During study hall, the school’s most popular girl grabbed my childhood best friend, Liam Vance, and demanded: “What do you even like about Chloe? Do you just like those massive cow tits of hers?” “Can you please not be so utterly vulgar?” Countless pairs of eyes landed on me. Some were watching for the drama, some were gloating, and others were purely malicious. Liam gave a helpless sigh and explained, “Our relationship isn’t what you think it is, Summer. I just take care of her like a little sister.” It really wasn’t what Summer Hayes thought. The only reason Liam hovered around me every day, showering me with care and attention, was because his mother was my estate manager. I am the sole heiress of the Vance corporate empire. From the time Liam was a little boy, the only education he received from his mother was how to serve me, please me, and eventually marry into the Vance family to secure her a golden ticket. 01 “First she’s just a friend, then she’s a ‘sister,’ and next thing I know, she’ll be your girlfriend! Liam, it’s her or me. You have to choose!” The veins on Liam’s neck bulged. He weighed his options in agonizing silence, but ultimately gave her no response. Overwhelmingly disappointed, Summer burst into tears and ran out of the classroom. Liam cast a quick, sideways glance at me, gritted his teeth, and chased after her. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if this scene was a flashback before death or reality. Because I was already dead. The day after Liam successfully seized total control of my father’s conglomerate and publicly announced his engagement to Summer, I was pushed into the artificial lake at my family’s estate and drowned. By that point, I had been paralyzed from the waist down and plagued by chronic illness, locked inside the house by Liam. Every single maid and nurse had been replaced; not a single person on the payroll was loyal to me. When I saw their engagement announcement on the news, I expended every ounce of my remaining energy to force Liam to come home. Stripping away his usual gentle, considerate mask, his face twisted into a demonic sneer as his hands clamped around my throat. “I’ve had enough of you, Chloe.” “For years, I threw away my dignity as a man and followed you around like a dog. I couldn’t even go to the college I wanted, and I gave up the chance to study abroad with Summer. I sacrificed everything for you, and that stubborn old bastard of a father still refused to hand the company over to me. He played me for an absolute fool.” “You think just because you have money, you can do whatever you want? You’re just as hypocritical as your father. Today, you’re going to find out exactly what it feels like to struggle at the bottom of the water!” After my father died, Liam’s attitude toward me had slowly turned cold. Once he leveraged my name to fully hijack the Vance empire, his true colors were finally revealed. My father’s drunken drowning in that same lake wasn’t an accident. Liam had orchestrated the whole thing. I looked into his dark, bottomless eyes and saw pure, unadulterated murderous intent. His wings were fully formed; he no longer needed me to act as his good-luck charm to legitimize his reign. His wedding to Summer was approaching. It was time for his hidden, disabled wife to disappear. At the edge of the lake, right as he violently shoved me toward the water, my hands locked onto his collar in a death grip, dragging him straight into the freezing depths with me. A hurricane of pure hatred consumed me. Every single time he thrashed and clawed to reach the surface, I used the very last of my fading strength to drag him back down into the abyss. He murdered my father. If I had to die, I was dragging him straight to hell with me! To ensure my death looked like an accident, Liam had given all the estate staff the day off. In that massive, empty estate, no one was there to hear my cries for help. And now, no one was there to hear his. Right as I confirmed he had completely lost consciousness, I blacked out entirely. When I woke up, I was staring at the current scene. The two of them had just run out the door, and the study hall erupted into chaotic gossip. “Liam is just too nice. Who else would let their maid’s daughter ride to school in his Maybach every day?” “She constantly third-wheels the couple in their own car. No wonder Summer finally snapped…” Then, the crude, mocking laughter of the boys reached my ears. “Hey Tyler, your dad owns Brooks Dairy Farms, right? Tell us, who has bigger udders? Your prize-winning Holsteins, or Chloe?” “Bro, you can’t compare them. Our cows are purebreds and properly mated. They aren’t loose and easy like she is…” “Hahahaha!” They fed off each other’s vile energy, laughing like a pack of hyenas. While I was still processing my shock, a heavy, aluminum can of iced coffee flew across the room and smashed directly into my chest, before clattering onto my desk. Pain. A sharp, piercing pain blossomed in my chest. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a dying hallucination. This was absolute, undeniable reality. I had been reborn into the nightmare that was my high school years. It was today. The day Summer Hayes finally exploded. She had given Liam a final ultimatum: if I rode in the same car with them to school one more time, she would cut ties with him forever. Before study hall even ended, Liam took Summer and left in my chauffeured car. I had to take a cab home in the pouring rain. We got into a horrific crash, leaving me permanently paralyzed from the waist down. I missed over half a semester before returning to school in a wheelchair. By then, Summer and Liam were publicly dating, and because of my disability, the bullying escalated into pure malice. I violently threw my head down and wiggled my toes. Thank God. My legs were perfectly fine. 02 The instigator, Tyler Brooks, laughed hysterically, seeking praise from his cronies. “Did you guys see that? Maximum elasticity!” The group of delinquent boys stared at my chest with blatant, disgusting entitlement. I heard one of them mutter crudely, “Fucking slut.” Smack! The class president slammed a textbook onto his desk. “We’re all classmates here. Don’t cross the line.” Tyler smirked shamelessly. “The Cow Girl doesn’t even mind, why are you playing white knight?” The nickname “Cow Girl” started with Summer. At first, nobody in class treated me like this. Until Summer transferred in. She set her sights on the perfect, wealthy “heir,” Liam Vance, and pursued him relentlessly. After Liam rejected her a few times to keep his facade up, she shifted her crosshairs onto me—the girl who arrived and left with him every single day. In front of all the boys in our class, she announced that I looked like a dairy cow. She claimed that girls with chests that large were promiscuous from a young age, and that they only got that big because men had been groping them. Those filthy, slanderous words acted like Pandora’s box. The moment they were spoken, a demon of pure misogyny was unleashed. Alongside my real name, I was permanently branded “Cow Girl.” At first, they were slightly hesitant, knowing I was dropped off in luxury cars and wore expensive clothes. But thanks to Liam’s deliberate, manipulative blurring of the lines, the entire school began to believe that I was the maid’s daughter, and that Liam—the son of my estate manager—was the true prince of the Vance corporate empire. Under Summer’s passionate pursuit, Liam’s resistance slowly melted. As the two became the school’s golden couple, a horde of Summer’s simps and Liam’s lackeys started targeting me to win their favor. They catcalled me, made sexually explicit jokes, and ruthlessly mocked my “low-class” background. Initially, the “Cow Girl” nickname was contained to our classroom. But one day, my estate manager attended a parent-teacher conference on my behalf. That completely solidified the rumor that I was the maid’s daughter. Soon, the “Cow Girl” moniker echoed through the entire school. Goaded by Summer, the boys even organized a “Brainless Bimbo” poll for the entire high school. Unsurprisingly, I won by a landslide. Ignoring the class president’s warning, Tyler kept throwing insults. “Do you have the nerve to wreck someone else’s relationship, but not the nerve to show your face, Cow Girl?” I took a slow, deep breath. I picked up the heavy aluminum can from my desk and walked straight toward Tyler. “Since you have the audacity to call me ‘Girl’, it’s my responsibility as your superior to teach you how to act like a human being.” Under his utterly bewildered gaze, I smashed the metal can squarely into the center of his forehead. He howled in agony. Taking advantage of his momentary blackout, I grabbed him by the collar, ripped him out of his chair, threw him to the floor, mounted his chest, and started raining slaps across his face left and right. “This is for being a degenerate! “This is for the nicknames! “And this is for barking like a pathetic, rabid dog for a girl who doesn’t even want you!” 03 In the principal’s office. Seeing the bloody scratch marks covering her son’s face, Tyler’s mother raised her hand and lunged forward to slap me. I swiftly ducked to the side. Ms. Parker, my homeroom teacher who was standing right behind me, took the full, ringing force of the slap directly to her face. Ms. Parker had never been a good person. Whenever conflicts arose in her classroom, she always sided with the students who had wealthy, powerful parents. I had reported to her countless times that Tyler and his friends were leading the bullying, catcalling me, and throwing things at my head. Ms. Parker had just looked at me coldly and said: “Where there is smoke, there’s fire. If you behaved like a proper, decent girl, no one would bother you.” God as my witness, what kind of disgusting logic was that? If a fly lands on you, does that mean you’re a piece of rotting garbage? Not only did she refuse to do her job and protect me, but she actually victim-blamed me. Smack! Tyler’s mother gasped in horror, covering her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide. Ms. Parker’s face turned ash gray. “Chloe Vance! Look what you’ve done!” Tyler’s mother had swung with everything she had. A bright red handprint was rapidly blooming across Ms. Parker’s left cheek. “Ms. Parker, Tyler’s mom is the one who slapped you. Why on earth are you blaming me?” Tyler’s mom quickly began apologizing profusely to the teacher, while simultaneously cursing me out. “You little bitch! I was aiming for you! If you hadn’t dodged, I wouldn’t have hit Ms. Parker!” “So I’m just supposed to stand there and let you hit me? The apple truly doesn’t fall far from the tree. No wonder Tyler has absolutely zero class.” Furious, Tyler’s mom raised her hand to strike me again. “Stop right there.” A familiar female voice echoed from the doorway. It was Liam’s mother, my estate manager, Evelyn Thorne. She was dressed in a sharp, tailored business suit, her shoulder-length hair styled in elegant waves. She didn’t look like a housekeeper; she looked like a high-powered corporate executive. “Mrs. Vance! What a surprise to see you here!” Seeing who it was, Ms. Parker instantly flipped her attitude, stepping forward with a fawning, desperate smile. My father was overseas on a business trip and couldn’t make it back. As my dedicated estate manager, it was perfectly normal for Evelyn to come to the school to handle emergencies. Evelyn offered a graceful, weary smile. “Chloe’s parents are so busy with work. We’re all family, so I came in their place. It’s the same thing.” “Of course a maid is busy serving her masters,” Tyler muttered under his breath. Acting as if she hadn’t heard a thing, Evelyn began exchanging pleasantries with Ms. Parker. I lowered my eyes, unable to hold back a cold sneer. This duo, Liam and his mother, were absolute masters at dropping vague, misleading statements that confirmed everyone’s false assumptions. Anyone looking at them would assume Evelyn was the wealthy matriarch, and Liam was the heir, simply letting a poor charity case live with them. When people called me the maid’s daughter, my denials were treated like delusional lies, because Liam and Evelyn never once stepped up to correct the record. Instead, they would pull me aside and lecture me. They’d say, “Don’t stoop to their level. People are just jealous of wealth. Keeping a low profile protects your dad’s company from unwanted attention.” Ms. Parker glanced at me, then gave Evelyn a brief rundown of today’s incident. “Arguments between students are normal, but resorting to physical violence crosses the line. Tyler is injured. In my opinion, you should cover his medical bills, and Chloe needs to give Tyler a formal apology.” “Absolutely not! My Tyler took a beating for no reason. This is not going away that easily!” “What do you propose, Mrs. Brooks?” Tyler’s mom held up five fingers. “This much. And she has to apologize to my Tyler in front of the entire school assembly.” “$50,000?” Evelyn smoothly pulled out a designer checkbook. She turned to me. “Chloe, the car is parked downstairs. Go wait for me in the back.” I walked out, but I didn’t go downstairs. Tyler’s furious complaints drifted through the open door. “Aunt Evelyn, Chloe is just a maid’s daughter! Why are you treating her so well?!” Evelyn’s voice was soft and maternal. “Don’t speak about her like that. She and my Liam grew up together, and I’ve watched over her since she was a little girl. If she makes a mistake, how could I not look after her?” Ms. Parker gushed, “You are simply too kind, Mrs. Vance.” 04 By the time they escorted Evelyn downstairs, I was already sitting in the car. Tyler yanked the car door open and started yelling. “Aunt Evelyn is nice enough to come pick you up, and you’re sitting in the back seat acting like you’re the boss?! Do you have any manners at all?” “You’re talking to me about manners? The guy who makes up degrading nicknames for girls?” Tyler was about to snap back, but Evelyn grabbed his arm. “Let it go. This child has always had a difficult temper. As adults, we just have to be a little more forgiving.” Ms. Parker shook her head in disapproval, and Evelyn offered a tragic, long-suffering sigh. The car pulled away from the school and merged into traffic. “Chloe, we are ladies. We cannot go around getting into physical altercations. It’s inappropriate.” “No boy is ever going to like a girl who is that aggressive and abrasive.” “Besides, you’re all classmates. You have to see each other every single day. There’s no need to make enemies.” “I’ve already smoothed things over with them. You don’t have to apologize in front of the whole school anymore. Just give Tyler a sincere apology in front of the class, and this whole thing will blow over.” She still thought I was the same brainwashed, naive child she had PUA’d for the last decade, assuming she could just pay people off and force me to apologize without even asking what happened. Her “solution” blatantly cemented the narrative that I was the one entirely at fault. “Why didn’t you ask me why I hit him?” In the rearview mirror, Evelyn’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second, before she offered a silent, patronizing smile. “Regardless of the reason, resorting to violence is always wrong.” “Fine. If you think I’m wrong, you go apologize to him. I am not covering a single cent of that check. You can pay it out of your own pocket. And if you can’t handle a minor issue like this properly, I’ll ask my dad to replace you with a competent estate manager.” I had my own independent bank accounts. The massive budget required to run the estate, covering the salaries and expenses of dozens of staff members, was entirely under my control. My dad had assigned a dedicated corporate accountant to manage my books. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Reed. “The estate manager just wrote a check for $50,000. Void it immediately. Do not let the bank clear it.” Hanging up the phone, I looked at the familiar city streets outside the window and ordered Evelyn to take a different route home. Even though the driver today wasn’t Arthur—who in my past life had taken cold medicine before driving—taking a different route gave me peace of mind to avoid the crash entirely. Before I closed my eyes to rest, I caught a glimpse of Evelyn in the rearview mirror. Her face was absolutely livid. Evelyn Thorne arrived at the Vance estate when I was five years old. My mother had just passed away, and my dad was drowning in corporate expansion. Originally hired as a nanny, Evelyn slowly morphed into a mother figure in my life. Her promotion to head estate manager was largely because of me. My dependence on her eventually surpassed my reliance on my constantly traveling father. Who could have guessed she harbored the ambition of a starving wolf? From the time I was a child, she began systematically gaslighting me. She subtly brainwashed me with toxic, outdated ideals: Men conquer the world, women manage the home. Girls should be submissive, quiet, and excessively forgiving. She deliberately manufactured endless opportunities for me to be alone with her son, paving the way for Liam to secure my heart—and by extension, the entire Vance empire—before we even graduated. Evelyn and Liam’s current behavior made them look more like the masters of the house than I did. When we got home, my chauffeured Maybach still hadn’t returned. Because of the voided check, Evelyn was in a foul mood, her tone sharp and snappy. “The young master still isn’t back yet?” Martha, our loyal maid, took my backpack and blazer, shaking her head. “No, ma’am.” “Arthur is so incredibly reckless! Keeping Liam out wandering the streets this late! Do you have any idea what time it is? Are you too stupid to call him and tell him to hurry up?!” Arthur was my dedicated driver. He was also Evelyn’s younger brother, and Liam’s uncle. After Evelyn secured her iron grip on the Vance household, it didn’t take long for Arthur to be appointed as my personal chauffeur. In my past life, when I was abandoned at school, I called Arthur to come back and get me. He casually told me that Liam had an urgent matter to attend to and couldn’t be interrupted, telling me to just hail a cab. I was so blinded by heartbreak over Liam leaving with Summer that I didn’t even think to call my dad. And then the crash happened.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440335”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

There’s a guy on my Snapchat who loves showing off his body. He frequently posts mirror selfies flexing his muscles. I used to wonder which player was casting such a wide net. Later, I found out—his stories are only visible to me. 01 I swiped onto another post from our resident thirst-trapper. As usual, it was a photo. But this time, the style had changed, giving off a vibe of coy restraint. His hand lifted the hem of his t-shirt, revealing deeply defined abs. He was wearing loose gray sweatpants, the drawstrings hanging naturally—one long, one short—stealing all my attention in their extreme asymmetry. I stared at it for a moment, and my face silently flushed red. I forget when I added him, but as far back as I can remember, his stories have been exclusively these kinds of photos. Abs, biceps, back muscles… He posted one every few days, persistently tugging at people’s heartstrings. I assumed he was a total player, for three reasons: First, he never showed his face. Second, he was incredibly good at teasing. Third, he lacked any sort of modesty. —What kind of decent, upstanding man posts stories like this! I originally just watched with a “might as well look if it’s there” mentality, but today, it kind of went to my head. Those gray sweatpants really did something to me. My sleepiness vanished completely. I forwarded the photo to him and started a chat: “Is it cold in your house? Why are you wearing so much today?” I sent the message, but he didn’t reply. I didn’t know if he was busy or just ignoring me. I didn’t dwell on it. Seeing that my lunch break was almost over, I hurried to catch some sleep. When I woke up, it was to the loud chatter in the office. My female colleagues were gathered in small groups, clutching their phones and wailing, “I’m heartbroken, I’m heartbroken.” In my groggy state, I caught fragments of the conversation. It seemed some celebrity had just gone public with a relationship. I reached for my phone, clicked on the Twitter trending topics, and froze when I saw the name at the top. #ChloeMillerLiamHayes# The person who went public was my best friend! Fueled by the indignation of “how dare she not tell me she’s dating,” I clicked on the hashtag. The video content left me even more dumbfounded. It was from the recording of a late-night talk show. The cameras zoomed in on each guest’s phone. The game segment required each guest to post a story claiming they were unhappy and see who received comfort first. Among the phones placed on the table, the one on the far left was the first to get a notification. It was Liam Hayes’s. The host eagerly opened it, still making conversation: “Let’s see who it is—” His voice abruptly cut off, and he stood frozen. Because in the chat window, there was no comfort. None at all. Instead, there was a borderline-inappropriate photo of a man, accompanied by a line of text: “Is it cold in your house? Why are you wearing so much today?” The video ended there. The quality wasn’t great—it was probably filmed by an audience member—but even with poor quality, it was clear enough to see the details in the chat window. The sender’s profile picture was of the actress Chloe Miller, saved under the contact name “Momo.” She had sent the award-winning actor, Liam Hayes, a highly private photo he had never released to the public, accompanied by intimate—even borderline harassing—words! Since Chloe had previously stated in interviews that her childhood nickname was “Momo,” netizens universally concluded this was her. Thus, the relationship between Chloe Miller and Liam Hayes rocketed to the top of the trending list. I rubbed my cheeks, the shock so immense I wondered if I was still dreaming. The conversation with the thirst-trapper was still sitting right there on my screen. With trembling hands, I tapped it open. The exact same content blasted my retinas once again. I had a stark realization—the guy who posted thirst traps on Snapchat every few days was the Hollywood A-lister, Liam Hayes. 02 The trending topic was still blowing up. The most triggered ones were the fans: “Usually you don’t even show an ankle, and you button your shirts all the way to the top. I thought you were the most modest guy out there, but…” “What is this? Liam Hayes’s abs, let me touch! What is this? Liam Hayes’s abs, let me touch!” “Has anyone managed to get a high-res version of this? I need it for my lock screen.” “Just a casual observer here, but is this Liam Hayes’s usual vibe? This is hot.” That last comment had the most replies. I clicked into the thread and was nearly blinded by a screen full of “HE IS NOT!” Undoubtedly, the fans were shocked. But I was equally shocked! I scrolled through the comments, trying to use the fans’ shock to offset my own. Before I could fully process it, a new notification popped up at the top of my phone. It was from my best friend, Chloe, and she sent a screenshot. Chloe: “Audrey, please tell me this isn’t you.” The screenshot was of that exact conversation. Indisputable. I hung my head and admitted: “It’s me.” She sent a string of ellipses and asked genuinely: “How did you manage to strut your stuff right in front of Liam Hayes?” Honestly, I wanted to know too. I was just engaging in some ordinary ogling, how did I end up experiencing social death in front of the entire nation? Although, currently, the one experiencing social death was my best friend… Afraid of causing her trouble, I couldn’t help but ask: “Is this going to be a huge mess?” She replied: “It’s fine on my end. It wasn’t me anyway, I’ll just clarify it. Liam Hayes’s side is the tricky one.” I pursed my lips, still digesting the fact that “the thirst-trapper is Liam Hayes.” My best friend started probing: “What exactly is going on between you and Liam Hayes?” I didn’t know how to answer, so I just said: “He’s the player I told you about before.” My best friend slapped her desk in shock: “So you were the one he was trying to hook all along!” “…” I felt this was basically equivalent to a fairy tale. Liam Hayes and I were complete strangers. He didn’t know me, and I didn’t know him. Or rather, I knew of him; I knew he was a massive star. Aside from that, we had zero connection. How could he possibly be trying to hook me? Just as I denied it, another new message popped up at the top of my phone. It was the other party involved in the scandal. He replied to me. Liam Hayes: “I’ll try to wear less next time then.” “…” Dude, are you sure you didn’t hook the wrong person? 03 If he were just a regular guy on Snapchat, I might have bantered back. But he wasn’t. He was the acclaimed actor, Liam Hayes. I couldn’t fathom how he had the leisure to flirt with me, a stranger on the internet? After the incident, my best friend immediately issued a clarification, stating she was not the person sending the messages. Her friends in the industry also vouched for her, proving that her personal Snapchat was not that account. As for me, I quickly changed my profile picture and display name, terrified that people around me might figure something out. Only Liam Hayes, at the center of the storm, remained completely silent. No PR statement, no clarification. It was as if he had no idea the internet was tearing itself apart over him. The biggest target of criticism was the collapse of his public persona. After all, Liam Hayes had previously been known as Hollywood’s paragon of modesty. He kept his nose clean, had zero scandals, and his life consisted only of acting and hitting the gym. He had almost no other hobbies, and didn’t even touch alcohol or cigarettes, which are ubiquitous in the industry. He was a gentleman, polite, and always covered up. The media had even interviewed him about his habit of “not showing a single inch of skin.” At the time, Liam stated: “Only my wife gets to see my body.” When that interview clip dropped, it was instantly shared and praised by countless netizens, cementing his status as the “modesty paragon.” Let’s just say, the harder they praised him then, the harsher they mocked him now. Because the guy who claimed “only my wife gets to see my body” was secretly blasting thirst traps everywhere. I also felt his public persona was a bit fake. If only his wife could see it, what was he doing posting on Snapchat all day? Photo after photo, I had practically seen his entire body. Was I his wife? As it turned out, I underestimated Liam Hayes’s resilience. The very moment his Snapchat account was exposed, not only did he not lay low, but he actually posted another story that night. Still a photo. But the style was much more explicit than before, and true to his word, he was wearing a little less. I honestly didn’t know what to say anymore. I could only sigh at how incredibly fake Hollywood personas were! Liam Hayes was practically a master-level player, casting a wide net, yet he managed to be called the “modesty paragon” of Hollywood… It was the joke of the century! I decisively chose to block his stories. Unexpectedly, moments later, Liam Hayes actually reached out to me with that same photo. He asked: “Is this okay?” I had no desire to play games with him and asked bluntly: “What exactly do you want?” He was even more blunt: “I want to date you.” I was so freaked out I deleted him right then and there! Even after deleting him, my heart was still pounding. Thank goodness my best friend warned me. Turns out I really was just one of the fish in his pond! 04 I had just escaped the pond, but my best friend was caught in his clutches. It turned out she and Liam Hayes already had a professional connection; they were set to co-star in a commercial for a luxury bottled water brand. The contracts had been finalized ages ago, but the official announcement had been delayed. Now that the collaborating brand saw dating rumors swirling around their two spokesmodels, they decided to capitalize on it. The commercial shoot was urgently moved up on the schedule. Afraid my best friend would be taken advantage of, I warned her repeatedly: “You must be careful around Liam Hayes!” She nodded in agreement. Who knew that on the very first day of shooting, she’d drop a massive bombshell on me. Chloe: “Turns out Liam was the one who recommended me to the brand for this commercial!” My head instantly filled with question marks. While confused, I was also amazed. This guy Liam is casting a seriously wide net! I asked urgently: “How is it? Has he harassed you?” My best friend’s reply surprised me: “No, he’s totally normal. If you hadn’t told me, I would never have imagined he’s that kind of person in private.” I typed back, distressed: “It’s all a persona!” Afraid she’d let her guard down, I called her directly and told her about Liam saying he wanted to date me, emphasizing heavily: “He’s literally just trying to hook whoever he can!” To my surprise, my best friend missed the point entirely: “So he really does want to date you!” Me: “?” She went further off track: “Do you think Liam gave me this commercial gig because of you?” I couldn’t take it anymore, feeling a surge of frustration: “Why are you giving a player such a romantic backstory!” My best friend suddenly laughed: “What if he isn’t a player?” “Of course he is,” I argued. “What normal person posts stories like that? At first, I thought he was looking for a sugar mama.” My best friend laughed harder: “I think the only person he wants to hook is you.” I was speechless: “We don’t even know each other.” “Maybe you two—” Her voice cut off abruptly. Immediately after, a clear male voice came through the phone: “Can I sit here?” Thanks to the internet drama these past few days, I could instantly recognize that this voice belonged to Liam Hayes. Clear, clean, and highly distinctive. “Go ahead,” came my best friend’s voice. After some rustling sounds, Liam asked: “Are you close with Audrey?” “…Yes,” my best friend sounded like she was holding back laughter. “Then do you know why she deleted me?” Liam’s tone was so puzzled. “If she wasn’t satisfied with the photos, I can push the boundaries a bit more.” “Pfft,” my best friend finally laughed out loud. After a long pause, her rather eager voice sounded: “Should I ask her for you?” “Please,” Liam said politely. As soon as he left, my best friend couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore, laughing continuously, making me incredibly annoyed. I snapped: “Stop laughing!” She finally gave a couple of ‘hahas’ and said teasingly: “He seems to know you.” Me: “…” 05 Eggged on by my best friend, I visited the commercial set. The area had been cleared, but a large crowd had still gathered, forming three dense rings of people. Through the crowd, I spotted Liam Hayes right away. This is probably that legendary star quality; he stood there, and my eyes couldn’t see anyone else. He was wearing a solid black tracksuit, looking elegant and tall. Currently, he was bending slightly while his assistant sprayed water on the loose hair at his forehead and temples. It seemed the assistant’s hand slipped, and a mist of water rushed into his eyes. The air froze for a few seconds. I saw him blink his eyelashes lightly, the water droplets sliding down. He opened his sparkling eyes and comforted the assistant: “It’s fine, keep going.” I thought silently, He has a pretty good temper. As if sensing something, Liam looked with pinpoint accuracy in my direction. He looked surprised at first, then panicked, and a few seconds later, quietly averted his gaze. But his pale, jade-like profile slowly turned red, visible even to the naked eye. When I got closer, I even heard the stylist exclaim, “Did you already apply blush?” My best friend was snickering next to me. She whispered teasingly: “You really don’t know him? But he blushed the second he looked at you.” To be honest, I was also quite baffled. Is Liam Hayes really this innocent? But would an innocent person post stories like that? The next second, my best friend cleared up my confusion. Just as the commercial was about to start shooting, she tossed her phone to me, saying simply: “Just added Liam on Snapchat, go look at his stories.” While muttering “What’s there to see,” I obediently tapped it open. The result surprised me. His stories page was completely clean, empty. There was no “Friend only allows viewing of the last 3 days” message, it was just literally empty. But I clearly remembered that when I looked a few days ago, it was full of thirst traps. Did he delete them, or put me on a custom list? Looking at Liam not far away, I found him harder and harder to figure out. The commercial shoot wrapped up quickly, and the crew discussed where to go for dinner. I waited beside my best friend, feeling a gaze seemingly fixed on me. I followed the feeling. No matter from which angle I looked, at the end of that gaze was Liam Hayes. My best friend watched like she was enjoying a show: “If you have something to say, say it. If you have questions, ask. Staring won’t get you any answers.” I was still debating whether to ask when Liam walked over. He was cleaned up and looking sharp, wearing a well-fitted dress shirt and trousers. Uncharacteristically, two buttons at his collar were undone, exposing a small patch of skin. Perhaps because he wasn’t used to exposing skin, as he walked steadily towards us, he subconsciously tugged at the slightly open collar. A very simple movement, but done by him, it was exceptionally alluring. When Liam reached us, he looked at Chloe first and said: “The dinner is at the Grand Hyatt.” My best friend feigned surprise: “Since when do we need you to personally deliver this kind of news?” Liam choked. He seemed to shift his gaze out of embarrassment, quietly turned to me, and without making a sound, mouthed the question: “Are you coming?” I felt a profound sense of absurdity and helplessness in that moment. To me, this action looked exactly like a couple pretending not to know each other in public, while secretly flirting behind everyone’s backs. Were we really that close? It wasn’t the place to talk, but I couldn’t hold back. I took a step closer to him, using a piece of equipment for cover, and whispered: “Do we know each other?” He nodded: “Yes.” “Then the Snapchat stories were…?” He stared at me for a long time, seemingly gathering courage, and said slowly: “The stories were for you.” He leaned in close to my ear, his bright red earlobe right in my line of sight, and added softly and slowly: “Only for you.” Boom. My ears burned red too.

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The wedding prep was going perfectly. That was until my fiancée, Sarah, brought her childhood guy friend, Oliver, into our brand new home. What pushed me entirely over the edge was finding out Oliver spent the night in our custom ordered master bed. The next morning, Oliver posted a short video that instantly blew up online. The caption was completely sickening. In the video, he smirked at the camera. “Huge thanks to Sarah for setting this up. This hundred thousand dollar mattress is insane. Especially the vibration feature. George really has a killer eye for this stuff. smirk emoji” Sarah’s comment under his post was basically pouring gasoline on a fire. “If you like it so much, I will make him buy you one too.” Seeing that, I was shaking with pure rage. I called a junk removal company overnight and had that expensive mattress dragged straight to the city dump. When Sarah found out, she called me immediately. Zero apologies. Instead, she screamed at me. “Are you out of your mind? If you did not want the bed, you should have just given it to Oliver! Throwing it away is such a waste!” I did not say a single word. I just quietly deleted every single wedding post from my social media. If she could not even maintain the most basic boundaries, this wedding was off. But not long after, Sarah was on her knees in front of me, crying her eyes out and begging me to take her back. She swore she could not live without me. 1 “George, what the hell is your problem?! Why did you delete all the wedding announcements?” When Sarah finally tracked me down, I was busy directing a crew inside our newly renovated penthouse. She came in hot, opening her mouth just to scold me. “Do you have any idea how many people are messaging me right now? Are you intentionally trying to humiliate me?!” I refused to even look at her. I just motioned to the movers handling the bed frame. “Guys, pick up the pace. Do not worry about scratching the walls. Just get it all out of here.” The movers gave a quick nod and kept working. Sarah glanced at the busy clean up crew. The realization finally hit her. Every single piece of furniture they were hauling out was something I had spent months tracking down, specifically catered to her tastes. A flicker of genuine panic crossed her face, but she quickly forced it down. “George, why are you having them move all this stuff?” I finally turned around, locking eyes with her. My voice was dead. “I am canceling the wedding. Is that not obvious enough for you?” Her eyes widened. She finally realized I was completely serious. When she spoke again, her tone was significantly softer. “I know you are mad. But I can explain this. Absolutely nothing happened between Oliver and me! He was literally just testing the mattress for us!” Thinking about that disgusting video still trending online, I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Yeah, people who know the truth think he was just sleeping on the bed. Everyone else on the internet thinks he was sleeping with you!” “The entire comment section is mocking me for being so generous. They are saying if I let another guy test out my wedding bed, I probably let him test out the bride too!” Sarah stayed silent for a long moment. When she finally answered, it was just a lazy excuse. “Oliver did not do it on purpose. Stop caring so much about what random people online think. The internet will forget about it by tomorrow. If it really bothers you that much, I will just tell him to delete the video. Okay?” Watching her act like she was making some massive sacrifice, I scoffed out loud. “You think deleting a video fixes this? Sarah, listen to me. This is not over.” Her temper flared right back up. “George, are you ever going to drop this? Nothing I do is good enough for you! We are supposed to get married in a few weeks. Can you stop throwing a tantrum over nothing?” I twitched a tight smile, pointing at my own chest. “I am throwing a tantrum?” She crossed her arms. “Obviously! How many times do I have to say it? Oliver and I are completely platonic! If I was actually into him, do you honestly think I would be marrying you?” A sharp pain twisted in my chest. My eyes burned. “Is that right? So according to your logic, I should be thanking him?!” “Do you think I am an idiot? If you two really did nothing wrong, then why was the entire set of bedsheets completely replaced this morning?!” Suddenly, the electronic lock on the front door beeped. Oliver rushed into the living room and immediately dropped to his knees on the hardwood floor. “George! I am so sorry! This was all my fault! Please do not be mad at Sarah!” Before I could say a word, he raised his hand and started violently slapping his own face. Sarah looked completely heartbroken. “George, that is enough! Oliver grew up incredibly poor. He got overly excited experiencing a luxury bed for the first time and made a stupid video. You cannot blame him just because it went viral!” “We are getting married soon. Can you just be the bigger person? It is just a dumb internet trend. Why are you being so petty?” 2 It was always like this. No matter how inappropriate or shameless Oliver acted, in her eyes, it was never a big deal. She unconditionally took his side, completely blind to the pain she was causing me. If that was how she felt, why did she even agree to be my girlfriend? Why did she agree to marry me? My chest felt completely hollow. “Sarah, what the hell am I to you? You even gave Oliver the passcode to our private home. Are you seriously trying to follow the internet comments and make me give up my spot for him?” She rolled her eyes, looking totally annoyed. “If you were not the heir to the Kensington empire, no one would even care about our wedding. This whole thing only went viral because of your status! You brought this on yourself!” “So what you are saying is, because my family has money, I deserve to be publicly humiliated? Sarah, when did you turn into this person?” Looking at the woman standing in front of me, she felt like a total stranger. I closed my eyes, fighting back the dampness gathering in my lashes. Noticing the shift in my mood, Sarah bit her lip and reached out to grab my sleeve. “George, I came here to explain things and figure this out. I do not want to fight with you. Let us just calm down.” I coldly yanked my arm away. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. “You always do this! You get mad and refuse to listen to a single word I say! I came here to fix the internet drama, and you just yell at me and threaten to break up! How am I supposed to not get defensive?” “What exactly do you want me to do to make this go away? Just give me a straight answer!” I knew at least half her tears were completely fake. But after three years together, seeing her cry was still my ultimate weakness. The veins in my forehead throbbed. Finally, I let out a heavy sigh, giving in one last time. “Fine. Tell Oliver to delete the video and post a public apology. Then we drop it.” I locked my eyes entirely onto hers. “I am willing to let this slide because of everything we have been through. But Oliver has to leave New York. I will personally find him a job in another state, but you two are cutting all contact.” Sarah was nodding along at first, but the second half of my demand made her freeze. “He just moved to the city. If you force him to leave, what if something bad happens to him out there?” I let out a cold scoff and turned toward the door. “Then we have nothing left to talk about. If you cannot do it, we are done.” Sarah panicked and rushed to block my path. She struggled internally for a few seconds before biting her lip and lowering her head. “Okay! We will do it your way. I will keep my distance from him. We can move forward with the wedding.” After that, she dragged a very pathetic looking Oliver out of the apartment, claiming she needed to find him a cheap hotel before having him post the apology. I let them go. Thinking the nightmare was finally over, I pulled out my phone, ready to draft a new wedding announcement to do some damage control. I was halfway through typing when a text popped up from one of my buddies. “Bro, your girl and her friend got entirely wasted at my club. They are practically glued together on the couch. You better come pick her up before this gets worse.” “…Alright, I am on my way.” I forced the words through gritted teeth, swallowing down a tidal wave of fury as I hung up the phone. I drove like an absolute maniac. By the time I kicked open the doors to the VIP lounge, Oliver and Sarah had basically stripped off half their clothes and were aggressively making out on the leather sofa. My vision went completely red. I grabbed an ice bucket from the bar, marched over, and violently hurled the freezing water and cubes directly onto them. “You shameless animals! Keep kissing, I dare you!” 3 The freezing water jolted them completely awake. They shrieked, scrambling up in a panic. “Who the hell do you think you are?! What are you doing to my friends?!” A drunk guy sitting at their table started shouting, heavily swaying as he grabbed an empty beer bottle to swing at me. Before he could even raise his arm, my bodyguard stepped in, grabbing the guy by the back of his neck and slamming his face directly into a massive fruit platter on the table. Sarah was shivering violently from the ice. She wiped her eyes, saw it was me, and immediately exploded in anger. “George, are you psychotic?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Oliver cowered, hiding completely behind Sarah’s back like a terrified child. “L-George. Do not misunderstand. Sarah and I just get a little physical when we drink. It is a habit, we are used to it…” I let out a dark, furious laugh. “Sarah, what exactly did you promise me this afternoon? You said you would keep your distance. Is this your version of keeping your distance?!” Pure rage boiled over. I kicked the heavy glass table, sending it crashing sideways. “You are practically having sex in the middle of my friend’s club! Should I have arrived a little later? Do you guys need me to book you a hotel room?!” Sarah looked guilty for exactly three seconds before her defense mechanisms kicked in. She lifted her chin, completely unapologetic. “Oliver is leaving the city tomorrow! It is totally normal for us to grab a few drinks to say goodbye! You go out drinking with your friends all the time. Why is it a crime when I do it?!” I roared at the top of my lungs. “I drink with my friends?! Do I make out with my friends?! Do I take my clothes off and roll around on a couch with them?!” “Do not forget who you are! If my buddy had not ordered his staff to delete the security footage, you and Oliver would be trending on Twitter again by tomorrow morning!” Sarah glared at me with freezing resentment. “Who I am? What does that even mean? Does being your fiancée mean I lose the basic human right to have a drink with my best friend?!” “Friend? This is what you call a friend?” I reached out, grabbed a half naked Oliver by the collar, and violently yanked him out from behind her. My hands were literally shaking with anger. Oliver immediately dropped to his knees again. “I am sorry George! I am so sorry! This was all my fault! I pressured Sarah into drinking! Punish me, but please do not be mad at her!” Before I could blink, he grabbed a heavy glass liquor bottle from the floor and violently smashed it against his own forehead. Blood instantly poured down his face. “I know I messed up! I am paying for it right now!” Sarah looked completely horrified. She dropped down, sobbing hysterically. “Oliver! Stop hurting yourself! This is not your fault!” Looking at the two of them crying together on the floor, anyone walking in would think I was the evil villain tearing apart two star crossed lovers. “Are you done putting on a show?” I kicked Oliver straight in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards, and ordered my bodyguard to pin him down. Then I grabbed a heavily swaying Sarah by the wrist and dragged her out to the car. “This is the absolute last chance you get. When you sober up tomorrow, we are going to have a very serious conversation about whether this wedding is actually happening.” Sarah fought me the entire way, screaming curses and calling me a monster, until the alcohol finally took over and she passed out in the passenger seat. The very next morning, the absolute first thing she did when she opened her eyes was ask for Oliver. “George, you bastard! You just left him bleeding in that club?! I have to go find him!” She grabbed her purse and rushed to the front door. But the second she pulled it open, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. 4 I stood up and walked over. Oliver was kneeling directly outside my front door. His hair was matted with dried, dark blood. He looked like a literal ghost out of a horror movie. I closed my eyes. A massive wave of pure, unfiltered exhaustion washed over me. Oliver’s face was completely pale. He forced a weak, tragic smile at Sarah. “Sarah, I just came to say goodbye. Thank you for taking care of me all these years.” He slowly turned his head to look at me, his voice trembling with fake desperation. “George, I really know I messed up. I knelt out here all night to reflect on my actions. Please, just forgive her.” Sarah lunged forward, desperately trying to pull him up from the floor. Oliver gripped her arms, shaking his head. “Sarah, just listen to me. Please treat George well. You guys are getting married. Do not let me ruin things between you.” What an incredibly generous speech. If a stranger heard this, they would assume he was her loyal boyfriend and I was the abusive millionaire stealing his girl. He was acting pathetic, but every single word out of his mouth was a calculated flex. He was rubbing it in my face that he was the only man Sarah truly cared about. And Sarah completely fell for it. She grabbed his arm, trying to drag him toward the elevator. “Stop talking! I am taking you to the hospital right now!” Oliver struggled against her grip. “No, Sarah! Do not treat me this well. I do not want George to misunderstand us again!” My eyes were dead cold. Before I could even open my mouth, Sarah spun around and delivered a stinging slap directly across my face. “George! Do I need your permission to take my bleeding friend to the ER now?! He is in this condition because of you! You have the nerve to be jealous?!” The slap was incredibly heavy. My head actually snapped to the side. I pressed my tongue against the inside of my aching cheek. A dark, hollow laugh escaped my throat. “You actually hit me?” Sarah spat a curse, grabbing her car keys from the console. “Yeah, I hit you! You think having a little money makes you a god?! Without the Kensington fortune, you are absolutely nothing! Nobody wants to deal with your entitled rich boy temper!” A flash of smug triumph crossed Oliver’s eyes before he went right back to begging. “George, I promise! As soon as I get checked out, I am leaving the city! You will never have to look at me again!” “He has no right to kick you out of this city! Do not be scared. I will make sure you stay right by my side!” Sarah pulled him toward the elevator without giving me a single backward glance. I stood in the doorway, watching their silhouettes disappear. My heart felt like it was encased in solid ice. Whatever deep, unforgettable love I used to have for this woman completely died in that exact moment. I closed my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number. If Sarah wanted to choose Oliver over me, then I was done showing mercy.

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1 On graduation day, Darryl was set to propose to Harper—until she vanished, leaving him a text and me a note: “I’m giving him to you.” Watching him frozen on the quad, ring in hand, I blurted out, “I’ve loved you since high school, even before Harper noticed you.” Admitting I’d secretly followed his every move for seven years, I asked, “Could you please…?” Darryl stared, then took the ring meant for her and slid it onto my finger. The next day, we moved into a damp basement. For three years, he worked himself to death, becoming CEO of Darryl Innovations. But on move-in day for our new estate, he stood at the door, hand-in-hand with Harper, blocking me. “I’m bored of you,” he said flatly. “I slept with you for three years. It’s over.” “What did you just say?” I stood there gripping the handle of my heavy suitcase, staring at him in complete disbelief. The wind howled past my ears, creating a deafening buzz in my skull. He squeezed Harper’s hand tighter, his brow furrowing with obvious impatience. “Over the last three years, I have wired a total of three million dollars into your bank account. We are done here. You are walking away a rich woman, so do not act like you lost out.” My vision blurred. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart out by the roots, leaving behind a bloody, gaping hole. So my seven years of silent devotion and my three years of bleeding by his side to build his empire… In his eyes, it was all a transactional service worth exactly three million dollars. I lowered my head. Teardrops violently splashed against the hard plastic shell of my suitcase. He had absolutely no idea. That suitcase held every single thing I owned in this world. He also had no idea that just an hour ago, his executive assistant called me in a blind panic. Darryl Innovations had suffered a catastrophic break in their funding chain. I had just wired every single penny of that three million dollars straight back into his corporate account to save him. Harper stepped forward, a perfectly manufactured look of guilt plastered across her flawless face. She reached out to grab my wrist. “Anna, I am so, so sorry.” “I just could not bear living my life without him…” I violently yanked my arm out of her grip. “Then why did you abandon him three years ago?!” “Why did you text me saying you were giving him to me?!” “Why…” Why did you have to come back now? Before the rest of my furious grief could leave my lips, a blinding, explosive sting erupted across my cheek. My vision fractured into a blur of spinning colors. It took several agonizing seconds for the world to pull back into focus. When it did, I saw Harper hiding her face against Darryl’s chest, sobbing pitifully. “I never should have reached out to you when I got back to the States. I just could not control my heart.” She wept, her voice trembling. “This is all my fault. I should just leave.” Darryl gently cradled her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears as he whispered sweet comforts. “How could this possibly be your fault?” “I was the one who lost control the second I saw you at that hotel. I was the one who claimed you.” “I forced you to face your feelings for me, and I forced you to confront Anna. I do not love her. Why should we be miserable just to appease her?” His naked confession felt like a poisoned arrow tearing straight through my sternum. The agonizing pain radiated down to my fingertips. All the blood drained from my face as I stumbled a step backward. Darryl shot me a look of pure, venomous disgust. “Get lost.” Just like that, I was tossed out like a piece of garbage he no longer had any use for. The light drizzle quickly morphed into a violent, freezing downpour. I stood on the pavement until my entire body went numb, before finally dragging my suitcase away in absolute disgrace. Without even realizing it, my feet carried me straight back to the damp basement apartment we rented three years ago. I collapsed onto the cheap mattress, completely stripped of my strength. I do not love her. I do not love her. Those words circled my brain like a relentless, mocking curse. My fingernails dug so deeply into my own arms that they left bloody trails across my skin, but it was not enough to distract me from the suffocating agony in my chest. Just as I felt like I was literally going to die, my phone buzzed. It was my mother. “Anna, sweetheart. Stop wandering out there on your own.” “I found a really nice young man for you to meet. A blind date. Are you willing to give it a try?” I gripped the phone like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft, swallowing hard to force my voice steady. “Okay. I will come home as soon as I can.” Sometime later, a thick, burning haze completely took over my mind. Through the violent fever dreams, I felt a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap tightly around my shivering body. Darryl’s smooth voice drifted into my ear. “I knew you would come hide here.” “Does your face still hurt?” He tightened his grip, burying his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. “Anna, I just cannot swallow my pride. Give me three months. In three months, I am going to make her deeply regret the way she abandoned me without a word.” “When those three months are up, I will clear all this toxic garbage out of my heart, and I will marry you.” His body was radiating heat, but hearing those words made my blood run entirely cold. Darryl was raised by a widowed mother who collected scrap metal just to put him through college. After graduation, this miserable basement was the only place we could afford. Every single item in this room was something I had hunted down on clearance. I remembered the day I managed to snag a bulk pack of toilet paper on a massive discount. I showed it to him like I had just won the lottery. “Look, Darryl! I saved us another eighty cents today!” His eyes were glued to a coding interface on his laptop. He suddenly turned, grabbed my waist, and buried me in a fierce, crushing hug. “Anna. Harper didn’t believe in me. Do you?” “I swear to god, I am going to build an empire and give you the life you deserve.” His embrace back then was scalding hot. It felt like it could burn me alive. “I believe in you, Darryl. I only believe in you.” His kisses came down like a violent, desperate storm. “My sweet Anna. You are too good to me.” We were dirt poor, but the sheer sweetness of those days felt like it was overflowing from my heart. I honestly believed he worked himself to the bone for three years just to fulfill the promise he made to me. Now, the humiliating truth finally set in. He was just biding his time. He was waiting for Harper to come back so he could stand before her as a king. Silent tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, soaking into the cheap pillowcase. A violent shudder ripped through my spine. Darryl anxiously pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. “Did you catch a fever in the rain?” Watching him climb out of bed with that familiar urgency, digging through the cabinets for the first aid kit and plugging in the electric kettle, a heavy sense of disorientation washed over me. Over the last three years, aside from proudly introducing me as his girlfriend to the public, he had played the role of the perfect partner. When we were starving, he would pick the only pieces of meat out of his soup and place them in my bowl. When my heels were covered in bleeding blisters from running across the city to promote our startup, he would carry me on his back all the way home, carefully apply ointment, and soak my feet in warm water. When he stayed awake for three consecutive nights to finalize a pitch deck, he still forced himself out the door to buy me a birthday cake. He was always making promises. “Anna, the second my business stabilizes, I am putting a ring on your finger.” But when that day actually arrived, all I got was the brutal truth. “Slept with you for three years. Bored of it.” “I do not love her.” “Get lost.” My vision was swimming. Was he truly putting on this cruel act just to punish Harper, or was he just completely, hopelessly still in love with her? Darryl’s phone shattered the silence. He was just about to hand me a mug of hot water. Hearing that specific ringtone, he immediately set the mug down on the nightstand, practically ripping his trench coat off the hook as he yanked the front door open. “Anna, there is a thunderstorm outside. You know Harper gets terrified of the thunder when she is alone in that massive house.” I clung to my last, pathetic shred of hope. “Darryl… I am scared too.” I wanted to scream that I was the one who was terrified of thunder. Back in high school, during a massive summer storm, I hid under my blankets, shaking like a leaf. Harper had laughed at me, purposely throwing the bedroom windows wide open so the thunder clapped right next to my ears. “Do not be such a coward,” she had teased. “It sounds just like war drums.” But hearing my plea, Darryl’s face darkened with severe disappointment. He only paused for a fraction of a second. “Anna… I always thought you were the understanding one.” Understanding. That single word violently shoved all my desperate hopes right back down my throat. Hearing the heavy metal door slam shut, a broken, bitter laugh escaped my lips. My body was burning with a dangerously high fever. I weakly reached out to grab the mug of water he left behind. My trembling fingers slipped. The ceramic mug crashed to the concrete floor, shattering into a dozen jagged pieces. Just like the ten years of love I had completely wasted on him. Staring at the angry red blisters rapidly forming on the back of my scalded hand, I murmured to the empty room. Darryl. You abandoned me twice in one day. I do not want you anymore. I am done taking care of you. Using the absolute last ounce of strength in my body, I unlocked my phone and dialed my bank’s elite client hotline. “I need to issue an immediate freeze on the five million dollar corporate wire transfer I authorized earlier today.” The next time that rusted metal door opened, three days had passed. Harper stood in the doorway, her eyes scanning the cramped room with undisguised disgust. “Anna, do you want to know the real reason I dumped Darryl back then?” “I just refused to rot in a dark, pathetic little hole like this.” My fever had finally broken. I calmly shut my laptop and met her arrogant gaze with eyes made of ice. “You got exactly what you wanted. You are back in his bed. There is absolutely no need for you to come slumming down here just to mock me.” She stepped forward, seamlessly slipping into her old, manipulative habits. She looped her arm through mine, pouting her lips like an innocent child. “Oh, Anna, do not be mad at me.” “I am actually saving your life. Can you imagine how miserable it would be to spend the rest of your life married to a man who does not even love you?” I let out a harsh scoff and physically ripped my arm away from her. She did not even flinch. She just stared at me, her eyes dancing with wicked amusement. “Do you want to know why Darryl suddenly agreed to date me in high school? You know how intensely private and cold he used to be.” Ignoring my darkening expression, she clamped her hand around my wrist and practically dragged me toward the door. “Come to the college reunion with me tonight, and I will tell you his deepest, darkest secret.” I did not fight her. I was leaving this city in a few days anyway. I was leaving the battleground where I had bled for three years. Consider this my final goodbye. Sitting in the backseat of Darryl’s luxury SUV, I watched Harper claim the passenger seat. She spent the entire drive happily chirping at Darryl, weaponizing our shared past. “Darryl, do you remember when you forced Anna and me to stay after school for tutoring? God, we complained so much back then.” “And in college, every single time you bought me a gift, you always included a little greeting card for Anna. You were so terrified I would annoy my own roommate.” Darryl gazed at her with sickening tenderness. Every few minutes, he would take one hand off the steering wheel just to press her fingers against his chest. Sitting in the back, I was treated like an absolute ghost. A heavy, suffocating acid burned the back of my throat. I turned my head to stare out the tinted window, letting my mind drift back to those school days. A secret crush is a teenage girl’s most delicate treasure. And I had only shared that treasure with one person. Harper. I remember blushing furiously as I confessed my feelings. Harper had rolled her eyes, her face twisting in utter disdain. “Anna, what is wrong with your taste?” “Sure, he has a pretty face and gets perfect grades. But have you seen the absolute dump he lives in? His family cannot even afford a basic television.” When I frantically tried to defend him, she just covered her mouth and laughed. “Alright, alright. Your best friend will help you get your man.” Under the guise of helping me pursue him, she began aggressively inserting herself into his life. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, she walked up to me in the cafeteria, her fingers perfectly entwined with his. “Anna, Darryl and I are officially together.” There was no apology in her eyes. Only the thrilling rush of a victory lap. The sun was shining brilliantly that day, but my entire world plunged into an endless, freezing winter. During high school, I eagerly looked forward to the tutoring sessions Harper constantly complained about. During college, I worked double shifts at a cafe just to help Darryl afford Harper’s lavish birthday surprises. I was like a starving beggar, greedily collecting whatever pathetic scraps of time I could spend near him. “Anna, we are here.” Harper’s voice snapped me out of my trance. She linked her arm through mine, playing the role of the sweet best friend as we walked toward the private dining room. Darryl trailed closely behind us, the silent, devoted protector. Right before we reached the heavy mahogany doors, she leaned in close. Her voice dropped to a sinister, triumphant whisper. “Anna, do you remember a secret you told me a long time ago?” “In high school, you used to sneak up to the side wall of the rooftop every single afternoon to write anonymous messages to a boy you had never spoken to?” “That boy was Darryl.” “He thought the girl he was sharing his soul with… was me.” Her words were light as a feather, but they hit my eardrums like a detonating bomb. “That was the only reason he ever agreed to date me.” “Anna.” “I stole him right out from under you.” “And after tonight… you will never, ever get him back.” My entire body locked up. My legs suddenly felt like they were cast in solid concrete. I remembered a conversation Darryl and I had late one night in the basement. We could talk for hours without ever running out of things to say. He had looked at me with a strange, melancholy expression. “You know, I always feel this unexplainable sense of familiarity with you.” “Anna, if only the girl from back then was you…” It took ten years, but the horrific truth behind those words finally clicked into place. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to grab her by the throat and ask her why. We grew up together. We shared everything from elementary school to college. When she skipped out on the bill at a restaurant, I was the one who rushed over to empty my wallet and apologize to the owner, and she never even thanked me. When she complained she had nothing to wear for a date, I handed over the brand new dresses my mother bought for me, and she never returned a single one. When a girl from another class insulted her, I was the one who kicked the classroom door off its hinges to defend her honor, earning myself a permanent strike on my academic record. I could not fathom why she felt the need to destroy my life like this. But before I could speak, she pushed the heavy doors open and strutted into the private room. Darryl stopped right beside me. His voice was a low, freezing warning. “Anna. No one in there knows we ever dated.” “Do not do anything to embarrass Harper tonight.” A broken, pathetic smile stretched across my lips. Any lingering desire I had to expose the truth about the rooftop messages instantly turned to ash. He walked inside and naturally took the seat directly beside Harper. The room erupted in loud, obnoxious cheering from our old classmates. “Look at Mr. CEO! You and Harper have been going strong for ten years now! Now that you are sitting on a tech empire, when are we getting the wedding invitations?” “Right? You guys were the ultimate power couple on campus. Everyone was insanely jealous of you.” Harper cast a shy, demure glance at Darryl. “I am in no rush. Whatever Darryl wants.” She took a delicate bite of fish, then suddenly covered her mouth, letting out a violent, dramatic gag. The entire table gasped in collective excitement. “Oh my god! Are we celebrating a wedding and a baby tonight?!” Darryl grabbed a napkin, gently wiping the corner of her mouth with sickening devotion. “If that is the case, you all better double your wedding gifts. I will be checking the envelopes.” I sat directly across the table, watching their sickening display of domestic bliss. My stomach violently churned. I thought about the last three years. Even when my face was flushed red with desire and the mood was perfect, he would always pull away at the last second to grab protection. “Anna, it is not the right time for a baby.” “Just wait a little longer.” I waited for years, and he never gave me an inch. But the second Harper returned, he planted a child in her without a second thought. Sarah, my old college roommate, nudged my arm with a sharp elbow. “Anna, you are obviously going to be the maid of honor and the godmother. They are dragging their feet, why aren’t you pressuring them to lock down a date?” Harper’s eyes drifted down to my hands. I had forgotten to take off the cheap silver ring Darryl bought me two years ago. “Do not put too much pressure on Anna, guys. She has had a rough time. She has been hopelessly in love with Darryl for a decade.” “She even snatched the prop ring Darryl used for his proposal, claiming she wanted it as a keepsake to mourn her broken heart.” That single sentence was a nuclear bomb. The entire table went dead silent. Dozens of eyes snapped toward me, dripping with absolute revulsion and contempt. “Wow. No wonder she was always trailing behind them like a pathetic lost puppy during college. She was waiting for a chance to strike.” “Harboring filthy thoughts about your best friend’s man for ten years? That is absolutely repulsive. She does not even deserve to sit at this table.” While I was paralyzed by the shock, Sarah aggressively grabbed my hand and yanked it up for the entire table to see. “Look! The inside of the band literally has Harper’s initials engraved on it.” “I cannot believe Anna is this much of a shameless, desperate homewrecker.” The insults rained down on me like toxic acid, burning away whatever dignity I had left. The blood entirely abandoned my face. A guy from our graduating class stood up, a sleazy smirk on his face, holding a shot glass brimming with cheap liquor. “Anna, are you really that desperate for a man? Drink this, and I will do you a favor and be your boyfriend for the night.” Without waiting for my answer, he grabbed my jaw and tried to force the burning alcohol down my throat. I shot a desperate, pleading look at Darryl. He knew my stomach lining was entirely destroyed from drinking with aggressive clients to secure funding for his company. One shot of hard liquor could land me in the emergency room. But Darryl just gave me a flat, apathetic stare. “Let her get a boyfriend. It will stop Harper from feeling insecure.” My heart plummeted straight into the abyss. The burning liquid flooded my mouth, violently searing my throat and setting my damaged stomach completely on fire. Right at that exact second, the heavy mahogany doors were violently kicked open, slamming against the wall with a deafening crash. A furious, dangerously low voice echoed through the room. “Who says Anna doesn’t have a boyfriend?”

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[System Alert: Critical deviation detected in Decade Vow core mission.] [Marriage milestone: FAILED.] [Host termination: 48 hours.] The warnings pierced my mind just after Richard asked, with cruel gentleness, if I still wanted to try on my wedding dress. Minutes earlier, he’d been adjusting my veil. “I was next door keeping Wendy company,” he chuckled. Then it clicked—that’s how he knew I’d gone to the club last night. “She was so scared when she heard your voice, she had to sit on my lap the whole time,” he said, each word a blade. I followed his gaze to Wendy, the girl I’d sponsored for years, now holding my crystal heels, eyes red with tears. Moments before, she’d crouched at my feet, gushing, “If he ever breaks your heart, I’ll make him pay.” Richard brushed my bodice, his tenderness now a mockery. All the joy drained away, leaving only the System’s countdown and the weight of betrayal. 1 I stared at Richard, my throat tight and burning. “Say that again.” And he actually did. This time, he sounded even more composed. “I was with her last night.” “I was planning to keep it under wraps a little longer. But seeing her hold your wedding shoes just now… it hit me. She deserves an explanation too.” I stood frozen, the words trapped in my chest. Today wasn’t just my final fitting. Today was the absolute deadline for the System to verify the success of my Decade Vow mission. Ten years ago, I bound my soul to this System. The price was ten years of my lifespan. In exchange, I gave Richard a meteoric rise to power and saved the Prescott family from absolute bankruptcy. The System only gave me one condition. I had to fulfill my marriage pact with Richard within ten years. Today was supposed to be the finish line. Instead, he chose today to shove me off a cliff. I heard my own voice shaking. “Why today?” “Why did it have to be the day I put on my wedding dress?” Richard remained silent for a heartbeat, but his gaze drifted right past me, landing softly on Wendy. “Because she’s been by my side for a long time. She never asks for anything. She doesn’t even dare to ask for a title.” “I refuse to let her suffer in silence anymore.” A bitter, broken laugh escaped my lips. “And me?” “What about my last ten years? What was all that for?” His expression didn’t waver. It was as if he had rehearsed these answers a thousand times. “It’s not like I’m backing out of the wedding.” “It’s just that Wendy needs some closure, too.” I looked at the man I loved, feeling my heart sink into a bottomless pit. But I didn’t realize he could stoop even lower. He met my eyes, his tone completely flat. “When you took that fall down the stairs at the new house last month? That wasn’t an accident.” “I took her to see our bridal mansion that day. She spilled some champagne and didn’t mop the floors properly. When you went up to check the lighting fixtures later, you slipped.” My blood ran cold. My entire body turned to stone. I nearly had a miscarriage that day. I spent the entire night clutching my ultrasound scans, too terrified to sleep, sobbing because I thought I had overworked myself with the wedding prep and failed to protect my baby. Richard had held me tightly that night, kissing my forehead, telling me it was okay, begging me not to blame myself. He wasn’t comforting me. He knew exactly what happened. He just sat back and watched me tear myself apart. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face with everything I had. The sharp smack echoed off the mirrored walls. The entire boutique went dead silent. Richard’s head jerked to the side, but he didn’t blow up. Instead, he let out a breath, looking almost relieved. “Are you done?” “If you’re done, try to calm down. We’re skipping the fitting today.” “The wedding can be pushed back.” He turned on his heel to leave. Inside my head, the System’s alarm screamed to life. [Decade Vow System detects critical mission deviation.] [Marriage milestone confirmation: FAILED.] [Host termination countdown: 48 hours.] I stood glued to the floor, my hands and feet turning to ice. Right on cue, Wendy rushed forward, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. She grabbed one of the bridal heels and lobbed it at Richard, acting like she was standing up for me. “You promised me you wouldn’t say anything!” “Why did you have to hurt Audrey today of all days?” The pointed heel clipped Richard’s forehead. His very first reaction wasn’t to check his own bleeding skin, but to grab her hands and ask if she had hurt her fingers. I stood in the distance, letting my tears fall and stain the pure white silk of my gown. 2 By the time the bridal shop descended into total chaos, Declan arrived. He was my senior in college and the co-founder of the charitable trust my late mother left behind. Every single grant application Wendy submitted over the past four years had crossed his desk. The moment he walked in, his eyes darted to Wendy first. Only after making sure she was okay did he frown and look at me. “Audrey, what exactly are you trying to pull here?” I stared at him. “You knew too. Didn’t you?” He dodged the question, his voice taking on that familiar, patronizingly soft tone. “Wendy just wants a place to belong.” “Don’t back her into a corner.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I’m backing her into a corner?” “I used my dead mother’s money to put her through college. I paid her hospital bills. I paid her rent. I pulled strings to get her internships. And now you’re telling me I’m the one ruining her life?” Declan sighed heavily, giving me the kind of look reserved for a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. “She comes from a broken home. She grew up with nothing.” “You have the world at your fingertips. She has absolutely nothing.” “Since you’re the one who brought her up to this point, you should be the bigger person and show some grace.” Right on cue, Wendy drifted over, her eyes red and puffy. “Audrey, if you’re mad, take it out on me. Please don’t blame Richard.” “I was the one who fell for him first. It’s all my fault.” Her voice was frail and dripping with guilt. But the silver leaf pendant resting against her collarbone caught the light, and the sight of it made my eyes burn. That necklace was my mother’s heirloom. Three years ago, Wendy was hospitalized. She cried through the night, terrified of the dark. I personally fastened that necklace around her neck, telling her it would keep her safe. Looking at it now, I realized my kindness was just a joke. I reached out, hooked my fingers around the delicate chain, and ripped it off her neck. She let out a sharp cry of pain, bursting into tears as she scrambled backward. The next second, Richard stepped in and shoved me hard. I stumbled in my heavy gown. My waist slammed violently into the edge of the display podium. A sharp, cramping pain shot through my lower abdomen instantly. He completely ignored me, shielding Wendy behind him as his voice turned to ice. “That is enough, Audrey.” I looked up at him, suddenly finding the whole situation incredibly absurd. We had fought before over the past decade. But he had never laid a hand on me. He had never pushed me away in front of an audience. And now, to play the knight in shining armor for a girl I practically raised, he didn’t even care about the baby growing inside me. I took a shaky breath, shifting my gaze to Declan. “That phone call last night. Telling me to go to the club to pick up the girls. You set that up on purpose, didn’t you?” Declan’s eyes flickered away. “You were going to find out eventually.” Then it hit me. It wasn’t just Richard and Wendy. Even Declan, my trusted friend, was busy paving the way for her. Richard’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen and then shoved it directly in my face. Someone had already leaked photos from the bridal boutique to a gossip blog. The angles were perfectly cropped. You could only see Wendy looking innocent, holding the shoes with teary eyes, and me looking like a monster, aggressively ripping the necklace off her throat. The comments were already flooding in, tearing me apart for bullying a sweet girl. Richard’s face was thunderous. “Did you hire someone to post this?” Looking at that photo, a strange, chilling calm washed over me. “No.” “But isn’t she the other woman?” Richard ground his teeth, his voice dropping low with suppressed rage. “She never wanted to compete with you.” “Are you really so bitter that you have to destroy her life?” Declan chimed in, playing the voice of reason. “Audrey, if this blows up, it’s going to ruin Wendy’s graduation and drag the foundation’s name through the mud.” “You need to go to her commencement ceremony and clear the air publicly.” Richard followed up with a final demand, tossing it out like a generous favor. “As long as we get past this graduation drama, our wedding goes ahead as planned.” My chest felt hollow, packed with shattered glass. One betrayed me. One fiercely protected her. One did her dirty work to clean up the mess. And right now, all three of them were demanding that I be the one to swallow my pride and step back. Just then, my phone chimed with a private message from Wendy. [Audrey, Richard was so worried I’d get scared hearing your voice last night. He held me on his lap the entire time.] [I was shivering so much, so he kissed me. He kissed me for a really long time.] I stared at those two lines of text. Bile rose in my throat. The System’s voice echoed simultaneously. [Host’s will to survive is plummeting rapidly.] [Termination countdown halved.] [Remaining time: 24 hours.] I slowly raised my head and looked at the two men standing before me. “Fine.” “I’ll go to the ceremony.” 3 Wendy’s commencement was held in the grand university auditorium. When I walked backstage, she was wearing an immaculate white sundress. Her hair was perfectly styled, and her face carried that carefully curated look of innocent vulnerability. The professors, classmates, and alumni buzzing around her were showering her with praise. One of the deans patted her shoulder affectionately. “Wendy, you’ve really beaten the odds.” Someone nearby immediately chimed in. “Absolutely. Coming out of an impoverished mountain town and making it to the top of the class in the city. You’ve really made something of yourself.” An older alumni smiled warmly at her. “I was just telling the board, you’re the greatest success story the foundation has ever produced.” “Exactly. Winning valedictorian is incredibly well-deserved.” “She’s going places. I heard she bagged multiple elite internships in her senior year alone.” “That’s what you call pulling yourself up by the bootstraps.” I stood in the shadows, listening to the glowing praise, feeling a bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. None of them knew. Her tuition, her hospital bills, every stepping stone of this supposed ‘self-made’ success story was paved with the blood, sweat, and charity of my mother and me. But here she was, the poster child for independent resilience. The second I stepped into the light, Wendy’s eyes brimmed with tears. She rushed toward me. She paused a few feet away, acting incredibly timid, as if she was terrified I would lash out. Then, very tentatively, she reached out and pinched the fabric of my sleeve. “Audrey, you actually came.” “I thought… I thought you’d never forgive me.” Richard materialized behind her and shoved a folded piece of paper into my hand. “Read this when you get on stage. Stick to the script.” I glanced down at the paper. Paragraph one: I had to admit that my emotional outburst at the bridal shop was due to pregnancy hormones and pre-wedding jitters, and that I had wrongfully targeted Wendy. Paragraph two: I had to explicitly state that the cheating rumors online were vicious, fabricated lies. I read it once. Then, while maintaining dead-eye contact with Richard, I slowly tore the paper into confetti. His face darkened instantly. “Audrey, don’t do anything stupid.” I ignored him, walking straight past him, and took the microphone directly from the MC’s hand. The auditorium was packed. The harsh stage lights beat down on me, making my eyes sting. I stood at the podium, staring out at the sea of unfamiliar faces, my voice ringing out crystal clear. “I only have two things to say.” “First, Wendy is not an innocent, underprivileged student.” “Second, Richard isn’t my fiancé. He is her husband.” The crowd erupted. A tidal wave of gasps and whispers crashed through the room. Wendy’s reaction was flawless. The tears spilled over her lashes on command. “Audrey, how could you say that…” “I never wanted to steal anything from you.” “If you want, I’ll even claim your unborn baby as my own! Just please, don’t back me into a corner!” That single sentence acted like gasoline on a fire. The murmurs turned into loud, furious chatter. She successfully painted herself as the ultimate martyr making a heartbreaking sacrifice, while I became the toxic, unhinged villain using a pregnancy to blackmail a man. I opened my mouth to respond, but Wendy suddenly reached into her designer clutch and slapped a little red booklet onto the podium right in front of me. A marriage certificate. I looked down. My mind went entirely blank. The names printed on the legal document were Richard Kensington and Wendy. The date of registration was yesterday. I snapped my head toward Richard. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with cold indifference, leaning in to whisper harshly in my ear. “She’s graduating. She’s been feeling insecure.” “I just signed the papers yesterday to humor her. It means nothing.” “Once this PR nightmare dies down, I’ll quietly file for divorce.” “Our wedding is still on. Stop throwing a tantrum.” Humor her. So in his world, a legal marriage was just a shiny toy you handed out to keep a girl quiet. He thought he could secretly marry her, then throw a massive wedding with me, partitioning his vows like party favors for two different women. But Wendy was still putting on the performance of a lifetime. Wiping her tears, she sobbed into her own microphone, claiming my four years of sponsorship were never about charity. She told the crowd I had a twisted savior complex, that I was trying to groom her into an obedient pet. She claimed I was a control freak who turned violently abusive the second she formed a genuine friendship with Richard. She even swore to God that the photos from the bridal shop were a smear campaign I had personally orchestrated. The crowd turned ugly. Fast. “What a fake philanthropist.” “Sponsoring a girl just to steal her man? Sickening.” “She’s absolute trash.” Rage blinded me. I raised my hand, fully intending to slap the lies out of her mouth. But before my hand could connect, someone gripped my wrist from behind, locking it in a vice grip. I whipped around. Declan was standing there, his face tight with anger. “Audrey, that’s enough.” “This is a graduation ceremony, not a street brawl for you to act like a lunatic.” I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Declan, you honestly think I’m the one being a lunatic?” He broke eye contact, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. His voice was cold. “If your conscience was actually clean, things wouldn’t have escalated this far.” That single sentence extinguished the last dying ember of warmth in my heart. And right at that moment, someone in the front row launched a plastic cup of red fruit punch at the stage. It hit my stomach. The sticky red liquid cascaded down the pristine white of my dress. Then came a second cup. Then a third. The insults grew deafening. A few radicalized students rushed the stage, shoving me, yanking on my dress, shoving their phone cameras aggressively into my face. I was violently jostled backward. My foot caught on a cable, and I stumbled hard. A sudden, agonizing tearing sensation ripped through my lower abdomen. I looked down and watched as the dark, heavy crimson began to bloom rapidly across the wet fabric of my dress. In that moment, a chilling realization washed over me. I was losing the baby. But the mob in the auditorium didn’t care. The screaming, the pushing, the flashes—nobody stopped. I clutched my stomach, the physical agony finally overriding the heartbreak. I didn’t even have the energy left to say a single word.

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The glory of the World Championship win had barely settled when a man I once refused to sign stormed up to me, eyes burning with hatred. Surrounded by reporters, he angrily accused me of match-fixing. “If you hadn’t taken dirty money and undercut me, I’d be holding that trophy!” he shouted, yanking up his sweatpants to reveal a carbon-fiber prosthetic leg. The reporters erupted. Flashbulbs exploded as they shouted, “You belong in prison!” I raised my hands. “This is a misunderstanding.” “A misunderstanding?” He threw a medical report at me. “Two years ago today, in that playoff game—were you or were you not Kieran?” My stomach dropped. My name is Kieran, and I was involved—but as the head coach. I never stepped on the court. He took my silence as guilt. “You ruined my life!” he screamed. “I’ll make you pay!” The cruel irony: that day, I wasn’t even at the arena. An obsessed fan had drugged me, filmed me unconscious, and blackmailed me. But what stunned me most was his “witness.” “My girlfriend saw everything!” he yelled. “I won’t let you walk away with that trophy!” I looked at the woman beside him, clinging to his arm. My blood ran cold. It was her—the same fan who had ruined me two years ago. 1 When the woman finally got a good look at my face, a flash of pure panic and guilt crossed her eyes. Unfortunately, the crippled player completely missed her silent freak-out. He just pulled her forward, playing directly to the cameras. “I have been with my girl for seven years. Her biggest dream in the world was to see me win a championship.” “She dressed up that day, sitting in the bleachers with so much hope, just to watch me play. And what happened? Kieran maliciously stepped under my feet while I was shooting a three-pointer. My ankle shattered so badly they had to amputate. He killed my entire career in a split second!” He even held up a hospital billing statement. Under the ‘Guarantor for Medical Expenses’ section, my name was printed in black and white. Kieran. But that was because I was the coach of the opposing team. Naturally, I stepped up to cover the injured player’s medical bills out of basic human decency. I reached out, trying to pat his shoulder. “Bro, hold on a second. I am incredibly sorry about what happened to you, but you have the wrong guy.” “The wrong guy? You think you can just write off my ruined life as a misunderstanding?!” Tears streamed down his face. He looked completely unhinged as he roared at me. “My name is Silas! The Silas whose life you completely destroyed!” “If a monster like you gets to be crowned a World Champion, I would rather die right here to prove my innocence!” The media crowd gasped collectively. Every single camera lens pivoted directly to my face. The reporters were practically foaming at the mouth with righteous indignation. “Kieran, you know exactly how vital a player’s legs are. What exactly possessed you to do something so sick?” “Nobody would joke about losing a limb! Have you no conscience? Are you really going to stand there and deny it?” How the hell was I supposed to confess to something I never did? I had been dragged through hell that day too. I was just a clean-cut, hardworking coach back then. And that woman completely violated my boundaries. She drugged me, recorded my most vulnerable, humiliating moments on camera, and used the footage to try and force me into a relationship with her. God only knows how much money and sanity it cost me to finally bury that nightmare. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice level. “I remember you. You were a prospect I rejected during the draft trials. You can’t just accuse me of ruining your life because I bruised your ego.” “I was merely the coach during that minor league game. I never subbed in. I never stepped on the court. I physically could not have fouled you.” Let alone the fact that I wasn’t even in the building. I waved my hand, gesturing for my legal team to step in and handle this circus. But before I could even turn my head, Silas lunged forward and snatched my World Championship trophy right off the podium. This was the holy grail my teammates and I had bled and sweat for over three years. It was the ultimate proof of our international dominance. As the team captain, I was supposed to be the one lifting it to the rafters. If Silas hadn’t hijacked the press conference to smear my name, my boys and I would be popping champagne right now. Instead, Silas held the heavy gold trophy high above his head. Pure malice spilled out of his eyes. My posture instantly turned lethal. “What do you think you are doing? Put that down and think very carefully about your next move.” Silas ground his teeth. “Kieran, you destroyed my life. If you do not confess to the whole world right now and show them the ugly freak you really are, you are not leaving this stage!” Seeing that he was entirely prepared to burn everything to the ground, I stopped moving. “Do you have any idea that slandering me on global television will land you in a federal prison?” “And the trophy you are holding represents the glory of an entire nation! Do not let your petty, delusional vendetta ruin this!” Silas just let out a disdainful snort. “You think I would come up here to expose you without hard proof?” “Look closely, everyone! This is the raw broadcast footage from that exact day. World Champion? Please. He is a career-ending thug!” He uploaded a video file directly to the event’s public feed. The reporters and the millions of fans watching the live stream immediately pulled it up. My eyebrows knit together in sheer confusion. What the hell was going on? The player in the video who viciously undercut him looked exactly like me. The footage Silas provided even had a verified timestamp. It was definitively from that minor league game. Realizing the massive severity of the situation, the tournament organizers routed the video to the jumbotron above us. Everyone watched as a player wearing my exact face deliberately slid his foot under Silas while he was airborne for a three-pointer. Silas came down hard, his ankle snapping in a sickening way as he collapsed in agony. The entire arena exploded into chaos. Fans from all over the world stared at the stage in absolute horror. “I can’t believe their World Champion is a dirty player. What an absolute disgrace!” My die-hard fans tried to scream in my defense, but the supporters of the team we had just defeated mercilessly attacked them. “Your idol is a literal criminal! This whole championship is tainted. We demand a complete rematch!” People started hurling cups of soda and half-eaten hotdogs at my supporters in the stands. The reporters didn’t hesitate. They shoved their microphones practically down my throat. “Kieran, are you still going to lie to our faces?” “Whether you took a bribe or did it out of spite, you intentionally maimed Silas and forced him into an amputation! That is an indisputable fact!” “A degenerate like you belongs behind bars. How dare you even touch that trophy? It is a desecration to the sport!” I tried to speak, but my voice was completely drowned out by the tidal wave of accusations. We had bled for our country. Now, our crowning achievement was being dragged through the mud. My fans in the audience were being shoved and bullied. My teammates, who had been crying tears of joy just ten minutes ago, now stood with their heads bowed, looking utterly lost and completely humiliated. Meanwhile, Silas soaked up the sympathy of the press, offering the cameras a tragically broken smile. “I used to be a kid with big dreams. I never thought the world could be this cruel. The woman I love was sitting right there in the crowd, and all she got to see was my most pathetic, broken moment.” “If life was fair, I would be the one holding this trophy today. But Kieran, that disgusting thief, stole everything from me!” Silas clutched the trophy my team had earned, weeping and playing the victim, acting like it rightfully belonged to him. That gold was forged from our blood, sweat, and sleepless nights. Why the hell should I let him tarnish it with his baseless, psychotic lies? I took a deep breath, forcing my heart rate down. I had no idea how my face ended up in that game footage. But there was one thing I knew with absolute, terrifying certainty. A human being cannot physically exist in two places at once. The day I was drugged and dragged into that hotel room, the lobby security cameras and the vile video Sloane filmed on her phone both had rock-solid timestamps. They were my unbreakable alibis. I just wondered if Silas would be able to handle the truth when I shoved it down his throat. I glared at him with ice in my veins. “We live in an era where deepfakes are practically flawless. Are you absolutely certain the guy in that video is me?” Silas gritted his teeth. “Who else could it be?! Everyone can see it perfectly. That is your face! You are just too much of a coward to admit it until the coffin is nailed shut!” Right on cue, his girlfriend Sloane stepped into the spotlight. “My boyfriend’s dream was always to win the World Championship. He was a generational talent. Before I met him, he had never lost a single game.” “Kieran was obviously insanely jealous of his natural gifts! That is why he refused to sign him, and that is exactly why he took a cheap shot and crippled him when they finally faced off!” She puffed out her chest, speaking with absolute, unwavering conviction, painting a vivid picture of the tragedy she supposedly witnessed that day. I would never be able to scrub Sloane’s sickening face out of my memory. I was the one who survived a nightmare because of her. Back then, I was just a regular coach grinding my way up. But my looks caught Sloane’s attention, and she developed a completely unhinged obsession with me. She tried to buy me with money. She tried to pressure me using her family’s connections. Nothing worked. I refused to cave. So she resorted to the lowest, most despicable tactic imaginable. She slipped a drug into my drink. She was in that hotel room. She took complete advantage of my paralyzed state to film an explicit, non-consensual video. The entire horrific ordeal was documented on her phone. I couldn’t even stomach the thought of watching it a second time. She was only bold enough to publicly slander me right now because she assumed I had permanently deleted that traumatic footage the second our legal battle ended. But the truth was, just in case this psychopath ever returned. I had kept a heavily encrypted backup. I stared dead into Sloane’s heavily plastic-surgeried face, a wave of pure revulsion rolling off me. “You claim I was on the court undercutting Silas that day. Then let me ask you something. Who was the guy passed out in the penthouse suite of the Grand Plaza Hotel that exact same afternoon?” Sloane violently flinched. She snapped her head toward me. “What, are you going to start spreading slut-shaming rumors about me now? Is this how a World Champion behaves?!” Silas clenched his fists. He immediately pulled Sloane behind his back, puffing up like a righteous savior. “I thought you were just an overly competitive thug who played dirty because you were terrified of losing to me. But at least I thought you had some backbone! Dragging an innocent woman’s reputation through the mud? You are not even a real man!” The reporters eagerly typed away, practically salivating. They were already painting me as a mob-connected enforcer who intentionally crippled rookies. Now, they were slapping a ‘misogynist’ label on me, condemning me for throwing a woman under the bus to save my own skin. I kept my tone dangerously calm. “I grew up in a working-class neighborhood. I am not some mobster intentionally breaking people’s legs.” Sloane pointed a manicured finger right at my nose. “That is exactly why you took the dirty money! You did a hit job to eliminate a player who actually had real talent!” “I saw the whole thing from the bleachers. Do not even try to lie your way out of this! Whether it is his leg or that championship trophy, you owe my boyfriend your life. You do not deserve any of it!” I had pushed through three years of brutal injuries. Three years of sleepless, agonizing training camps. And she had the sheer audacity to say I didn’t deserve it? I took a step back, putting distance between myself and Sloane. “A single video clip proves absolutely nothing. I am calling the police right now to pull my geolocation data and hotel records from that day.” “First of all, I was the head coach. There is zero possibility I subbed into the game. Second, I was never even inside that arena!” I locked eyes with Sloane, my gaze utterly lethal. “Where I was, and exactly what I was doing that day, is something you know very, very intimately, Sloane. Do not push me to the point of no return.” It was a highly explicit, deeply violating video involving both of us. Even though I didn’t grow up rich, my parents raised me to be a gentleman. I truly did not want to destroy a woman’s dignity on international television. But Silas didn’t care. At that exact moment, he hoisted the trophy high into the air and violently slammed it down onto the hard stage floor. A deafening crack echoed through the stadium. The honor my teammates and I had bled for over three years, a multimillion-dollar international trophy representing the pride of our entire nation, shattered into a dozen jagged pieces. I saw red. “Silas, have you completely lost your mind?! That is a national treasure!” More importantly, the sentimental value of that trophy was something a hundred thousand Silases could never afford to repay. Silas just pointed a venomous finger right at my face. “Let me make this crystal clear. I would rather smash this trophy to dust than let a piece of trash like you ever hold it again!” “Who knows if you are going to bribe the cops and the media to fabricate some fake alibi later!” He turned to the completely stunned crowd, speaking with fanatical devotion. “I swear on my actual life, Kieran is the one who took my leg. That video is one hundred percent authentic.” “If he can genuinely prove he didn’t do it, I will take a knife and end my own life right here on this stage! Are you all satisfied now?!” Betting his own life on the line. That was all it took for the scales of public trust to permanently tip in his favor. The tournament officials looked at us with deep apprehension. The gold medals that were supposed to be draped around our necks were quietly packed away. My fans, who had been fiercely fighting back just moments ago, went completely still. They squatted in the stands, quietly weeping as they absorbed the humiliation. A few of my teammates broke down sobbing, dropping to their knees and pounding their fists against the stage floor in sheer, helpless agony. The rookie I had personally mentored looked up at me. His eyes were bloodshot and completely shattered. “Captain… did you really do those things?” “Please tell me it is a lie. You are not that kind of person, right?” Looking into his completely broken eyes, I knew he was hanging on by a thread. I was the leader of this franchise. I was the idol my fans looked up to. I represented the country. If I didn’t completely annihilate these lies and clear my name right here, right now, the people who loved and trusted me would suffer a permanent psychological collapse. And all of this nightmare was meticulously orchestrated by Silas and Sloane. Silas, you really wanted to play this game? You better pray you can survive the fallout. I pulled out my phone and unlocked the heavily encrypted hidden folder in my gallery. “We actually do not need to wait for the police. I have a video right here that explicitly proves I was nowhere near that basketball court.” I already had the media control booth’s email from the press briefing. I attached the file and hit send. “Put it on the jumbotron. The raw, real-time footage from that afternoon is more than enough to clear my name!”

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I used to be the ex-boyfriend of the survivor base’s ultimate leader. Because of my terrible attitude and spoiled nature, I was despised by everyone and eventually thrown right into a horde of zombies. After miraculously surviving and escaping, I discovered a terrifying truth. My world was actually a post-apocalyptic novel, and I was nothing more than a pathetic, tragic villain meant to die early. To keep myself alive, I decided to completely abandon the main plotline and live a quiet, peaceful life on my own. That was my plan, at least. But one day, the leader of the base suddenly tracked me down. His eyes were completely bloodshot, and the first words out of his mouth were breathless and broken. “I thought I would never see you again.” 1 “Felix, you are being completely unreasonable again.” Kieran’s cold, detached voice rang out right behind me. I jolted, stiffly turning around to meet his gaze. His eyes held nothing but impatience and anger. That familiar, indulgent love he used to reserve only for me was entirely gone. Normally, I was at least a little intimidated by him. I do not know what got into me this time, but my temper snapped, and I screamed right back at his face. “Yes! I am being unreasonable! What exactly are you going to do about it?” Kieran clearly did not expect such a fiery outburst from me. A second later, his rage spiked. His intimidating aura crashed down over me like a tidal wave, completely crushing my brief moment of bravery. His face darkened so much it looked like a storm cloud ready to burst. “Felix, have I been too lenient with you?” My anger was still there, but my courage had officially checked out. I am not an idiot. I can tell the difference between Kieran being annoyed and Kieran being genuinely furious. When he truly loses his temper, he becomes terrifying. “Dinner is ready, so I am leaving.” I dropped that single sentence and bolted. Nothing matters more than eating in the apocalypse. As long as I mentioned food, Kieran would not keep picking a fight. Sure enough, I had not walked far before that chilling pressure behind me vanished, replaced only by his muffled, frustrated sigh. We only had a little argument. Did he really need to be that fiercely intimidating? My nose stung slightly, and I cursed him in my head. What a petty jerk. 2 On the way back to our quarters, people on the street shot me dirty, hostile glares. I glared right back, fierce and unyielding. The people in the base absolutely hated me. Ordinary folks worked the fields to earn their keep. Those with combat abilities risked their lives outside the walls killing zombies. I was the only one living like a delicate parasite, clinging tightly to Kieran for survival. I never thought there was anything wrong with that. It was a mutual agreement between two consenting adults. What right did anyone else have to judge us? But people still constantly harassed me, claiming they were acting on behalf of the base and trying to “save” Kieran from my toxic influence. My first major fallout with Kieran happened because I got into a physical fight. Someone was talking trash about me behind my back, and I happened to overhear it. I had zero combat power, so it was a completely one-sided beatdown. I looked incredibly pathetic by the end of it. But the part that infuriated me the most was Kieran. He did not check on my injuries first. Instead, he walked over and apologized to the guy who beat me up. I gave him the silent treatment for three days after that. He eventually went on a scavenging run and brought back a box of rare chocolate to beg for my forgiveness. Lately, our arguments had become far more frequent. At first, Kieran would at least pretend to coax me out of my bad moods. As time went on, the bastard stopped trying entirely. He refused to say a single comforting word, always using meal times as a cheap excuse to break the ice. Eat, eat, eat! I hoped he would choke on his food. Kieran had just brutally scolded me in front of the entire base again, stripping away every ounce of my dignity. I was supposed to be his boyfriend, yet he never once defended me. He just stood there and allowed them to humiliate me. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I marched right up to Kieran and demanded a breakup. He stayed completely silent, staring down at me with those pitch-black, bottomless eyes. After a long agonizing moment, he let out a dark sneer. “Felix, what exactly gives you the delusion that you can survive out there without me?” All my righteous anger instantly deflated. He was right. I did not know how to kill zombies, and I was terrified of scavenging for supplies. My food, water, and shelter all depended entirely on him. Kieran and I actually met before the apocalypse ruined the world. Back then, he was just a nameless, poor kid. I still have no idea where he got the audacity to think he was worthy of courting someone from my social class. But he was incredibly handsome. In a crowd of utterly average faces, his sharp, striking looks were a breath of fresh air. Having him around was good for my eyes. Relying entirely on his pretty face, I decided to give him a chance. After we got together, Kieran was completely obedient. If I told him to walk east, he would never dare look west. I can confidently say that my current terrible temper is at least fifty percent his fault! I just did not understand how things had devolved into this nightmare. The base residents held a deep, venomous grudge against me, acting as if I had dragged their majestic, awe-inspiring leader into the gutter. The pure contempt in their eyes made my blood boil. If it were not for this godforsaken apocalypse, people with their low status would not even be qualified to tie my shoes! And Kieran was no longer my shield. He stopped prioritizing my feelings, and whenever I got into a shouting match, he blamed me without even asking what happened! It is true what they say. The moment a man gains power and status, his heart completely changes. 3 To vent my bitter frustration, I waited until Kieran was sound asleep in the middle of the night. Then, I planted my foot firmly against his sculpted abs and kicked him right off the bed. While he was still inhaling sharply on the floor, trying to process the pain, I moved like lightning. I grabbed the heavy quilt, threw it entirely over his head, and delivered several blind punches to his skull. Finally, I bolted out of the bedroom like a frightened rabbit, locked the door from the outside, and casually made myself comfortable on the living room sofa. Kieran violently twisted the doorknob a few times. He started pounding on the wood. His hoarse, deeply agitated voice seeped through the door. “Felix, what the hell are you throwing a tantrum over now?” I completely ignored him. A few minutes later, his voice dropped into a terrifying, bone-chilling octave. “Fine, Felix. If you have any guts at all, do not ever come back into this room.” I curled up tighter on the sofa and sniffled. Why should I listen to you? I will go wherever I please! When daylight finally broke, the harsh sunlight pierced my eyes, making me scowl. After the apocalypse, the flora, fauna, and even the sun’s rays had mutated to become incredibly harsh and burning. If Kieran did not specifically hunt down high-grade sunscreen for me during his supply runs, my skin would have peeled off a long time ago. I pulled the soft blanket up to my chin, happily dozing off again before my brain caught up with reality. Wait, a blanket? I snapped my eyes open, a smug grin spreading across my face. Oh, Kieran. Even when we are in a bitter cold war, you still obediently sneak out to tuck me in. Feeling like I had finally scored a victory, my mood skyrocketed. I decided I might actually give him a decent smile when he came back. Kieran had specifically warned me to never leave our housing sector. I did not have any friends in the base anyway, so I usually spent my entire day locked safely indoors. But I never expected trouble to come knocking directly on my front door. Looking at the fierce, vicious men blocking my entryway, my stomach dropped. Usually, when Kieran was around, I would confidently hurl insults right back at them. But when he was gone, I absolutely never dared to provoke them. These men chopped off zombie heads without blinking. My neck was significantly softer than a rotting corpse’s. The burly man in the front crossed his arms. “Felix, we are not trying to make things difficult for you. But lounging around being utterly useless every single day is getting a bit ridiculous, do you not think?” I swallowed hard, desperately trying to maintain my usual arrogant, superior facade. “Did Kieran not make it clear to you? I belong to him. He contributes more than enough for the both of us. Do you really dare go against his orders?” The men erupted into cruel, mocking laughter. “You really still think you are some precious treasure? Commander Kieran already has a new lover. A smart person would take the hint, pack up quietly, and leave with some shred of dignity. You better start thinking about your own survival.” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. I stood completely frozen. A new lover? Kieran found someone else? Why did I not know about this? A tidal wave of absolute terror consumed me. In that moment of panic, I did not even stop to question if their words were true. The thugs kept talking. “Honestly, you are the most pathetic waste of space in this entire base. Even the street walkers know how to use their bodies to please a man and earn their keep. But you? You hide behind the Commander’s protection, parading around like you own the place. A whore should at least have the self-awareness of a whore. Since you clearly do not know how to serve a man, you are coming outside the walls to scavenge with us.” My eyes widened in sheer horror. I had spent all this time perfectly sheltered under Kieran’s wings, completely oblivious to the real, lethal dangers of the apocalypse. I was still acting like the spoiled rich kid I used to be. I fought tooth and nail, refusing to go with them. But my scrawny arms were no match for grown, battle-hardened men. I was brutally dragged and tossed into the back of their armored truck. The vehicle violently rumbled out of my familiar, safe haven. Separated by a single concrete wall, one side was humanity, and the other was absolute hell. I finally witnessed the true, unfiltered apocalypse. The putrid, rotting stench in the air was so thick I could barely breathe. In that moment of nausea, I finally understood why Kieran always scrubbed himself raw in the shower before he even tried to touch me. The last time I had faced a zombie up close was at the very beginning of the outbreak. Back then, the infection rate was low, and society was still desperately holding onto a shred of order. Kieran had grabbed my hand and fought his way out of our university campus, dragging me through unspeakable horrors until we reached this city and built the survivor base. Sitting in the truck, I desperately missed his warmth. He loved me so deeply back then. Could he really betray me for someone else? Or perhaps he truly did love me once, but my terrible behavior finally pushed him past his breaking point, and he simply decided I was not worth loving anymore? 4 The truck screeched to a halt in a desolate, ruined city. The streets looked completely dead and abandoned. Was there actually anything left to scavenge here? I eyed the men suspiciously as they prepared to disembark. I desperately wanted to stay in the vehicle, but I was too terrified to remain alone. If a horde swarmed the truck, these men would absolutely never come back to save me. After weighing my terrible options, I shakily followed them out. We entered a massive, crumbling department store. The shelves were completely barren and coated in a thick layer of grey dust. It looked like the place had been picked clean years ago. Suddenly, a violent tremor shook the concrete floor beneath my feet. By the time I realized what was happening, the men were already sprinting toward the exit at top speed. My brain short-circuited. Pure instinct took over, and my legs carried me after them. The men piled into the truck, slammed the doors, and the engine roared to life. They were not waiting for me! They intentionally brought me out here to dispose of me! The realization hit me like a physical blow. Uncontrollable, suffocating terror gripped my throat. “Do not leave! Wait! Please do not leave me behind!” I sprinted after the tires with everything I had, but the truck left me entirely in the dust. They were gone. And I was completely surrounded by the undead. As the rotting, foul-smelling corpses dragged their feet closer and closer, I accepted my fate and squeezed my eyes shut. The ruined city was blanketed by a thick, oppressive layer of grey clouds. Amidst the gloom, a gust of wind carrying the stench of blood and decay swept through the street. A large, reinforced cargo truck slowly pulled to a stop nearby. The noise attracted a few straggling zombies on the road. Before the monsters could even lunge, a group of people hopped out of the truck, wielding heavy blades. With terrifying efficiency, they severed the rotting heads from their bodies. Startled by the commotion, I peeked through the narrow crack of the rusted dumpster I was currently hiding inside. Their combat movements were brutally efficient. The three men in the group barely even blinked, decapitating zombies with single, fluid strikes. After clearing the immediate area, the group began packing up, preparing to leave. Panic surged through my chest. I did not care if they were saints or murderers. This city had been dead for years, and who knows when I would ever see living humans again. I scrambled out of the filthy dumpster and sprinted awkwardly toward them. Hearing footsteps, they instantly assumed I was a running mutant. One of the men whipped out a machete and swung it directly at my skull. I shrieked, dropping to my knees and covering my head. “Please do not kill me! I am human! I am a good person!” The sharp blade halted a millimeter above my scalp. A few strands of my severed hair fluttered to the asphalt. I sat completely paralyzed on the ground, a cold sweat drenching my back. The man stared down at me, his face an absolute mask of ice, and slowly lowered his weapon. 5 Another man strolled over, crouching down to inspect me with wide, amused eyes. “Well, look at that! A living, breathing human in this hellhole!” A second later, his cheerful expression twisted in absolute horror. He violently stumbled backward. “Holy crap! What is that smell?! You are going to suffocate me!” My face burned bright red. I lowered my head in deep shame. “I am so, so sorry.” A young woman with short, practical hair stepped up to me. “Can you tell me why you are completely alone out here?” She scratched her head, looking puzzled. “Or rather, how are you even alive right now?” The dam finally broke. The memory of those bastards tossing me into a zombie horde flooded my mind, and I started sobbing uncontrollably. By all logic, I should have been ripped to shreds within two seconds. But for some inexplicable reason, the surrounding zombie horde suddenly scattered into the alleys. Clutching my painfully racing heart, I had frantically crawled into this dumpster and stayed paralyzed in the filth for two entire days. I fully believed I would either be eaten alive or starve to death in the dark. I never expected to be saved. Through choked sobs, I briefly explained how my squad had maliciously abandoned me to die. The short-haired girl’s eyes softened with instant sympathy and outrage. My eyes were red and swollen, tears pooling pitifully in my lashes. I looked exactly like a tragic, helpless victim who had been cruelly betrayed. I had absolutely zero leverage or survival skills. Playing the pathetic, harmless victim was my only strategy to win their sympathy. Thankfully, my fragile appearance and tragic story successfully lowered their guards. “Can you please take me with you? I promise I will not be a burden. I can do anything you ask, just please do not leave me in this place.” The girl turned her head, looking at the three men for permission. The guy who had complained about my smell gave a lazy, indifferent shrug. “Might as well bring him. Look at how scrawny he is. It is not like he is going to eat much of our rations.” I immediately nodded frantically. “Yes! Exactly! I barely eat anything at all!” The other two men remained silent, which in the apocalypse essentially meant yes. Just like that, I climbed into the back of their cargo truck and finally left that city of nightmares behind. I had narrowly escaped death, and I should have been overjoyed. But a heavy, suffocating dread settled in my chest instead. During those two terrifying days huddled in the dumpster, a flood of bizarre, cinematic visions had violently forced their way into my brain. Every single vision was about Kieran. The Kieran in my mind felt terrifyingly unfamiliar. He did not look like the man who sighed helplessly at my tantrums, nor the man who scolded me with a stern face. He radiated a bone-chilling, absolute frost. He barely looked like a man with a beating heart. In those visions, I was completely absent. He stood entirely alone, ruling with an iron fist, slaughtering his enemies, expanding his territory, and ultimately ascending to become the absolute sovereign of the wasteland. At the very end of those flashing memories, a line of glowing text appeared in my mind. Commander Kieran was no longer the underdog a piece of trash like Felix could humiliate. He was the sole hope of humanity, destined to lead the survivors and ensure the fire of civilization never extinguished. Reading that sentence and piecing all the memories together, the horrific truth became crystal clear. This world was a published novel. Kieran was the unstoppable protagonist. And I was just a petty, malicious early-game villain who bullied him when he was weak. A worthless cannon fodder destined to be torn apart by zombies at the very beginning of the story.

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My unemployed best friend recently moved into my place. She claimed she did not want to be a freeloader and insisted on doing the chores. I never expected that after just one day, she would treat my Tiffany necklace as literal trash and toss it out. For the sake of our years of friendship, I bit my tongue. But a few days later, my insanely expensive designer clothes vanished without a trace. Her excuse was totally unapologetic. She said the clothes looked out of season, assumed I did not want them, and dropped them in a charity donation bin. Since she was supposedly doing a good deed, I let it slide. I simply warned her to never touch my things again. That was until I walked out carrying my limited edition Hermes Birkin, and a friend gently pointed out that the stitching looked a bit off. I rushed home, tore through my closet, and realized every single authentic bag I owned had been swapped for a cheap replica. Suddenly, I remembered her mentioning a luxury resale app. I immediately typed in her phone number to search. Her bio hit me right in the face. It read: “Turning trash into treasure. Hustling my way to the top.” What a hustle indeed. Without missing a beat, I reported her seller account, getting all her transactions permanently frozen by the platform. Blissfully unaware of her impending doom, she booked a VIP table that very night. She popped champagne with ten gorgeous male promoters to celebrate. But when the bill arrived, her card declined. She was backed into a corner and forced to borrow cash from some very dangerous street lenders right on the spot. 1 Sitting on the floor by my display cabinet that afternoon, I tapped into Stella’s Instagram page. My jaw practically unhinged at the sight of her casually holding a seventy thousand dollar Gucci bag. Her makeup was flawless. Her cocktail dress screamed old money. She was lounging in a Michelin star restaurant, serving up effortless poses for the camera. I zoomed in on that Gucci bag sitting perfectly in the frame, examining the hardware over and over again. My fingers actually trembled as I scrolled down. Every single photo dump was flooded with the same ridiculous tags. #OldMoneyAesthetic #RichWifeEnergy #DayInTheLife Stella paired every single outfit with a different bag. We were talking pieces ranging from ten to a hundred grand. No exceptions. Strictly top tier luxury. Compared to those wannabe influencers who split the bill for a staged photoshoot, her daily high end splurges and endless rotation of designer pieces made her wealth look incredibly authentic. The reality was that half a month ago, Stella could barely afford a decent meal. After college, she took a safe corporate desk job while I refused to settle for mediocrity. I chose the startup route. The early days were brutal. I worked from dawn until midnight and barely scraped by. The last two years finally brought my big break in the import business. Every time I closed a massive overseas deal, I rewarded myself by taking a small fraction of the profits to buy a luxury bag. My collection grew from a couple of pieces to dozens. I was overflowing with a sense of achievement, watching my life finally fall into place. Stella, on the other hand, lost her job and got dumped. She could not make rent, got evicted, and spent over two hours sobbing on the phone to me. I drove over, packed up her life, brought her to my place, and treated her to a Wagyu steak dinner. After stuffing herself, she looked down in embarrassment, admitting she did not even have twenty bucks to her name. Seeing her hit rock bottom, I told her she could stay in my guest room rent free. I covered all her meals. I told her to just get settled first. She could take her time finding a job, and if she was willing to grind and polish up her Spanish, I could even bring her into my import business. But Stella just sighed. She told me she was so beaten down by her recent failures that she was borderline depressed. All she wanted to do was rot in bed all day. I had no choice but to tell her to rest up and figure the rest out later. A few days ago, she bounced into the kitchen looking ecstatic. She claimed she found a gold mine of a career path. She was going to be an influencer. I just smiled and nodded. I did not take it seriously because making it on social media is a brutal game. Who would have thought that in just two weeks, her follower count would skyrocket past eighty thousand. Her entire brand was built on flexing insane wealth. Her comment section was a sea of absolute worship. “Oh my god, she is so filthy rich!” “I can practically smell the expensive perfume through the screen. Please adopt me, sugar mommy!” “Living my literal dream.” “Wait, is that the crocodile leather Birkin? That is worth like over a hundred grand!” Seeing that specific Hermes mention, my ears started ringing. A suffocating wave of panic crashed over me. Stella had not suddenly struck it rich. Every single bag she was using to flex for the internet belonged to me. Earlier today, a friend warned me that the Hermes I was carrying looked like a replica. I almost lost my mind on the spot. That bag was my holy grail. I had taken fifty percent of the profit from a grueling, massive deal just to bite the bullet and buy it. I dropped everything at work and sped home to authenticate my entire collection. Every single designer bag in my custom cabinet had been swapped out for a high tier fake. It took me a long time to stop shaking and force myself to breathe. At first, I tried to rationalize it. Maybe she was just blinded by vanity. Maybe she swapped them with fakes just so she could borrow the real ones for her photoshoots without me noticing. But my brain immediately caught the flaw in that logic. You cannot stage those photos with just a bag. Where did she get the money for the diamond jewelry, the couture gowns, and the tabs at five star restaurants? I backed out of her Instagram and remembered she mentioned a luxury resale app a while back. I typed in her cell number and hit enter. Her seller profile made my blood run cold. Every single bag featured in her aesthetic photos, along with several of my other personal luxury items, was listed for sale. 2 The completed transaction history left me completely speechless. The Tiffany necklace she claimed was accidentally thrown out in the trash? Sold for three thousand dollars. The designer clothes she supposedly donated to a charity drive? Sold for thirty thousand dollars. She even sold the empty Chanel perfume bottles off my vanity and the branded Louis Vuitton paper shopping bags I kept in the closet corner for a few bucks each. If it had a brand name, she liquidated it. She did not waste a single opportunity. I grabbed a calculator and furiously punched in the numbers. She had already pocketed around fifty thousand dollars of my money. Her seller bio mocked me from the top of the screen. “Turning trash into treasure. Hustling my way to the top.” Staring at those words, I zoned out for a few seconds before letting out a dry, bitter laugh. Her newest listing description read: “Fresh drop of dozens of authentic luxury bags. Can be verified at any boutique. Everything must go at fifty percent off retail. First come, first served!” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Most of those bags were practically untouched. I barely even took them out of their dust bags. Especially that crocodile leather Hermes. I painstakingly conditioned it on a strict schedule, terrified of a single scratch ruining its value. Just to get fast cash, Stella was slashing the prices in half. A bag worth over a hundred grand, a rare custom piece with incredibly low global production, was sitting on a secondhand app for fifty grand. And the buyers were going feral. Just in the few minutes I spent scrolling, several listings updated to “Payment Pending.” I could not stomach another second of it. I slammed the report button. I submitted a mountain of evidence to the platform’s fraud department to prove she was fencing stolen goods. My paper trail was bulletproof. I uploaded original boutique receipts, bank statements, and close up photos matching the exact wear and tear I had left on specific bags. The verdict was swift. The platform slapped her account with a permanent ban and froze every single penny in her seller wallet. Seeing that notification finally brought me a sliver of peace. I did some quick mental math. If she sold that entire batch at half price, she would be sitting on around three hundred thousand dollars. Add the fifty thousand she had already stolen and spent, and we were way past the threshold for felony grand theft. If I called the cops right now, with this dollar amount, Stella was looking at serious prison time. But thinking about our shared history, my hand hovered over the phone. I could not bring myself to nuke her life just yet. I still vividly remembered our first year out of college, renting a cramped, drafty apartment in the bad part of town. I caught a terrible fever in the middle of the night, and she walked me to the ER in the pouring rain. When I was unemployed for three months, she split her meager savings with me, laughing and saying I could just pay her back when I was a CEO. Back then, we used to share a single iced latte to save money. She always let me have the last sip. I do not know exactly when she morphed into this monster. Maybe it started when she maxed out her first credit card on a bag that cost three months of her salary. Maybe it was when she figured out how to fake location tags at exclusive resorts with stolen Pinterest quotes. She became obsessed with the fictional version of herself in the eyes of strangers, and completely detached from the real people right in front of her. I had tried to warn her. I told her the economy was tough and she needed to build a safety net. She just rolled her eyes, claiming her designer pieces were investments that she could always flip for cash, so she was never actually losing money. I just never imagined I would become her primary inventory. Thinking about all those memories, I let out a heavy sigh. She used to be my sister, my closest confidant. If she walked through the door right now, gave me a genuine apology, handed over whatever cash she had left, and returned the unsold bags, I would consider the matter closed. My phone buzzed. The platform’s customer service rep confirmed that the three hundred thousand dollars in pending funds had been locked and would automatically refund to the buyers in three days. That took a massive weight off my chest. I decided to wait on the sofa for Stella to come home so we could have a brutal but necessary heart to heart. But dinnertime came and went. The front door remained shut. Thinking back on her recent schedule, she had been out every single night at high end VIP lounges, burning cash on bottle service and club promoters. Once, I even saw some bleached blonde frat boy drop her off, making out with her right on my driveway. And to think, just two weeks ago she was screaming and crying over her ex, claiming she could not survive a single day without him. I was debating whether to call her and demand she come home right now. Then my phone lit up with a text from a mutual friend. “Blair, check Stella’s live stream right now. She is dropping bags on bottle boys at the club!” 3 The screen loaded, revealing Stella sitting in the dead center of a plush velvet booth, completely surrounded by a crew of styled, attractive male promoters. Her viewer count was surging, and the chat was moving at warp speed. “Three hundred bucks for a single bottle? And she is on her fifth in ten minutes? Okay, sugar mommy is loaded!” “She literally carries bags worth a house. A few grand on drinks is pocket change.” “Look at those guys practically begging for her attention. They know who pays the bills!” Watching Stella hold court, casually dropping luxury brand names and acting like royalty, I felt completely entirely disconnected from her. I had a sinking feeling in my gut. The Stella I knew was dead and gone. A younger looking promoter slid right up against her side, pouting his lips and putting on the charm. “Gorgeous, think you could treat your favorite boy to a nice watch? Nothing crazy, maybe just ten grand or so.” “The nightlife hustle is rough. I just need something flashy to show these other guys I’m doing well.” “You have so much money, your jewelry changes every day. You probably have a whole vault of watches collecting dust at home, right?” The chat went wild. “Typical club boy behavior. They flirt a little and immediately beg for handouts. Do not give him a dime!” “Well, he just said he would take something cheaper too. If it’s just a few hundred bucks, why not throw him a bone?” “A rich goddess giving out cheap gifts? That ruins the aesthetic. If she gives something, it has to be a Rolex.” “Wait, did you guys see her eyes light up when he said ‘cheaper’? Is she actually broke?” Stella caught that last comment. The arrogant smirk on her face froze for a split second. She quickly recovered, raising her voice loud enough for the microphone to catch. “Of course, babe. I will bring you a stunning piece next time. Give me a second, I need to use the powder room.” The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, my phone started ringing. It was Stella. Taking time out of her massive VIP flex to call me? I narrowed my eyes. I answered the call anyway. “Blair, babe, you up?” Hearing her fake sweet tone made my skin crawl. I was about to answer. But she immediately launched into her web of lies. “Hey, remember those luxury vintage watches you bought for your dad? He is always traveling and never wears them. How about you let me take them off your hands?” “I met these poor, struggling boys downtown. They cannot even afford a clock for their apartment. It is honestly heartbreaking. Giving them your dad’s watches to tell time would be such a good deed.” The remaining warmth in my chest instantly turned to ice. Poor, struggling boys? She meant the bottle service guys charging hundreds for a pour of vodka. She was trying to steal my dad’s watches to flex on club boys? “Blair, I will be home a bit later to grab them. Could you do me a huge favor and pack them up? Preferably in the original velvet boxes? You are the best, babe.” I was so furiously angry I actually let out a quiet laugh. I wanted to rip her to shreds right then and there. But knowing she was coming back soon, I decided this needed to be handled face to face. I swallowed the venom in my throat and kept my voice perfectly flat. “Fine. Come home. We have a lot to talk about anyway.” She totally misinterpreted my tone, squealing with absolute delight. “Oh my god, you are an angel! Love you, bye!” She hung up instantly, rushing back to her booth to brag about the imaginary luxury watches she was about to rain down on her admirers. The chat and the guys showered her in another wave of aggressive flattery. “By the way, gorgeous, what kind of ride do you usually take to the club?” one of them asked. “I swear I saw someone who looked exactly like you stepping off the city bus today. Same dress and everything. Must have been a glitch in the matrix.” Stella almost choked on her champagne. “Excuse me? I ride in a Lamborghini. Your eyes are definitely broken, babe.” The promoter leaned in. “Then how come we never see you pull up in it?” Stella’s eyes darted around the room. She stammered for a second. “I… I do not really like driving. My personal female chauffeur usually takes the wheel.” “I will just have her pick me up later. You will see.” Right on cue, a text notification popped up at the top of my screen. It was from Stella. “Babe, it is super late and I cannot get an Uber. Be a lifesaver and come pick me up? And please take the Lamborghini, you know normal cars give me motion sickness.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440328”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Mom always told me I was born broken. For as long as I can remember, I have been confined to a wheelchair. My legs were dead weight, completely incapable of even the slightest twitch. Every single aspect of my life depended on my mother. I never knew my father. Mom said he walked out on us. Every day, she vlogged her life as my full time caretaker on social media. Her followers flooded the comments, calling her the most beautiful, resilient mother on the internet. Viewers would constantly send tips and donate to our GoFundMe. I was thrilled about it, thinking the money would finally lift some of the crushing weight off her shoulders. Even though I was dealt a bad hand in life, I considered myself incredibly blessed to have such a devoted mother. That was until I uncovered her sick secret. That was when I realized just how deeply she had destroyed my life. 1 Mom always blamed herself. She claimed she accidentally took the wrong medication while she was pregnant with me, resulting in my lifelong paralysis. She apologized to me every single day. She cried about failing to give me a healthy body and swore she would spend the rest of her life making it up to me. My dad left when I was just a toddler. Mom used to hold me tight, rocking me back and forth while whispering softly. “It is just you and me against the world now, Mona. We are all we have.” And for years, she genuinely took immaculate care of me. I was the perfect, obedient daughter, doing everything in my power to be a burden free child. Long before the sun came up, I would hear the familiar clinking of pots and pans in the kitchen. Without fail, Mom was already up preparing my breakfast. I lay in my small bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. This was our daily routine. She woke up earlier than anyone else in our neighborhood. She would get the oatmeal simmering on the stove, then head to the bathroom to draw warm water. By the time I opened my eyes, the water was at the exact perfect temperature for my morning sponge bath. Shortly after, she would walk in carrying a washbasin, stepping lightly so she would not startle me. “Morning, my sweet Mona. Are you awake?” She would walk over with a warm smile, gently resting the back of her hand against my forehead. “No fever today. Thank goodness.” She would prop me up, stuffing thick, plush pillows behind my back before carefully slipping off my pajamas. My arms were weak, making even the simple act of lifting them a massive chore. Getting dressed relied entirely on her. Her fingers were incredibly nimble and practiced, always terrified of hurting me. While wiping me down, she would always murmur the same hopeful words. “Mona’s legs are just sleeping right now. If we take really good care of them, maybe one day they will wake up.” Her eyes would always glass over with tears when she said that. I used to think those tears came from a place of pure, agonizing maternal love. I learned later it was nothing but an Oscar worthy performance. She made my breakfast at four in the morning. Terrified I might choke or struggle to chew, she boiled the oats until they were practically liquid. She peeled my hard boiled eggs with surgical precision, ensuring not a single speck of shell remained. When she fed me, she blew on every single spoonful until it was exactly body temperature. She never ate with me. By the time I finished my bowl, her own portion on the counter was always ice cold. After breakfast came the medication. Chalky white pills dissolved in a cup of lukewarm water. It tasted horrible. But she always had a strawberry gummy waiting in her pocket. The second I swallowed the bitter medicine, she popped the candy into my mouth. “There is my brave girl. All gone,” she would say with a bright smile. Once the dishes were cleared, she dragged a small wooden stool to my bedside and began massaging my dead legs. She would rub her palms together to generate heat before pressing into my muscles. The pressure was firm but soothing, creating a dull ache in my calves. “Tell Mommy if it hurts.” She would look up at me periodically, her voice dripping with absolute tenderness. I always shook my head. I never told her it hurt. I did not want to add to her stress. I knew how exhausting it was for her. Every time she finished massaging my legs, I saw her secretly rubbing her aching lower back. “Mommy isn’t tired. As long as my Mona gets better, I would do anything.” Around ten in the morning, the ring light clicked on. She opened her phone and began filming our daily routine. She angled the camera toward me, her voice dropping into a soft, vulnerable register. “Hey everyone. Mona is doing so well today. She ate a good portion of her breakfast and was so brave during her physical therapy.” Then she flipped the camera to show her own hands. They were visibly weathered, lined with wrinkles, the knuckles slightly swollen. “These hands dress her, cook for her, and massage her every single day. It is exhausting, but having my beautiful girl smiling beside me makes every second worth it.” The moment the video went live, the comment section exploded. 2 “Your strength is incredible. You are the absolute definition of a supermom.” “Mona is such an angel. Praying for a miracle for you both.” “It breaks my heart seeing a single mother raise a disabled child completely alone. You have so much patience.” “Just sent twenty bucks to your CashApp. I hope Mona gets better soon and you can finally get some rest, mama.” “Supermom! Keep fighting!” Mom would scroll through the comments, reading them aloud to me with a glowing smile. “Look at this, Mona. So many people are rooting for us. You are going to walk one day, I just know it.” Back then, I swallowed every single word. I truly believed the kindness of these internet strangers was easing my mother’s heavy burden. I believed her bone deep exhaustion was the price she was paying for my hypothetical recovery. I believed that even though I was trapped in a wheelchair, having a mother like her made me the luckiest girl in the world. “Once you are all better, I will take you to the countryside. We will climb trees and pick wild apples together.” My eyes lit up at the thought. I leaned over the armrest of my wheelchair, looking up at her. “Really? I could really climb a tree?” She stroked my hair softly. “Of course, baby. As long as you take your medicine and do your massages, you will absolutely get there.” With that, she walked over to the counter to prep my pills. Two small brown tablets sat in a little porcelain dish next to a glass of water. “Time for your meds, Mona. This is what helps your legs wake up.” I obediently opened my mouth. The pills slid down my throat, leaving a faint, bitter metallic aftertaste. Back then, the thought never even crossed my mind. Those two daily pills were not the key to my recovery. They were the chemical chains keeping me locked in that wheelchair. But I was oblivious. I had no idea the “recovery” I prayed for every night was never meant to arrive. My mother’s grueling sacrifices were nothing but a meticulously crafted illusion. And I was the naive, grateful little fool playing the starring role in her twisted reality show. It happened on a random Tuesday morning. Mom stepped out onto the balcony to hang the laundry, leaving me alone in the sunlit living room. The warmth seeped into my legs. Suddenly, I remembered a faint tingling sensation in my knees from the massage a few days prior. Acting on a bizarre impulse, I tried to flex my muscles. First, my big toe twitched. Then, miraculously, my knee slowly lifted upward. The movement was agonizingly slow and incredibly weak, but my leg was actually moving! A rush of pure adrenaline and joy hijacked my body. My voice shook violently as I screamed for her. “Mom! Mom! Look! My leg moved! I just lifted it!” I fully expected her to drop the laundry basket, rush over, and sob tears of joy with me. Instead, she froze dead in her tracks. The soft smile vanished from her face instantly, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated panic. Her eyes darted around like a cornered animal. She practically lunged at me, pressing her hands heavily onto my thighs. Her posture was completely rigid. “Mona, are you sure you aren’t imagining things?” “You have never had feeling down there. How could it just suddenly move?” “You are just tired, sweetheart. It was probably just a muscle spasm.” “It wasn’t a spasm!” I argued desperately. I tried to lift my leg again to prove it. But this time, no matter how hard I strained my brain, my legs felt like solid blocks of concrete. They refused to budge. Mom let out a very audible exhale, her shoulders dropping. She patted the back of my hand. “See? It is okay. Don’t overthink it. Just rest, I will go make breakfast.” She spun on her heel and speed walked into the kitchen. She was moving so fast she completely forgot about the wet laundry sitting on the balcony rail. I sat in my chair, a strange knot forming in my stomach. Why wasn’t she happy? Did she not want me to walk? That night, I woke up around 2 AM. I heard muffled voices coming from the living room. I silently peeled back my bedroom curtain just a fraction. Mom was pacing in the dark, her back to me, gripping her phone tightly against her ear. “…I didn’t miss a dose! Who could have predicted she would suddenly claim she could feel her legs today?” “…She physically lifted her knee. Is her body building a tolerance to the dosage?” “I don’t know what happened! I gave her the exact amount you told me to…” “Fine. I understand. I will come pick up the stronger batch tomorrow…” I could not make out the person on the other end, but my mother’s hushed, frantic tone echoed in the quiet house. The very next afternoon, she returned home with an unlabeled amber pill bottle. The tablets inside were larger and a much darker shade of brown. She shook one out, pressed it to my lips, and gave me her signature warm smile. “Mona, Mommy reached out to a holistic specialist out of state. He sent over this new medication. It is supposed to work miracles.” “If we stick to this routine, you might just be walking in no time.” For the next few days, I swallowed the new pills. Whatever faint tingling I had experienced was completely eradicated. My knees felt completely numb again. My legs returned to being two cold, lifeless stones. 3 Mom walked toward me holding a glass of water, pinching that new, oversized white pill between her fingers. Her smile was as gentle and loving as ever, but looking at it now made my chest constrict with anxiety. “Time for your medicine, sweetie.” She pressed the pill against my lips and tipped the glass toward my mouth. “Drink up and take a nice long nap. Maybe tomorrow your legs will feel brand new.” I stared at the chalky tablet, the memory of her frantic late night phone call screaming in my head. But I kept my face totally blank. I parted my lips and let her place it on my tongue. She watched me closely. I took a large gulp of water, tilted my head back, and put on a show of swallowing hard. Seeing my throat bob, her loving smile deepened. She reached out and stroked my hair. Her palm was physically warm, but to me, it felt like freezing ice. “Such a good girl. Always so cooperative. You are going to be completely healed before you know it.” “Get some rest.” She turned off the lamp and gently pulled my bedroom door shut. The absolute second the latch clicked, I shot up in bed. I slapped my hand over my mouth and coughed violently. The pill, which I had jammed deep under my tongue, popped out into my palm. It was perfectly intact, leaving a sour, chemical burn on my taste buds. I was terrified to leave it in the trash or on the nightstand where she might find it. Running my fingers along the side of my wheelchair, I found a small tear in the fabric underneath the seat cushion. I shoved the pill deep inside the foam padding, smoothed the fabric over, and lay back down as if nothing had happened. I stayed wide awake staring at the ceiling until dawn. Without the drugs coursing through my system, that heavy, leaden feeling in my lower half began to fade. By the early hours of the morning, a faint, electric buzzing sensation returned to my kneecaps. That tiny spark of feeling filled me with a chaotic mix of elation and sheer terror. Elation because my body was actually capable of healing. Terror because if my mother found out I was faking it, I had no idea what she was capable of doing to me. Just as the sun started to rise, the door creaked open. Mom stepped in and froze when she saw my open eyes. “You are up early, Mona. Did you sleep poorly?” I quickly softened my expression, rubbing my eyes to feign grogginess. My voice was sweet and innocent. “No, Mommy. The birds outside just woke me up.” She walked over, automatically checking my forehead for a fever before her eyes darted straight down to my legs. “Any discomfort down there? Need Mommy to rub them out?” I could feel the intense, paranoid scrutiny in her gaze. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced a bright smile. “Nope! Still feel exactly the same. But maybe yesterday’s medicine is working its magic deep down.” Hearing that, her tense shoulders visibly relaxed. The sickeningly sweet smile returned to her face. But hiding beneath it was a dark, calculating look I was finally learning to recognize. “Don’t lose hope. We will take another pill today, and the results will be even better.” I nodded enthusiastically. As she turned her back to head to the kitchen, I clenched my fists tightly under the blanket. I knew right then and there. From the moment I spit that pill out, the game had completely changed. I could no longer afford to be the obedient little doll. I needed to find out exactly what she was feeding me. And more importantly, I needed to know why she was doing this to her own flesh and blood. For the next few days, I executed my routine flawlessly. When pill time came, I happily opened my mouth. The second her back was turned, I spat it into a napkin and stuffed it into the secret compartment of my wheelchair. As my stash of hidden pills grew, my body started waking up. It started with the tingling in my knees. Then, I found I could slightly flex my calf muscles. By the fifth night, sitting alone in the dark, I gripped the edge of my mattress and dragged my dead weight forward. I managed to swing both legs over the side of the bed. When the bare soles of my feet actually felt the freezing chill of the hardwood floor, I broke down. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at my toes, tears streaming down my face in the dark. They were not tears of sorrow. It was pure, unadulterated triumph. I focused all my energy downward, and my toes curled against the wood. I wasn’t permanently broken. I actually had a chance to walk on this earth just like a normal person. But as the euphoria faded, the grim reality settled back in. What the hell was in those pills? Why did taking them turn me into a vegetable, and stopping them bring me back to life? I had to get to the bottom of this. Not just to save myself, but to expose the monster playing house with my life. 4 Whenever the camera was rolling, I was the picture perfect disabled daughter. When Mom set up a vlog, I would stare wistfully out the living room window, perfectly portraying a girl longing to play outside. When she cried to her live stream audience, I would lower my head and look heartbreakingly pitiful. When viewers asked me in the chat, “Do you want to walk, Mona?” I recited the exact script she had drilled into my head. “More than anything. I want to walk in the park with my mom so she doesn’t have to carry me anymore.” The moment the camera turned off, she would shower me with praise. “Good girl, Mona. You really know how to help Mommy out.” She would pull up her banking app, showing me the massive spikes in donations. “Look at this. People feel so bad for you. Keep this up, and we will have enough for your treatments in no time.” But looking at her glowing face, I felt nothing but a chilling disgust. During one particular live stream, a viewer dropped a comment that caught traction. “What exact medication is Mona taking? Maybe we can crowdfund a better specialist or find imported alternatives.” Mom’s eyes flickered with panic for a fraction of a second, but she quickly smoothed it over. “It is a highly specialized prescription. The name is ridiculously long and complicated.” “Her doctor explicitly warned me not to share the name online so people don’t try self medicating.” A troll in the chat immediately pounced on the excuse. “Sounds like a scam to me. She’s faking it for the GoFundMe money.” The chat quickly spiraled. “Actually, yeah. Refusing to name the meds is super sketchy.” “Is she even paralyzed? The internet is full of grifters faking illnesses for clout these days.” “No medical records, no doctor names… this has scam written all over it.” Mom’s face drained of all color. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, completely failing to come up with a believable lie on the spot. A lightbulb went off in my head. I was trapped in this house and couldn’t test the pills myself. But the media could. I immediately leaned into the frame, putting on my best performance. My voice trembled with forced indignation and desperate tears. “How can you guys say that about my mom?!” I gripped the fabric of my shirt, forcing my eyes to water. “She wakes up in the middle of the night to take care of me!” “She dresses me, feeds me, and massages my legs until her hands cramp!” “She works night shifts just to keep the lights on. She measures my medicine down to the milligram because she is terrified of hurting me. How could you call her a liar?!” I took a shaky breath, staring directly into the lens with fierce determination. “If you don’t believe us, then call a news station! Tell them to come broadcast our life live on TV!” “They can film her waking me up, doing my physical therapy, and putting me to bed.” “Let them see for themselves if my legs work, and let them see how hard my mom fights for me!” The energy in the chat did a complete 180. “Mona is right. A kid that age wouldn’t lie like that.” “You trolls are disgusting, bullying a single mom at her breaking point.” Right on cue, a verified account pinned a comment. “We are producers from the local Channel 7 News. We would love to do a live documentary on your daily routine tomorrow. Would you be open to this?” Mom sat completely paralyzed in her chair. She stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. She clearly never expected me to hijack the stream like that. I turned to her, flashing my most innocent, angelic smile. I whispered so the mic would barely catch it. “Mommy, this way nobody can ever call us liars again.” Once the stream ended, she hovered over me, her expression incredibly tense. “Mona, why on earth did you invite a news crew here? What if… what if something goes wrong on live TV?” Her voice lacked its usual confidence. She could not even make eye contact with me. I looked down, softly tracing the fabric over my numb knees. “Mom, I just couldn’t stand them attacking you like that.” “You sacrifice everything for me. You break your back working late, and they treat you like a criminal. It made me so angry.” I looked up, letting my eyes shine with naive hope. “Besides, isn’t this a good thing? If we go viral on the news, everyone will see how amazing you are.” “The donations will go through the roof. You won’t have to work those awful night shifts at the convenience store anymore.” She stared hard into my eyes for several agonizing seconds, searching for any sign of deception. Finally, she let out a long breath, her vanity winning out over her paranoia. “My sweet girl is growing up. You are really looking out for Mommy.” “Okay. You are right. Let the reporters come tomorrow.” I nodded obediently. I knew exactly why she caved so fast. She genuinely believed her acting was flawless enough to fool a professional camera crew. But she had no idea what I was actually planning. I did not want the media here to validate her “sacrifices.” I wanted them here with high definition lenses to witness her force feeding me those pills. I wanted them here to broadcast her fraudulent tears to millions of viewers. I was using this live documentary to burn her empire of lies to the ground. That night, I spit my pill out into my palm again. Lying in the dark, I practiced firing the muscles in my thighs. My calves were actually responding to my commands now. Give me a few more days, and I might actually be able to pull myself up using the bedframe. I slipped my hand under the cushion, brushing my fingers against my hidden stash of pills. Mom, I thought to myself into the darkness. Everything you took from me… you are going to pay it back in full.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “440327”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband Preston is severely allergic to dairy. He refuses to touch anything containing even a trace of milk. During our first year of marriage, I accidentally made him a dairy-based pudding. He threw an absolute fit, screaming and demanding to know if I was trying to kill him. From that day on, dairy was strictly banned from our house. But just moments ago, at his own promotion banquet, he downed an entire glass of milk handed to him by his assistant. I didn’t act shocked. I simply turned around, pulled out a divorce agreement, and handed it to him. The friends and family surrounding us immediately accused me of causing a scene. Preston was so furious he splashed the remaining milk right into my face. “Tracy was just worried the alcohol would upset my stomach! She kindly poured me a glass of milk to coat it. What is your problem?” he yelled. He actually had the nerve to add, “Besides, Tracy is married and has a baby! Are you seriously jealous of a married woman?” I let out a soft laugh. I turned around, poured another glass of milk from the pitcher, and shoved it in front of him. “You love milk so much? Keep drinking.” 1 Preston stared at the glass in my hand. Realization seemed to hit him. Furious and embarrassed, he slapped the cup away, sending it crashing to the floor. “I drink at these corporate dinners for work! I do it to give you a better life! If you don’t care about my health, fine. But demanding a divorce in public over a glass of milk?” His little speech instantly won over the entire banquet hall. “Everyone knows how hard Preston works. He literally drinks until his stomach bleeds just to spoil Audrey. I can’t believe she is acting like such an ungrateful brat!” “Preston is famous for spoiling his wife. I heard he specifically hired an assistant who was married with a kid just so Audrey wouldn’t feel insecure.” His assistant, Tracy, stepped forward with a perfectly crafted look of victimhood. “Audrey, I am a married woman. My baby just turned one. How can you possibly be jealous of me?” “I was just worried about Preston’s stomach. It was a completely innocent gesture. If you hate it that much, I will never pour him a drink again!” I raised my hand and wiped the sticky, sickeningly sweet liquid from my face. A sharp, pungent smell invaded my nose. My stomach physically turned. I slammed the divorce papers onto the table. “Once we are divorced, you can feed him all the milk you want. I won’t get in your way.” Seeing I was dead serious, Preston snatched the papers and ripped them in half. His face was red with anger. “I am not signing anything. You are just throwing a tantrum over Tracy. Fine. I will never drink anything she pours me ever again. Happy?” “Tonight is my promotion party. Are you really going to ruin everyone’s mood?” His sister Brittany stepped up, patting my shoulder with fake sympathy. “Audrey, you are just a stay-at-home wife. You need to know when to quit while you are ahead. If you actually divorce him, you will never find a guy half as good as my brother.” My mother-in-law Eleanor glared at me with pure disgust. “You have been married to my son for three years. He never even lets you step foot in the kitchen. He wakes up early to cook you breakfast before work, and rushes home to make you dinner. He doesn’t even let you wash his socks.” “As his wife, you watch him destroy his body for his career and you feel nothing? You want a divorce over a glass of milk? Are you even human?” Eleanor’s words made the crowd look at me like I was absolute trash. I looked down at the damp stains on my dress. My eyes stung slightly. In everyone’s eyes, marrying Preston was like winning the lottery. He was the undisputed husband of the year. For three years, he took on all the household chores, treating me like a delicate flower in a greenhouse. But this “perfect man” had actually turned my entire existence into a sick joke. The warmth vanished from my eyes. I pulled out my phone, submitted an official divorce filing online, and forwarded the confirmation to Preston. “I don’t care if you agree. This marriage is over.” “Meet me at the courthouse at ten tomorrow morning. If you don’t show, I will let my lawyers handle it.” Preston froze. His tone immediately softened. He reached out to grab my hand, shifting into his usual coaxing voice. “Honey, I know you are just acting out because you want my attention. I promise you, from now on, I will only drink what you pour me. Okay?” Fighting down the bile in my throat, I yanked my hand back. I poured another glass of regular milk and pushed it right to his chest. “Then drink this right now.” Preston stared at the glass. His face instantly darkened into a thundercloud. “You know I am severely allergic. Are you seriously trying to force me into the ER tonight?” “Audrey, why are you being so completely unreasonable?” I looked at him and let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Oh, so now you remember your allergy? Then why didn’t you have a reaction when you downed the glass Tracy just gave you?” “Or does her milk magically cure your allergies, while mine sends you to the hospital?” Preston’s face went ghost white. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. The veins in his neck popped. 2 Before Preston could explode, Tracy took a quick step forward and snatched the glass of milk. “Audrey, this is all my fault. I will drink this to apologize. Please, just stop torturing Preston.” “He is still my husband. Who the hell do you think you are to drink for him?” Watching Tracy’s pathetic, theatrical act made me want to throw up. I ripped the glass out of her hand and dumped the entire thing directly over her head. “Does your husband know you are breastfeeding other men?” Seeing her dripping wet, Preston violently shoved me backward. He pulled Tracy into his chest, shielding her. “I spoiled you way too much! I let you get away with everything, and now you think you are untouchable!” “If you want to walk away, fine. We are getting a divorce. But you are leaving with absolutely nothing.” There it was. He finally ripped his mask off. He was completely convinced I wouldn’t dare leave him. In his mind, I had been his little caged bird for three years. I sneered. “I am not the one who crossed the line. Why should I leave with nothing?” “The person getting kicked to the curb with empty pockets is going to be you.” The moment the words left my mouth, the entire room erupted into mocking laughter. “Everyone knows you haven’t worked a day since you got married. You survive entirely on Preston’s paycheck. How shameless do you have to be to demand he leaves with nothing?” “Bankrupting your husband over a glass of milk? You are actually psycho.” Eleanor was so furious she raised her hand and swung it directly at my face. “Without my son, you are just used goods! Let’s see who wants a spoiled brat like you!” I covered my stinging, red cheek. Before I could say a word, Preston grabbed his mother’s arm. “Mom, stop! Audrey is still your wife. She is just throwing a tantrum right now. Once she cools off, she will come crawling right back to me.” The crowd collectively swooned over his “protection.” They praised him as an absolute saint of a husband, painting me as a heartless, ungrateful leech. “Look at that. You act like a total lunatic, and Preston still defends you. If you keep pushing this, you really have no soul.” Everyone expected me to take the out and back down. I didn’t. My eyes swept past Preston and locked onto Tracy, who was hiding behind his shoulder. “I guess I have no soul, then. This divorce is happening.” Seeing my absolute resolve, Preston’s eyes turned bloodshot. “Audrey, are you screwing someone else? Is that why you are so desperate to leave me?” I didn’t even want to waste another breath on them. I turned toward the exit, but Preston gripped my wrist like a vice. “Tell me! Who is the guy? If you confess right now, I am willing to give you one last chance!” Tracy seized the opportunity to play the empathetic peacemaker. “Audrey, I know Preston works long hours. It is normal for a housewife to feel lonely and empty at home. But since he is willing to forgive you, just tell the truth. Are you leaving him for another man?” As she breathed heavily, trying to look concerned, the fabric of her silk blouse shifted. A faint, wet stain was clearly visible on her chest. It burned my eyes. I raised my free hand and slapped her straight across the face. “Stop throwing your dirty water on me. You know exactly why we are getting a divorce.” Tracy clutched her cheek and buried her face into Preston’s chest, sobbing hysterically. “Preston, I was just trying to help her! I don’t know why she hates me so much! I’m just a mother trying to do my job!” Preston wrapped his arms tightly around her, glaring at me with pure hatred. “Fine, Audrey. You want a war? I will see you in court.” Hearing him finally agree to the divorce felt like a massive weight lifting off my chest. I turned and walked away. I didn’t look back once. As soon as I stepped out of the banquet hall, I noticed the door to the hotel’s private nursing room was wide open. Sitting right on the counter was a freshly used breast pump. My stomach violently convulsed. I ran to the nearest trash can and threw up everything I had eaten. 3 Walking out the hotel doors, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my private assistant, Harper. “Ms. Kensington, the lab results from the glass are in. I sent the report to your inbox.” I opened my email immediately. At the very bottom of the report, the chemical breakdown listed one undeniable result. Human breast milk. Even though my stomach was completely empty, I hunched over and dry heaved on the sidewalk. I wiped my mouth and dialed Harper’s number. “Compile every single piece of evidence we have. I am going to obliterate Preston in that courtroom.” I hung up, glanced back at the glowing hotel, and started walking down the driveway. I reached the valet stand, but the driver immediately blocked the door of my assigned car. He looked at me with total disdain. “Sorry. Mr. Preston gave strict orders. Since you are getting divorced, this car is his personal asset. You are not allowed to use it.” I stared at the pitch-black mountain road ahead, my nails digging into my palms. The banquet was held at an exclusive halfway resort. The scenery was beautiful, but it was incredibly remote. Getting a rideshare up here was impossible. He was trying to put me in my place. The driver sneered at me. “You are just a parasite living off a man’s wallet. Throwing your life away over a glass of milk. Let’s see how long you survive in the real world without him.” I ignored his trash talk, gritted my teeth, and started the long walk down the winding mountain road. The road was rugged and the night air was freezing. It took me two full hours to reach the bottom of the hill. Just as I hit the main highway, a sleek Mercedes sped up from behind and slammed the brakes right next to me. Preston and Tracy were sitting in the backseat, staring at me with icy arrogance. “Do you finally understand what happens when you cross me, Audrey?” Preston sneered. “Apologize to me and Tracy right now, and I promise I will let you get in the car and come home.” Tracy chimed in, perfectly echoing his tone. “Just apologize, Audrey. Preston was just promoted to regional director. The sky is the limit for him now. If you throw this away, there is no magic pill to cure your regret.” I looked at Tracy’s smug, toxic smile and let out a scoff. “You clearly love collecting trash. But I don’t. I’m a germaphobe.” Preston’s face turned violently green. He glared at me like a venomous snake. “I am going to wait for the day you crawl back to me on your knees!” He barked at the driver, and the Mercedes peeled out into the night. The second his taillights vanished, I walked straight toward a custom black Maybach parked quietly under a streetlamp. I slid into the plush leather seat. Harper immediately handed me Preston’s corporate employment file. “Ms. Kensington, Preston doesn’t possess a fraction of the talent required for that director position. If it wasn’t for your secret backing, he would still be a bottom-tier sales rep. Do you want me to terminate him right now?” I waved my hand, staring out into the dark night. “No. I want him to stand at the absolute peak before I push him off the edge.” Years ago, Preston’s pure, unfiltered devotion had actually moved me. To protect his fragile masculine ego, I gave up the spotlight and played the role of the quiet housewife. I secretly funneled all my family’s corporate resources into paving his way to the top. And my reward was absolute betrayal. That night, I slept in my own multi-million dollar private estate. Just as I was about to close my eyes, my phone lit up. It was an emergency call from a close friend. “Audrey, it’s a disaster. Someone just leaked a massive folder online. They used deepfake technology to paste your face onto highly explicit photos with dozens of different men. They even posted manipulated adult videos of you on several underground forums.” 4 I hung up the phone. A barrage of text messages flooded my screen instantly. I clicked on one and saw a grotesque, heavily doctored photo of myself in bed with a stranger. Below it was a link to a sketchy forum hosting the fake videos. Before I could even process the image, a random number called me. “You filthy gold digger! You belong in the gutter! Go burn in hell!” I slammed the end button. Two seconds later, another call broke through. “Audrey, you cheated on him and then tried to frame him over a glass of milk? Preston is the unluckiest guy on earth to have married trash like you.” My personal data had been completely exposed. I quickly popped the SIM tray out and removed the card. Preston moved incredibly fast. The very next morning, I received a formal lawsuit and a court summons. He was filing for divorce and demanding everything. That afternoon, I drove to our old apartment to collect my personal belongings. But as I pulled up to the gate, I saw a massive pile of clothes and boxes scattered across the dirty pavement. I stepped closer. They were all my things. He had tossed my belongings onto the street like actual garbage. As I bent down to pick up a box, Eleanor suddenly appeared with a mob of neighborhood Karens, completely surrounding me. “That’s her! The shameless tramp! She slept with half the city, got exposed online, and used a glass of milk to demand a divorce!” A barrage of rotting lettuce and cracked, foul-smelling eggs rained down on me. The smell was unbearable. I couldn’t even shield my face. The women descended on me like rabid animals, violently grabbing and tearing at my jacket. “You are a jobless housewife! Every bite you eat and every thread you wear belongs to my son! How dare you cheat on him? You should be locked up!” My coat was ripped at the seams, hanging off my shoulders in tatters. I was completely cornered. Right on cue, Preston came rushing out of the complex. He dramatically ripped off his blazer and draped it over my shoulders. He turned to his mother with a deeply disappointed look. “Mom! As long as the judge hasn’t signed the papers, she is still my wife. You cannot treat her like this!” His theatrical performance won over the entire crowd instantly. “Look how she treated him, and he still protects her! What a saint!” “Audrey, if you have a shred of conscience, you should be begging for his forgiveness right now!” Preston looked down at me, his eyes brimming with fake, deep affection. “Honey, if you just admit you were wrong and come home, I will drop the lawsuit today.” I looked at his sickeningly hypocritical face, grabbed his blazer, and whipped it directly at his chest. “Save it, Preston. I will see you in court.” The day of the trial arrived quickly. Relatives, friends, aggressive internet vigilantes, and local reporters packed the gallery. They were all waiting to watch me burn. Preston walked in with Tracy glued to his side. He looked at me with a perfectly crafted look of pity. “Audrey, it is not too late to back out. If this trial starts, you are leaving with zero.” I looked at his arrogant posture and let out a dry laugh. “We will see who leaves with zero. You are celebrating way too early, Preston.” His fake smile instantly vanished, replaced by a dark, vicious glare. “Then don’t blame me for ruining you.” The trial officially commenced. Preston eagerly submitted his mountain of “evidence” to the judge. “Your Honor, my wife committed adultery with multiple partners. Furthermore, she has been monetizing illegal, highly explicit content online. Her actions have caused catastrophic emotional and reputational damage to my family.” He shot me a smug, victorious grin. Just as he thought he had me completely cornered, the heavy courtroom doors swung open. A team of sharp-suited lawyers marched down the aisle and took their seats next to me. The gallery started whispering frantically. “Wait, isn’t that the most elite corporate litigation team in the state? Why the hell are they defending a broke cheater?” Preston scoffed, leaning against his table. “You can hire the best lawyers in the world. It doesn’t matter. I have witness testimonies and hard physical evidence.” “You are dead in the water, Audrey.” He stood tall and recited my alleged sins to the courtroom one by one. The judge adjusted his glasses, looking down at me coldly. “The plaintiff has submitted the evidence. The defendant is accused of serial infidelity and the illegal distribution of explicit material for profit. Do you have any objections to these claims?” I smiled calmly. “I absolutely object.” I reached into my briefcase and pulled out a single folder. Preston saw the logo on the folder, and a slight tremor ran through his shoulders. I looked at him with a deadly smirk.

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