’t come back until the next morning. Seeing my haggard face, he was obviously panicked. “What happened? Are you still feeling bad from drinking last night?” “I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you, but I called you over a dozen times and you didn’t answer. I thought you were still angry…” Right. He thought I was angry, so instead of comforting me, he just left me alone. But when Harper got angry, he immediately chased after her to placate her, even with me right there. A bitter smile crossed my lips, but what concerned me more was something else. “Did you really call me? Then why didn’t I receive any calls?” Ethan looked confused at first, then thought of something and stiffened. “I drank too much last night and accidentally blocked your number.” His face was full of apology as he reached out to hug me. “I’m sorry, Nina. I promise it won’t happen again.” Smelling the sickly sweet perfume on him, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. Accidentally? What a coincidence. Harper must have taken his phone and blocked me on purpose. Ethan was someone who valued his personal space immensely. Just like he wouldn’t kiss me, he also never let me touch his phone. He considered it privacy, a boundary that even the closest person couldn’t cross. But I couldn’t touch it—Harper could. A mocking smile tugged at my lips. I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. Pushing Ethan away, I turned and walked into the kitchen. Half an hour later, Ethan sat at the dining table, staring at the plate in front of him, his expression growing darker. “Nina Smith, what’s gotten into you today? Just because I didn’t take that drink for you last night, you’re deliberately retaliating?” “Why did you use your plate to serve me food? Don’t you know I…” “I don’t know!” I looked up and cut him off. “Ethan, if you’re sick, go get treatment. Don’t expect me to accommodate you forever.” “Or if you really can’t handle it, we should just break up.” This was the first time I’d mentioned breaking up with him. Ethan was obviously panicked. “Nina, that’s not what I meant… I was wrong. I shouldn’t have snapped at you over something so small.” “But you should understand me too. Germophobia is a psychological condition. It’s not that I don’t want to overcome it—I genuinely can’t…” Can’t overcome it? I don’t think so. When he was kissing Harper so passionately, where was his germophobia then? I lowered my eyes to hide the sarcasm in them. I didn’t want to say another word to him. “Whatever. If you can’t eat it, just order takeout.” Seeing that I had no intention of giving him an out, Ethan lost his temper too. He stood up abruptly. The plates and forks on the table scattered across the floor with his movement. “Nina Smith, what’s your problem? Are you giving me the silent treatment now?” “I used to think Harper had a bad temper, but now I think a bad temper is actually good. At least she voices her needs.” “Unlike you—you never say anything, making people guess all day long!”

My eyes immediately reddened. More than anger, what I felt was heartbreak. I used to cry and make a fuss too. Like Harper, I’d deliberately show my displeasure and act out, hoping he’d comfort me. But how did he treat me? He found me annoying and dramatic. He said I was too emotional to solve problems properly. So to avoid escalating conflicts, I could only choose to shut up. He was the one who turned me into this, yet now he was using another woman to reminisce about how I used to be. How could such a shameless person exist in this world? “Get out! Ethan, get out!” “Since you think Harper is so great, go find her! I feel sick just looking at you now!” Ethan’s expression instantly turned ugly. He clenched his fists, turned around, and left without looking back. The room fell silent. Looking at the mess all over the floor, I suddenly felt drained of all strength. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke through, dropping onto the floor one by one. I don’t know how long passed before my phone suddenly dinged. Ethan had sent me a video. In the video, the same man who’d just been furious at me for using the wrong plate was now looking adoringly at Harper as they shared an ice cream cone. My hands trembled. I realized this video couldn’t possibly have been sent by Ethan—Harper must have taken his phone again. A bitter smile crossed my lips. Perhaps because I was too disappointed to have any expectations left, my heart felt as still as dead water. I closed my phone, took out my suitcase, and started packing my things. I couldn’t continue with Ethan anymore. Halfway through packing, Ethan suddenly called, his voice full of urgency. “Nina, I remember your parents are both massage therapists. You must know a bit too, right?” “Harper accidentally hurt her back. She can’t stand the smell of disinfectant at the hospital. Can you come help her?” I almost laughed in anger. These two really had thick skin. “I don’t know massage, and even if I did, why should I help her?” “Figure it out yourselves!” I hung up directly. Before long, the phone rang again. This time it was my mom calling. “Nina, your dad and I are already in the car heading over. We’ll get there as soon as we can.” I was confused for a moment, not immediately understanding what my mom meant. “Ethan told us that a friend of yours accidentally injured her back and needs massage therapy, so he asked us to come over as soon as possible.” “What’s wrong? Didn’t you know?” Ethan’s shamelessness exceeded my imagination. For Harper’s sake, he actually used my name to summon my parents! But my parents weren’t even in the same city as us. It would take them at least three hours to drive over! What’s more, my dad had a heart condition. He’d just had bypass surgery recently, and the doctor had told him to rest well. He’d even taken a month off work! Ethan knew all of this. He just didn’t care! I wanted to tell my parents not to come, even wanted to tell them the whole truth. But Ethan and I were already at the stage of discussing marriage. I was afraid that revealing everything without warning would be too much for my dad’s heart. In the end, I said nothing, only told them to drive safely. When my parents arrived, I immediately went with them to the address Ethan had given. As soon as we entered, Harper was lying on the bed, her face full of irritation as she complained. “Finally! It’s been over three hours. Anyone would think you died on the road!” My parents’ expressions stiffened. Ethan quickly tried to smooth things over: “She’s young and doesn’t know better. Please don’t take it to heart.” Watching his obvious favoritism, my parents’ faces flashed with suspicion. “Nina, is she your friend or Ethan’s friend?” I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. “Ethan’s friend, but I know her too.” With that explanation, my parents finally relaxed. After an hour of massage therapy, both my parents looked exhausted. I’d planned to take them out for a meal and some rest, but they insisted on bringing along Ethan, their “future son-in-law.” Ethan agreed, but Harper immediately said sarcastically: “Go ahead. Good riddance. Turns out what the guys in our class said was right—some people just aren’t worth committing to!” “He got his fun and now he’s abandoning me! And he made me hurt my back!” Ethan’s face went pale with shock. He hadn’t expected her to pull this stunt. Looking somewhat panicked, he scolded: “Harper, what are you talking about?” Harper pouted, not caring whether he could save face. “Ethan, you don’t really think I’m willing to be your mistress, do you?” “I already sent your girlfriend that video of us sharing ice cream! I didn’t expect her to be so tolerant—she’s still pretending not to know!” My parents finally understood. Their faces immediately turned ashen. “Ethan, you cheated and you still had the nerve to make us give this homewrecker massage therapy? Do you have no shame?” My mom’s voice rose sharply. My dad was so angry his chest heaved. Looking at Harper’s smug face, I finally snapped. I walked over and slapped her hard across the face. “Harper!” Ethan’s expression changed drastically. He rushed over to shield Harper, shoving me hard. Seeing his daughter being mistreated, my dad immediately tried to help, but before he’d taken two steps, he clutched his chest and collapsed. “Dad! Dad!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “402161”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The first twenty-four years of my life were destroyed by two men with their own hands. The first was Ethan, my childhood friend. To vent his anger for Vivian Knox, he personally broke my legs. Making it impossible for me to ever step onto the figure skating rink again. The second was Adrian Hunt, who saved me from despair. He appeared when I was most helpless and took me away from that painful place. He encouraged me to go to college, cherished me, and helped me emerge from the shadows. But when I was preparing to return home to continue my studies, he testified against me, falsely accusing me of academic fraud. Later, he even went so far as to sever the tendons in my hand, leaving me completely disabled. I died miserably on the streets. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn the night before my legs were broken. “Aria, tomorrow is my birthday. You must come.” Before me, Ethan Shaw spoke the exact same words as in my previous life. I smiled. This time, I won’t attend that appointment that would break my legs. I’ll watch how they walk into the trap I’ve set for them.

My heart sank like a block of ice, my fingertips slightly numb. Sure enough, he said the same thing as in my previous life. But I wasn’t ready to give up. I tried to find an excuse not to go. “But I have something…” Before I could finish, Ethan frowned, his tone filled with dissatisfaction, immediately bringing up our friendship of over ten years. “Aria Walker, what do you mean? Have I ever missed any of your birthdays?” “Are we friends or not?” My face remained calm, but my heart was in turmoil. In my previous life, I was deceived by his sweet words into going to a VIP room, where my legs were broken. Suppressing the surging pain, I pretended not to notice the harshness in his tone and continued probing. “I must be there?” Ethan’s tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. “Whether you want me as a friend of over ten years is up to you!” I would never forget that in my previous life, after learning my legs were broken, he cut off contact unilaterally. He even walked away decisively when I was mocked and pushed down by Vivian’s group of friends, just like today. I didn’t understand why over ten years of growing up together resulted in such calculated betrayal. Fortunately, I was reborn. In my previous life, I swallowed my losses. In this life, I will never repeat the same mistakes. But plans can’t keep up with changes. I had just reached the intersection when a car came speeding toward me like crazy, too fast to dodge. I instinctively closed my eyes, thinking I couldn’t escape this disaster, that rebirth was just a cruel joke from fate. The next moment, a force pulled me backward. Stumbling to steady myself, still shaken, I looked up and met a pair of dark, deep eyes. It was Adrian. The physiological disgust made me feel sick enough to vomit. In my previous life, after my legs were broken and I became an outcast, he was the one who protected me. But he was also the one who, when I was accused of academic fraud, didn’t hesitate to give false testimony and personally destroyed my future. “Are you okay?” His gentle voice made Adrian seem kind. But this time, no longer deceived, I could clearly see the coldness in his eyes. I didn’t understand why Adrian was willing to set up this trap in my previous life, but I remembered that when I was accused of academic fraud and tried to clear my name with evidence. He claimed responsibility for the accusation as my boyfriend and even publicly apologized. Online, there were many stories about how good Adrian was to me. Netizens firmly believed the academic fraud was real. Otherwise, why would Adrian, who loved me so much, take the blame for me? The betrayal from someone close left me with a reputation I could never clear. After that, I became disheartened and resigned to my fate, but then someone cut my tendons and Adrian imprisoned me in a villa. I had completely become a useless person who could only depend on him. In this new life, I would not only get rid of these two scumbags but also get revenge.

“Aria, what’s wrong with you?” Seeing me remain silent for so long, Adrian instinctively frowned and called out. The flash of impatience in his eyes was clearly visible. This time, I didn’t hesitate to shake off his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Hunt.” Dropping those words, I turned to leave, but Adrian chased after me. “I saved you, and all I get is a thank you?” “What, does Mr. Hunt want me to pay with my body?” I looked at Adrian sarcastically. He was shocked by my attitude. That’s right. At this point in my previous life, we weren’t familiar with each other. Logically, I should have been extremely grateful to him. But the hatred from my previous life made me unable to tolerate him at all. While Adrian was distracted, I had already gotten in my car and left. Back home, looking at everything familiar, tears streamed down my face. Seeing me cry, Mom and Dad thought Ethan had bullied me and quickly asked questions. To avoid worrying them, I casually made up an excuse. But being able to see Mom and Dad again made me quite content. In my previous life, after I was imprisoned, when Mom and Dad couldn’t find me multiple times, they suspected Adrian might be harming me. Unfortunately, they were eventually plotted against, losing not only the company but also their lives. Fortunately, everything was still in time now. After comforting Mom and Dad, I quickly hired someone to investigate Adrian, as well as Ethan and Vivian. Three hours later, I received all their information. Looking at the densely packed text, my heart felt like it had fallen into an ice cave. So that’s how it was. It turned out the first person to fall for Vivian wasn’t Ethan, but Adrian. Unfortunately, as childhood friends who grew up together, the confession that should have been spoken was delayed because of Ethan’s appearance. From then on, Adrian became Vivian’s guardian. And I became a pawn in their game. I flipped through their information while reading the messages Ethan sent me. [I’m waiting for you, Aria. If you don’t come, my birthday won’t be complete.] [Aria, didn’t you say you’d stay with me forever? You won’t even come to my birthday?] [I miss you so much.] The 99+ messages indicated that Ethan wanted me dead. Finally, I replied with one message: [I’ll be there.] Immediately, Ethan replied: [I’ll wait for you.] In the past, we used to exchange messages back and forth like this. Ethan even swore to me, “I’ll always reply to your messages instantly.” And Ethan really did do that, but everything changed after Vivian appeared. I didn’t understand how a scholarship student could change Ethan in just half a year. In my previous life, I really disliked Vivian. She always used her scholarship student status to play the victim. When I asked her to submit group assignments, she would cry and say, “Aria, do you look down on me because I’m poor? Is that why you’re targeting me?” At first, Ethan would still take my side and scold Vivian. “Are you crazy? How is that what she meant?” But later, Ethan would just frown. “Come on, Aria, Vivian didn’t mean it.” At that time, I didn’t notice anything wrong. Sometimes I would even complain to Ethan about Vivian. But all of this became the catalyst for him breaking my legs. He looked at me viciously and said, “Do you really look down on people that much? What has Vivian ever done to you? Why do you always target her? Is it just because she likes me?” “Aria, when did you become so vicious? You think you can insult people just because you know how to skate? Let’s see how you skate in the future.”

That day was the darkest moment of my life. I even thought about dying. Later, my parents went to the Shaw family for me, but no one would testify for me. My parents were even targeted by the Shaw family. Later, I learned that was just the beginning of my life’s descent into darkness. After collecting myself, I made several phone calls before falling into a deep sleep. Early the next morning, Ethan’s call came. “Don’t forget to come.” “Okay.” After hanging up, I sent a message to Adrian using an unknown number. Then I contacted my parents and the Shaw family. After preparing everything, I headed to Ethan’s birthday party. Today’s show would depend on whether Vivian could handle it. Ethan’s birthday party was quite grand. Everyone from our social circle and classmates came. Vivian stood by Ethan’s side like a hostess. My arrival caused quite a stir. Everyone knew about my relationship with Ethan. Now seeing Vivian standing beside him, they naturally couldn’t help but look over with eyes eager to watch the drama unfold. Seeing me, Vivian looked as if she had seen something terrifying and instinctively hid behind Ethan. “I’m sorry, Aria. I just… I just wanted to…” I interrupted Vivian’s deliberately timid words. “Congratulations, happy birthday.” I presented my gift and turned to leave, but Ethan grabbed me. “You just got here and you’re leaving? Are you really not giving me any face?” When Ethan grabbed me, the anger in Vivian’s eyes was about to burst out. I raised my eyebrows at her. “Someone’s about to cry. Why don’t you go comfort her?” Ethan followed my gaze and immediately saw Vivian’s reddening eyes. “Vivian, are you okay?” Vivian shook her head pitifully. Ethan glared at me angrily. “Aria, are you bullying Vivian again? Are you crazy? You can’t go a day without bullying Vivian, can you?” God, I hadn’t even touched a hair on Vivian’s head. How was I bullying her? It turned out that when someone favored another person, they really could be unreasonable. I rolled my eyes at Ethan. “Am I bullying her from a distance? Ethan, you were the one who shamelessly insisted I come to your birthday, and now you’re treating me like this. What does this mean? Was it intentional?” My voice was loud, and people around us heard. Some even took my side. “What’s Vivian’s deal? Aria didn’t do anything, so why is she crying?” “Don’t you know? She’s just a delicate flower.” These nearly mocking words made Vivian unable to keep face. But Ethan didn’t think there was anything wrong with Vivian. Instead, he looked at me through gritted teeth. “Are you satisfied now?” Then Ethan chased after Vivian, who had run off. And I watched their retreating figures, lost in thought. Ethan, this is just the beginning. Tonight is destined to be a sleepless night. Then I looked toward the stage. My people were already prepared there. Tonight, no one will escape. Thinking of this, a smile unconsciously appeared on my face. But when I turned around, I met a pair of sinister eyes. How could I forget about him? As Vivian’s greatest guardian, how could he not appear? The moment our eyes met, Adrian couldn’t hide his expression in time and could only give me an awkward smile. Just then, my phone rang. Seeing the message content, I couldn’t hide the smile in my eyes. Then I walked straight to Adrian. “Mr. Hunt, what a coincidence. You know Ethan?”

Faced with my questioning, Adrian frowned slightly. “I don’t know him.” “Oh, then who are you here for? Today is Ethan’s birthday.” “I…” The words Adrian blurted out, he couldn’t take back now. Under my aggressive gaze, Adrian smiled awkwardly. “Just checking out the excitement.” “Is that so?” I cleared my throat. “Everyone, this person before me is the youngest vice president of Innovate Tech. Don’t you want to come meet him?” My single sentence made the classmates present come forward. After they surrounded Adrian, I took the opportunity to go backstage. Sure enough, I witnessed an explosive scene. I quickly started recording a video. Then I returned to the hall. At this time, Ethan was looking for me. When he saw me, his eyes revealed an ambiguous smile. The birthday party would officially start in five minutes. During this time, Ethan kept staring at me, afraid I would run away. He didn’t even notice that Vivian had left his side for quite a while. Five minutes later, Ethan went on stage. “Everyone, today is my birthday, and I’m very grateful for one person’s presence.” Everyone looked at me. However, Ethan beckoned to Vivian. She excitedly ran onto the stage, coquettishly saying, “Ethan, what are you doing?” “Today I might as well tell everyone the truth. Actually, the one I’ve always liked is Vivian. Aria and I are just childhood playmates who grew up together.” At this moment, I no longer felt that heartbroken. Then Ethan generously expressed his love, and Vivian was moved to tears. Only at this moment did Ethan deign to spare me a glance. “I want to say one more thing. Actually, everyone has been misunderstanding my relationship with Aria. I know that Aria spread those rumors herself. I’ve been fed up with her for a long time. Today I’m going to get justice for Vivian.” As soon as Ethan finished speaking, several men rushed toward me. But before they could get close, the banquet hall doors were pushed open. My parents and Ethan’s parents entered together. This time, Ethan was dumbfounded. “Mom, Dad, why are you here?” “It’s your birthday. Is there something wrong with us coming?” The Shaw couple looked at Ethan in confusion. At this moment, I screamed out, “Ah, who are you? What do you want?” Hearing the commotion, my parents rushed over. The Shaw couple also came to my side. At this moment, Ethan’s face was written all over with embarrassment. He frowned at everything happening. But I secretly smiled at Vivian behind Ethan, then mouthed, ‘You’re finished.’ The next instant, a series of moaning sounds came from the big screen. Everyone looked toward the sound, and what they saw was the most scandalous scene.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “402160”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

When I was seven months pregnant, my husband and my sister faked their deaths together. They leaped from a high mountain, leaving no trace behind. Just as I stood there in shock, lines of text suddenly floated before my eyes. “Poor Maria! Reid and Georgia only faked their deaths, but she has to raise the baby and take care of both sets of parents alone. She’ll work herself to death before she’s even thirty-five.” “The child she gives birth to is a bastard too. He acknowledges Georgia as his mother, and doesn’t even visit Maria’s grave on Memorial Day. Her grave is completely overgrown!” “And she doesn’t know—the child she finally conceived after eight IVF attempts is actually Reid and Georgia’s!” “Reid was so rich, but Maria didn’t inherit a single penny. His parents took everything!” “They even pretended to be paralyzed to make Maria serve them. They never treated Maria like a human being!” Seeing this, my tears stopped flowing as if a floodgate had been closed. The floating text kept appearing before my eyes. “Next comes the tragic part where Maria works alone to support the child while serving two disabled elderly people.” “God, I can’t bear to watch. After Maria dies, Reid and Georgia will come back.” “Reid’s parents won’t be paralyzed anymore, and Maria’s parents won’t resent her anymore. The whole family will start a beautiful life raising the child and making money.” My mother suddenly shoved me hard. “This is all your fault! If you’d divorced Reid earlier and let Georgia have him, they wouldn’t have died!” My father slapped me directly. “All you do is bring disaster to your family!” I stood there stunned, wondering if I was hallucinating from excessive grief. Then more text appeared. “It’s bad enough that her in-laws blame her, but even her own parents don’t understand.” “Georgia and Reid were the ones having an affair and afraid of social judgment, so they staged this whole thing. Now Maria gets blamed for everything.” I was shocked for three seconds, but it only took me three minutes to accept this reality. Then I numbly handled Reid and Georgia’s funeral arrangements and canceled both their registrations. The moment I finished these tasks, my mother-in-law Ramos called. “Maria, get over here right now! Victor and I are in serious trouble!” I quickly hid the cancellation certificates and rushed to my in-laws’ house. When I entered, I found both of them lying in bed. Ramos immediately burst into tears when she saw me. She handed me two diagnosis reports with trembling hands. The word “paralyzed” was particularly glaring. “Maria, Victor and I can’t accept the fact that Reid is gone. Our excessive grief has caused us to lose mobility.” “From now on, we can only rely on you to take care of us!” At that moment, text started floating crazily before my eyes again. “These two old people are perfectly healthy, but they’re pretending to be paralyzed to make Maria serve them.” “Maria has to feed them, bathe them, and handle their waste every day, and they curse at her constantly.” “Maria faints from exhaustion several times, nearly losing the baby.” “It would be better if that bastard child was never born. Otherwise, Maria will have to work three jobs to support him and serve the two old people, and she’ll die suddenly while delivering food!” My father-in-law Victor shouted impatiently, “Did you hear what your mother said? Reid died because of you, and now we’re like this—you have to take responsibility!” The text kept floating. “Maria, don’t feel guilty! It’s not your fault! Get an abortion and run!” “Reid still has a company and two villas under his name. After he faked his death, his parents secretly inherited everything and didn’t give Maria a single penny!”

Seeing all this, I took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely take good care of you!” Victor barked, “Go cook now, and clean the whole house after! Don’t even think about ordering takeout—I don’t eat takeout!” Ramos chimed in, “After dinner, wipe us down first, then clean the house. Oh, and wash our dirty clothes too.” I looked at them coldly. “My stomach doesn’t feel well. I need to go to the hospital for a checkup first.” Victor panicked. “What could possibly be wrong with you? I think you just don’t want to take care of us!” Ramos added, “Maria, if you don’t take care of us, I’ll livestream this and let the internet drown you in criticism!” “I won’t abandon you. I’ll come back right after the checkup. You don’t want anything to happen to Reid’s unborn child, do you?” Without waiting for their response, I left quickly and headed straight to the electronics market to buy two hidden cameras. Text floated wildly. “Oh my God! Has Maria awakened? She’s starting to suspect the two old people!” “Maria, hurry home! The property deeds to Reid’s two villas are hidden inside the big teddy bear at home! If you don’t get them now, the old people will take them!” I rushed home immediately and spotted the human-sized teddy bear in the living room. Reid had given it to me when I first found out I was pregnant. I quickly unzipped the back of the bear, reached inside, and felt around until I finally found two property deeds. My heart was racing after retrieving them. These two villas were in prime locations with excellent square footage—worth over twenty million! “Maria couldn’t even pay her son’s two-hundred-dollar tuition and cried every day. She couldn’t even afford to eat bread and fainted from hunger.” “But this scumbag had so much money and didn’t leave any for his wife and child. He deserves to die!” “Reid and Georgia are currently in a hot spring hotel abroad taking bubble baths together. They’re living it up.” I pulled out my phone and called a real estate agent. “Hello, real estate sales? I want to sell property!” Right after listing the two villas with the agency, Ramos called again. “Maria, it’s almost dark! Why aren’t you back yet!” “Victor and I can’t take care of ourselves. Get back here and serve us now.” “Okay, I’m coming back now.” I returned home with the two hidden cameras. When my in-laws heard me opening the door, they immediately went back to lie in bed. This gave me the opportunity to place a camera in the living room. Victor shouted, “Hurry up and cook! Are you trying to starve us?” I responded quickly and went to the kitchen to prepare food. After cooking, I brought the dishes into their room and struggled greatly to help both of them sit up. Ramos demanded I feed her. I had just brought the spoon to her mouth when she screamed. “Are you trying to burn me?” She swung her hand and knocked the bowl over, spilling food all over my head and face. The floor was covered in soup. I took the opportunity while cleaning up to place the hidden camera in the bedroom as well. Victor put down his fork. “This fried chicken is too greasy!” “And we need six dishes for meals! You’re just giving us one roasted chicken to get by. You have no conscience!” Ramos snorted. “Don’t feel wronged. Reid died because of you. Everything you’re doing now is atonement!” “Hurry up and clean up the dishes, then wash the sheets and clothes, and mop the floor too. There’s still so much work to do!”

I obediently replied, “I’ll try my best to satisfy you.” After they finished eating, I was cleaning in the living room. Suddenly I heard Ramos shout, “Maria, get in here! I need to use the bathroom!” I dropped the mop and ran over immediately, but it was too late. A foul stench filled the bedroom. “Can’t you move faster? I already soiled my pants! Clean it up now!” I suppressed my anger and maintained my patience. “I’m sorry. I’m already seven months pregnant, so I can’t move as fast as a normal person. I rushed over as quickly as I could.” “So now you’re blaming me for not being able to hold it in!” She grabbed the water glass from the nightstand and threw it at me hard. The glass hit my forehead directly. Blood instantly covered my face. “What are you standing there for? Clean it up! A little cut on your head won’t kill you!” I swallowed my anger and cleaned up despite the extreme nausea. Victor shouted from the room, “Hand-wash Ramos’s pants and sheets. Don’t use the washing machine—it’s not sanitary!” By the time I finally finished cleaning up and my butt barely touched the sofa, Ramos said: “What time is it? You should go home now. Victor and I need to rest. Come back early tomorrow!” My in-laws’ house had two bedrooms, but they clearly had no intention of letting me stay overnight. I opened the door and left. The floating text appeared before my eyes again. “These two old people deliberately soiled themselves to disgust Maria. It’s so late and they still won’t let her stay. They’re pure torment!” “There are no buses outside now. Maria has to take a taxi to get home.” “But Maria chooses to walk home to save money. It takes her two hours to get there.” “Later, Maria bought a car to deliver food, but these two deliberately punctured her tires.” “Maria was cursed with eight lifetimes of bad luck marrying into their family.” “These two old bastards clearly know Reid isn’t dead but still deliberately torture Maria. They’re not even human! Why don’t they just die!” I laughed coldly. You two old bastards, be as arrogant as you want. Everything you’re doing now will become a boomerang that stabs you hard! The next morning at four o’clock, Ramos called again. “Are you here yet? Victor and I are waiting for you to handle our bathroom needs. Hurry up. If we can’t hold it and soil the bed, don’t blame us!” I connected to the surveillance in the old people’s house with my phone. Both of them were walking around the living room—not looking paralyzed at all. No choice. For now, I had to keep acting with them. I served my in-laws diligently for a week until finally, that afternoon, I received news that buyers had been found for the villas. Taking advantage of the two old bastards’ afternoon nap, I sneaked out to meet the buyers. My asking price was already below market value, so the deal went through smoothly. The moment I received the twenty million in payment, my anxious heart finally settled. In the afternoon, my in-laws called my phone dozens of times. I turned it off directly. When I returned in the evening, I brought someone with me. As soon as I entered, I heard the sound of things being smashed. “Where did you run off to? Why was your phone off? Do you know what kind of afternoon Victor and I had?” Of course I knew. These two had it great—they ate takeout and watched TV. The surveillance recorded everything. “This is Rosa, the live-in caregiver I found for you. From now on, she’ll take care of you full-time.” Victor immediately objected. “No way! How can an outsider serve us properly? We don’t want anyone else—we want you!”

Ramos cried, “Maria, Reid died because of you. Are you trying to abandon us now?” “You have no conscience! How did the Charles family end up with a bitch like you!” “These past few days caring for you have made my heart feel uncomfortable. If you insist I take care of you, I’ll have to abort the baby.” Victor was relentless. “Nonsense! Back in our day, every pregnant woman worked in the fields with a belly, and nothing happened to their babies!” “I think you just don’t want to serve us and you’re making excuses!” “Right! You’re seven months along—the fetus must be stable by now!” “No matter what you say, this child is Reid’s unborn baby and my life. I have to protect him.” I turned and left without looking back, no matter how much they shouted. That evening, the full-time caregiver I hired called me. “Miss Maria, your in-laws are forcing me to leave. They say if I don’t go, they’ll bite their tongues off.” “Don’t worry, they won’t actually die. Do your job well. If they give you trouble, just bear with it. I’ll pay you triple.” These two old bastards were desperate to drive away the caregiver because with her there, they’d have to keep pretending to be paralyzed. If I was taking care of them, after I left at night, they could still get up and move around. Now, let them just lie there. Next, I had very important things to do. First, I went to the hospital and aborted the baby in my belly. After recovering for a week, I rushed to the company under Reid’s name and, as Reid’s wife, convened a board meeting. “Distinguished shareholders, I am Maria, Reid’s legal wife. I will inherit all of his shares.” “I majored in finance at Harvard. I’m confident I can work pleasantly with all of you in the future.” Reid’s confidant immediately objected. “As far as I know, Mr. Reid still has parents. How can you inherit all of his equity?” I produced my in-laws’ paralysis certificates. “My in-laws have lost full capacity for conduct. If the company is handed to them, how can it continue operating?” “Moreover, I’m a Harvard graduate with honors, while my in-laws only have middle school education. It’s quite clear who should inherit the company.” The confidant still objected. “What do you mean they’ve lost capacity? That’s just your side of the story!” I directly projected the surveillance footage from home onto the screen. In the video, I was serving the two disabled elderly people attentively and conscientiously. The confidant’s face turned green. In the end, I gained support from more than half the shareholders and obtained all of Reid’s shares. Then I ran to every bank to check if there were any other bank cards under his name. Whenever I found one, I presented the death certificate and marriage certificate, transferred all the money in his cards to my account, then canceled his cards. After completing this entire process, my account had gained another thirty million. Thinking about Reid abroad trying to make a purchase only to discover his cards had been canceled—the look of shock on his face—I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Reid was living it up abroad with Georgia, spending money lavishly. Now they had no money at all. They definitely couldn’t stay there. These two people would be coming back soon. After doing all this, I went home to see my parents. Since Reid and Georgia faked their deaths, I hadn’t been home. Mom and Dad hated me for causing Georgia’s death, not knowing I was the one who suffered most. Dad opened the door, saw me, and immediately snorted. “What are you doing here? Your mother and I don’t want to see you!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “402159”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster