My younger brother, Tyler, wanted to buy a new car and asked me to help him look. I specifically took half a day off work to drive him around to three different dealerships in the city. That evening, I posted a quick status on Facebook: “Car shopping with my little brother. That Audi A3 we looked at seemed like a solid choice.” Less than ten minutes later, Tyler’s girlfriend, Chloe, called me. “Emily, buying a car is between me and Tyler. What are people supposed to think when you post stuff like that? That I can’t afford it myself?” Her voice was cold enough to freeze water. Before I even had a chance to explain, I saw that she had just updated her own Facebook status: “Some people just love to perform. So old and still desperate for attention from her little brother. Maybe check your own bank account before you start bossing us around on what car to buy?” She attached a photo of me and Tyler looking at cars at the Audi dealership. Even though she blurred my face, our relatives would instantly recognize it was me. A text from Tyler popped up right after: “Em, can you just delete that post? Chloe is really sensitive about this stuff.” I let out a dry laugh and deleted my post. And while I was at it, I also “deleted” the $40,000 I had set aside to help them pay for the car. The next day, Tyler panicked and called to ask what happened. I only replied with six words: “If she’s sensitive, don’t take it.” 1 My phone rang. It was Tyler. I could hear the suppressed anger in his voice: “Em, what is your problem? If Chloe made you mad, take it out on me! Why the hell are you holding back the money for the car?” I replied, my voice completely flat: “The money is in my bank account. I’m choosing not to give it to you.” Less than ten minutes later, someone started pounding on my front door like they were trying to break it down. The second I unlocked the deadbolt, Tyler shoved his way inside. His muddy sneakers left two dark streaks on the living room rug I had just vacuumed. Chloe trailed closely behind him, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin tipped up in a textbook display of arrogance. “Emily, are you done throwing your little tantrum?” Tyler yelled, his voice so loud spit was literally flying from his mouth. I stared at the muddy footprints on my rug and fired back, “What exactly am I throwing a tantrum about?” “You’re holding the forty grand hostage! How the hell are we supposed to go pick up the car today?” He lunged forward and grabbed the sleeve of my shirt. I violently yanked my arm out of his grip. Chloe stepped forward, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “Emily, are you trying to use money to manipulate me? Let me tell you right now, I don’t play those games. If you didn’t want to give us the money, you shouldn’t have pretended to be so generous in the first place.” I picked up the glass of water from the coffee table, took a slow sip, and said calmly, “I wasn’t pretending. I just simply don’t want to give it to you anymore.” The moment the words left my mouth, Chloe aggressively slapped the glass out of my hand. It smashed against the hardwood floor. The glass shattered. Scalding hot water splashed directly onto my calves, the skin instantly turning a furious, stinging red. “You think having a little bit of money makes you special?! I can buy a car with Tyler just fine without your forty grand!” she screamed, pointing her finger inches from my nose. I looked down at the burning red patches on my legs. Whatever warmth was left in my heart for them instantly burned away, leaving a gaping, cold hole. “Get out.” “Em, Chloe is just stressed…” Tyler quickly stepped in front of her, trying to play peacekeeper. “Let’s just forget this happened. Just wire the forty grand to my account right now.” I walked over to the entryway and pulled the front door wide open. “Get the hell out of my house.” Chloe didn’t move an inch. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Emily, Tyler already told me. Half of your assets legally belong to him anyway. He has a right to this condo. Who the hell do you think you are to hoard it all for yourself?” I stared dead into her eyes. “The deed is in my name only. I paid the mortgage. I paid for the renovations. Every single cent came from my pocket. Where do you get the absolute audacity to claim any of this?” Tyler took a step toward me, his face hardening. “Em, Chloe is right. Mom’s life insurance and inheritance were supposed to be split. You need to sell this place and give me my half, so I can buy my own house.” I looked at this boy—the brother I had fiercely protected since we were kids—and the last shred of familial love I had for him completely evaporated. “When Mom got sick, the hospital bills drained every single penny of her savings. I bought this condo years later, entirely with my own money and loans I took out myself. It has absolutely zero connection to you.” Chloe flipped her hair over her shoulder, her tone dripping with venomous sarcasm. “Emily, as a woman, I honestly feel sorry for you. You’re pushing thirty, you’re single, and your entire pathetic life revolves around obsessing over your little brother. You have zero self-worth. You’re holding the car money hostage right now because you want to keep controlling Tyler so you can keep leeching off his life, right?” I glared at her with absolute, freezing contempt. “I’m not leeching off him. And I’m certainly not giving him a dime. Both of you, leave.” Tyler’s face flushed a dark, angry red. His fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Fine. Em, you’re going to regret this!” He grabbed Chloe by the wrist and stormed out the door. Chloe stopped right at the threshold, turning back to shoot me one last look: “Emily, if you don’t cough up that car money, Tyler is done with you. He won’t even acknowledge you as his sister. When you finally manage to trick some guy into marrying you, don’t expect us to be there to support you.” I slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt. A second later, a heavy kick rattled the door frame. “You shameless, selfish bitch! Just you wait!” Tyler’s muffled scream echoed through the heavy wood. I walked to the kitchen to grab a broom to sweep up the shattered glass. My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. In our extended family’s WhatsApp group, Tyler had posted a massive paragraph: “I need the elders in this family to weigh in. My sister is intentionally withholding the money she promised for my car just to control my life. Chloe just posted the truth on Facebook, and now Emily is trying to force us to break up. She’s also hoarding the condo Mom left behind and trying to kick me out on the street.” Immediately below his rant, Chloe posted a screenshot. It was a screenshot of the photo I had originally posted of us looking at cars at the dealership. Aunt Susan was the first to reply: “Emily, this is completely out of line. Your brother buying a car is a major milestone. Why are you interfering and causing drama?” Uncle Robert chimed in right after: “Em, Tyler is your only brother. Just give the kid the money. Don’t tear the family apart over something this petty.” I stared at the screen, reading line after line of their “helpful” advice, and without a second thought, I permanently exited the group chat. 2 The next morning, I left for work as usual. The moment I stepped out of my apartment building’s main gate, Tyler jumped out from behind a concrete pillar, blocking the sidewalk. “Em, what was that stunt leaving the group chat? Are you scared?” When I didn’t answer, he doubled down. “If you’re scared, then wire me the money right now.” He kept aggressively demanding the transfer while pulling out a brand-new iPhone 15 Pro to check his banking app. That iPhone was bought and paid for entirely by me. He told me he just wanted to “borrow it for a couple of days to play with the camera,” but he never gave it back. I sidestepped him and kept walking. “Move. I have to go to work.” He reached out and violently grabbed the strap of my purse. “You are not leaving until you wire me that money.” A few neighbors walking their dogs stopped and started staring at us. I yanked my purse back with all my strength. “Tyler, if you keep this up, I’m calling the cops.” He let out a loud, mocking scoff. “Call them! Are the cops going to get involved in a family dispute? You’re stealing my money, and now you want to silence me?” Chloe, wearing a brand-new cashmere coat and holding a Venti Starbucks cup, looked me up and down with obvious disgust. “Emily, everyone is watching. Do you really want to make a scene and embarrass yourself? Just wire the money, and we’ll leave.” I stared at the coffee cup in her hand. “That coffee cost seven bucks. The coat you’re wearing cost eight hundred. Both of those were bought using my secondary credit card, weren’t they?” Chloe’s smug expression instantly cracked. “What the hell are you talking about?! Tyler bought these for me!” I pulled out my phone and opened my banking app. “I canceled the secondary card this morning. Oh, and the iPhone you’re holding is mine too. Make sure you give it back.” Tyler’s eyes bulged in shock. “Em! Are you psycho?! You’re taking back a phone?!” I held out my hand, palm up. “Yes. Give it back.” Tyler took a rapid step backward. “No way in hell! I’m using it, which means it’s mine!” He grabbed Chloe’s hand, frantically hailed a passing taxi, and the two of them dove into the backseat and sped off before I could say another word. I watched the taxi disappear into traffic, then turned and walked toward the bus stop. The bus rattled its way downtown, eventually dropping me off outside my office building. I swiped my badge, walked through the glass doors, and sat down at my desk. Before I could even log in, my department manager walked over. “Emily, can you come to my office for a minute?” I followed him inside. He closed the door, his expression looking incredibly strained and awkward. “Is… is everything okay at home? Any major issues?” “No.” The manager sighed heavily, opened his desk drawer, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to me. “This morning, reception received a local courier package. It was a stack of these flyers.” I took it. Printed dead center was a photo of me, surrounded by bold, aggressive block letters: [EMILY CHEN: TOXIC, CONTROLLING SISTER. STEALS BROTHER’S INHERITANCE, TRIES TO FORCE BROTHER’S GIRLFRIEND TO GET AN ABORTION. MORALLY BANKRUPT. DO NOT TRUST HER!] It was printed on cheap, flimsy printer paper, the edges ragged. I stared at the words, my fingers slowly clenching into tight fists. “Reception intercepted the package,” the manager said, watching me closely. “But… someone took a photo and posted it in the general company Slack channel. Now… the entire office has seen it.” I pulled out my phone and opened the company Slack. The general channel was dead silent. Nobody was typing a word. But the photo of that flyer was sitting right there as the most recent message, glaringly obvious and humiliating. I placed the flyer back onto his desk. “I understand. I’ll handle it.” I turned and walked out of the office. In the hallway, several coworkers were walking toward me. The moment they saw me, their eyes darted away. They lowered their heads and hurried past without a word. I walked back to my desk, grabbed my purse, and turned to my cubicle mate. “I’m taking a half-day. If anything urgent comes up, text me.” As soon as I walked out of the revolving doors of my office building, I saw them. Standing on the sidewalk across the street, Tyler was holding a thick stack of flyers, and Chloe was aggressively shoving them into the hands of passing pedestrians. I marched across the street and stopped right in front of them. Chloe held out a flyer toward me. When she realized it was me, she froze for a second, then quickly pulled her hand back. “Well, well. Emily, leaving work early today?” I kept my eyes locked on Tyler. “You printed these?” Tyler looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. “Chloe said this was the only way to make you back down. Em, just give me the money, and we’ll leave right now.” I reached out and snatched the stack of flyers out of his hands. With one swift motion, I ripped the entire stack in half, letting the shredded paper flutter to the sidewalk. “Tyler, you are twenty-four years old. You graduated two years ago, and you’ve already quit or been fired from six different jobs. You don’t even make enough to pay your own rent.” I stared directly into his eyes. “The money you were going to use for that car? I saved it. The hoodie you’re wearing right now? I bought it. Even the money you use to buy her coffee every morning comes off my credit card.” Chloe lunged forward and violently shoved me in the chest. I stumbled back half a step, catching my balance. “Stop acting like a pathetic victim! Tyler told me you make over ten grand a month! Why shouldn’t you spend it on him?! You’re just a selfish, greedy bitch!” I looked at Chloe, my voice ice cold. “My money belongs to me. I will give it to whoever I want. And since I don’t want to give it to you, you won’t see a single red cent of it.” Tyler’s face flushed a furious, dark red. “Em! Are you seriously trying to ruin my life?! Chloe said if I don’t get a car, she’s breaking up with me! Do you really want to destroy a four-year relationship?!” I stared at him, completely deadpan. “That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” I turned and walked toward a nearby trash can, tossing the shredded flyers inside. Tyler charged at me, grabbing my arm in a vice grip. “You are going to give me that money today! Or I swear to God, I will stand outside your office every single day handing these out!” I violently ripped my arm away from him. “Touch me again, I dare you.” In the same fluid motion, I snatched the iPhone 15 Pro right out of his hand. Tyler stood there, totally stunned. Chloe immediately rushed forward to grab his arm. “Tyler, stop wasting your breath! People like her won’t learn until you destroy them completely!” I pulled out my own phone and dialed a local electronics recycling service I had used before. “Hi, I have an iPhone 15 Pro I want to sell. Latest model, mint condition. Can you send someone to pick it up right now?” The voice on the other end was enthusiastic: “Absolutely! Text me the address, we’ll be there in ten minutes.” Tyler lunged forward, trying to wrestle the phone out of my grip. “Emily! Are you fucking insane?!” I ended the call and shoved both phones deep into my purse, stepping back out of his reach. Ten minutes later, a white commercial van pulled up to the curb. A guy in a blue polo shirt hopped out. “Ms. Chen? You have the phone?” I pulled the iPhone 15 Pro out of my purse and handed it to him. Tyler charged the guy, grabbing him aggressively by the shoulder. “Don’t you dare buy that! That is my phone!” I pulled up the digital receipt on my own phone and held it out to the tech. “Hi, here is the proof of purchase and the serial number. The physical receipt is at my apartment; I can go get it if you need it.” The tech carefully checked the screen against the phone’s settings, nodded, and forcefully shoved Tyler’s hand off his shoulder. “Buddy, the phone legally belongs to this lady. We only care about who holds the receipt.” Tyler stood frozen on the sidewalk, his face turning a mottled, furious purple. “Emily! You’re actually selling your own brother’s phone?! Are you even human?!” “I bought this phone with my own money. I can sell my own property whenever I want. What does that have to do with you?” The tech pulled a thick wad of cash from his bag, counted out eight hundred dollars, and handed it to me. “Here you go, ma’am. Count it to be sure.” I took the cash, counted it right in front of their faces, and slipped it into my purse. “It’s all here. Thanks.” The white van drove off. Tyler glared at me with absolute, unfiltered hatred and roared: “Emily! As of today, you are dead to me! I don’t have a sister!” I didn’t even bother turning around. “Good.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400803”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To murder my husband, Richard Vance, I spent an entire year preparing. I smiled as I saw him off on his mountain expedition. I had secretly swapped his GPS for a dummy model that would never emit a signal, ensuring he would vanish forever in the treacherous, uninhabited wilderness. I coldly calculated the timeline of him getting lost, succumbing to hypothermia, and eventually dying of sheer exhaustion. The plan was flawless. I had even prepared my eulogy for his funeral. Ten days later, the search and rescue team called. The voice on the other end was bone-chilling: “Mrs. Vance, we found your husband. However, there is another body right next to him.” When the phone rang, I was trimming a dying pothos plant in the living room. It was Richard’s favorite plant. He used to say green represented vitality and brought good luck to his business. What he didn’t know was that every single day, I watered its roots with boiling water. I watched it wither day by day, just as I imagined Richard’s life slowly draining away in the snowy mountains. The caller ID showed an unknown number from the state where Richard had gone climbing. It’s time. My heart started to pound—not out of fear, but from a suppressed, overwhelming ecstasy that was about to burst out of my chest. I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to sound perfectly hoarse and trembling, like a woman who had spent countless days and nights washing her face with tears. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was steady and cold, carrying a sort of official detachment. “Is this Harper Evans, Mrs. Vance? We are calling from the Mountain Search and Rescue Team.” I covered my mouth, squeezing out broken sobs, perfectly mimicking a wife anxiously awaiting news of her husband. “Yes… it’s me! Is there… is there news about Richard?” The man hesitated for a moment, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “Yes, Mrs. Vance. We found your husband.” Found. That word was like a key, instantly unlocking the dark cellar in my heart. Countless fireworks exploded in my mind, every single one spelling out the word “Freedom.” I almost laughed out loud, quickly covering it up with more violent sobbing. “Is… is he okay?” I asked the question knowing the answer, relishing this final, cruel game. The line went silent again, this time for a little longer. “Mrs. Vance, I am so sorry for your loss. Mr. Vance has no vital signs.” My body went limp, and I allowed myself to slide down onto the carpet. The phone slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. I let out a gut-wrenching wail into the empty air. If you’re going to act, you have to commit to the bit. My neighbors had likely heard my continuous crying over the past few days. Now, this wail was the grand finale of the show. I picked up the phone, continuing my performance with a voice ragged from crying: “How… how could this happen… He said the route was perfectly safe…” “Mrs. Vance.” The man interrupted my performance, a strange undertone in his voice. “The situation at the scene is… a bit complicated.” “There is another body next to him.” My heart plummeted. The blood in my veins seemed to freeze instantly. A body? That bastard! Richard actually took his mistress out there to fool around! A sick sense of satisfaction washed over me, mixed with the humiliation of betrayal and the thrill of revenge. Good riddance! They deserved to die! That cheating pair deserved to be buried together in the freezing snow, never to return! I suppressed the upward twitch of my lips, asking with a trembling voice, blending the humiliation and pain of a “victim wife”: “Is it… is it a woman?” The man on the phone—who I later learned was Detective Miller—fell silent once more. This time, his voice was colder than a Siberian blizzard. “It’s a male.” Boom— My mind went completely blank. Every pore on my body stood on end from sudden, sheer terror. Not a mistress? A man? Who could it be? There was never a second man in my plan. From scouting the route and tracking the weather, to researching Richard’s physical limits and swapping the GPS, every step had been simulated thousands of times in my head. It was supposed to be perfect. Foolproof. This extra man was like a nuclear bomb dropping out of nowhere, threatening to obliterate my entire world. Who was he? A hiking buddy Richard made plans with? Impossible. Richard was arrogant and selfish; he never hiked with others. He loved the thrill of conquering nature alone. A random hiker who had an accident? Then why would he die right next to Richard? Or… or did he know about my plan? That thought made my blood run cold. My teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. My brain raced through the storm of panic, running through a million possibilities. Every single one pointed to a fatal, unpredictable flaw in my scheme. I forced myself to maintain my composure, asking with a trembling voice: “Who is he? Why would he… why would he be with my husband?” Detective Miller’s voice betrayed no emotion: “His identity is currently unknown. We need family members to come down and identify the remains. Also, Mrs. Vance, it’s best if you come here immediately. Certain circumstances are quite… unique.” He emphasized the word “unique.” Hanging up the phone, I rushed to the bathroom, staring at my pale face in the mirror. On that face, the shell of grief I had carefully constructed over the past ten days showed its first hairline crack. Fear crawled up from the depths of my heart like ivy, wrapping tightly around my throat. I turned on the faucet, splashing freezing water on my face over and over, trying to force myself to calm down. Harper, pull yourself together. You planned this for a year. You cannot fall apart now. No matter who that man was, he was already dead. Dead men tell no tales. As long as I kept my mouth shut, no one would know about the GPS. Richard’s death would just be a tragic hiking accident. Yes, an accident. I repeated those words to myself in the mirror until the fear on my face was replaced by a dull numbness. I changed into a simple black outfit and wore no makeup. My pale, exhausted appearance would be my best disguise. Before I left the house, I took one last look at the pothos plant I had killed with my own hands. Its leaves were completely yellow and lifeless. How nice, I thought. It finally doesn’t have to pretend to thrive anymore. Just like me. By the time I arrived at the city where the rescue team was headquartered, it was the afternoon of the next day. The air smelled strangely of bleach mixed with the scent of death. Detective Miller was waiting for me at the entrance. He was a tall man in his forties, with tanned skin and eyes as sharp as a hawk’s—eyes that looked like they could pierce straight into the darkest corners of a person’s soul. He skipped the pleasantries, simply looking me up and down before leading me toward the morgue. “Mrs. Vance, my condolences,” he said, his voice even harder than it was on the phone. “What’s inside might be disturbing. Please prepare yourself.” I nodded, lowering my eyes to let my long lashes hide my emotions. The lighting in the morgue was a sterile, freezing white. The chill seeped into my bones from all directions. In the center of the room, two gurneys covered in white sheets lay side by side. My heart began to pound wildly. Detective Miller walked over to one of the gurneys and looked at me blankly. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. The moment the white sheet was pulled back, Richard’s frostbitten, purplish face, contorted in agony, appeared before my eyes. His eyes were still open, filled with terror and bitterness, as if he had seen something unspeakably horrifying right before he died. My stomach churned, a strong wave of nausea rushing up my throat. It wasn’t out of grief, but out of visceral, biological disgust. This face had appeared in my deepest nightmares countless times. He would smile and say the most vicious things in the gentlest tone. “Harper, you put too much salt in the fish today. So stupid.” Then he would pour the scalding hot broth right over the back of my hand. “Harper, look at you. You can’t even mop the floor right. What use was marrying you?” Then he would kick me hard in the stomach. “Harper, are you thinking about that broke ex-boyfriend of yours again? You’re nothing but a cheap whore!” Then he would press a lit cigarette to my wrist, leaving behind brand after brand of shame. And now, he was finally dead. He died a miserable, ugly death. I should be thrilled. But I had to look devastated. I threw myself over his body, letting out a harrowing wail. My body trembled violently as I dry-heaved. The tears were real. They were tears of relief, pent up for five long years, finally breaking free. Detective Miller didn’t comfort me. He just stood coldly to the side, waiting until my emotions settled slightly before pulling me away from Richard’s corpse. Then, he walked over to the other gurney. “Mrs. Vance, I need you to identify this man as well.” My heart jumped into my throat. The white sheet was pulled back, revealing a face I completely didn’t recognize. It was a man in his thirties, thin but with sharp features. His face was also a frostbitten purple. What was bizarre was that the corners of his mouth were turned up into a smile—a look of relief, almost satisfaction. I scrambled through my memories, but I was absolutely certain I had never seen this face before. I shook my head, my voice trembling with genuine fear: “No… I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before.” This time, the fear was real. A stranger dying with a smile on his face, right next to my husband who died in absolute terror. The scene was too bizarre, like the opening of a cheap horror movie. Detective Miller didn’t seem surprised by my reaction. He just nodded and signaled the medical examiner to cover the bodies back up. He led me out of the morgue and into an office. He poured me a cup of hot water. Then, from a locked cabinet, he pulled out a clear evidence bag and pushed it across the desk toward me. Inside the bag sat a black device I was far too familiar with. The dummy GPS tracker I had swapped out—the one that could never send a distress signal. My heart skipped a beat, the blood rushing straight to my head. My fingers tightened around the paper cup, but the scalding water couldn’t chase away the ice in my palms. Still, I maintained my facade, looking at him with innocent confusion. “Detective Miller, what is this?” “Richard’s personal effects.” Detective Miller stared unblinking into my eyes, every word hitting like a hammer. “A dummy GPS model. It can’t emit a single signal. Mrs. Vance, do you know what that means?” I played the role of the naive, innocent wife who knew nothing about outdoor gear. “I don’t know… He loved buying this kind of outdoor stuff. We have a lot of it at home. I really don’t understand it.” My voice sounded clueless and lost. Suddenly, Detective Miller let out a cold laugh. It was filled with undisguised mockery. From the cabinet, he pulled out a second, identical evidence bag, slamming it down heavily next to the first. “Is that so? What a coincidence. We found the exact same thing on the other victim.” Boom— I felt the entire world spinning and collapsing in front of me. Two identical dummy GPS models. Two identical “murder weapons.” My “trademark,” my supposedly perfect murder method, had been duplicated. In a split second, I went from a mastermind controlling the board to a trapped participant in a bizarre mystery I couldn’t explain. This was no longer a flawless murder. It was a chilling, inexplicable puzzle. My hands and feet went numb. My mind was completely blank. The psychological fortress I had so carefully built crumbled the moment I saw that second dummy GPS. The fluorescent lights in the interrogation room were blindingly white. They stretched my shadow long across the floor, making me look like a silent sinner. Detective Miller sat across from me. He didn’t slam his hands on the table. He didn’t yell. He just looked at me calmly with those sharp eyes. But every question he asked acted like a precision scalpel, peeling back my disguise layer by layer until he hit my deepest secrets. “Mrs. Vance, you used to enjoy mountain climbing too, didn’t you?” He asked it casually, like making small talk. Alarm bells rang furiously in my head. I had never mentioned this to anyone, especially not after marrying Richard. How did he know? I steadied myself and admitted it: “Yes, I was into it back in college. But… I stopped after we got married.” I tried to project the image of an ordinary woman bound by domestic life, someone who had abandoned her hobbies. Detective Miller nodded, seemingly accepting my answer. “So, you must know a fair bit about GPS and outdoor equipment, right?” There it is. His real target. My defense sounded weak: “Just the basics. I haven’t touched the stuff in years. The gear updates so fast, I wouldn’t know how to use the new models.” I knew my background was already my first red flag. No matter how much I denied it, in the eyes of the police, I possessed the technical knowledge required to commit the crime. Detective Miller didn’t linger on the topic. He smoothly transitioned and dropped his second bombshell. “We discovered that last month, you added a five-million-dollar accidental death policy to Richard’s life insurance. You are the sole beneficiary.” My heart sank to rock bottom. That insurance policy was a crucial part of my plan. It was my safety net and the capital for my new life. But now, it was a blade pressing against my throat. “It… it was Richard’s idea.” I forced myself to stay calm, searching for the most reasonable excuse. “He loves extreme sports. He said it was just adding an extra layer of security for our family.” I pushed the blame onto the dead man. Dead men can’t argue. Detective Miller smiled. It was a knowing, profound smile. “Really? But we spoke to the insurance agent. He said you reached out to him, and you handled the entire process. He also mentioned that Mr. Vance didn’t seem to know the specific details of the policy.” I went freezing cold. It felt like all my blood had been drained. I never imagined that bastard Richard would complain about the insurance to an outsider. Or maybe this was just a bluff. Detective Miller was testing me. But I couldn’t risk it. To Detective Miller, my silence was an admission of guilt. The fatal blow was yet to come. A young officer walked in and handed a file to Detective Miller. He glanced at it, then tossed it heavily onto the table in front of me. “Mrs. Vance, our cyber division recovered the last three months of browsing history from your home computer.” My eyes fell on the document. Printed on the pages were the keywords I feared the most. “Remote hiking trails” “How long does it take to die from hypothermia” “How to block GPS signals” “How are hiking accidents classified” … Every keyword was a glowing red chain, binding me tightly to the suspect’s chair. My supposed brilliance, the tracks I so carefully erased in the dead of night… in the face of professional forensic technology, it was all a joke. They had become the noose around my neck, and the knot was tightening. Detective Miller leaned forward, resting his crossed hands on the table. His gaze was as sharp as a razor. “A massive insurance payout, specialized knowledge, a clear motive, and now two inexplicable dummy GPS trackers. Mrs. Vance, is there anything else you’d like to share?” My mind was a complete blank. All my defenses and lies were laughable and futile against this mountain of ironclad evidence. I was finished. My plan, my freedom, the new life I dreamed of—all of it was bursting like a soap bubble. Despair washed over me like a tidal wave. I could feel the freezing water rising above my head, stealing my last breath. The interrogation hit a dead end. I was like a butterfly trapped in a spider’s web; no matter how I struggled, I couldn’t break free from the layers of damning evidence. I gave up defending myself. I chose silence. Because I knew the more I spoke, the more mistakes I’d make. Just as I was hovering on the edge of despair, ready to accept this absurd fate, someone knocked on the interrogation room door. The young officer hurried in, whispered something in Detective Miller’s ear, and handed him a folder. Detective Miller took the file and scanned it quickly. His furrowed brow slowly smoothed out, his expression turning incredibly complex. He looked up at me. His eyes held scrutiny, confusion, and something else… something hard to detect. He remained silent for a long time. So long I thought time had stopped. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and clear. “We’ve identified the second victim.” My heart jumped, and my body involuntarily sat up straighter.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400802”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The seventh time Arthur Vance locked me in the estate’s freezing attic to “reflect on my sins,” the long-delayed System finally spoke to me: As long as you die, you can return to your original world. And so, I became the perfect, emotionless high-society wife. I stopped caring that Arthur frequently spent his nights in his widowed sister-in-law’s bedroom. I stopped fighting for his broken promise of monogamy, and I stopped fighting for control over the estate’s finances. When my own son knocked over the meal I had spent hours cooking for him in absolute disgust, I didn’t scold him. I simply had the maid wipe his hands and calmly told him I would never cook for him again. Even when the head butler brought me that cup of abortifacient tea—even knowing I was already pregnant—I drank it down without a single second of hesitation. By the time Arthur rushed into the room, all he saw was a blinding pool of crimson on the floor. He drew his tactical blade, pointing it directly at my throat. His usually calm, authoritative voice was trembling with a total mental breakdown. “Claire Bennett, do you really hate me this much?!” “You grew up studying medicine! You knew how lethal that drug was, yet you’re so vicious you couldn’t even tolerate our own flesh and blood?!” Looking at the gleaming edge of the blade, I let out a relieved smile. And then, I thrust my body directly onto the knife. …… The exact second the blade pierced my flesh, Arthur’s pupils violently shrank. He desperately yanked the knife back. But he was a fraction of a second too late. The razor-sharp edge sliced across my neck. Beads of crimson blood rolled down, staining the pure white collar of my dress. With a loud clatter, the blade dropped to the floor. Arthur fell to one knee, frantically pressing his hands against my neck to stop the bleeding. “Claire! Have you completely lost your mind?!” I sighed internally. What a shame. Seeing that I hadn’t managed to kill myself, I finally answered his first question. “Mr. Vance, you told me yourself that having one son was more than enough.” “If I were to give birth to another child, wouldn’t that make your widowed sister-in-law—who only managed to give you a daughter—look bad?” Arthur’s breath hitched violently in his throat. “What did you just call me?” I fell silent. It was only then that I realized just how incredibly estranged Arthur and I had become. After we got married, I always loved calling him by his first name. Because of that, his elitist mother constantly ridiculed me for being a low-class commoner with no respect for authority. But I had always stubbornly refused to change. Now, I had finally learned my place. The fingers pressing against my neck suddenly tightened. I let out a gasp of pain, and only then did he loosen his grip slightly. Arthur’s voice, grinding through clenched teeth, echoed in my ear. “I told you. My older brother dying in that accident was a tragedy. Me stepping in as a surrogate to provide his widow with an heir was an absolute, desperate necessity to secure her portion of the family trust.” “As soon as my brother’s line has a male heir, I swear I will never touch Serena again.” “I am begging you, just wait a little longer. Please?” That single word—wait—kept me sleeping in an empty, freezing bed for three entire years. From visiting her once a month, it escalated to him spending almost every single night in her room. My only companions were burnt-out candles and endless, exhausted tears. When Serena finally got pregnant, I thought the nightmare was over. But Arthur used the excuse of “taking care of his fragile sister-in-law” to permanently move his belongings into the West Wing. I waited through another agonizing year of seasons changing. But the child Serena gave birth to was a daughter, Mia. Seeing that Arthur was preparing to continue sleeping in her room to try again, I couldn’t wait anymore. I started throwing tantrums. I forbade him from stepping foot in the West Wing. I acted like a hysterical, screaming lunatic, sobbing and threatening to end my own life. I did all of those things because I just wanted a husband who belonged solely to me. But in Arthur’s eyes, my desperation morphed into the unforgivable, toxic actions of a jealous, petty woman. Yet, when he proposed to me years ago, he swore that what he loved most about me was my fiery, unapologetic personality. He promised me that after we married, I would be his only woman. He swore he would never take a mistress, and that he would never lock me away in a gilded cage. But in our seventh year of marriage, in order to establish absolute authority for the widowed Serena, Arthur locked me in the freezing attic in front of the entire household staff. Over and over again. He told me I needed to learn to be as gentle and magnanimous as Serena. He told me I needed to learn how a true high-society matriarch behaved. My knees were bruised black and blue from kneeling on the hardwood. My hands shook in agony from being forced to transcribe hundreds of pages of etiquette manuscripts and apologies. And all I got in return was his disappointed sigh: “Claire, when are you finally going to grow up and be reasonable?” Even the child currently bleeding out of my womb was an accident. It happened after Mia’s one-month milestone party, when a blackout-drunk Arthur stumbled into the wrong bedroom. At the time, I foolishly thought he had come to make peace, and I allowed him to have his way with me. But right as he reached his climax, he slurred the name of his sister-in-law. The suffocating agony of the past surged up my throat. I swallowed it down along with the metallic taste of blood. I looked up at him, enunciating every single word: “Mr. Vance, you no longer need to feed me these fake promises to placate me.” “From this day forward, wherever you want to go, go. Whoever you want to sleep with, sleep with them. I will not utter a single word of complaint.” “And if you are still dissatisfied, I am perfectly willing to sign the divorce papers and step aside so you two lovers can finally be together.” Arthur’s chest heaved violently, the veins in his neck bulging. “Claire Bennett, how much longer are you going to torture me?!” “Serena and I are strictly family! There is absolutely zero romantic affection between us!” Listening to those words, one might actually believe he loved me to death. Yet he addressed me, his legal, lawfully wedded wife, by my full, cold name—Claire Bennett. But he affectionately called his sister-in-law “Serena.” I shook my head. “You’re overthinking it, Mr. Vance. I am being entirely sincere.” I don’t know which of my words triggered his fury again. Arthur violently let go of me. The back of my head slammed hard against the sharp edge of a wooden stool. I gasped as a blinding spike of pain shot through my skull. Panic flashed across his face, and he reached out to help me up. A freezing, mechanical voice echoed in my brain. [Host’s vital signs dropping rapidly. Estimated time until death countdown: 24 hours.] It turned out that the abortifacient tea, combined with the blood loss from the blade, had struck a fatal blow to my core. I shoved Arthur’s hand away, bracing myself against the floor as I shakily stood up. “Please leave, Mr. Vance. I am tired.” I walked right past him, heading toward the inner bedroom to rest. With every step I took, the blood dripping from beneath my skirt left a winding, horrific trail on the floorboards. Right at that moment, seven-year-old Noah burst through the doorway. He violently hurled his wooden toy sword directly at me. The jagged wood slashed across my cheek, leaving a stinging, bleeding scratch. Arthur was completely paralyzed by the sudden chaos for a second. Then, he aggressively snatched Noah up by the collar and delivered a harsh smack to his backside. “You little brat! What the hell are you doing?!” Noah wailed at the top of his lungs, but he stubbornly refused to admit he was wrong. “Dad, I don’t want this evil woman as my mom!” “Why can’t she just stay locked in the attic and never come out for the rest of her life?!” Arthur’s face turned livid. He barked coldly: “Who taught you to say such disrespectful things?!” Noah struggled out of Arthur’s grip, puffing out his cheeks in fury. “Dad, you told me yourself that you hate her!” “If she hadn’t saved your life at the bottom of that mountain, you never would have married a cheap, common doctor!” “Plus, she’s a petty, jealous witch who’s always bullying Aunt Serena! She doesn’t deserve to be the mother of this family at all!” Noah grew more energized the more he spoke. He pointed a tiny finger directly at my nose, his young, childish face contorted with absolute disgust. “You evil witch! Dad and I both hate you! Just disappear already!” They say children speak the unvarnished truth. His words acted like a meat grinder, taking the very last, microscopic shred of hope in my heart and shredding it to dust. Years ago, Arthur’s private military convoy was ambushed and pinned down in a lethal cartel zone in the valley. Ignoring the fact that I was seven months pregnant, I led a heavily armed extraction team to rescue him. We barely survived the bloodbath. I took dozens of knife wounds during the extraction. The trauma triggered premature labor. As I bled out on the delivery table, Arthur gripped my hand, his eyes burning red as he begged me: “Claire, please don’t leave me.” “If you die and leave me alone in this world, I’ll put a bullet in my own head and follow you.” Just to honor those words, I bit down on my lip and fought through the agony. Basin after basin of bloody water was carried out of the room. I miraculously survived the gates of hell. But because Noah was born so severely premature, the estate’s top pediatricians declared he wouldn’t live past three days. They told me to prepare a tiny coffin. I refused to believe them. Dragging my broken, unhealed body out of bed, I took care of him day and night. During that time, I read until the bindings of my medical textbooks fell apart, searching the world for the rarest, most potent medicines. Yet Noah’s cries only grew weaker and weaker. Driven to absolute desperation, I placed my final hope in a higher power. I did a grueling, agonizing pilgrimage to the St. Jude Mountain Sanctuary. Three steps, one bow. Five steps, one prostration. To this day, the five thousand stone steps leading up to the sanctuary still bear the faded stains of the blood from my knees and forehead. Perhaps the heavens were moved by my sincerity. After that day, Noah’s health miraculously began to stabilize. However, his immune system would always be significantly weaker than a full-term child’s. Whenever the temperature dropped, I would strictly confine him to his heated room to read and study. Serena, on the other hand, constantly indulged his every whim. Even in the dead of a freezing winter, she allowed him to gorge himself on bowls of ice cream. Within three days, Noah spiked a terrifyingly high fever, coughing so hard it sounded like his lungs were tearing. Arthur was busy with corporate warfare. Serena avoided the boy like the plague, terrified of catching whatever virus he had. I was the one who sat by his bedside for days without sleeping a wink. I sponge-bathed him over and over to lower his temperature, constantly inventing new, creative ways to brew foul-tasting medicines so he could keep them down. When he finally recovered, Noah blamed the entire miserable experience entirely on me. He threw tantrums, violently knocking over the bowls of medicine I had stayed up all night brewing for him. The boiling hot liquid splashed onto the back of my hand, leaving a massive, blistering burn scar. He grew to passionately hate me—the woman who forced him to drink bitter medicine. Yet he absolutely adored Serena, the woman who only ever gave him sweet treats and was the literal reason he got sick in the first place. Arthur’s face instantly darkened, and he aggressively shouted Noah down. “Noah, shut your mouth! Stop speaking nonsense!” Then, he looked at me with frantic panic, desperately trying to explain. “Noah is just a kid, he definitely heard the maids gossiping…” In the past, hearing those words would have shattered my heart. I would have put on a stern face and tried to teach Noah right from wrong. And every single time, all I got in return was a glare filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. Now, I was just so incredibly tired. I didn’t care to parent him anymore. Arthur also sensed that something was fundamentally wrong with my reaction. He frowned, studying my face, before stubbornly concluding that I was just playing hard to get. “Claire, what exactly are you trying to pull now?” “Putting on this ‘dead inside,’ indifferent act is just a pathetic, cheap imitation. You’re making a fool of yourself.” “Since the baby is already gone, you will stay confined to your quarters and rest your body. Stop constantly plotting against Serena and her daughter!” He grabbed Noah’s hand and stormed out of the room, violently flicking his coat. The exact second they crossed the threshold, the father and son began cheerfully discussing the widow and her daughter. Arthur mentioned he was going to buy Serena a breathtaking vintage diamond necklace at an exclusive auction. Noah said he was going to use his allowance to buy a solid gold locket for his new little sister. Meanwhile, pinned in my own hair, was the simple, cheap silver clip Arthur had given me when we first got engaged. Back then, he had looked at me nervously, telling me he crafted it with his own hands and begging me not to despise it. He swore that one day, he would buy me the most expensive, beautiful jewelry in the world. Back then, my heart was overflowing with sweet joy. I genuinely believed I had married the perfect man. But ten years had passed. The delicate plum blossoms carved into the silver clip had long since been worn completely smooth. And I had yet to see a single piece of the “new jewelry” Arthur had promised me. At the elite high-society galas, I was always the most poorly dressed, pathetic-looking wife in the room. Whenever I finally gathered the courage to ask for a budget to buy some jewelry, Arthur would instantly reject it, citing the estate’s massive overhead costs and the need for me to be frugal and responsible. Yet he would turn around and drop hundreds of thousands of dollars on imported, ultra-rare skincare serums just to make Serena smile. Looking back on it now, all my blind, desperate devotion had been thrown into a black hole. The freezing, mechanical voice echoed in my mind once again. [Detecting Host’s severe emotional depression. Countdown to world detachment: 10 hours.] I sat at my vanity, staring at the woman in the antique bronze mirror. Her face was haggard, her eyes swimming in a deep, lifeless exhaustion. I pulled the worn-out silver hair clip from my hair. My fingertips gently traced the faded, smooth lines where the plum blossoms used to be. Then, with a sharp twist of my wrist. SNAP. The silver clip broke into two pieces. I casually tossed them into the burning fireplace in the corner of the room. After dealing with that, I forced my failing body up and began cleaning the bedroom. I dug out all the custom ties, the hand-knitted scarves I had made for Arthur over the years, and all the tiny, handmade clothes I had sewn for Noah. Two massive, overflowing trunks. Every single stitch was woven with my desperate hopes for this family. But right now, I just wanted to watch it all burn. The roaring flames illuminated my body, bringing a profound, comforting warmth that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I waited until the very last ember disintegrated into ash. Then, I laid down on my bed, quietly waiting for the System’s countdown to reach zero. Suddenly, the bedroom door was violently kicked open. Arthur had returned. He stormed into the room, his face a mask of pure fury, and violently dragged me off the mattress. “Claire Bennett, I knew you couldn’t just sit quietly and behave!” A Voodoo doll, completely covered in long, silver sewing needles, was hurled directly at my feet. Serena was standing in the doorway, clutching her infant daughter to her chest, looking as if she were about to pass out from crying into Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, I refuse to believe Claire would do something this evil.” “But this doll has so many needles shoved into it, and Mia’s exact birth date and time are written on the back… I can’t help but be terrified…” Before she could even finish her sentence, Arthur’s face had darkened to the color of a thundercloud. He raised his heavy boot and delivered a brutal, full-force kick directly to my chest. “Claire, I tolerated your petty jealousy and your tantrums!” “But I never imagined you were malicious enough to use disgusting, dark magic curses on an innocent baby!” A massive mouthful of blood exploded from my lips, splattering across the floor. The wound on my neck violently ripped open again. Arthur looked down at me with absolute, towering superiority, his eyes filled with overwhelming disappointment. “What? Too terrified to even try and explain yourself now?” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. My gaze swept over the supposed “evidence,” and I let out a low, dark chuckle. “The fabric used to make this doll is exclusive Parisian haute couture silk. Even the A-list celebrities in Hollywood are waitlisted for months just to get a single yard of it.” “Mr. Vance, your heart bled so deeply for your sister-in-law that you took every single roll of that silk in the estate’s vault and had it delivered directly to the West Wing.” “So please, enlighten me: how did it magically turn into evidence of me cursing your niece?” Hearing this, Arthur’s face drastically changed. His eyes remained glued to the Voodoo doll on the floor for a very long time. Serena’s face, which had just been a masterpiece of tragic, weeping beauty, instantly turned as white as a sheet of paper. “What are you implying? Are you accusing me of framing you?!” “I did use that fabric to make dresses, but I lost the scraps a few days ago…” “ENOUGH!” Arthur barked, violently cutting her off. It was glaringly obvious he had absolutely no desire to investigate the gaping plot holes in this setup. In his heart, Serena was a fragile, gentle angel who would never lie or harm another living soul. Therefore, I had to be the one who was wrong. “Claire, how much longer are you going to twist the truth and argue?!” “Mia was just born, and Serena’s health is incredibly fragile. How could she possibly withstand your toxic, psychotic scheming?!” “Since you cannot tolerate the people in this house, this house will no longer tolerate you.” He waved his hand with absolute, dictatorial finality. “Guards! Drag her to the cellar and force her to her knees!” “Without my explicit permission, do not give her a single drop of water or a single grain of rice!” “When she finally admits she’s wrong, you can let her out!” I didn’t bother defending myself again. I had pointed out the massive, glaring holes in the evidence, and Arthur had deliberately chosen to play blind. Honestly, the cellar was quiet. It was the perfect place to sit and wait for death. But as the rough, brutish guards began aggressively dragging me across the floor, Arthur’s heart inexplicably skipped a beat. “Wait!” I paused my steps, but I didn’t turn around. “Does Mr. Vance have any further instructions? Are you going to divorce this evil, toxic woman, or are you going to demand I pay with my life?” Arthur opened his mouth, but he had absolutely no idea what to say. Finally, he waved his hand in deep, agitated frustration, barking an order to the butler standing nearby. “Make sure the private trauma surgeon takes a look at her wounds. I don’t want any ugly rumors spreading to the press.” I let out a mocking, cynical laugh. A brutal beating, followed by a piece of candy? It was a tragic shame. Even if God Himself descended from heaven, He wouldn’t be able to save my life now. That brutal kick from Arthur had completely shattered the remaining fragile arteries around my heart. The System whispered: I had exactly three hours left to live. The cellar was pitch black. The agonizing physical pain in my body was slowly mutating into a heavy numbness. For some reason, I started thinking about all those days and nights I had spent locked in the attic. In the beginning, I knelt and prayed with absolute devotion, begging for nothing but Noah’s safety and health. Later, when I was locked up as a punishment, my heart was filled with nothing but suffocating injustice. Back then, I always prayed for the time to pass quickly. I wanted to get out so I could see Arthur, so I could desperately explain myself and clear my name. I wanted time with Noah, terrified that if we were apart too long, my son would become estranged from me. Right now, I was still praying for the time to pass quickly. So I could die faster, and finally return to the modern, equitable era where I truly belonged. I don’t know how much time passed, but a blistering fever consumed my body. In my hazy, delirious state, I heard a massive, chaotic commotion exploding outside the cellar. I fought with everything I had to force my eyes open. Through the cracks in the rotting wooden door, I saw my father. He looked exhausted, having clearly rushed straight here. He was clutching his medical bag, but he was being physically blocked in the courtyard by a wall of estate guards. Serena was standing safely under the covered walkway, her eyes dripping with pure, unadulterated malice. “Mr. Vance has given absolute orders. No one is permitted to visit.” Arthur rushed to the scene upon hearing the noise, his brow furrowing deeply as he took in the standoff. Before my father could even open his mouth to explain, Serena threw herself dramatically into Arthur’s arms, violently shaking in fake terror. “This man just trespassed into the private family quarters! He tried to sexually assault me!” “Arthur, you have to get justice for me!” My father trembled with apocalyptic rage. “You lying, venomous snake!” “I am an old man! Why on earth would I do something so repulsive?!” Arthur’s face turned to absolute ice. “Claire is locked in solitary confinement because she committed a severe crime.” “And you come bursting in here with absolutely zero respect for the law. If the press gets ahold of this, her reputation will be completely destroyed.” “Guards! Give him thirty strikes with the cane! Let this be a warning to anyone else who tries to break my rules!” Thirty strikes with a heavy cane. That was more than enough to literally beat an elderly man to death. “DAD—!” I desperately, frantically pounded my bleeding fists against the wooden window frame. Arthur shot a glare toward the cellar, but then coldly, indifferently looked away. The old man who had protected me from every storm my entire life was brutally shoved face-down into the freezing snow. The heavy, sickening THWACK of the wooden cane hitting flesh and bone slammed into my heart over and over again. Arthur Vance. You are a heartless, psychopathic monster. [Host’s vital signs are in catastrophic failure. You have exactly three minutes remaining.] A thin, fragile silhouette came stumbling frantically toward the cellar. It was Sarah. The loyal maid who had accompanied me into the Vance estate on the day I married. She had waited until the guards were distracted, stolen the heavy iron key to the cellar, and sprinted here. But just as she managed to unlock the heavy door, a guard noticed her and brought a tactical machete down in a brutal arc, completely severing her right hand. That was the exact hand that had embroidered handkerchiefs for me. The hand that had held my medicine bowls when I was sick. Sarah’s face went ghastly white from the sheer, incomprehensible agony, but she used her remaining left hand to fiercely grip the doorframe. “Ms. Claire, run! Go to the back gate, I already have a car waiting for you…” Before she could finish her sentence, the guard drove the blade brutally through Sarah’s chest. Sarah’s entire body collapsed backward onto the snow. By the time I dragged my broken body out of the cellar and collapsed beside her, Sarah… wasn’t breathing anymore. An apocalyptic, towering inferno of hatred exploded in my chest. I ripped the bloody blade from the guard’s hands and stumbled wildly into the courtyard. In the center of the estate, Arthur was standing with his arms crossed, watching my father being beaten half to death with cold, dead eyes. Hearing the commotion, he whipped his head around and barked aggressively: “Claire Bennett! Who the hell let you out?!” I threw my body over my father’s fading, bloodied form, shielding him from the blows. “ALL OF YOU, STOP IT RIGHT NOW!” A dark, dangerous fury began to pool in Arthur’s eyes. “Claire. Are you genuinely so arrogant that you think I won’t severely punish you?” Right in front of his eyes, I pulled the heavy, blood-soaked blade from the folds of my ruined dress. Arthur let out a cold, mocking laugh. “What? Threatening suicide again?” “You’ve used this pathetic trick a million times. I’m completely sick of looking at it.” “If you actually have the guts, then go ahead and…” [Detachment from current world countdown: 10 seconds.] [9, 8, 7…] Before he could finish his sentence, I drove the heavy steel blade brutally and flawlessly directly into my own heart. “Thirty strikes with the cane. I am paying you back, with interest, using my own life!” Crimson blood erupted like a geyser from my chest, violently splattering directly across Arthur’s face. The arrogant, mocking superiority in his eyes instantly shattered, replaced by a massive, apocalyptic tidal wave of absolute terror.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400801”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Harrison Vance, a billionaire titan in the city, sponsored two underprivileged students from my university. One was Christopher, a brilliant, top-of-his-class senior destined for Wall Street. The other was me—Chloe. Just empty beauty, with a GPA that barely kept me enrolled. During our first meeting, Harrison asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I answered honestly: “I want to marry a rich man just like you.” Harrison rolled his eyes. “Rich men aren’t blind, sweetheart. Thanks, but no thanks.” But later, I saw him with his Italian leather shoe pressing down on Christopher’s hand, crushing it into the pavement. His voice was like dry ice as he warned him: “Are you blind? Can’t you see Chloe belongs to me?” Chapter 1 Since I was a little girl, my only dream was to marry into high society. And today, it looked like it was actually happening. The water was running in the hotel bathroom. Harrison had me pinned against the steamed-up mirror, kissing me so deeply I could taste the expensive scotch on his breath. His breathing was ragged, a hectic flush spreading across his handsome face. It was obvious: someone had roofied him. Morality told me I shouldn’t take advantage of a man in this state. But cold, hard logic told me I’d be an idiot not to. Harrison Vance was the ultimate prize. If I didn’t take this shot, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. Especially since he was the one initiating it… But just as my hand settled on the leather belt around his waist, something bizarre happened. Lines of glowing text suddenly floated across my vision like a live stream chat: 【Stop, you dumb home-wrecker! He’s hallucinating. He thinks you’re the main character, not the villain.】 【This side-piece is so shameless. If Harrison hadn’t picked her name through a random lottery for the sponsorship, she wouldn’t even be in this room. Now she thinks she’s going to go from rags to riches?】 【Don’t worry, when he wakes up and realizes he slept with the wrong girl, he’s going to throw her to the sharks!!】 Thrown to the sharks? My hand trembled with fear, but Harrison grabbed it, holding it steady. His voice was hoarse as he whispered against my ear, coaxing me: “Baby, please. Help me.” I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. But I was terrified of becoming shark bait. Breaking away from his grip, I shoved him into the bathroom and locked the door from the outside. Then, crying, I dialed Christopher’s number. “Chris, you have to come to the hotel. Now. Mr. Vance… I think someone drugged him.” Waiting in the VIP hospital wing later that night, I kept my eyes on the floor, praying Harrison wouldn’t remember what happened when he woke up. He already didn’t care for me much. Christopher saw how anxious I was and tried to comfort me. “Don’t be scared, Chloe. Mr. Vance is strong. He’ll be fine.” Before he could finish, the long lashes of the man on the bed fluttered. Harrison… was waking up. I gripped the hem of my dress, heart in my throat, trying to think of what to say, when an anxious female voice cut through the air— “Harrison!” A second later, I was shoved aside violently. I stumbled, nearly going down, but Christopher caught me just in time. It was Maya, his secretary, dressed in a sharp black blazer. She was already frantically opening her laptop bag, rambling about some minor emergency at the firm. Harrison leaned back against the pillows, rubbing his temples with his long fingers. He gave her a lazy, barely interested response. The text chat floating in my eyes spiked again— 【LOL, Maya is such a girl-boss. She loves work more than Harrison does. True main character energy!】 【Maya would get up from her deathbed to check stock options!】 【You guys don’t get it. Harrison only admires successful, career-oriented women. Not like the pointless, ambitionless side-character. She’s insufferable to look at.】 I rolled my eyes mentally. Okay, I get it, she’s great. Do you have to drag me to lift her up? People have different goals in life! Suddenly, my eyes caught a specific line in the chat: 【Is no one looking at Christopher in the corner? He’s been secretly in love with Chloe since freshman orientation. He finally got to hold her hand today to save her from falling. Bet he’s on cloud nine right now.】 Christopher is in love with me?! Before I could process the shock, Harrison’s dark, fathomless eyes locked onto mine. His gaze shifted from my face down to my hand, which Christopher was still holding. His expression suddenly soured, his tone turning irritable. “How long do you two plan on making a scene in here?” Yes, irritable. I had realized a long time ago that Harrison particularly loathed me being near Christopher. We were both sponsored by him. Christopher was valedictorian material. I was the girl who fell asleep the second I opened a math textbook. When Harrison launched his foundation, he said he would help us find our respective paths in life before we turned twenty. In a pristine, glass-walled conference room, Harrison’s assistant had laid out various personalized life plans for us. I picked the “Marry Wealthy” plan immediately. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?” Harrison asked, leaning back, tapping a cigarette on his lighter. I was staring at his face, completely lost in his looks, and my true thoughts slipped out. “I just want to marry a rich man like you.” Predictably, he sneered. Through the drifting smoke, Harrison half-closed his eyes, scanning me from head to toe. “Breathtaking beauty, undeniable class, exceptional personal ability, and a powerful family background. A successful trophy wife needs at least two of those four things.” “Which one do you have?” Back then, I was wearing a faded T-shirt and worn-out jeans, my hair dry and brassy. I looked completely out of place in his world. But I was stubborn. “How will I know if I don’t try?” Harrison said nothing more. But his assistant murmured with obvious disappointment, “What a total waste of a sponsorship slot.” And so, every day after that, Christopher worked tirelessly on finance cases and investment research, planning his entry into the business world. I, on the other hand, worked tirelessly on fashion trends and makeup techniques, planning my entry into high society. Over time, Harrison started looking at me more often. His gaze was strange, impossible to read. I allowed myself to think he didn’t hate me as much anymore. Until the day I accidentally stumbled upon him reprimanding Christopher. Harrison was sitting imperiously behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he said, “Stay away from Chloe. You two are not walking the same path.” From that moment on, I understood. Harrison was terrified that a “bad apple” like me would ruin the masterpiece he was carefully cultivating in Christopher. Harrison was discharged later that afternoon. Christopher offered to help me take him home. When Harrison heard this, he frowned with obvious displeasure. “Did you finish that market analysis I assigned you?” Christopher scratched his head awkwardly. “Not… not yet.” Defeated, I had to take him home alone. Inside the town car, Harrison and I sat in the back. He was close. The clean, scent of cedarwood from his cologne filled my nose. It inexplicably reminded me of that hot, mirror-steaming kiss… I immediately rolled down the window halfway. I needed air. I also secretly watched Harrison’s reaction through the reflection. Since he woke up, he hadn’t mentioned it once. It seemed he really didn’t remember. That evening, I cooked a few light, healthy dishes. “Not much brainpower, a coward, but at least you can cook,” Harrison remarked. He was unusually biting today. Sometimes, I really wanted to drug him. Just with something to shut him up permanently. As I was clearing the table, the floating text appeared again. 【To be fair, she really knows how to take care of him. And she’s gotten so much prettier over the last year. I actually support her marrying rich, as long as she stays away from Harrison.】 【Girl, look at Christopher instead. He might be broke now, but he’s Harrison’s protégé. His future is limitless!!】 【By the end of the book, Christopher opens his own firm. He’s making millions.】 I stared at the text, losing my train of thought. The rich men I currently had access to all had flaws. The loyal ones were too old; the young ones were too wild and slept around. Harrison was perfect in every aspect, but he would never want me. Thinking it over, Christopher was actually the best option I could realistically reach. He was always good to me. But if I wanted to be with Christopher… I’d probably have to get through Harrison first. Perhaps encouraged by the text, I glanced at his study. The light was still on. I put on some flawless makeup, then knocked on the study door. A short “Come in” followed. Harrison was working and didn’t even look up. I gathered my courage and called his name. “Mr. Vance…” Only a single desk lamp lit the room. He finally looked up. I gripped the hem of my dress, looking directly at him. “Do you think I’m beautiful now?” Harrison was silent for a long moment, his Adam’s apple moving slightly. “…You’re alright.” My cheeks flushed hot, but I kept going. “Then, do you think I can marry into wealth now?” Another long silence. He stared at me with an unreadable expression before giving an ambiguous answer. “Maybe.” I was shocked. Harrison didn’t immediately shoot me down. Emboldened, my eyes lit up. “Then, do you think Christopher and I make a good match?” Harrison’s warm gaze instantly turned to ice. “So, the rich man you want to marry is Christopher?” Chapter 2 “So, the rich man you want to marry is Christopher?” When those words came out of Harrison’s mouth, the desk lamp flickered. It wasn’t because the bulb was bad; his hand had slammed down on the base of the lamp. I didn’t notice that detail. My mind was too busy trying to figure out how to say this right. “Christopher has great character, he’s driven, and he treats me—” “I asked you,” Harrison interrupted me, his voice not loud, but the study was so quiet I could hear myself swallow, “if the man you want to marry is Christopher.” It wasn’t a question anymore. It was a demand for confirmation. I nodded. Harrison said nothing. He turned and pulled a tan accordion file from the very bottom shelf of the bookcase. He threw the file onto the desk with force. It hit so hard my phone slid to the edge, nearly falling off. “Open it to page fourteen.” I stood frozen for two seconds before opening the file. It was the original sponsorship agreement I had signed years ago. To be honest, I never read it. It was twenty pages of dense legalese; I would have fallen asleep by the second line. Page fourteen, section three. “During the term of sponsorship, the recipient must obtain written consent from the sponsor for any major life decisions, including, but not limited to, the establishment of romantic relationships.” I read that sentence three times. Then I looked up at Harrison. “This can’t be right.” “What’s not right?” “The life plan you set for me was to marry rich,” I pointed to the other plan in the file, “yet this says I need your written permission to date—so do you want me to get married or not?” Harrison reached for his pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and clicked his lighter twice. No flame. He threw the lighter down and kept the unlit cigarette between his fingers. “Christopher does not qualify as ‘wealthy’.” “Then who does?” “We’ll talk about that when he actually makes something of himself.” I let out a frustrated laugh. “Mr. Vance, what kind of man do you actually want me to marry?” He didn’t answer. “Or—” I took a step forward, testing the waters, “do you just not want me to marry anyone at all?” The study went silent for a very long time. It was so long I didn’t think he would ever answer. Harrison put the unlit cigarette back into the pack, closed the lid, and tapped his fingers twice on the surface of the box. When he spoke, it was a complete non-sequitur. “That lipstick you’re wearing today. Don’t wear it again.” I stood my ground. He hadn’t looked at me once since I came in. How did he know I was wearing lipstick? The text chat floated by again. 【He saw her the second she came in. The lamp flickered because his hand shook when he realized she had made herself up for him.】 【The sponsorship agreement clauses contradict each other. Harrison knew that when he wrote them. It’s a logical trap—she can never get married because he will never agree to anyone.】 I stared at the text, a cold chill slowly creeping up my spine. This agreement was a cage from the very beginning. The next day, I asked Christopher to meet me. The coffee shop was just outside the university’s east gate. It was a tiny hole-in-the-wall; our knees nearly hit the table legs when we sat down. Christopher arrived wearing a new button-down shirt. The creases from the packaging were still visible; he clearly just bought it. After sitting down, he stirred his coffee three times but didn’t take a sip. I didn’t drink mine either. “Chris, I need to ask you something.” “Shoot.” “Do you think… you and I are a good fit?” The spoon in his coffee stopped moving. He didn’t look at me. His ears turned a brilliant red, spreading to the tips. It wasn’t a shy pink; it was the deep red of holding something in for too long that was suddenly exposed. “Chloe, why are you asking this so suddenly—” “Just wondering.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He started stirring the coffee again, twice as fast as before. The text chat exploded in my eyes. 【Christopher has been in love with her since freshman orientation. During military drills, he stood in the third row, she was in the first, and he stared at the back of her head for seven days straight.】 【The last line of his senior thesis acknowledgments originally read, “And to Ms. Chloe Evans, for being the light in my darkest days.” Harrison saw it and made him change it to “To all who helped me.”】 【Do you guys know why he brings her breakfast every time they meet? Because she nearly fainted from low blood sugar in the cafeteria once freshman year, and he’s never let her skip a meal since.】 I looked at the boy across from me, who was stirring his coffee so hard he was practically drilling a hole through the cup. He loved me. It wasn’t just the word “crush” that the text used. It was four years of hot soy milk at the cafeteria entrance every morning. It was never saying no when I asked for help. It was coming to meet me today, even though Harrison had warned him off and he was clearly terrified. My original plan was to confirm his feelings and then team up with him to negotiate terms with Harrison. But sitting here, watching him unable to even form a complete sentence because he was so nervous, that plan suddenly felt disgusting. I was using him. I was using four years of sincere devotion as a bargaining chip. “Chris,” I stood up, the chair screeching harshly against the floor. “I just remembered I have to be somewhere.” He snapped his head up. “You deserve someone who actually loves you back,” I said, grabbing my purse, unable to look him in the eye. “That’s not me.” Pushing open the glass door of the coffee shop, the outside wind rushed in. I walked ten or fifteen paces before my phone buzzed. It wasn’t Christopher. It was Harrison. No text. Just a photo. It was a side profile shot of Christopher and me sitting across the table. The angle was from across the street. It was so sharp I could see the foam art in my cup. I stood on the curb, my thumb hovering over the screen for five seconds. Then I typed: “Good shot. Want me to pose next time?” Harrison replied instantly. “No need. I already saved the one where you’re smiling.” I hadn’t smiled the entire time. Which photo did he save? I stared at that text for a long time. “I already saved the one where you’re smiling.” I definitely hadn’t smiled in the coffee shop today. Either he was lying, or the photo he saved wasn’t from today. The thought made my skin crawl. I didn’t reply. I shoved the phone back into my purse and walked quickly back to the university. By the time I returned to Harrison’s townhome, it was 7:00 PM. The living room lights were off. There was an extra pair of women’s high heels next to the shoe rack in the entryway. Black, stiletto heels, a size larger than mine. I changed into my slippers and walked in. The dining room lights were on. Maya, Harrison’s secretary, was sitting at the table. A file was spread open in front of her, and an untouched glass of water sat next to it. When she saw me, her expression was calm. It wasn’t the calm of someone waiting for a person; it was the calm of a judge waiting to deliver a verdict she already knew. “Ms. Evans, please, have a seat.” I didn’t sit. “Where’s Mr. Vance?” “Mr. Vance is out of town on business. His flight just took off.” She pushed the file towards me. “This is the termination notice for your sponsorship agreement. Mr. Vance has already signed it. You have one week to move out.” I looked down at the termination notice. The formatting was very formal—company letterhead, serial number, date. At the very bottom was Harrison’s electronic signature. The reason for termination read: “Recipient has substantially achieved the development goals; sponsorship relationship naturally concludes.” I read every word. Then I flipped to page two, page three. “Ms. Evans, do you need me to explain any of the clauses?” Maya’s voice was steady. Too steady. I had seen her report to Harrison. She spoke fast, was organized, and would occasionally swallow nervously under Harrison’s gaze. But sitting here, facing me alone, she was far more composed than she ever was with him. “Maya,” I laid the file down, “the reason says ‘development goals substantially achieved’.” “Yes.” “My agreement stated the conclusion criteria as ‘marrying into high society’.” I looked her in the eye. “I haven’t married anyone yet. How is it achieved?” Maya’s finger twitched. A tiny movement; her index finger lifted slightly from the table and dropped back down, as if she had been pricked. “Ms. Evans, development goals and conclusion criteria are not the same concept. Mr. Vance believes your current personal cultivation has—” “Mr. Vance believes?” I interrupted. “Or you believe?” The dining room went silent for a few seconds. I pulled out my phone to call Harrison. “His phone is off,” Maya was faster than me. “You won’t reach him until he lands.” “Then I’ll wait.” “The one-week notice starts tomorrow,” Maya stood up, picking up her glass. “I suggest you start looking for a new place.” As she walked to the entryway to change her shoes, I opened the original sponsorship agreement—the tan accordion file Harrison had pulled from the shelf last night. It was still on his desk. I read it from beginning to end. On the very last page, in the bottom right corner, was a line of handwritten text. The handwriting was Harrison’s; I knew his hard, angular script. “This project has no set expiration date.” By the time I grabbed the agreement and ran out, Maya was gone. The clicking sound of her high heels on the steps outside grew fainter and fainter. I took a picture of the handwritten line and texted it to Harrison. I wrote: “Your handwritten note says ‘no set expiration date,’ your secretary says I move out in a week. Which of you runs this show?” The message was sent, shown as delivered. No “read” receipt. Of course not; he was on a plane. The text chat floated by just then, a single line. 【Maya forged Harrison’s electronic signature. She has authorization to sign business documents on his behalf, but a sponsorship agreement is not a business document.】 I put the phone down and re-examined the signature on the termination notice. Then I opened the photo Harrison had texted me earlier—the one in the coffee shop. I zoomed in on the bottom right corner, on the watermark. Harrison didn’t take that photo. The watermark had a tiny logo. It was the brand of Maya’s phone case. I didn’t sleep at all that night. It wasn’t out of fear. I was thinking about one thing: Why did Maya want to kick me out? If it was Harrison’s idea, he didn’t need to use his secretary. He could have told me to my face in the study last night. If it wasn’t Harrison’s idea… for a secretary to forge her boss’s signature to kick out someone he was sponsoring—that takes incredible nerve. Unless she had a reason more important than keeping her job. Around 4:00 AM, the text appeared again. 【Maya has been secretly in love with Harrison for six years. Since the first day she started as an intern.】 【She used to think she knew Harrison better than anyone. Until Chloe Evans arrived. Harrison started changing his schedule for a poor student, pushing meetings, even cooking for her—things he had never done for anyone.】 I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. So this wasn’t a business move. It was a jealousy move. At 7:00 AM, I didn’t pack a single bag. I went to the kitchen and made coffee and breakfast. Then I sat at the dining room table and waited. At 8:10 AM, Harrison’s plane landed. At 8:43 AM, my phone rang. Harrison. I didn’t answer. I texted him: “Breakfast first. Coffee is on the counter, food is on the table.” At 9:30 AM, the front door opened. Harrison walked in, carrying his blazer. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. He looked more like he hadn’t slept than I did; the left side of his shirt collar was messed up, standing askew. He looked at the food on the table, then at me. “You’re still here.” “Why wouldn’t I be?” He draped his coat over the back of a chair and sat down. He picked up his fork, took a bite of eggs, and chewed slowly. “That thing Maya gave you. I saw it.” “You saw it, but you have nothing to say?” “I was on a plane.” “And after you landed?” Harrison put his fork down. “After I landed, I made a phone call.” “To who?” “To Maya.” When he said her name, his tone was flat, like he was remarking on the weather. “Her signing authority was revoked as of this morning. The termination notice is void.” I let out a breath, but only halfway. “And the photo?” Harrison’s hand paused for a second as he reached for his coffee. “What photo?” “The one in the coffee shop. You texted ‘I already saved the one where you’re smiling’—Maya took that photo, not you. Right?” I pushed my phone towards him, zoomed in on the watermark. Harrison looked at it for three seconds. Then he did something I completely didn’t expect. He flipped my phone over, screen-down, onto the table. “She took the photo.” “And the text? Did she send the text too?” “I sent the text.” “So you looked at a photo she took of me, and then used your own phone to text me that sentence?” “Yes.” “Don’t you think that’s incredibly—” “Incredibly what?” I swallowed the words. I was going to say “incredibly creepy.” But I couldn’t say it looking at him. He wasn’t aggressive, or cold. He was watching me with an intensity that was almost… honest. Like he didn’t feel he had done anything wrong. Like in his mind, monitoring where I went, saving photos of me, stopping me from marrying someone else—it was all perfectly logical. The text floated by just then. 【Harrison remembers everything from the bathroom incident. He’s been waiting for Chloe to admit it herself.】 The fork in my hand clattered onto the table, bounced, and rolled onto the floor. Harrison looked down at the fork. “Why are you nervous?” “I’m… I’m not.” “Then why are your hands shaking?” I hid my hands under the table. He didn’t press the issue and went back to his breakfast. After a few bites, without looking up, he said one more thing. “Next time you do your makeup, don’t use that shade of lipstick Christopher complimented you on. Use a different color.” I had never told him Christopher had complimented my lipstick.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400800”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When my male neighbor found out I was a small business owner who only worked three hours a day, he rapid-fired sixty-eight text messages to me in the middle of the night. “I saw you bought more makeup. Who gave you permission to spend money like that?” “Don’t think you’re special just because you make good money! Let me remind you, your income needs to go toward supporting our future family!” I was completely bewildered, and naturally, my response wasn’t exactly polite. “That’s absolutely none of your business, is it?” The moment I sent that, he exploded. “How is it none of my business?! You’re going to be my wife! Every extra dollar you spend now is a dollar missing from my bank account!” “Also, about the dowry. We’re thinking eighty grand in cash and a brand new Audi A8. Have you saved up enough yet?” “Oh, and by the way, I’m not sexist or anything, but I want the perfect family. We must have both a son and a daughter!” He unleashed this insane barrage of texts, making my blood boil. I didn’t even bother replying; I just blocked his number immediately. But I never expected this guy to be a lingering nightmare. Days later, he showed up at my company as the lead project manager to negotiate a contract. Watching him sit across from me, confidently running his mouth and demanding endless concessions, I simply waved my hand. “I think we’re done here. Let’s cancel this partnership.” As soon as the words left my mouth, the atmosphere in the conference room plummeted below freezing. The smug smile on the face of my neighbor, Caleb Vance, instantly froze. The regional director who had come with him offered a panicked, apologetic smile and asked cautiously, “Ms. Evans, our collaboration on this project has been going perfectly so far.” “Why the sudden decision to terminate?” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “There must be a reason, right? Otherwise… it’s going to be very hard for me to explain this to the board!” I offered a dry, sarcastic smile, lazily pointing a finger at Caleb. “The reason is very simple. It’s because of him…” “Chloe Evans! Are you ever going to stop?!” Caleb violently shot up from his chair, slamming his palm against the conference table with a loud thud. He glared at me, his face red with anger. “There are a lot of people here today! I won’t say anything too harsh!” “If you want to throw little tantrums with me at home, fine!” “But today is a professional setting! Reel in your terrible attitude right now!” He then picked up the contract file and slammed it back down onto the table. “I’m finalizing this deal right now! It’s settled!” The regional director looked at Caleb with absolute awe, then frantically pushed the contract toward me. Conversely, my own managers sitting next to me were looking around in utter confusion. One of them opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. I pressed my lips together into a thin line. “Caleb Vance, who the hell are you to me? What gives you the right to make decisions on my behalf?” “Do we even know each other?” A flash of intense embarrassment crossed Caleb’s eyes, but he stubbornly pushed through, attempting to soften his tone. “Alright, Chloe, stop being mad at me!” “There are people watching! I’m still your man!” “Can’t you at least leave me a little dignity?” Hearing that, every single person in the room gasped audibly. The regional director immediately jumped on the opportunity. “Ms. Evans, we totally understand that you and Caleb are having a little lover’s spat.” “But we’re on company time right now. We have to prioritize the work. You absolutely cannot let personal feelings ruin this deal!” Before he even finished his sentence, the conference room door swung open. Six security guards marched in in perfect formation. My executive assistant, who also happened to be my best friend, stood behind me and gestured to the guards, speaking with absolute coldness. “I’m sorry, but our CEO has spoken. This partnership is terminated.” “You can either leave on your own two feet, or I can have security escort you out.” The regional director was stunned. He frantically elbowed Caleb in the ribs, hissing, “Say something!” “Hurry up and sweet-talk your girlfriend! If this deal falls through, you know exactly what the consequences are!” Caleb grew even more aggressive. He reached out and grabbed my arm, his voice thick with irritation. “That’s enough!” “I tolerate it when you blow money on stupid things!” “Are you really trying to push me to the edge today?!” My patience had completely evaporated. I violently shoved him away. “Caleb, are you clinically insane?!” “We don’t even know each other! Doesn’t it feel completely pathetic to walk in here and announce yourself as my boyfriend?” The regional director’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Ms. Evans, please don’t say things you’ll regret in anger!” “Did Caleb do something to upset you? Please, just calm down! Calm down!” I found the entire situation hilariously absurd. “Is there something wrong with your ears, or am I not speaking English?” “I have absolutely zero relationship with Caleb Vance!” “He’s entirely delusional, trying to manifest his way into being my boyfriend!” “Chloe Evans!” Caleb roared, staring at me with bulging, furious eyes. “Don’t push it!” “Keep acting like this and I’ll break up with you!” Seeing that he was still completely submerged in his own psychotic fantasy, and having no desire to waste another second on him, I gave the order: “Escort them out.” As he was being dragged away, Caleb was still shouting threats. “You stupid bitch! You haven’t been put in your place for a few days and you’re getting itchy, aren’t you?!” “You dare disrespect me like this?! Just wait until we get home! I’ll beat the living hell out of you!” The regional director seemed to finally realize something was horribly wrong. He remained silent, his face dark as a thundercloud. Once the walking plague was finally gone, my assistant—my best friend, Maya—leaned in. “Chloe, who the hell was that guy?” “Is he a psychopath? Why was he calling himself your boyfriend?!” I rubbed my temples, completely exhausted. “I have no idea!” “He wasn’t this unhinged before.” “In fact, he initially acted like I was completely beneath him!” About six months ago, I moved back into an older, working-class apartment complex. Everyone I knew thought I was crazy. They asked me why, when I was so wealthy and owned a massive luxury condo downtown, I would choose to live in an old, inconvenient building. “I built my business from nothing. That apartment holds too many beautiful memories from my early struggle.” So, the very first thing I did when I made it big was buy back my old apartment. During my first week there, my neighbor, Mrs. Vance, brought her son over to introduce us. She even thoughtfully presented our “credentials” to each other. “This is Chloe. She’s twenty-seven. What did you say you did for a living again, sweetie?” We didn’t know each other well, so I just gave a vague, non-committal answer and laughed it off. I didn’t expect that the second I finished speaking, Caleb would flick his cigarette ash right by my feet. “Mom! How many times have I told you? Stop trying to set me up with these low-quality women!” “I’m a senior corporate executive! I know you want grandkids, but you can’t just drag any random nobody off the street and expect me to settle!” Finally, he looked me dead in the face and sneered mercilessly, “Bringing me out to look at trash like this is a total waste of my time.” The second he walked away, Mrs. Vance grabbed my hands, bowing repeatedly to apologize. “Chloe, I am so sorry! I raised a fool! Please don’t be angry!” “Let me apologize on his behalf!” I have a soft heart, and I can’t stand seeing an older woman grovel like that, so naturally, I didn’t hold it against her. But I never expected that, two days ago, Caleb would suddenly add me on the community WhatsApp group. “You’re Chloe, right?” “I’m your neighbor, Mrs. Vance’s son. Caleb!” At the time, I was reviewing contract details. The moment I saw his name, I knew he was the lead manager for the opposing firm. Just as I was preparing to shift into a professional gear to discuss the project details, a barrage of unhinged accusations flooded my screen. “My mom told me you run a small business and make decent money?” “What’s the point of making money? The important thing is knowing how to save it and hoard it!” “By the way, how is your fertility? Are you healthy? Are you still pure?” Staring at the endless stream of psychotic texts, I was completely shell-shocked. Remembering all this, I handed my phone to Maya. “Look at what he sent me.” Maya scrolled through the chat logs, her jaw dropping. “This guy is clinically insane.” Right at that moment, the CEO of Caleb’s company called my private line. His voice dripped with blatant flattery. “Ms. Evans, I was hoping to understand how our partnership suddenly fell apart.” “You’ve always been known for keeping business and personal matters strictly separate. Why let emotions dictate things today?” “Caleb told me all about the little spat between you two. If you ask me, couples fight, but it never lasts overnight…” “Mr. Davis.” I interrupted him, my patience completely gone. “I think you have a massive misunderstanding. I have absolutely no relationship with Caleb Vance!” “We don’t even know each other!” After I briefly explained the situation, I could feel the suffocating silence radiating through the phone. Sure enough, five minutes later, Mr. Davis sent me a photo. It was Caleb Vance’s termination notice. “Ms. Evans, I am deeply apologetic that something like this occurred. I have already fired Caleb!” “As for the profit margins, to make up for this unpleasantness, I am willing to concede an additional five percent.” “Regarding the contract, could we perhaps sit down and renegotiate?” He was showing immense sincerity, and it would be bad business to refuse. That very night, we set a time and booked a high-end restaurant. But just as I arrived at the restaurant entrance, Mrs. Vance suddenly grabbed my arm, her face drenched in tears. “Chloe, my son made a terrible mistake! He wronged you!” “But you can’t be this ruthless!” “At the end of the day, you two are husband and wife! What kind of grudge could possibly be this deep?!” Right beside her, Caleb dropped to his knees in front of a crowd of people, wrapping his arms around my calves in a vice grip. “Wife!” “I was wrong! I know I was wrong!” “Please, just forgive me, okay?” The restaurant entrance was busy, and pedestrians instinctively stopped, staring at us with insatiable curiosity. Caleb pressed his face desperately against my leg. The warm, damp sensation of his tears made me feel incredibly nauseous. “Wife! If you want to be mad at me, be mad! But why would you tell people we don’t know each other?!” Mrs. Vance aggressively joined the performance. She collapsed onto the sidewalk, slapping her thighs in dramatic, theatrical despair. “Oh, dear God!” “What sin did I commit in a past life to deserve this?!” “Chloe, have I been a bad mother to you?” “Why are you doing this?!” She sobbed loudly, addressing the growing crowd. “Everyone, look at this!” “Who has a more unfilial daughter-in-law than me?!” “Just because my son criticized her for spending too much money, not only did she tell everyone she doesn’t know him, but she actually made his boss fire him!” The moment she finished, the crowd didn’t even give me a chance to explain. They immediately turned their righteous fury on me. “That is disgusting! Getting your husband fired over a petty argument? If that was my wife, I would have beaten her half to death!” “You can tell just by looking at her face that she’s bad news. She looks like a gold-digger!” “Look at how glamorous she’s dressed, and look at her husband in cheap clothes. This woman is completely ungrateful!” I was burning with fury. I desperately tried to explain to the crowd, “I do not know this man!” “Please, someone call 911!” I was sweating profusely from panic, but someone in the crowd loudly voiced their doubts. “She doesn’t look like she’s faking it… maybe we should call the police?” “I agree, this seems like something the cops should handle!” “Chloe! Can you please stop this?!” Caleb looked at me with an expression of deep, tortured devotion. Then, he pulled two bright red, official-looking marriage certificates from his pocket. “She is my wife!” “We are legally married!” I stared at those two marriage certificates, completely dumbfounded. To ensure the crowd believed him, he flipped them open. “Look, the people in this photo are us.” “This is fake! I don’t even know him!” “Chloe! Has it really come to this?! Are you still refusing to forgive my son?” Mrs. Vance’s voice cracked, shrill with panic. “Do you want him to die right in front of you before you admit he’s your husband?!” I was losing my mind. All I could do was silently pray that someone had actually called 911 and that the police would arrive quickly. Caleb had one hand gripping my leg, and his other hand locked around my wrist. He leaned his entire body weight against me, dropping his voice so only I could hear. “Let me tell you right now, you are not escaping today!” “The one thing you women care about most is your reputation, right?” “I’m going to completely destroy your reputation. Let’s see if you submit to me then!” I turned my head and locked eyes with his venomous, psychotic glare. In a split second, his eyes filled with tears again. Before I could react, he grabbed my hand and started violently slapping his own face with it. “Wife! Hit me! Beat me to death!” “As long as you forgive me, I’ll do anything!” Mrs. Vance practically crawled to my feet. “Chloe! If you’re still angry, beat me!” “I’m old and useless! But I’m not blind!” “My only wish is to see you and Caleb living happily together!” My attempts to defend myself were instantly drowned out by the roar of the crowd’s condemnation. “This woman is absolute trash!” “Yeah, and the guy is an idiot too. Can’t he just divorce her?” “What do you know? That’s true love!” As the crowd swelled, all I could do was scream at the top of my lungs, “They are trying to kidnap me! Please, call 911!” “I really don’t know him!” Suddenly, a booming voice echoed from the crowd. “I can vouch for him!” “The woman standing right there…” Looking at that familiar face, a wave of relief washed over me. But a second later, he laughed and said: “Is 100% this man’s wife!” “They are a married couple!” My voice caught in my throat, coming out as a hoarse shriek. “You’re lying!” “Mr. Davis! You know exactly what my relationship with Caleb is! Why are you lying?!” Mr. Davis casually adjusted his expensive watch, speaking with absolute entitlement. “You’re the one lying, aren’t you?” “If Caleb hadn’t shown me your wedding photos, I really would have fallen for your act!” Caleb nodded in solemn agreement. “Thank you, Mr. Davis!” “If you hadn’t helped me trick Chloe into coming here, I really wouldn’t have known what to do!” “Chloe, please just be reasonable, okay? Forgive me, please?” “I know I messed up!” His grip on my wrist was brutal, the pain radiating up my arm making it hard to breathe. I had no idea where Caleb had hidden my phone during the scuffle. My last sliver of hope rested entirely on the crowd. “I swear to God, I don’t know him! Please, someone call 911!” There was a time when I would scroll through true crime videos online about women being kidnapped in broad daylight, and I could never understand why they couldn’t just run away. Now, living it in real time, I finally understood. In this kind of chaotic, overwhelming situation, compounded by Caleb’s manipulative victim-playing, Mrs. Vance’s hysterical crying, and a “credible” witness validating their story… It was nearly impossible for me to escape. Caleb gripped my wrist like a vice, a sickeningly smug smile on his face. “Stop wasting your energy! No one is going to believe you.” Sensing an opening, I lunged forward and bit down as hard as I could on his forearm. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth instantly, spreading rapidly. Caleb gasped in excruciating pain and instinctively shoved me to the ground. I broke free and scrambled to my feet, sprinting away as fast as I could. But the crowd was too thick, mostly comprised of men. They formed a human wall, physically blocking my path and refusing to let me through. “Everyone, help me stop her!” Furious, Caleb lunged forward and grabbed me again, dragging me back. Gritting his teeth, he delivered a brutal backhand slap across my face. “Bitch! I’m trying to give you an out and you spit in my face!” “You want to run?!” “Fine! Give me back my dowry and every single dollar I ever spent on you!” Mrs. Vance wailed theatrically, “This is marriage fraud! This is marriage fraud!” Hearing this, the crowd’s disgust toward me reached an absolute fever pitch. “This is literally a gold-digger in the flesh!” “Wow, this is wild! This woman has zero shame!” “How much money did you steal from him?! Pay him back right now!” I had barely opened my mouth to speak when Caleb delivered another vicious slap. “You dirty whore! I was completely blind to marry you!” Just as the words left his mouth, the wail of police sirens pierced the air in the distance. I let out a massive sigh of relief, using every ounce of energy I had left to scream for help. The police quickly pushed through the crowd and reached us. By this point, my face was swollen like a balloon, but I forced myself to stay conscious to report the incident. But the moment I managed to choke out the word “Officer,” the tears began falling like broken pearls. “My husb—” Before I could finish the sentence, Caleb stepped forcefully in front of me, lifting his chin arrogantly. “What?” “Are the police getting involved in domestic disputes now?” “I am simply disciplining my own wife!” The lead officer, his face carved from stone, stared at him. “You’re saying she’s your wife?” Caleb nodded arrogantly. “Obviously.” “Who gave you the right to— AHHHH! IT HURTS!” The officer’s hand clamped down like a steel trap on Caleb’s shoulder, violently spinning him around to face me. “Her name is Chloe Evans, and she is my legally wedded wife!” “Are you implying that my wife would leave me for a pathetic piece of trash like you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400799”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the first Monday back after the holidays, the entire company was in a frenzy, sprinting to hit our Q1 targets. Except for me. I was blatantly staring out the window, lost in thought. No one bothered me. Because last year, I was the sole reason the company’s revenue spiked by thirty million dollars. The CEO himself had granted me a special privilege: “You can do whatever the hell you want.” But our newly hired Director of Operations didn’t know that. He smashed my personal laptop in front of the entire floor and demanded I pay a three-thousand-dollar fine to set an example. I didn’t say a word. I just made one phone call, packed up my desk, and walked out. The very next morning, my former CEO drove to my apartment himself, begging me to come back to work. Because the number I dialed yesterday… Belonged to the private cell phone of his biggest rival’s CEO. On the first Monday back after the New Year, the whole company was scrambling. I was the only one leaning against the window, staring at the skyline. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hallway. Someone was trying very hard to make their presence known. “Just her?” “Yes, Mr. Thorne. This is our ‘special’ employee, Elena Vance.” I recognized the second voice. It was Derek Hayes, the recently promoted Deputy Director. I turned around. A man in his early thirties was standing in front of me. Derek trailed right behind him. Both men stood with the exact same arrogant, puffed-out posture. Derek tipped his chin up. “Elena, this is our newly appointed Director of Operations, Marcus Thorne.” Marcus didn’t say hello. His eyes landed on the laptop resting on the windowsill behind me. “Yours?” I didn’t answer. Derek immediately stepped forward. “Mr. Thorne, that’s her personal laptop. She refuses to use the company-issued hardware…” Before Derek could finish his sentence, Marcus reached out and picked up my laptop. “So, if you use your own laptop, that gives you the right to zone out during company time?” He raised his arm high. And let go. The laptop slammed against the hardwood floor. The sound of the screen shattering was crisp and deafening. The entire open-plan office instantly plunged into a dead silence. Marcus stepped right over the shards of glass and walked up to me. “Elena, I hear your numbers were great last year. That was last year. It’s a new fiscal year, which means new rules.” Derek immediately threw gasoline on the fire. “Mr. Thorne, she’s always acting entitled! Just because she closed a few deals, she never attends team-building events. Slacking off on the most important day of the quarter? She needs to be disciplined!” Marcus pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and shoved it in my face. It was a memo on the company’s Slack channel. Posted three days ago by Marcus Thorne. “Read it carefully,” he sneered. “Rule number three: Anyone caught slacking during business hours will be fined a hundred dollars. Anyone publicly violating company policy and causing a severe negative impact will face aggravated penalties, starting at one thousand dollars.” He pocketed his phone. “Your behavior constitutes a severe negative impact. You are fined three thousand dollars. Pay it to the finance department by the end of the day. If you can’t pay it, pack your shit and get out.” I looked down at the shattered remains of my laptop. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed Richard Sterling, our CEO. He answered on the second ring, sounding surprised. “Elena? Happy New Year…” I cut him off. “Richard, the new Director of Operations just smashed my laptop and demanded I pay a three-thousand-dollar fine, or I’m fired. I’m just calling to confirm: is this your directive?” The line went dead silent for two seconds. Then, Richard’s voice spiked. “What?! Marcus did what? Hold on, I’m calling him right now!” I hung up. Marcus and Derek were still standing there. Marcus had a smug smirk on his face. “Calling the CEO? Cute. I’ll wait.” He turned and started walking toward his glass-walled office. After a few steps, he glanced back. “Derek, stay here and keep Ms. Vance company while we wait.” Five minutes later, the phone in Marcus’s office rang. He picked it up, murmured a few words, and his posture visibly relaxed. When he hung up, he walked back out, hands shoved deep into his tailored pockets, looking down his nose at me. “Keep waiting.” Just two words. Then, he and Derek strolled off down the corridor. A second later, my phone vibrated. Richard Sterling. I answered. Richard’s voice was suddenly diplomatic, even laced with a nervous little chuckle. “Elena, hey… I just got off the phone with Marcus to get his side of the story. He said you were slacking off, just staring out the window first thing in the morning?” I didn’t say a word. “Look, he’s new, he’s trying to establish some discipline for the good of the company. Your numbers were beautiful last year, but it’s a fresh start. You need to get your head back in the game. Are you… maybe overreacting a little? Let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill. We’re all on the same team here.” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. I looked down the hall. Marcus and Derek were standing by the corner, sharing a victorious, mocking laugh. I looked at my shattered computer on the floor and spoke softly. “I understand, Richard.” My phone buzzed against my ear. A text from a headhunter: [Victor Cole from Vanguard Tech is asking if you’ve made a decision yet?] I swiped the notification away. I didn’t reply. The next afternoon, the company held its Q1 kickoff meeting. The massive conference room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with employees. I sat in the very last row, pressed against the wall. I had two Band-Aids wrapped around my fingers from picking up the glass yesterday. Marcus stood at the podium, his suit buttoned tight. Behind him, the projector displayed a massive, bold title: [New Beginnings. New Rules. New Heights.] He grabbed the microphone, scanning the crowd before locking his eyes directly on my section of the room. “I am well aware that this company used to harbor certain ‘special’ employees. People who relied on past achievements to stroll in late, leave early, skip team events, and treat company policy like a joke.” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Marcus brought the mic closer to his mouth, raising his voice. “Starting today, all special privileges are revoked! Every single employee will clock in, attend meetings, and submit daily and weekly performance reports!” He paused, his gaze pinning me to the wall like a dagger. “And that includes those who think they are above the law.” A few people in the front row started clapping. Derek stood up, clapping louder than anyone else, repeatedly turning around to sneer at me. A smattering of nervous applause followed. I didn’t move a muscle. When the meeting ended, the crowd began to filter out. I was the last one to stand up. Just as I reached the door, Derek jogged up to me, clutching a pink slip of paper. “Elena, hold up.” He slapped the slip directly onto my chest. “Three thousand dollars. Pay it to finance before you clock out today, or it counts as a no-show. Mr. Thorne said rules are rules. No exceptions.” I glanced down at the penalty slip, then back up at his smug face. “My computer is smashed. How exactly am I supposed to work?” Derek’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Was it a company computer? Figure it out yourself. Since you love using your own gear so much, just go buy a new one. It’s not like you’re broke.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his head. “Oh, by the way. Your desk has been moved to the spot by the restrooms. We need your old office for a new senior hire starting this afternoon. Better start packing.” I didn’t argue. I walked past him and headed into the bullpen. When I reached my desk, I bent down and started pulling things out of my drawers. A few notebooks, my coffee mug, a box of unopened pens, and the crystal trophy I was awarded at last year’s gala. Engraved on the glass: Apex Innovations – Employee of the Year. I placed the trophy into a cardboard box. I could feel the eyes of my coworkers on me. They would steal quick glances and immediately look away when I turned. Marcus strolled down the aisle, stopping about ten feet away. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Derek, crossing his arms and watching me pack. I carried my box toward the back of the floor, to the cramped desk right next to the bathrooms. The desk was tiny, covered in a layer of dust. Two massive boxes of printer paper were stacked in the corner, smelling faintly of mildew. I set my box down. At 2:00 PM, I was called into the HR office. The HR manager didn’t even look up as she slid a clipboard across the desk. “Elena, Mr. Thorne has assigned you to reorganize the basement storage archives this afternoon. Character-building exercise. Everyone has to do it.” I took the clipboard. The basement was a windowless dungeon, packed to the ceiling with expired legal files, broken office chairs, and promotional t-shirts from five years ago. I spent the entire afternoon hauling boxes alone. The sharp edges of the cardboard sliced into my hands, drawing fresh blood. I blindly wrapped them in paper towels and kept lifting. By 7:00 PM, I was finally home. I didn’t even bother turning on the lights. I collapsed onto my sofa, opened my contacts, and scrolled down to [Victor Cole]. My thumb hovered over the call button. I suddenly remembered what Richard Sterling had told me at the company gala last year. He was holding a glass of champagne, his face flushed with alcohol and success, patting my shoulder and laughing so hard I could see his molars. “Elena! From now on, whatever you want, you get it! The company rules don’t apply to you. You ARE the rule!” I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh and locked my phone. The next morning, I had barely sat down at my dusty desk by the restrooms when footsteps echoed down the hall. Marcus led the charge, holding a manila folder. Derek flanked him like a loyal guard dog. They stopped right in front of me. Marcus tossed the folder onto my desk. A few pages slid out, scattering across my keyboard. “Elena. This is the Q4 audit report on the accounts you managed last year. Several of the financial metrics don’t add up. We strongly suspect you fabricated your performance numbers. The company is launching a formal investigation. You are suspended pending the results.” I looked down at the papers. I knew those numbers backward and forward. I could recite them in my sleep. But the spreadsheets in front of me had been completely doctored. The gross revenue was slashed by 30%. Operating costs were inflated by 20%. The net profit margin was literally in the red. Derek stepped up beside my chair, crossing his arms, his voice dripping with venomous glee. “Elena, I never thought I’d see the day. You were so high and mighty last year. The CEO practically served you tea himself. Look at you now.” The surrounding coworkers kept their heads down, but the frantic clicking of their keyboards noticeably slowed. Everyone was listening. I looked up, staring dead into Marcus’s eyes. “Are you sure you want to play this game?” Marcus stood up straight, stepped around my chair, and leaned in close. His voice dropped to a sinister whisper only I could hear. “Let me spell it out for you, Elena. Richard doesn’t give a damn about you anymore. I had drinks with him last night. He told me he paid you way too much last year and it went to your head. This is my company now.” He stood back up, casually dusting off his immaculate suit jacket. “Pack your things. Don’t bother coming in during the investigation. Hand over your keycard.” I didn’t move. I could feel the stares of everyone on the floor. Pity. Indifference. Most of them were just enjoying the free entertainment. I slowly stood up from my chair. I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. Right in front of Marcus’s smug face, I opened my contacts, found the number I had left uncalled for three months, and hit dial. It rang twice. A deep, steady voice answered. “Elena? You finally decided to call.” “Victor. I accept your terms.” The line was quiet for exactly one second before a rich laugh echoed through the speaker. “Excellent! I’ve been waiting three months for those words. I’ll send a car to pick you up tomorrow at 8:00 AM.” I hung up. Marcus stood completely still. The arrogant smile hadn’t fully faded from his face, but his eyes were suddenly laced with uncertainty. Derek leaned in and whispered frantically, “Mr. Thorne, who did she just call?” Marcus ignored him, glaring daggers at me. I started packing my bag. There really wasn’t much to take. My laptop was already dead. I shoved a few notebooks into my purse. Then, I picked up the heavy crystal Employee of the Year trophy. I walked right past Marcus without a second glance. As I reached the elevator banks, Marcus’s voice echoed down the hall, intentionally loud enough for the whole floor to hear. “Let her posture! What kind of waves does she think she can make?” Derek laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. I didn’t look back. THUD. I tossed the crystal trophy directly into the metal trash can by the elevators. That afternoon, I put my phone on silent and tossed it into my purse. Derek called me five times. I didn’t answer a single one. At that exact moment, I was sitting in a luxury boardroom on the 27th floor of Vanguard Tech’s global headquarters. Sitting across from me was Victor Cole. He personally poured me a cup of artisan tea. “The paperwork is all finalized. Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM, my driver will be downstairs.” I picked up the teacup. “Perfect.” Meanwhile, back at Apex Innovations, Derek was pacing nervously outside Marcus’s office, clutching his phone. “Mr. Thorne, she’s not answering.” Marcus didn’t even look away from his monitors. “Let her ignore us. What is she going to do, destroy the company?” “But the audit file…” Marcus waved his hand dismissively. “Have someone else redo it. I’m glad she’s gone. I was sick of looking at her. She’s just a sales rep who thinks she’s a god.” Derek opened his mouth, swallowed his words, and walked away. The next morning. 7:58 AM. Richard Sterling walked into the Apex executive conference room holding a mug of black coffee. The long table was packed with department heads. The projector was humming. The morning sync was about to begin. The second he sat down, his phone started vibrating. Message after message. He frowned and opened the first text. [Industry Breaking News: Apex Innovations’ Star Rainmaker Elena Vance Officially Joins Vanguard Tech as General Manager of Strategic Development.] Attached was a high-res photo of me shaking hands with Victor Cole. All the color drained from Richard’s face. The coffee mug slipped from his trembling hand, crashing onto the mahogany table. Hot coffee splattered everywhere. Everyone in the boardroom stared at him in shock. He ignored them. His fingers shook violently as he dialed my number. [The number you have dialed is currently powered off.] He immediately dialed Victor Cole. It rang twice before Victor answered, his voice dripping with amusement. “Richard! How’s the new quarter treating you?” “Victor! What the hell are you playing at?! Elena signed a non-compete agreement with us!” Victor let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Richard, when she closed her first mega-deal for you, you publicly declared that the rules didn’t apply to her. A verbal waiver takes precedence. Everyone in the industry knows you said it.” “And as for that non-compete… you might want to check with your HR department. Are you absolutely certain you actually had her sign one?” “Don’t be so arrogant, Richard.” Richard’s phone nearly slipped from his sweaty grip. Victor added one final, twisting knife. “Oh, by the way. Thanks for hand-delivering me your best weapon.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400798”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Every year for my birthday, my boyfriend would team up with his childhood best friend to throw me a “surprise.” Last year, they rented out an escape room, claiming it was for my birthday party. I went inside and was locked in there for four hours. Outside, they were watching the security monitors, laughing so hard they couldn’t stand up. Inside, I was shivering uncontrollably from sheer terror. By the time the staff finally pulled me out, my legs were complete jelly. I’ve had severe claustrophobia ever since. Afterward, my boyfriend held me and apologized profusely, swearing he would never do something like that again, promising that this year, he would give me a proper, wonderful birthday. So, when my birthday rolled around this year, and he mysteriously invited me out to a bar… I specifically got my hair blown out, bought a brand new dress, and even busted my ass at work to make sure I could leave early. But the moment I happily pushed open the door to the private VIP room, a bucket of rancid, foul-smelling liquid poured directly onto my head. I stood frozen in the doorway. A thick, sticky red substance dripped down my hair and over my face. It was watered-down ketchup, mixed with crushed eggshells that were now clinging to my bare shoulders. The entire room erupted into exaggerated, booming laughter. “I told you she’d wear a dress tonight! Liam, you lose!” Liam stepped out from the crowd of his friends, holding out a napkin to me, acting exactly like he always did. “You dressed up so nice, too. What a shame.” “I made a bet with the guys on whether you’d wear a dress tonight. I bet you wouldn’t. If I won, I was going to take you out to pick your birthday present. If I lost, you’d have to wait until next year.” “Sorry about that. Since you wore a dress, no present for you this year.” The pungent, sour smell invaded my nose. I stared at him in absolute, dead silence. “So, you did know it was my birthday today?” He laughed, reaching out to playfully ruffle my ruined hair. “Of course I know. We’ve been together for six years, how could I forget?” The foul-smelling liquid dripped steadily down the hem of my dress. In that exact moment, I felt a profound, overwhelming wave of absolute disgust. My birthday was nothing but the punchline to a prank. Just like how my feelings were nothing compared to his childhood best friend. I reached up and unclasped the necklace around my throat. It was the very first birthday gift he had ever given me. “Then let’s break up.” 1 The sound of the delicate necklace hitting the floor was completely drowned out by the roaring laughter in the room. Liam frowned slightly. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s just a little juice. I’ll help you wash it out when we get home. You know how Chloe is, she’s been a prankster since we were kids. Honestly, she went easy on you this time.” “It’s so hard to get everyone together. Don’t make my friends think I’m dating someone who can’t take a joke.” Chloe, his childhood best friend, pouted and sauntered over. “Geez, Chloe, it was just a prank. If you hate it that much, we won’t do it again, okay? Don’t just throw around the word ‘breakup’.” “I told Liam you couldn’t handle it, but he insisted you come. Look what happened.” She huffed and threw herself onto the nearest leather sofa, puffing her cheeks out. Instantly, the gaze of everyone in the room shifted to me, their expressions turning judgmental and knowing. Chloe was the only daughter of a wealthy family in their elite, old-money neighborhood. She grew up pampered, the undeniable princess of their social circle. Whenever she was unhappy, everyone scrambled to coddle her. Liam was no exception. The first time I met her, she organized a game of Mafia. Everyone else drew standard character cards. But when it came to me, she secretly slipped me the ‘Siren’ card, leaned into my ear, and whispered: “When it’s your turn, read the lines for this character. Make sure you act really slutty.” I completely froze. I pushed the card back to her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her face instantly dropped. She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Can’t handle a game? Whatever. Forget it.” The way the rest of the group looked at me instantly shifted. I heard someone mutter, “Why is she acting like such a prude?” Liam frowned at me too. “It’s just a game, Chloe. Is this really necessary?” In the end, I didn’t play. I sat alone in a corner drinking soda for the entire night. Meanwhile, Chloe was laughing hysterically, eventually revealing that there was no ‘Siren’ card in the deck—she had just made it up to mess with me. Feeling exhausted by the bullying, I casually remarked that it wasn’t a very fun way to play. Chloe’s eyes instantly welled up with tears, and she ran out of the room crying. The entire group chased after her to comfort her, including Liam. What was supposed to be a welcoming party for me ended with me sitting in an empty room, entirely alone. Liam didn’t say anything about it afterward, but for future gatherings, unless Chloe explicitly gave the green light, he never brought me along. And now, Liam was glaring at me, his brows knitted in frustration. “Chloe, apologize to her.” In the past, just to fit into his world. Just to save him from embarrassment in front of his friends, I would have swallowed my pride. I would have apologized and smoothed things over before he even had to ask. But right now, standing here covered in garbage, I realized that me ending our six-year relationship carried less weight than Chloe experiencing a minor moment of displeasure. I finally understood that, from the very beginning, our entire relationship meant absolutely nothing to Liam compared to his bond with his precious childhood best friend. I reached down and picked up the small clutch I had bought specifically for tonight. I met their judgmental, mocking stares. “Liam, we are done. I mean it. It’s over.” I turned on my heel and walked toward the door, the hem of my dress still dripping sticky red fluid onto the floor. Behind me, I heard Chloe’s teasing laugh. “Your little ‘pick-me’ girlfriend is leaving. You really aren’t going to chase her?” Liam let out a cold scoff. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. If I actually chase her, what happens to you?” “Besides, she doesn’t have anyone else but me. She’s easy to calm down.” My heart, already sliced open, was burning. His words were like freezing wind scraping against an open wound. Six years ago, Liam had confessed his love to me right in this very bar, swearing I was the only girl for him. When I was seventeen, my parents divorced and immediately started new families. I was dumped at my grandmother’s house. After my grandmother passed away, I went through high school completely alone. I was terrified of relationships. I was terrified of relying on anyone. I rejected Liam five times. The last time, I was trying to pull laundry off the balcony line, lost my footing, and fell. He sprinted forward and caught me, but the momentum slammed the back of his head into the brick wall. He needed seven stitches. When I went to see him at the hospital, his eyes were red. “Chloe, why do you always have to act so tough? Can’t you just let me protect you?” In that exact moment, my walls crumbled. I thought that maybe, if I dated someone this gentle, life wouldn’t be so bad. That same day, he took me to the amusement park and officially asked me out. When he heard me say “yes,” this guy—who was usually so composed and serious—picked me up and spun me around like a little kid. We spun until we were dizzy, both collapsing onto the grassy lawn. He used his body to shield mine so the rocks on the ground wouldn’t hurt me. Sitting under the Ferris wheel, he swore to the starry sky above us that as long as he was around, I would never be lonely, and I would never be abandoned again. But now, the deep, vulnerable wounds I had finally gathered the courage to show him, the wounds that had finally started to heal, were being viciously ripped open by him all over again. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. I pulled out my phone, opened my email, and clicked on the international job offer that was about to expire. [Accept Offer.] Turns out, clicking those two words wasn’t hard at all. I looked up at the night sky, heavily polluted by the city’s neon lights. Liam, I actually wasn’t easy to calm down at all. And from now on, I will never need you to try. My flight was booked for the morning after next. I didn’t have much time. As soon as I got back to our apartment, I rushed to shower off the disgusting, sticky mess, and then immediately started packing. I didn’t own a lot of things. Packing was quick. One large suitcase and one carry-on, and I was done. At 2:00 AM, I booked a room at a nearby hotel. Just as I grabbed my bags to walk out the door, I ran straight into Liam, who was just getting back from the bar. He dumped a heavily intoxicated, stumbling Chloe onto the sofa, pulled a packet of brown sugar from his pocket, and handed it to me. “Good thing you’re still awake. She’s got her period but still insisted on drinking. Go boil some ginger and brown sugar water for her, or she’s going to have brutal cramps tomorrow.” I stood perfectly still, not moving an inch. When we first moved in together, my period cramps were so severe I was practically rolling on the floor. He had been a frantic, anxious mess trying to take care of me. In the middle of the night, I had tried to get up to boil my own ginger water. Because I was dizzy and distracted with pain, I ended up severely burning my hand on the stove. When he saw the burn, his sleepiness vanished instantly. Seeing me sweating from the pain, he was heartbroken and consumed with guilt. From that day on, he never let me touch anything remotely dangerous in the kitchen. Even when he was craving a home-cooked meal, he would rather order takeout than let me cook. For the past few years, I hadn’t stepped foot in the kitchen to cook a single meal. He even pre-cut all my fruit before handing it to me. To this day, there was still a sticker he made hanging on the kitchen door: [DANGER ZONE: CHLOE KEEP OUT.] I let out a dry laugh, walked over, ripped the sticker off the door, and threw it in the trash can. “Sorry, not my job. If her stomach hurts, she can boil it herself.” With that, I grabbed the handles of my suitcases, ready to leave. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip, pinning me against the front door. “Okay, Chloe, enough. Talk is one thing, but packing your bags? I already told you it was just a joke, stop being so dramatic.” “I know you were really looking forward to celebrating your birthday with me. I wanted to, too. Next year. We’ll celebrate together next year, okay?” His breath, laced with the smell of alcohol, brushed against my neck. But unlike the past, a few soft words weren’t going to fix this. I shoved him hard in the chest and slapped him squarely across the face. “Liam, I made myself perfectly clear. We are breaking up. I am not marrying you!” The slap didn’t just sober him up; it seemed to shock Chloe out of her drunken stupor on the sofa. She stumbled over, raising her hand to slap me back. “Who the hell do you think you are?! Who gave you the right to hit Liam?!” “Break up then! There are plenty of good girls out there! You… you’re nothing but a piece of trash!” A burning, stinging pain erupted across my cheek. My eyes blazing, I raised my hand to strike back. But Liam grabbed my wrist with terrifying force and violently shoved me away. The small of my back slammed hard into the metal door handle, a sharp pain radiating through my entire body. He shielded Chloe behind him, his expression filled with intense irritation. “She’s drunk! Why are you fighting with a drunk person?!” “Enough. Go outside and cool off. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” I stared at his complete apathy in sheer disbelief. He was treating me like an annoying, irrelevant stranger. He never looked at me again. Instead, he lowered his voice, gently comforting the drunk, erratic Chloe. He saved all of his tenderness for her. I dug my nails so deeply into my palms they almost drew blood. I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the door. After checking into the nearest hotel, I didn’t close my eyes until dawn. When I woke up, my phone was blowing up with notifications. Besides birthday wishes from friends, it was mostly messages from coworkers asking why I wasn’t at work, gossiping about whether I had some “good news” to share. My heart gave a painful throb. I typed a quick reply saying we broke up. I felt profoundly, deeply exhausted. The ping, ping, ping of notifications continued. Some thought I was joking. Some said it was impossible. Some even told me not to throw away a good relationship just because I didn’t get an engagement ring. After all, in their eyes, Liam was gentle, considerate, and eternally reliable. A rare, perfect catch. But they didn’t know that this “perfect catch”… On our two-year anniversary, arranged a romantic stargazing camping trip, only to use it as a setup for Chloe’s prank, having a fake “ghost” jump out of the woods and nearly giving me a heart attack. And on our five-year anniversary, he watched as rancid, rotting liquid was dumped all over me. He had his reliable moments, yes. But the person he was reliable for was never me. In the past, I had automatically blocked out all these awful moments, constantly gaslighting myself into believing that, aside from the Chloe situation, he was truly good to me. But now that I was awake, I realized that a relationship like this wouldn’t survive a marriage anyway. I offered a bitter smile and, out of habit, opened Instagram. Amidst the sea of birthday posts, Chloe’s photo carousel was the most prominent. Liam took her stargazing, rode roller coasters with her, and ate cake with her. Even though in the past he would always finish humoring Chloe before coming to celebrate my birthday… He had never, ever done any of those things with me. He always claimed those activities were too childish, that staying home and watching a movie was more meaningful. I thought it was just a sign of his maturity, so I suppressed all my girlish, romantic hopes. But now, looking at the relaxed, genuine smile on his face in those photos… I realized it wasn’t that those activities were childish. It was that doing them with me was a chore. The comment section was a miles-long parade of people calling them a perfect match. All our mutual friends had liked the post. It had more likes than our official relationship announcement did. Just as I was about to close the app, a message popped up. It was from Liam. 【Don’t get the wrong idea. I just took her out to clear her head. Come by the apartment when you have time, she said she wants to apologize to you.】 I frowned, my fingers hovering over the keyboard to type No thanks. A delivery notification suddenly popped up at the top of my screen. I tapped it. It was for the birthday present I had bought for myself weeks ago. The shipping address was still set to his apartment. I thought about it. I did need to make things crystal clear. And I needed to return his keys. A clean break. I got ready quickly and hurried over. But the second I stepped through the door, Chloe sprinted toward me and grabbed my hand. “Chloe, come here! I have a surprise for you!” Before I could react, she dragged me toward the balcony, shoved me outside, and— The door slammed shut. The lock clicked from the inside. It was a chilly March night. The wind was biting. I was only wearing a thin sweater, standing barefoot on the freezing balcony tiles. Through the glass door, I saw Chloe making a grotesque face at me, mouthing the words: “Happy Birthday!” I pounded on the glass, screaming her name. She just giggled, shook her head, and turned back to the living room. From inside, I could hear their laughter. Someone turned the music up. I heard the clinking of glasses. I pounded on the door for ten minutes. My hands were bright red. No one came. Twenty minutes. Half an hour. I started shivering violently. I didn’t know if it was the cold or the panic. I have severe claustrophobia. Liam knows this. Ever since Chloe locked me in that escape room, my claustrophobia had gotten exponentially worse. But right now, he was drinking and laughing with his friends. He had completely forgotten I was on the balcony. I curled into a tight ball in the corner, my body shaking uncontrollably. My throat was so tight I couldn’t even force a sound out. Until my vision went completely white. Right as my eyes fluttered shut, I heard a familiar voice through the glass. “Chloe!” When I woke up again, it was evening. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, the suffocating terror of confinement still lingering from my dreams. My movement woke Liam, who was dozing in the chair beside the hospital bed. “Chloe, you’re finally awake! You terrified me. The doctor said being in a confined space for too long, combined with extreme emotional distress, caused hypoxia and made you pass out.” “She really does want to apologize. You know she’s been spoiled since she was a kid, she doesn’t know where the line is sometimes. But she didn’t mean any real harm. Please don’t hold this against her, okay?” In his desperate, rapid-fire rambling, there wasn’t a single shred of concern about whether this trauma would permanently worsen my claustrophobia. Only excuses for her. I looked at him. I looked at the face I had loved for so many years, a face that now felt completely alien to me. Tears suddenly spilled down my cheeks. “I’m not angry. I just feel profound regret. I never, ever should have dated you.” He froze. He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone screen lit up. Seeing the name [Chloe B.], Liam instantly swallowed his emotions. “I need to step out for a second. Get some rest. I’ll be right back.” He walked out quickly. Driven by a morbid impulse, I pulled myself out of bed and followed him. Through the crack in the heavy fire doors of the stairwell… I saw him sitting next to Chloe. “It’s okay, stop beating yourself up. She won’t be mad. She always gets over it.” Chloe punched him lightly on the arm. “If she can’t even handle this, imagine if she knew you only asked her out because we made a bet! A bet on whether you could get her to sleep with you in a month! She’d absolutely lose her mind!” In that split second, it felt like a bomb detonated inside my skull. Besides a deafening ringing, I couldn’t hear a single thing. Liam covered her mouth, looking around nervously. “Shh! Keep your voice down! That was years ago, take that to your grave!” My legs gave out. It felt like every bone in my body had been vaporized; I couldn’t even stand. The questions that had tormented me for years finally had their answers. Why, when forced to choose between the two of us, I was always the one discarded. Why Liam, who swore he loved me, could stand by and watch her hurt me over and over again. I had been stupid enough to believe he was just naturally non-confrontational and didn’t know how to say no to a friend. I never imagined that every single thing he gave me was a lie. Even what I thought was our beautiful, cinematic meet-cute… was just a predatory bet, and I was the prey. To them, I was never Liam’s girlfriend. I was just a pathetic clown performing for their amusement. In that moment, every last shred of my dignity was annihilated. I clamped my hand over my trembling mouth. I had to leave. Leave this suffocating, fraudulent nightmare. I took a cab back to the hotel, grabbed my luggage, and headed straight for the airport. I changed my ticket to the earliest available international flight. Right before takeoff, a message from Liam popped up on my screen: 【The doctor said you need to stay overnight for observation. Don’t wander off. Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.】 Looking at his hypocritical, sickening concern, I laughed until there were tears in my eyes. I didn’t reply. I blocked his number, blocked Chloe’s number, and deleted every single mutual friend we shared. Liam. I’m officially tapping out of your sick little game.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400797”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was five years old, I was adopted from the foster system by the wealthy Montgomery family. My sole purpose was to be a companion for their only daughter, Chloe. The very first time Chloe saw me, she grabbed her best friend, Liam, by the hand, ran over, and split her candy in half with me. From that day on, the three of us became an inseparable trio. The “Iron Triangle.” Until the summer after high school graduation, when I finally accepted Liam’s confession of love. After that, Chloe quietly applied to a college three thousand miles away. The night before she was supposed to leave, she went to a bar to drink away her sorrow. She was dragged into a dark alley and brutally assaulted until she died. Liam and I lived the rest of our lives carrying an unbearable, suffocating guilt. When I turned forty, I was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease). The night before I died, Liam held my rapidly deteriorating body, sobbing so hard he shook. “Anna, I love you. I have always loved you.” “But if there is a next life, I have to protect Chloe. I absolutely cannot let anything happen to her ever again.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exact day Liam was planning to ask me out. Inside the karaoke room, our classmates were screaming into the microphones, beer bottles clinking loudly against the glass tables. Liam and Chloe were missing. The horrific image of Chloe’s mutilated body in that dark alley flashed violently through my mind. My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone and texted her. “Chloe, I’m not feeling well, so I headed home early. Please come home soon.” I grabbed my purse, muttered an excuse to the person sitting next to me, and practically ran out the door. Standing in the elevator, I leaned against the metal wall, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. In this life, I absolutely will not let history repeat itself! When I got back to the Montgomery estate, it was dead silent. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery were already asleep. I tiptoed upstairs. As I passed Chloe’s room, I saw the door was slightly ajar. Sitting on her desk was a framed photo of the three of us from elementary school. Tears fell before I could stop them. In my previous life, I had been so wrapped up in the joy of accepting Liam’s confession. I completely failed to notice Chloe’s forced smiles and her shattered heart. Later, when it was time to submit our college applications, Chloe secretly chose a university in freezing, remote Alaska. The night before she left, she went to that bar. When we finally found her, she was lying in that damp, foul-smelling alley. She looked like a ragdoll that had been torn to pieces. There wasn’t a single patch of untouched skin on her body. The bruises, the lacerations, and the lingering terror and absolute despair in her dilated, lifeless eyes… it became a nightmare that Liam and I could never, ever escape. We stayed together, bound by our massive, shared guilt, trying to keep each other warm while simultaneously torturing each other. Until I was diagnosed with ALS, my body slowly freezing into a living corpse. The night before I passed away, he held me, his scalding tears dropping onto my neck. He said: “Anna, if there is a next life… I have to guard Chloe properly. I can never let anything happen to her again.” … My breath hitched violently, a sharp pain seizing my chest. The tragedy of our past life will absolutely not happen again. I went back to my room and didn’t sleep a wink all night. The next day, the angry, questioning phone call I expected from Liam never came. My iMessage and texts were completely silent. According to the timeline of my past life, after I ghosted his meticulously planned confession, given his personality, he should have stormed over to demand an explanation immediately. I opened my phone and saw a few scattered messages in our class group chat. “Liam has been hanging out with Chloe all day today!” “Yeah! They’re inseparable. Didn’t he act super mysterious yesterday, saying he was going to do something huge?” “And Liam is acting incredibly protective of her today.” “Do you think there’s something going on between them?” My confusion deepened. I put my phone down and went downstairs to get a glass of water. I saw Liam and Chloe sitting in the living room. Chloe was laughing, talking to him while peeling an orange and popping a slice directly into his mouth. Liam didn’t pull away. His gaze was entirely focused on her. When Chloe shifted slightly to the left, his eyes tracked her immediately. Seeing Chloe so vibrant and alive, a wave of intense emotion washed over me. I walked over, clutching my water glass. “Chloe.” She looked up, her smile radiant. “Anna! Come here! The oranges Liam bought are so sweet!” I was just about to sit down when someone suddenly grabbed my arm. Liam yanked me around the corner into the hallway, pinning me aggressively against the wall. He gripped my shoulders so hard it hurt. He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his voice dropped to a lethal whisper: “Anna. Stay away from Chloe.” I froze. He continued, “Stay away from me, too. It’s better for all three of us this way.” His eyes were a storm of regret, self-blame, and a complex, indescribable agony. I stared at him, stunned. In a fraction of a second, all the missing pieces connected, exploding in my mind! Liam. He had been reborn too. After that day, I became the sole target of Liam’s “special attention.” As long as I came within ten feet of Chloe, he would materialize instantly, physically wedging himself between us. If I went to the kitchen for water and passed through the living room where she was, his entire body would tense up. If I took three steps toward her, he would immediately stand up. One time, Chloe was standing on a dining chair, trying to reach a photo album on the top shelf of a cabinet. I reached out to help her. Before my hand could even touch hers, Liam lunged forward and roughly swatted my arm away. “I’ve got it.” He shoved my arm so hard I stumbled back two steps. Chloe glared at him. “What is your problem?! Why are you being so mean to Anna?!” He didn’t explain. He just pulled the album down and handed it to her. Chloe turned to me, offering a sweet, apologetic smile. “Just ignore him. He’s been acting like he ate a bowl of gunpowder lately.” With that, she pulled a piece of chocolate from her pocket and shoved it into my hand. “Liam bought it! We can split it! What’s mine is yours~” The chocolate still carried the warmth of her palm. I clutched it tight, my nose stinging with unshed tears. When we were little kids, this was exactly how she had shared her candy with me. But I knew I couldn’t get close to them anymore. I stopped participating in any activities that involved the two of them. Chloe invited me out ten times, and I rejected her ten times. My excuses ranged from being lazy, to having a headache, to needing to study at the library. She finally realized something was wrong. That weekend, she forcibly “arrested” me and dragged me to a dessert shop. Liam followed closely behind, his face dark as a thundercloud. Chloe aggressively scooped her mango shaved ice, her eyes full of worry. “Anna, seriously, what is going on with you?” “The three of us haven’t hung out together in forever. Did you… get into a fight with Liam?” I stirred the boba in my milk tea, unable to look her in the eye. “No. I’m just… the SAT scores are coming out soon, and I’m really anxious.” I tried to change the subject, acting as casual as possible. “Have you thought about which colleges you’re applying to?” “Honestly, the local State University is great. It’s close to home, and their programs are strong. If you go too far away, your parents will worry.” The moment those words left my mouth, Liam, who had been completely silent across the table, snapped his head up. His voice was ice cold. “Staying close to home isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes, the further away certain people are, the better it is for everyone.” The implication was glaringly obvious. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Chloe froze, then lightly shoved his shoulder. “Liam! Watch your tone! Why are you acting like such a jerk?!” She turned back to me, offering a comforting smile. “Anna, seriously, ignore him. He forgot to take his meds today.” Watching Chloe aggressively defend me, my heart felt simultaneously warm and agonizingly broken. Late that night, I curled up in bed, and a flood of beautiful memories crashed over me. At six years old, some neighborhood kids mocked me for being an orphan. Liam and Chloe teamed up and beat them until they cried. At twelve, when I had a high fever, they skipped class, climbed the school fence, and bought me hot soup. At fifteen, sitting on the roof, we screamed at the stars, promising to be “best friends for life.” … All that kindness… it was real. But now, the cautious, disgusted look in Liam’s eyes when he looked at me… that was real, too. The day before the college application portal opened, Chloe and I sat on the swings in the neighborhood park, swaying gently. The setting sun stretched our shadows long across the grass. I hesitated for a long time before finally speaking up. “Chloe, no matter what happens in the future… please, never go to a bar or a club by yourself. It’s not safe.” “If you’re ever feeling upset or depressed, you can call me anytime, okay?” Chloe blinked, then burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, Mom! I don’t even like those loud, annoying places anyway!” I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a voice, vibrating with suppressed rage, echoed from behind us. “Anna. Evans.” I didn’t know when Liam had arrived, but he was standing a few yards away, his face looking absolutely murderous. He took long, aggressive strides toward us, grabbed Chloe by the arm, and yanked her off the swing. “We’re leaving.” “Liam, what is your problem?! I’m talking to Anna!” “There’s nothing left to talk about.” Liam dragged her away, shooting a warning glare over his shoulder at me that was thick with venom. “Anna. Stop trying to brainwash Chloe with your cryptic bullshit.” As Chloe was being dragged away, she kept looking back, shooting me confused and apologetic looks. I stood rooted to the spot, watching their silhouettes shrink in the distance, unmoving, until my entire body felt freezing cold. When it was finally time to submit our college applications, I sat right in front of Chloe and Liam and selected the exact same local State University as them. Chloe cheered in excitement. Liam stared at me, his eyes dark and unreadable, but he didn’t say anything else. What they didn’t know was that later that same night, I opened my laptop. I submitted applications to several prestigious universities overseas, and then I spent hours researching the early-onset symptoms of ALS. That weekend, Mrs. Montgomery cooked a massive, elaborate dinner and specifically invited Liam to stay. At the dining table, Mrs. Montgomery kept putting the best cuts of meat onto Liam’s plate, smiling so hard she couldn’t close her mouth. “Liam, eat up. We really appreciate you spending so much time with Chloe lately. This girl has been smiling like a fool all week.” She then shot me a loving look. “In this house, both Chloe and Anna are my precious girls.” Chloe giggled. “Mom, you’re being so cheesy!” Mr. Montgomery chuckled warmly. “Liam is a solid, reliable kid. Knowing he’s looking out for you gives us incredible peace of mind.” The atmosphere at the table was incredibly warm and domestic. Chloe chattered non-stop about her college plans, while Liam offered occasional, quiet agreements. I ate my food silently. It tasted like ash in my mouth. Mrs. Montgomery looked at Liam and Chloe sitting side-by-side, suddenly letting out a soft sigh. “You know, I never really thought about it before, but looking at you two now… Liam and our Chloe really are a perfect match. You look so good together.” The moment the words landed, the entire dining room fell dead silent. Chloe’s face instantly flushed a dark, brilliant red. She stole a shy glance at Liam. Liam didn’t look up from his plate, but he didn’t deny it, either. Mrs. Montgomery then scooped a bowl of soup for me. “And Anna too. I know you’ll find a wonderful man who will love and cherish you.” I took the bowl. My fingertips were ice cold, but I forced a perfectly shy smile onto my face. “Thank you, Mom.” After dinner, I cleared the table and went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Just as I turned on the faucet, I heard footsteps behind me. Liam stood in the doorway, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. “Anna. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery just want what’s best for Chloe. They saved you from the foster system. You owe them a massive debt of gratitude.” My heart began to sink, inch by inch. “I logged into the portal and changed your college application. You’re going to the University of Alaska. It’s far away from here. It’s better for you.” The water rushed loudly into the sink. I gripped the ceramic bowl in my hands tightly. He was right. Being far away from here was better for me. But hearing those words come out of his mouth still felt like a jagged knife twisting in my chest. I turned off the water and turned around to face him. “Okay.” He froze for a second. He probably hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. I dried my hands and walked past him. “Liam, protect Chloe. I won’t come near either of you ever again.” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. That night, an email notification lit up my screen. It was an acceptance letter from a top-tier university overseas. Attached was also an invitation to participate in a cutting-edge clinical research program focusing on early intervention for neurodegenerative diseases. I stared at the screen for a very long time before finally knocking on Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery’s bedroom door. I showed them the acceptance letter on my phone. Mrs. Montgomery gasped. “Anna, you want to study abroad?” I nodded. “I want to see the world.” Mr. Montgomery was silent for a moment before asking, “Do Liam and Chloe know?” I shook my head. “Could you… please not tell them just yet?” “I’m afraid they’ll try to stop me. You know how Chloe is; she’ll definitely try to make me stay.” Mrs. Montgomery sighed heavily and gently stroked my hair. “Silly girl. If you want to fly, then fly. We’ll help you keep it a secret from Chloe.” My eyes burned with tears. I dropped to my knees and bowed my head deeply to them. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom.” Mr. Montgomery pulled me up, his own eyes red. “We’re family. You never have to thank us.” The next day, I booked my flight. The departure date was three days after Chloe’s birthday. Two days before her birthday, I went up to the roof to bring in the laundry. Down in the garden below, Liam and Chloe were sitting together on a bench. Chloe seemed a bit sleepy, her head nodding slightly. And then, her head gently came to rest on Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s body went completely rigid for a fraction of a second. But he didn’t push her away. He slowly lifted his hand and gently stroked her hair. I turned around, my eyes stinging painfully. As soon as I walked back inside, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Chloe: “Anna! Liam is taking me to the amusement park tomorrow! Do you think he’s going to…” Before I could finish typing a reply, she sent a rapid-fire string of blushing emojis. I typed: “He definitely likes you.” She replied instantly: “Really?!?!?!” “Really.” That night, Chloe came into my room and refused to leave my bed. “Anna, honestly, I used to think he liked you. I secretly cried about it so many times.” I turned my head to look at her. She continued, “But I really hate how mean he’s being to you lately. I’ve yelled at him about it so many times, but he never listens.” I smiled softly. “It’s okay. How he treats me doesn’t matter. As long as he treats you well, that’s enough.” “Of course it matters! You’re my best friend! What gives him the right to be mean to you?!” I didn’t say anything. I just pulled her into a hug. Chloe, you don’t know. He’s mean to me because he’s trying to protect you. On Chloe’s birthday, the Montgomerys hosted a small, intimate party at the house. Liam’s entire family was there. Mrs. Montgomery held Chloe’s hand in one of hers, and Liam’s hand in the other. Tears welled in her eyes, but her smile was overwhelmingly joyful. “Seeing you two so happy together… as parents, it’s the greatest comfort we could ever ask for.” I stood on the outskirts of the crowd, watching Chloe’s face flush bright red. Suddenly, she stood up. “Liam, I… I have something to tell you.” The entire room went dead silent. She took a deep breath. “I like you. I’ve liked you since we were kids. Will you… will you be my boyfriend?” Liam stared at her. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly. The hopeful light in Chloe’s eyes began to dim with every passing moment of his silence. Just as she was about to burst into tears… Liam closed his eyes for a second, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then, very slightly, but undeniably, he nodded. He said, “Yes.” The room erupted into cheers. Mrs. Montgomery cried tears of joy, covering her mouth. Liam’s parents were grinning from ear to ear. Chloe launched herself like a joyful little bird straight into Liam’s arms, hugging him fiercely. Liam’s arms hovered in the air for a moment, before slowly, securely wrapping around her. He lowered his head and gently kissed the crown of her hair. I stood hidden in the shadows near the doorway, quietly watching this perfect, happy scene unfold. The warm glow of the candles illuminated every smiling face. I thought back to my previous life. I thought of his scalding tears, and the words he had forced out with the last ounce of his strength: “If there is a next life… I have to protect Chloe properly.” Liam. In this life… you did it. I quietly turned around and walked back to my room. I placed the gift I had prepared on Chloe’s desk. It was a glass jar, filled with hundreds of origami stars I had spent the last week folding. Inside every single star, I had written the exact same sentence. “Chloe, be happy.” I rolled my suitcase down the stairs. The party in the living room was still loud and vibrant. No one noticed me. The taxi was waiting outside the gate. I got in. Closed the door. The airport. The security line. The boarding gate. My phone buzzed. A text from Chloe: “Anna!!! Where did you go?! I looked all over the house for you! Mom said you went out to buy me a present?” “Hurry back! Liam gave me a necklace, it’s so beautiful! I want to show you as soon as you get home!” I typed: “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.” I powered the phone off. The plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air. Outside the window, the lights of the city grew further and further away. I leaned my head against the seat and closed my eyes. Memories flashed through my mind like a movie reel. At five years old, Chloe grabbing Liam’s hand and splitting her candy with me. At fifteen, eating popsicles on the roof, promising to be best friends forever. At eighteen, the brilliant light in Liam’s eyes when he confessed his love to me. And in my past life… the sterile white hospital room, him holding my freezing, dying body, his tears burning my skin. “If there is a next life…” Finally, the reel stopped on tonight. In the flickering candlelight, him nodding and saying “Yes.” Chloe throwing herself into his arms, her smile absolute perfection. The tears I had held back for so long finally, uncontrollably, flooded down my face. In the quiet cabin of the airplane, no one noticed. Goodbye, Liam. Goodbye, Chloe. I hope that in this life, the two most precious people I have ever known get everything they ever wanted. I hope you stay safe, happy, and grow old together. As for my battle… it lies thousands of miles away in a foreign country, fighting against a body that is destined to betray me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400796”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While hiking deep in the mountains, we decided to spend the night in an abandoned chapel. In the middle of the night, I was violently awakened by the unmistakable, sickening sounds of my best friend and my boyfriend sleeping together. I quietly sat up in my sleeping bag to eavesdrop. “You’re a genius for using this hiking trip as an excuse.” “I locked the heavy wooden doors. She can’t escape. There’s an old stone well out back. After she falls asleep, we’ll smash her skull in with the hatchet and dump her at the bottom.” My blood ran completely cold. Trembling, I silently crawled behind the crumbling altar at the front of the chapel to hide. They had absolutely no idea that my hometown was just a few miles from this mountain ridge. And they had absolutely no idea that the deity worshipped in this specific chapel wasn’t a saint. It was a demon. Listening to my boyfriend and my best friend whisper about my murder, a freezing, unnatural gust of wind swept through the room, sending a shiver down my spine. The deep wilderness. A ruined chapel at midnight. Three people. There’s an old superstition in the mountains: Never enter a haunted shrine alone. Looking at my situation now, three people shouldn’t enter one, either. Murdering me. That was the real reason they dragged me out into the wilderness for this hiking trip. I didn’t have the time to feel heartbroken over my boyfriend’s betrayal, and I didn’t have the luxury of wondering why they wanted me dead. Right now, my only thought was how to make it out of here alive. My boyfriend, Carter, had bragged before we went to sleep about securing the heavy iron deadbolt on the main doors. My best friend, Riley, had tightly latched the only two windows. The only remaining exit was a jagged, gaping hole in the chapel’s rotten roof. Right now, this abandoned building was a perfect locked-room trap. If I tried to make a run for it, I would instantly alert them. One against two. I had zero chance of winning a physical fight. Was I really destined to die here tonight? As my heart hammered against my ribs, my eyes darted around and caught sight of the wooden idol resting on the altar. By the pale moonlight filtering through the roof, I could clearly see the idol’s features. It was a carving of a short, hunched old man squatting on a pedestal. He had a round face, a creepy smile, a crescent moon carved into his forehead, and a massive beard that touched the floor. He wore a complex, blood-red crown. It was the Caretaker of the Earth. I instinctively looked at the idol’s eyes. Normal statues of the Caretaker always have intricately carved eyes. But the eye sockets of this specific idol were completely hollow, resembling two pitch-black, bottomless pits. This was the exact entity from my hometown’s darkest urban legends! It was only then that I remembered I had never told Carter the exact location of the rural town where I grew up. Because I hadn’t been back in years, and Carter had driven a completely unfamiliar backroad to get here, I hadn’t even realized we were on the outskirts of my hometown. This meant that if I could just escape this chapel and run into the woods, I would eventually hit familiar territory and find the neighboring villages. But the only way out of this chapel… was him. But local lore always warned: Once you invite the Caretaker, it is almost impossible to send him away. I gritted my teeth. Walking on my tiptoes, I carefully bypassed the corner where those sickening, intimate noises were coming from. I crept up to the idol, reaching into the shadows behind the pedestal to pull out a single, unlit wax candle. Placing candles or offerings behind the idol was a tradition in these parts, meant to make it easier for passing travelers to pay their respects. Lighting three candles was a standard prayer of respect. But lighting exactly one candle… was a desperate summon. This was something my grandmother had taught me. But at the same time, she had given me a terrifying warning. “If you ever find yourself facing certain death, light a single candle to the Caretaker and sincerely whisper your plea. The Caretaker is immensely powerful and can solve any problem. But successfully summoning him is a massive gamble. It all depends on your fate!” “However, unless you are completely out of options, absolutely never light a single candle to him. Inviting a demon is easy, but banishing it is hell. Catastrophic things will happen.” My grandmother had repeated that final warning to me countless times. But right now, I was truly facing a brutal execution. I had no choice but to follow her instructions. I quietly pulled a lighter from my pocket and lit the wick. The tiny, flickering orange flame was glaringly obvious in the pitch-black room. Cold sweat poured down my face. I closed my eyes, pressed my trembling palms together, and silently pleaded in my head. Caretaker of the Earth, Carter and Riley are going to murder me. I don’t want to die. I want to live. I don’t want to die, please let me live… I placed the candle onto the iron tray at his feet. My grandmother had said that if the candle burned down completely within one minute, it meant the Caretaker had accepted your request. If it went out, you were doomed. My entire body shook as I stared at the candle, anxiously waiting, praying for it to melt faster. “Where are you? Sylvia—” Carter’s cold, menacing voice suddenly pierced the darkness. A freezing chill shot straight up my spine. I scrambled up onto the altar and huddled directly behind the wooden idol. “Sylvia! Where are you? Where did she go?!” It was Riley’s voice. I could hear the sheer, frantic panic in her tone. I crouched down, making myself as small as possible, using the idol to block my body. “Where is she?!” “I don’t know! I turned around and her sleeping bag was empty!” “Find her, now! I have a really bad feeling about this. Do you think she heard us talking?!” “Check the corners! She has to be in here somewhere. I double-checked the locks on the doors and windows myself.” My heart violently leaped into my throat. Because I could hear the crunching sound of heavy hiking boots slowly creeping toward my side of the room. I clamped both hands over my mouth, desperately trying to muffle my own rapid, terrified breathing. After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps in the chapel faded away. Riley’s voice echoed again: “Carter, did she manage to run away? I literally can’t find her anywhere. Did we just not hear the door open because we were too… focused?” “Maybe…” Just as I thought I had narrowly escaped death, Carter’s next sentence made my blood run completely cold. “Why is there a lit candle sitting here?” After a moment of dead, suffocating silence, the brutal sound of a heavy hatchet violently chopping into wood echoed through the room. CRACK—! The top half of the Caretaker’s wooden head was cleaved clean off. It tumbled heavily off the altar and crashed onto the stone floor, leaving the idol with only half a nose and a carved mouth. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. I was so paralyzed by terror that I couldn’t even cry out loud. “Damn it, I missed,” Carter’s voice was dripping with annoyance. He stared directly at the spot where I was hiding, enunciating every single word. “Sylvia. I originally planned to chop your head clean off with one swing. That way, you wouldn’t feel any pain.” My legs felt like jelly, but I took advantage of his distraction, leaped off the back of the altar, and limped frantically toward the heavy wooden doors at the front of the chapel. “Sylvia, you really shouldn’t have woken up. After all, our plan was to let you die peacefully in your sleep.” Riley laughed maliciously, then ordered Carter, “Hurry up and get her. Stop wasting time.” I pounded on the doors with everything I had, but the rotting, antique wood was unbelievably sturdy. It wouldn’t budge an inch. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! THEY’RE TRYING TO KILL ME! PLEASE!” My screams for help were entirely useless. In this isolated, abandoned mountain shrine, it was physically impossible for anyone to be walking by. “AHHHHH!” The heavy steel hatchet slammed into the wood right next to my ear. If it had been one inch closer, it would have sliced my ear clean off. Riley giggled flirtatiously. “You’re so annoying, your aim is terrible tonight. Let me do it this time.” I turned around and dropped to my knees, frantically bowing and begging them. “Please don’t kill me! Whatever you guys want, I’ll give it to you! I’ll step aside, I promise I won’t tell anyone you cheated on me! Just let me go!” Riley smiled sweetly. “But, Sylvia. Only dead girls don’t tell lies.” Suddenly, I felt incredibly cold. It wasn’t a psychological chill. It was a visceral, physical, freezing drop in temperature. A violent gust of freezing wind swept through the closed room, and all three of us heard a strange, rustling noise. Carter violently whipped his head around. “Who’s there?!” But there was no one behind them. Just shattered pieces of rotting wood and swirling dust. Riley suddenly looked terrified. She grabbed Carter’s arm, her voice tight with anxiety. “Baby, I suddenly feel really, really cold. Is it because you hit the idol with the hatchet? Is the spirit angry?” Carter patted her hand, trying to comfort her. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here. Let’s just kill her first…” Saying that, Carter looked at me, picked up a secondary hatchet from the floor, and took a step closer. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something. The single candle I had lit… had completely burned down to a puddle of wax. Which meant… my summon had worked! WHOOSH— The previously dead-silent night suddenly exploded into a howling gale. I knelt on the floor, my face deathly pale. Because I could see the Caretaker. He had materialized, completely silently, directly behind them. He was staring at me with a sickeningly sweet smile, not saying a single word. His face was frozen in a perfectly symmetrical, terrifyingly cheerful grin. My trembling finger pointed over Carter’s shoulder. “The Caretaker… he’s right behind you…” Carter violently spun around. “WHAT THE FUCK!” He grabbed Riley and leaped backward, staring at the entity with pure, defensive hostility. “Where the hell did you come from?! We locked the doors from the inside!” The Caretaker maintained his creepy smile. “Someone invited me. So, I arrived.” “Carter, Riley. You are committing murder for money.” He was incredibly short, barely reaching Carter’s chest. Because he looked so physically unimposing, Carter’s hostility shifted into arrogant annoyance. Carter scoffed at him. “None of your damn business!” Riley tugged hard on Carter’s jacket, lowering her voice. “Baby, he’s terrifying. Let’s just get out of here…” “Tomorrow at noon, buy a Powerball ticket. At 6:00 PM, buy the exact crypto coin you lost eleven grand on last month. At 7:00 PM, stand outside the Neon Tavern downtown.” Carter remained deeply suspicious. “Why the hell should I believe you?” The Caretaker kept smiling. He slowly turned his head to look at Riley, his voice rattling like a mechanical automaton. “Tomorrow at 5:00 AM, go for a morning jog. At noon, take a walk across the downtown suspension bridge. At 9:00 PM, call 911 for the very first elderly woman you encounter.” Riley clung to Carter, her voice trembling violently. “What… what exactly are you?!” “I am the Caretaker of the Earth.” The entity’s empty eyes seemed to glint in the dark. He looked incredibly sincere. “You are only killing her for the fifty thousand dollars in her savings account. Do exactly as I say, and you will walk away with tens of millions.” Having their darkest secrets exposed so casually, the two of them exchanged a shocked look. For some reason, they began to actually trust this bizarre, spectral entity. Because everything he had just said was 100% accurate. “You cannot kill her, or I will be very angry,” the Caretaker said, pointing a short, wooden finger at me. Walking away with tens of millions without having to murder anyone, and without having to live in paranoia about hiding a corpse. If they backed off now, they didn’t even have to worry about me calling the cops. After all, they hadn’t committed any actual crime yet. The worst they were guilty of was cheating. It was a guaranteed, zero-risk jackpot. After a few minutes of whispered debate, Carter and Riley chose to trust him. “Fine. But what happens if we do it and we don’t get the money?” The Caretaker let out a raspy chuckle. “If you don’t get the money, you can chop me to pieces. I will die in her place.” The way he phrased it was incredibly disturbing, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. Just like that, a brutal, backwoods murder was completely defused by a few sentences from a ghost. My execution was permanently canceled. But… I felt a deep, gnawing sense that something was horribly, terribly wrong. I just couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Since all the cards were on the table and our relationship was officially over, Riley wordlessly packed up their gear, and the two of them hiked down the mountain in the dark. Leaving me alone with the Caretaker. “What about you.” His voice made me jump out of my skin. “What?” The Caretaker stared dead at me. His face still carried that perfectly symmetrical, horrifyingly cheerful grin. “What do you want?” “I already got what I wanted. I survived. Thank you, Caretaker.” “Not enough.” I finally realized what was so horribly wrong about him. From the very beginning, every single time he spoke, his carved, wooden mouth had never once opened. My grandmother had warned me. Only a corpse-stealing demon speaks without opening its mouth. “Sylvia, the Caretaker isn’t a saint. He’s a demon.” I finally remembered that exact sentence. That night, I fled the abandoned shrine in absolute terror. Not long after, Carter actually struck it rich. The Powerball ticket he bought won him a ten-million-dollar jackpot.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400795”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After the divorce, my mother immediately stuck her nose back into my love life. She found a guy. An engineer. Handsome, loaded, and he spent nine months of the year working on remote job sites. His only drawback? A five-year-old son who was allegedly “mentally unstable.” My mother asked if I minded being a stepmom. I laughed. Why go through labor when you can just push a button and get a kid instantly? Isn’t the government worried about the birth rate anyway? I’ll take that deal. Chapter 1 David Vance was a busy man. We scheduled our first date at a coffee shop right downstairs from his downtown office. He showed up wearing light gray technical workwear. He had sharp, striking features, but a gentle smile. I was shocked. I didn’t think my mother had connections to resources this high-quality. Between sips of coffee, he gave me a brief breakdown of his life. Thirty-five years old. High six-figure salary. Field engineer for international infrastructure projects. He was almost always traveling overseas. After the conversation, he made it clear he was interested, but he hesitated before adding a caveat. “I’m not sure if Mrs. Miller told you, but I have a five-year-old son. He’s in kindergarten.” I nodded. I understood teenage rebellion, but I couldn’t comprehend how a five-year-old could be “mentally unstable.” Did David have anger issues? Some hidden, dark vices? I looked him up and down again. His hands were clasped tightly into fists, resting nervously on the table. He offered me a smile that was the definition of painfully earnest and maybe a little slow. He looked like a decent guy. “Can I ask why you and your ex got divorced?” David was silent for a moment. “It wasn’t a divorce. I’m a widower. She passed away from an amniotic fluid embolism during childbirth.” I froze. My mother had conveniently left that part out. “Because of my job, I was traveling all over the world when he was born. He grew up with his grandparents. When I finally brought him to live with me at age four, he just…” Since we were laying it all on the table, he rubbed his hands together awkwardly, testing the waters. I thought about it for a long time. Finally, I said, “I have a three-year-old daughter. We are a package deal. She has to live with me. I need to know if you can accept that.” My daughter, Goldie, is a little Golden Retriever I rescued from a puppy mill bust. I spent eight grand on her surgeries, which started a cold war with my ex-husband. We divorced six months later. David blinked for three seconds. The moment I pulled out a picture of Goldie, he let out a massive sigh of relief. Aside from Goldie, David knew my situation. Thirty years old. A freelance ghostwriter bringing in pennies a month. Practically a hermit. Because of my low income, I’d been living off my mom since the divorce, and she never let me forget it. “Should we swap numbers? Maybe keep talking?” I was satisfied with David. He needed a wife to take care of his son, and I needed his high salary to support my hermit lifestyle. More importantly, I am a total sucker for a pretty face. After we swapped numbers, I immediately Venmoed him my half of the coffee bill. David stared at the notification on his phone for a few seconds, then frowned, hesitating. “If… if you think I’m okay, maybe I could bring you to meet my son sometime soon.” “Honestly, he’s only ‘unstable’ occasionally. Most of the time, when he’s quiet, he’s actually pretty cute.” I didn’t say anything. He gritted his teeth and made a final offer. “I’m really impressed with you. If you’re willing, I’ll take care of all your existing debt as a gesture of goodwill, and I’ll transfer my paycheck to you every month for the household.” “Let’s do tomorrow. I have to take Goldie to the vet for a check-up tomorrow afternoon anyway. We can let them meet then.” After setting the time, I picked up Goldie from the groomer and went home, giving my mom a brief summary. I truly didn’t understand why David got so tense whenever the child was mentioned. A five-year-old. Even if he had a bad temper or was a brat, how “unstable” could he possibly be? “Mom, have you actually seen his son?” My mom scratched her head. “Yeah, I’ve seen him. The kid looks fine. Just as polite as his dad, but quiet. Introverted. Won’t talk to anyone.” “What are you afraid of with a five-year-old? It’s not like he can tear the roof off.” The next day, after Goldie’s vet appointment, I made a special trip to the mall. I bought some trendy little toys and some gourmet donuts. David picked me up. It was only then I realized he owned a massive, luxury condo right in the city center. Because he was so busy, his son was usually living there all alone. “For the past few years, his mother’s parents haven’t been in good health, so they couldn’t care for him anymore. I have a live-in nanny who comes to cook his meals and manage the house.” “What’s his name?” “Leo. His mother picked it.” I stopped talking. David parked the car in the underground garage, took the shopping bags from me, and led me inside. “Leo is still young. He might… need a lot of patience. A lot of care.” “I came back yesterday and gave the place a deep clean…” Before he could finish, he opened the door and found the living room in absolute chaos. cushions were thrown everywhere, and books were scattered across the floor. Leo was sitting alone on the sofa, stuffing a piece of mashed-up cake into his mouth with his bare hands. “Leo Vance!” David was furious. Leo stared blankly at Goldie for a second, then turned around and sprinted back into his room without a backward glance. David had a massive headache. He apologized to me profusely. Leo had locked his door tight. No matter what David said, he wouldn’t open it. It was going to take some time for the nanny to get back and clean up the mess, so I sat on the sofa with David, making small talk. Suddenly, David sighed. “He tells people he can hear cats and dogs talking. He claims a dog ‘found a mommy’ for him.” “But don’t worry, I’ve taken him to specialists. The doctors said it shouldn’t affect his normal development.” Since I talk to Goldie all the time, I didn’t instantly think Leo was unstable because of that. He was only five, after all. His dad had brought home a strange woman. Declaring ownership through destruction is standard toddler protocol. Just as I was thinking about how to bridge the gap with Leo, he quietly cracked his bedroom door open an inch. We made eye contact for a second. He looked away, spotted the nanny rushing in to clean, and slammed the door shut again. He was afraid of the nanny. I told the nanny to leave the trash for now and go home early. Then I walked over and knocked on Leo’s bedroom door. “The nanny is gone. If you’re hungry, come out and eat.” After a long silence, he pulled the door open, peeking out to confirm the woman was actually gone before he would step out. Goldie wagged her tail excitedly, panting, and began circling him. He looked uncomfortable, tugging at his clothes, which seemed a bit ill-fitting. Like a little thief, he reached out and touched Goldie on the head. Then, he swiped a donut from the shopping bag and stuffed it into his pocket. The nanny hadn’t prepared lunch, so we ordered in from a nice restaurant. “Are you my mommy?” Leo was sitting across from me, and the question came out of nowhere. Goldie was lying next to him and barked twice the moment he spoke. Leo looked up, staring intently at David and me. He had incredibly long eyelashes. His face was flushed, still carrying some chubby baby fat. He looked like a sweet little strawberry shortcake. David was right; Leo was actually pretty cute. “Yes,” David answered. “Would you like to live with her?” “Dad is a liar!” Leo’s eyes filled with tears, stubborn defiance in his voice. “My mommy died a long time ago!” The atmosphere at the table instantly became tense. I smiled, peeled a shrimp, and placed it on his plate. “I’m not your mommy. You can call me Aunt Maya. Or, if you want, you can call me Mom.” “Just like my nanny?” He offered a naive smile, but it looked a little mean. “No. I will live with you. I will discipline you when your dad isn’t around. The nanny might not spank you, but I will.” His eyes filled with a fresh layer of tears. The very next afternoon, David and I went to City Hall and got our marriage license. Then, he hurriedly helped me move my things into the condo. David had received an overseas assignment from his company two weeks ago, but because this trip was going to be for a long time, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave Leo alone. That was the only reason he had delayed. “I’m going to be gone for over six months this time. I’m trusting you to take care of Leo. If anything happens, text me. I’ll reply as soon as I can.” “Leo might be a handful at kindergarten. I apologize in advance; you’ll probably have to listen to the teachers scold you for him.” “If he does something wrong and makes you angry, you have my permission to discipline him harshly. Just… don’t bruise him.” “Video call me if you miss me.” At the airport gate, David was micromanaging every detail, giving me endless instructions. I had wanted Leo to take a day off to see him off, but the boy stubbornly refused to come. David’s silhouette grew smaller as he walked down the jet bridge, finally disappearing into the crowd. On the way back, I made a detour to a grocery store. Ever since I noticed Leo was afraid of that nanny, I had David fire her. With no live-in help, I had to cook. Day one of being a mom. To make a good impression on Leo, I drove to pick him up from school. But I saw him lingering at the school gate with his friends, refusing to come out. The other kids were actually circling him, jumping up and down and singing a song. What is this? Why are they playing at the gate? Why are they singing? It’s not Leo’s birthday. I couldn’t take waiting any longer. I got out of the car, walked over, and lifted Leo right out of the crowd. “Sorry, boys, but Leo’s mom said he has to come home early for dinner today. He can’t play right now.” I buckled Leo into the back seat. The loose, floppy seat belt was a joke on him. I forgot to buy a booster seat. Goldie was sniffing all over him, licking his hands, nudging his chin with her head. “What do you want for dinner?” He said nothing. I almost forgot. He didn’t seem to like his new stepmom very much. I changed the subject. “I fired the nanny.” I secretly watched his reaction in the rearview mirror. He looked up, looking incredibly surprised and happy. But his answer to my previous question was completely nonsensical. “I want lasagna. BBQ ribs. Sweet and sour chicken…” Cold sweat broke out on my back. I had vastly overestimated myself. In the end, I took him out to a diner to solve the dinner problem. Chapter 2 After dinner, we went home. I fed Goldie, and Leo meekly washed his hands and went to his room to look at picture books. Where is this kid ‘unstable’? This kid is perfectly normal. I was happy for the peace and quiet. I opened my laptop and started writing. By 9:00 PM, Leo was still playing Sudoku. He had no intention of going to sleep. I took his puzzle away and told him to go take a shower. He gripped his bedroom doorframe tightly, screaming, “I can wash myself! I can wash myself!” I pried his stubborn fingers loose. “Can you actually get yourself clean? You smell like a locker room.” He let go in shock, his cheeks puffing out in anger. He looked like a cute little pufferfish. “Liar! I take a shower every single day!” In the end, I forced him into the bathroom. Leo’s bathroom had a huge soaking tub. The faucet was set very low, making it easy for him to fill the tub himself. I stripped his clothes off, put him in the tub, and started scrubbing him like I was washing a muddy potato. When I got to his arm, he suddenly started crying out in pain. I thought he was just being dramatic, but when I looked closer, his eyes were filled with tears. That’s when I noticed a massive purple bruise on his right upper arm. I became serious. “How did this happen?” He wouldn’t say. I lightly swatted his rear end, feigning fury. “Leo Vance. Speak!” He wailed like a teakettle. “If I wasn’t good, the nanny would pinch me. She said I was a charity case that nobody wanted.” I was stunned. It was only then that I realized his question, “Just like my nanny?”, hadn’t been a challenge. It was a test. He was truly afraid that I would abuse him. Regaining my composure, I softened my voice, wrapped him in a giant beach towel, and lifted him out of the tub. “How long was she doing this to you? Why didn’t you tell your dad?” I pulled his pajamas onto him, feeling frustrated on his behalf. “You seem plenty talkative with me. Why do you go mute around your father?” “I only see Dad for a little bit. By the time I see him, my owies don’t hurt anymore.” I pulled the pajama hood over his head. “Don’t hurt? Then who was just screaming bloody murder in the bathroom?” “Listen to me. If anyone ever bullies you again, you punch them right back. You understand? I’ve got your back. We don’t need to tell your dad.” I tucked him into bed, then turned around to fix his closet. What is this kid even wearing? Everything is high-water. “No new clothes.” Leo was peeking out from under the covers, his voice muffled. “The nanny took all the new clothes Dad bought me.” Motherfucker. Suppressing anger only gives you ulcers. At midnight, I was tossing and turning, unable to sleep, plotting a way to teach her a lesson. But I didn’t expect that before I could go looking for her, she would come right to me. The teacher called. Leo had gotten into a fight at kindergarten. I peeled into the parking lot. When I got there, that old witch was sitting on the floor, screaming and crying, putting on a full performance. I pulled Leo behind me, knelt down, and checked him over multiple times. I only found a tiny scratch on his face from another kid’s fingernail, and I let out a sigh of relief. “You’re this little brat’s parent! Look at what he did to my precious grandson!” I bent down and pointed to the child, who was covered in bruises and had a black eye. I asked Leo, “Did you do this?” He wouldn’t answer. “Leo Vance! Look up at me when I’m talking to you!” He meekly looked up, his hands twisting nervously in front of his chest, muttering softly, “I did it.” “He started it. He said I was an orphan with no mommy. I got mad.” I patted his head and praised him. “Good. Good job.” The teacher looked like she had just swallowed a fly. “Leo’s mom, it’s one thing for the children to not know better, but you are an adult.” The nanny screamed, “Just an apology? My grandson is beaten like this and all you want is an apology? She has to pay!” “Leo didn’t do anything wrong. I’m standing right here. Since when does Leo not have a mom?” I turned around and smiled at the nanny, who was still wailing on the floor. “Funny you should mention money. I just realized some cash is missing from my desk drawer. I was just about to come find you.” She shivered, tightening her jaw in defiance. “What are you talking about?” “It doesn’t matter if you admit it. The security cameras in the house saw everything.” She scrambled to her feet, glaring at me viciously. “I don’t care! Your son beat my grandson, and you’re going to pay. If you don’t, I’ll make you sorry!” Her face twisted into a smug smile of certainty. “I know your man isn’t in the country right now.” I tightened my fists, ready to throw hands. But the teacher grabbed my wrist. “Do not get emotional. An apology will solve this. His father is… he’s powerful. Not someone you want to make an enemy of.” Just as she finished speaking, a voice came from the doorway. “Who? Who is bullying my son?” Rex’s father was only five-foot-seven, but he was built like a brick shithouse. Standing there, he looked like a retaining wall. His eyes darted to Leo behind me. “This is the little brat who bullied my son?” I shoved Leo behind the teacher. In a low voice, I said, “Call the cops.” At that moment, I was incredibly grateful that after being sexually harassed by a former boss, I had taken Sanda and Muay Thai classes. That training was the only reason I was able to hold my own until the police arrived. I turned over all the video footage of the nanny stealing from the condo to the officers. The nanny was held in custody for seven days for theft. I also paid the medical bills to settle the fight between Leo and Rex. On the drive home, Leo didn’t say a word. But that night, while he was eating noodles, he suddenly burst out crying and started apologizing. I pulled out a tissue, looking disgusted, and wiped his eyes. “Why are you crying like this? If your dad saw this, he’d think I was abusing you.” He climbed onto a kitchen chair, cupped my face in his hands, his face a mess of tears and snot. “Does it hurt? I’ll make it better.” I pulled him down and hugged him, patting his back. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” “Leo, I want to praise you. You did a good job today.” “If someone bullies you, you can hit back, or you can report them. If your father were here today, he would have made the same choice I did.” “I just want you to know, no matter what happens, your dad and I are always your strongest supporters. Do you understand?” He cried again. How can a child have this many tears? At least Goldie was good; her broad shoulders were always available for me to wipe my tears on. I sighed, helplessly patting his back. “Baby, let’s eat first, okay?” After dinner, Leo played with blocks for a bit before getting sleepy. I handled the clothes stripping, tub tossing, the whole routine. By now, bathing Leo was an art form. I was washing that potato with silky-smooth efficiency. He let me pull his clean, new pajamas onto him. Goldie wagged her tail and circled his bed. Ever since we moved in, Goldie didn’t sleep with me anymore. She was obsessed with Leo. I was annoyed, but I was also glad he had Goldie to keep him company. He wasn’t unstable. He was just too lonely. He desperately wanted his dad to spend more time with him. I woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. That’s when I realized the little brat had somehow ended up in my bed. He was sleeping on top of the covers in his new dinosaur pajamas. Goldie was lying at his feet, using her stomach to keep them warm. My eye twitched. I lifted the covers and tucked him in. He mumbled something and snuggled into my arms, whispering a single word. Of course, the little brat woke up with a fever the next morning. And not just him. Goldie, who had spent the night warming his feet, was sick too. I called the school to excuse him and immediately rushed both the kid and the dog to the vet. Goldie had to stay at the animal hospital for two days for observation. I drove Leo home first. On the way back, he suddenly yelled for me to stop the car. He scrambled out of his booster seat with immense effort. He crouched next to a dumpster and looked up at me. “She looks pregnant. Can we take her home?” I touched his red, frozen nose and his cold cheeks. I smiled. “Of course.” I took off my jacket, and together, we rushed the pregnant tabby cat to the pet hospital. Leo asked me, “Why can’t we bring her home? She won’t fight with Goldie.” “The doctor needs to check if she and the babies are healthy. I’ll bring you back on Saturday to pick her and Goldie up, okay?” He nodded solemnly. Because of this, he was distracted and anxious for two solid days. Early Saturday morning, he was burrowing around under my covers, refusing to let me sleep until I woke up. Left with no other choice, I braved the morning cold to take him to pick up the zoo. Goldie hadn’t seen me in days and was furiously enthusiastic, jumping all over me. Leo, on the other hand, was entirely focused on the pregnant cat. One minute he was feeding her a cat treat, the next he was petting her belly. Goldie got so jealous she was whining and circling around the apartment.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400794”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel