When the truth finally came to light, I was brought back to the Sinclair estate. But the very second the fake heiress shed a single tear, my biological parents abandoned all plans to press charges. Instead, they turned around and urged me to be the bigger person, begging me not to make things ugly. The people who stole me not only escaped justice, but they rode the fake daughter’s coattails straight into a life of absolute luxury. My biological family trusted her unconditionally. My heart completely died, so I packed my bags and walked away. But karma never misses a target. Ten years later, the fake heiress gave birth, and her newborn baby was swapped at the hospital. The Sinclair family completely imploded. The eldest brother secretly ran a DNA test on his son. Zero percent match! The second brother rushed out in the middle of the night to test his own daughter. Also a zero percent match! As they sobbed and begged the authorities to ruthlessly punish the human traffickers, I simply smiled. “You need to be the bigger person. There is no need to make things ugly, right?” 1 Tristan Sinclair found me just as I was leaving the municipal building after a long shift. I was mentally calculating what to make for dinner when I looked up and saw him standing by my car. What a suffocating sight. I had zero intention of acknowledging him. I adjusted the strap of my tote bag and tried to walk right past him. But Tristan stepped into the harsh glow of the parking lot streetlamp, completely blocking my path. “Briar. We need to talk.” I lifted my grocery bag slightly. “I don’t have the time, Tristan. I’m going home to cook.” “Give me ten minutes.” His voice carried that familiar, commanding weight. “The family is in crisis. You have to know what’s happening.” Of course I knew. My phone had been buzzing non-stop for three days with breaking news alerts. The Sinclair corporate empire was drowning in a massive identity scandal, and their stock prices were in freefall. It all started because my abusive adoptive parents, the Dawsons, somehow got in touch with Serena, the fake daughter who had taken my place in the Sinclair family. Serena had secretly paid them off with a massive sum of money. The Dawsons bought a McMansion in the suburbs and went from white-trash nobodies to overnight millionaires. But people who suddenly stumble into money love the sound of their own voices. They started bragging to anyone who would listen about their incredibly generous, rich daughter. A sharp-eyed investigative journalist noticed the sudden wealth, got my adoptive father blackout drunk at a local bar, and recorded him spilling every filthy secret. The video hit the internet and went viral overnight. I looked at Tristan with dead eyes. “Your family’s public relations nightmare is not my problem.” “Briar, this is not the time to throw a tantrum.” He furrowed his brow, slipping right back into his role as the disappointed eldest brother. “Mom and Dad are getting older. They can’t handle this kind of stress. Serena is pregnant, and she is getting death threats in her DMs every single hour. She is on the verge of a total mental breakdown. We are a family.” “Your arrogance is genuinely exhausting. Move.” I stepped to the side, ready to walk around him. “Wait.” Tristan shifted his weight, blocking me again. “All you have to do is make a public statement. Just tell the press you left the family willingly.” I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly looked up at him. The amber light from the streetlamp caught the sharp angles of his face. He looked impatient, his jaw tight, his chin slightly raised. Ten years ago, he looked at me with that exact same expression. He had stood at the top of the Sinclair mansion’s grand spiral staircase, looking down at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of a shoe. What did I look like back then? Oh, right. I was clutching a frayed canvas backpack that held every single thing I owned in the world. I looked like a stray dog. That was when he delivered his welcoming speech. “Throw that garbage bag in the incinerator. You can use whatever you want in this house, but do not ever touch Serena’s things.” Any fragile hope I had of finding a real family evaporated the second those words left his mouth. I knew instantly that I was an intruder in their perfect world. “Tristan.” I said his name slowly, letting the coldness seep in. “Did you actually watch that video?” He frowned and gave a stiff nod. So he had seen it. Then how did he have the absolute audacity to stand here and ask me for a favor? I would never forget the smug, rotten look on my adoptive father’s blurred face in that footage. He proudly bragged about how he starved me, beat me, and treated me like a slave. He proudly bragged about how his real daughter was living like a princess while I suffered in the dirt. Tristan saw all of that. No, he saw it, and he simply did not care. “You did leave willingly back then.” Tristan insisted. “If you just post a video clearing her name, I can write you a check for.” “Get out of my face before I call the cops.” I ignored his stunned expression, shoved past his shoulder, and walked straight to my apartment building. I climbed the three flights of stairs, unlocked my door, stepped inside, and threw the deadbolt. The entire sequence was muscle memory. I learned a very painful lesson a decade ago. Some blood ties are just chains meant to be broken. 2 I was twenty-three the first time I met the Sinclair family. I had just graduated from night school. I was drowning in student debt, working a miserable desk job by day and pulling shifts at a gas station by night just to survive. The Dawsons tracked me down right at the register. They walked in wearing filthy clothes, immediately turning on the waterworks. They cried about how sorry they were for the past. Then they dropped the real reason for their visit. My adoptive brother had racked up a massive gambling debt, and they needed a hundred grand to keep a local loan shark from breaking his legs. They demanded I fix it. I barely had enough money to buy groceries. How was I supposed to pay off a loan shark? My adoptive mother suddenly dropped to her knees right there in aisle three. She started slamming her forehead against the linoleum floor, sobbing loudly. My coworkers stared at me with weird, judgmental eyes. When I was eighteen, I was the one on my knees. I had begged them not to force me to marry a creepy, fifty-something local landlord. But my adoptive mother just smiled and told me the man was willing to pay a hefty price for a young bride, enough to buy my brother a new truck. She said I should be grateful to marry a rich older man who knew how to treat a woman. I pretended to agree. That night, I stole my Social Security card and birth certificate, climbed out the second-story window, jumped into a pile of cardboard boxes, and ran for my life. I didn’t stop running for five years. They pulled me out of school in the eighth grade to work. After I escaped, I scrubbed toilets and flipped burgers while studying for my GED. I clawed my way into a community college and finally got my degree. And the second I had a real job, they came looking for blood. While the Dawsons were putting on their theatrical crying act, the Sinclair family walked through the gas station doors. It was like a scene straight out of a soap opera. Tailored suits, diamond earrings, the smell of expensive cologne. The wealthy middle-aged couple wrapped their arms around me, sobbing about how they had spent over two decades looking for their missing baby. The moment the Sinclairs appeared, the Dawsons vanished into thin air. I was taken back to the sprawling Sinclair estate. That was where I met Serena. Her skin was flawless, like porcelain. Her hands were incredibly soft, manicured to perfection. My hands were covered in rough calluses from years of manual labor. My arms were marked with ugly, jagged burn scars from my childhood. I had the exact same bone structure as Arthur and Eleanor Sinclair. Serena looked exactly like the garbage people who raised me. I wasn’t a lost child. I was stolen. I pointed out the obvious truth and demanded they call the police on the Dawsons. But the second a single, perfect tear rolled down Serena’s cheek, my biological parents shut me down. “Those are still Serena’s biological parents. Arresting them would ruin her reputation.” Eleanor had pleaded, clutching her fake daughter’s hand. Arthur sighed heavily. “You’re home now, Briar. We will compensate you financially. Let the past stay in the past. Be the bigger person. There is no need to make things ugly.” That was the night Tristan came home and told me to stay away from Serena’s things. I lay awake in a massive, king-sized bed that night, staring blankly at the vaulted ceiling. I stayed in that house for exactly one month. And for thirty days, I couldn’t breathe without doing something wrong. If I ate, my table manners were too aggressive. If Serena misplaced her jewelry, I was accused of stealing it. If Serena tripped on a rug, I was accused of pushing her. They never once tried to understand me. They never asked about the scars on my arms. They never cared about my trauma. The warm, loving family I had dreamed about on freezing winter nights was a complete delusion. They stood like a brick wall in front of Serena, deaf to my defenses. They just played the peacekeepers with passive-aggressive guilt trips. “You are the older sister, Briar. You need to be accommodating.” “Serena grew up with us. We know her heart.” “Serena has severe anxiety. Stop provoking her.” My second brother, Gideon, was the most blunt. “If you hate it here so much, you can leave. We will rent you an apartment downtown and deposit an allowance into your account every month.” A younger, more fragile version of me might have begged them to love me. But I had spent five years surviving on the brutal streets. Cold, hard cash meant far more to me than their conditional affection. I refused to stay in that toxic mansion and play the villain in Serena’s little victim narrative. Life is way too short. I wanted peace, stability, and a career I actually cared about. So when I packed my bags, I didn’t shed a single tear. I didn’t throw a prideful fit either. I asked for a hundred thousand dollars, packed my frayed canvas bag, and walked out the front gates. They never came looking for me. Not for ten years. Neither did the Dawsons. If this scandal hadn’t blown up in their faces, they would have happily forgotten I existed until the day they died. 3 I had just finished eating dinner when my phone started ringing. It was an unknown number. I glanced at the screen and hit decline. It rang again. I declined it again. When it lit up for the third time, I let out a long breath and swiped to answer. A man’s voice barked through the speaker, thick with poorly contained rage. “Briar, did you seriously just hang up on me twice?” Ah. It was Gideon. My hot-tempered second brother, whom I hadn’t spoken to in a decade. His voice felt like a rusted blade swinging at me through the phone line. “Answer me, Briar!” I pulled the phone away from my ear, waited for his little temper tantrum to end, and brought it back. “Do you need something, Mr. Sinclair?” He choked on his next breath. “What did you just call me?” The fury practically bled through the receiver. “I am your brother!” “My entire family is dead. If you don’t have a point, I’m hanging up.” “Wait.” He snapped, suddenly frantic. “I am coming to your office tomorrow afternoon. We are going to have a serious conversation.” I let out a dry laugh. “I am incredibly busy, Mr. Sinclair.” “Briar!” He ground his teeth together. “Stop acting like a petulant child. Our family is being torn apart by the media. Do you have any idea.” I tapped the red button and ended the call. Peace at last. He was bold to pick my workplace. Did he honestly think I would bend to his will just to avoid a scene at the office? The next day at 2:30 PM, the receptionist called my desk to say a man was demanding to see me. I stood up and looked out my office window. Gideon was leaning against the hood of a sleek black sports car in the visitor lot. His expensive hair was perfectly styled, and he was wearing a bespoke suit, but he looked deeply erratic, checking his watch every five seconds. I ignored him and went back to organizing my municipal planning files. Ten minutes later, I heard him shouting my name from the parking lot. I kept my head down. He called my cell phone six times. I flipped it to silent. At 5:30 PM, I finally clocked out and walked out the glass doors. I was genuinely surprised to see him still standing there. Patience was never his strong suit. “Get in the car. We are going somewhere private to talk.” He marched up and grabbed my wrist, trying to pull me toward the passenger side. I planted my feet, dug my nails into his knuckles, and pried his fingers off my arm one by one. Ten years had passed, and he was still the same arrogant thug who thought he owned everyone around him. “We have absolutely nothing to discuss.” Gideon glared at me, his chest heaving under his tailored vest. “Fine. You think you’re untouchable now, right? Do you even watch the news? Do you know how much money the company has bled this week? Mom and Dad are crying themselves to sleep, Tristan is managing a total corporate meltdown, and you don’t have a shred of basic human decency?” I looked at him with a perfectly blank expression. “And?” “And you need to get in this car, come back to the estate, and host a press conference.” He fired the words off like a machine gun. “Tell the reporters the online rumors are fake. Tell them Serena is a saint who treated you like a sister. Tell them the Sinclair family gave you everything.” “Mr. Sinclair.” I interrupted his manic speech. “Do you remember the exact words you said to me before I left?” He froze, his eyes narrowing. “What?” “You said trailer park trash has no class.” I repeated his words with icy precision. “You said if I hated being civilized, I should just get out of your house.” The blood drained from Gideon’s face. “And now you need the classless trailer park trash to save your collapsing empire?” I smirked. “Where is Serena? Where is your fragile, perfect princess? She is so socially graceful, isn’t she? Let her face the cameras.” “You.” Gideon choked on his words, his face flushing a violent shade of purple. I looked at him and felt nothing but profound pity. They hadn’t offered me a single drop of warmth in my entire life. I had taken the hundred grand to buy myself out of their twisted bloodline, and they still thought they could summon me like a dog. Ten years. They hadn’t evolved at all. They still stood on their pedestals, convinced the world revolved around their feelings. They expected me to drop to my knees and thank God for the privilege of lying for them. Not once did he ask if I was okay. Not once did he apologize for the horrific abuse revealed in that viral video. I told him to go to hell, turned on my heel, and left him staring at my back in absolute disbelief. 4 I enjoyed exactly three days of silence after Gideon left. The fake daughter scandal was dominating every social media platform. Web sleuths had completely doxed my identity. People from my old rural town started coming out of the woodwork, posting testimonies about how severely the Dawsons had abused me. “It was brutal watching that little girl grow up. She wasn’t even as tall as the stove, and they forced her to cook for a family of four.” “The Dawsons were monsters. They beat her for breathing too loud, burned her arms with cigarettes. We tried to call child services once, but the dad chased us off with a shotgun, screaming she was his property.” My old college classmates posted about how relentlessly I studied and worked, mentioning they all assumed I was an orphan because I never spoke about a family. Serena’s meticulously crafted public image was being shredded. Photos of her bullying lower-income girls in elite private schools surfaced. A former university classmate dropped a massive thread proving Serena had plagiarized her senior thesis. Someone else posted a breakdown of her wearing a ten-million-dollar diamond necklace to a charity gala for starving children. Every single post about her was flooded with hundreds of thousands of venomous comments. The algorithms knew exactly what I wanted to see. I spent my evenings curled up on my sofa, sipping tea and liking the most creative insults. I could play the stoic professional all day, but deep down, watching them burn was incredibly satisfying. Thanks to the PR nightmare, Sinclair stock plummeted by forty percent. Saturday morning, my doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole. Standing in my hallway were Arthur and Eleanor Sinclair. They had aged gracefully. Money tends to buy good genetics. I leaned against the heavy oak door and didn’t move a muscle. The doorbell chimed again. “Briar.” Eleanor’s voice trembled through the heavy wood, thick with tears. “I know you’re in there. Please, sweetie, open the door. Just let me look at you.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Briar. We just came to check on you. What happened back then, it was our fault. We are here to apologize.” “Please, Briar.” Eleanor started openly sobbing. “I made a terrible mistake. I am so sorry. Just open the door.” I didn’t open the door, but I heard the neighbor across the hall crack theirs open to eavesdrop. I took a deep breath, undid the deadbolt, and pulled the door open. But I kept the security chain attached. The door only opened a few inches. Eleanor’s tear-streaked face lit up. She immediately tried to push her way inside. “Briar.” “Speak from out there.” I planted my hand on the edge of the door. “My apartment is small. We don’t have the space.” Eleanor’s smile shattered. Arthur looked humiliated for a brief second before forcing his features into a mask of fatherly concern. “Briar, these past ten years. Have you been doing well?” “I was doing exceptionally well until your family started stalking me.” “Briar.” Eleanor wept, pressing her manicured hands against her chest. “Don’t speak to me like that. It breaks my heart. I know we were foolish. We only listened to Serena’s side of the story. But we raised her from infancy. We loved her. We genuinely thought keeping both of you under one roof would be best for everyone.” “Best for everyone?” I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Mrs. Sinclair, are you listening to yourself? Serena literally stole my entire life. You didn’t keep two daughters. You harbored my abuser’s child.” “It’s not like that!” Eleanor grabbed the doorframe, her knuckles turning white. “I know you resent us, but we share the same blood! Blood is thicker than water! How can you be so merciless to your own mother?” “Merciless?” I stared into her eyes. “When Serena framed me for stealing her diamond watch, which one of you asked for my side of the story? When she claimed I pushed her down the stairs, which one of you checked the security cameras? When she turned the entire staff against me, which one of you defended me?” “We.” Eleanor stammered, unable to form a sentence. “You didn’t want to investigate, did you?” My voice dropped to a quiet, lethal whisper. “Because if you looked too closely, you would realize your precious princess was a pathological liar. You couldn’t bear the thought of hurting the girl you raised, so you decided it was easier to just let me take the abuse.” Arthur finally found his voice. “Briar, what happened was a failure of our judgment. But Serena was fragile. She had been with us for so long, we just couldn’t sever the emotional attachment.” “So severing ties with me was the easier choice.” I countered effortlessly. “Because I only lived with you for thirty days. Because my mental health didn’t matter. My reputation didn’t matter. My trauma didn’t matter. Is that it?” Arthur was completely silenced. Look at them. Even now, with their empire burning, they couldn’t just admit they were wrong. They just wanted to weaponize biology. They wanted to use guilt to force my head down, to make me clean up their mess. “The only thing you ever cared about was Serena’s comfort. You were terrified of upsetting her. As for me, I was collateral damage. But that is perfectly fine. Because to me, you are just strangers with a familiar bone structure. I sincerely hope this is the absolute last time I ever see your faces.” Eleanor broke down completely. She covered her face, her shoulders shaking violently as she sobbed. “Briar, I am so sorry.” Arthur supported his weeping wife and looked at me with desperate eyes. “Briar, we will make this right. We will compensate you. Whatever you want. A penthouse, luxury cars, an unlimited trust fund. Just name your price.” I looked at them, entirely exhausted by their existence. They genuinely believed that a few pathetic tears and a blank check could erase a lifetime of neglect. “I don’t want your money.” I said flatly. “I just want you to stop breathing near me.” I slammed the door shut and threw the deadbolt. “Briar!” Eleanor pounded her fists against the wood. “Open the door. Let me see my baby.” The sobbing continued for several long minutes. Eventually, the cries faded into sniffles. I heard Arthur whispering something in the hallway, followed by the sound of slow, defeated footsteps dragging toward the elevator. The world was finally quiet again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397506”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

“Is it really that big a deal that I broke your mother’s urn? Was it worth pushing your aunt over?” Ten years ago, my father swung a steel pipe, breaking two of my ribs. I dragged my injured body out of that house and hadn’t set foot in my hometown for ten years. Ten years later, with both his kidneys failing, he lay in the ICU begging me to come back for a match test. My stepmother knelt before a live-stream camera, kowtowing ten times to force me to show myself. In response, I mailed a body donation consent form directly to his attending physician. 1 The surgical lights finally flicked off at midnight. I peeled off my blood-stained gloves and walked out of the operating room, leaving behind a battlefield where I had fought for eight grueling hours. In the dead silence of the hallway, my phone screen lit up, vibrating relentlessly. The caller ID showed an unknown number from my hometown. I swiped to answer. The sharp scent of antiseptic still clung to my fingertips. “Is this Dr. Stella Crawford?” The male voice on the other end sounded exhausted and overly cautious. “Speaking.” “This is City General Hospital. Your father, Robert Crawford, is in the ICU with end-stage renal failure. We are currently trying to stabilize him.” I felt absolutely nothing. My heart remained a flatline of calm. Ten years. That name had finally crawled its way back into my ears. The doctor paused, his tone growing more strained. “Your stepmother says you are his only biological daughter. You are his best hope for a successful kidney match.” “She is begging you to come back as soon as possible.” I did not say a word. The only sounds were the faint static of the line and my own steady breathing. “Dr. Crawford? Are you still there?” “Yes.” I spat out the single word calmly and hung up. With a flick of my thumb, I dragged that number straight into my blocked list. The world was quiet again. I leaned against the freezing hospital wall, closing my eyes to steal a moment of rest. My phone screen flared back to life. A breaking news notification popped up. The blood-red headline felt like an open wound, stinging my eyes. [Where Is The Dutiful Daughter? Dying Father Waits In ICU For Biological Child To Donate Kidney And Save His Life!] I tapped the link. The video showed a hospital corridor I knew all too well. My stepmother, Diane, was crying her eyes out in front of a camera, looking absolutely heartbroken. She wore flawless makeup, but her hair was deliberately messy, her eyes wide and tragic. She was playing the perfect role of the exhausted, devoted wife fighting for her husband’s life. “Stella, I know you are watching! Please, I am begging you, come back!” “Your father is dying! The doctors say you are the only one who can save him!” As she spoke, her legs suddenly gave out. She dropped to her knees, hitting the cold floor tiles with a heavy thud. “Stella, if you just come back and save your father, I will grovel at your feet!” Bang. Bang. Bang. She actually started slamming her forehead against the ground. She used so much force that the dull thuds echoed clearly through the video. The live chat exploded instantly. A flood of pure outrage crashed over the screen. [What the hell! Is this daughter an animal? Her own dad is dying and she won’t even show up?] [Stella? How can a woman be this vicious? Cold-blooded psycho!] [Dox her! An ungrateful brat like this needs to be exposed and ruined!] [A doctor? She calls herself a doctor? She won’t even save her own father!] I stared at the ridiculous farce playing out on my screen with a completely blank expression. I watched Diane’s hypocritical face. I watched the righteous fury of the internet warriors in the comments. Ten years had passed, and their tactics were still just as clumsy, just as laughable. I closed the app, turned around, and walked straight into my office. I booted up my computer and downloaded a specific document. The printer hummed quietly, spitting out a crisp, warm sheet of paper. It was the National Organ Donor Registry Consent Form. I picked up a pen. In the “Donor Name” box, I wrote my name with slow, deliberate strokes. Stella Crawford. Then, at the very bottom, I stamped my personal seal. I placed the signed form on the scanner. The harsh white light swept across the page, permanently digitizing my handwriting. I opened my email and typed in the contact address for my father’s attending physician. Attachment uploaded. In the body of the email, I typed a single line. “Upon my death, I voluntarily donate all of my organs to anyone in need.” “With the sole exception of Robert Crawford.” The send notification chimed. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. The torrential rain from ten years ago started ringing in my ears all over again. I had been holding my mother’s newly issued urn. That small, freezing box was the only thing I had left in the world. Diane blocked the front door. She crossed her arms, the corner of her mouth twitching with pure disgust. “You think a dead woman’s ashes deserve to cross the threshold of this house?” Before I could even react, she lunged forward and swiped her arm violently. The urn was knocked out of my grasp. It flew through the air, tracing a desperate arc, before smashing into the wet concrete driveway. Crack. A sickening sound. The box shattered. Pale grey powder mixed with the freezing rain, washing away into the filthy mud. My brain completely short-circuited. Every ounce of my sanity collapsed in a single second. I screamed like a wild animal and shoved her backward. “What did you do!” Right at that exact moment, my father, Robert, charged out of the house. He was holding a thick steel pipe. “Are you out of your damn mind? You dare lay a hand on Diane?” He roared at the top of his lungs. That freezing steel pipe swung through the rain and slammed brutally into my back. Snap. Snap. I heard the distinct sound of my own ribs breaking. Agony shot through my entire body like raw electricity. My vision went black, and I collapsed into the muddy water. The rain battered my face. I could no longer tell the difference between the rainwater and my own tears. He stood over me, looking down from his high porch. There was not a single shred of pity in his eyes. Only disgust and violent rage. “Get out!” “I do not have an ungrateful wretch for a daughter! Get the hell off my property!” I would never forget the sheer agony and absolute despair of that moment. I thought I was going to die in the mud that night. But here I am. Alive and thriving. And now, they were the ones using their dying breaths to beg me for a favor. How incredibly ironic. 2 A single stone creates a thousand ripples. My father’s attending physician had clearly never encountered such a cold, merciless family member. In his sheer shock, he accidentally leaked the contents of my email. Within half an hour, the hashtag #DaughterDonatesBodyButRefusesKidney exploded to the number one trending spot on social media. Public opinion was completely torn in half. Some people started stepping back, wondering what kind of horrific trauma I must have endured to make such a drastic, unforgiving choice. But the vast majority of the internet remained firmly planted on their moral high ground, launching a massive crusade against me. Diane was certainly not going to let this golden opportunity slip away. She rallied my uncle, Arthur Crawford, and a massive mob of internet vigilantes clutching their smartphones. With reporters swarming behind them like vultures, they marched right into the main lobby of my hospital. “Stella! You heartless monster! Get out here right now!” Diane’s shrill, weeping voice shattered the quiet of the outpatient lobby. She acted like a lunatic, grabbing random strangers to cry to them. “Everyone, look at this! What kind of daughter does this? Her father is dying in the ICU waiting for her to save him, and she officially declares she would rather give her organs to strangers than her own flesh and blood!” Uncle Arthur stood beside her, fanning the flames. He pointed a furious finger toward the upper floors of the hospital. “You call yourself a doctor? Saving lives? You will not even save your own father! You are a murderer!” A massive crowd gathered at the entrance. Camera lenses and phone screens locked onto the hospital like the barrels of firing squads. I was up in the sterile prep room, washing my hands for a procedure. The head nurse burst through the doors in a sheer panic. “Dr. Crawford, this is bad. Your family… they are causing a massive riot down in the main lobby!” My hands paused under the running water for a fraction of a second. Then I calmly dried them and started pulling on my sterile gloves. “I know.” My mentor, Dr. Harrison, the Dean of the hospital, had beaten me to the lobby. He stood there in his crisp white coat. He was a slender man, but he stood incredibly tall, acting like a solid brick wall between the chaos and his staff. “This is a place of healing, not a circus for your tantrums. I need you to leave the premises immediately.” Dr. Harrison’s voice was not loud, but it carried absolute authority. Uncle Arthur spotted me walking out of the elevators. He pointed right at my face, spitting as he yelled. “Stella! You finally decided to show your face! You ungrateful parasite! Your father fed you and raised you for nothing!” Seeing me, Diane immediately flipped the switch. She cried so hard she was choking on her own tears, dropping her knees toward the floor. “Stella! Mommy is begging you! Have a little mercy in your heart! Please save your father!” I walked slowly out from behind Dr. Harrison. I looked right past him, fixing my eyes on Diane’s twisted, theatrical face. My voice was quiet, but it echoed perfectly clear into the ears of every person in that lobby, and straight into the live broadcast microphones. “Diane.” “Ten years ago, when you threw my mother’s urn into the garbage, were you this self-righteous?” The entire lobby went completely dead silent in an instant. The frantic, scrolling text in the live chat froze for a solid second. The color drained from Diane’s face in real-time. Pure panic leaked into her eyes. “What… what nonsense are you talking about!” She raised her voice, desperately trying to use volume to cover her guilt. “You were clumsy! You dropped it yourself! How dare you try and pin that on me!” “Oh?” I let out a soft laugh. The sound was dripping with ice. I took a step forward, looking dead into the nearest camera lens, as if I were staring right at the millions of people watching behind their screens. “Is that so?” “Then how exactly did I ‘accidentally’ push you so hard that your rib fractured, putting you in a hospital bed for two weeks?” “Did you not tell the police that I was jealous of your loving relationship with my father, and shoved you out of pure revenge?” “I am just curious. How did a fragile, weak stepmother manage to beat an eighteen-year-old girl until two of her ribs snapped, and then throw her out onto the street?” Every single question I asked was like a surgical scalpel, slicing precisely into Diane’s vital organs. She started shaking. Her lips trembled, but she could not force a single word out of her throat. The reporters smelled blood in the water. The sound of camera shutters clicking sounded like machine-gun fire. Uncle Arthur realized the narrative was slipping. He lunged forward with a ferocious scowl, trying to snatch the microphone away from the press. “You little bitch! Stop spreading lies!” Before he could even get close, two massive hospital security guards tackled him, pinning his arms behind his back. Dr. Harrison stepped in front of me, facing the sea of cameras. His voice was deep and unshakable. “Everyone, quiet down.” “Dr. Stella Crawford is the youngest lead cardiothoracic surgeon in this hospital, and she is my most brilliant student.” “The number of lives she has personally pulled back from the brink of death outnumbers the people standing in this room.” “I, Dr. Harrison, put my entire decades-long medical reputation on the line to vouch for her professional ability and her moral character!” He paused, his sharp gaze cutting across Diane’s pale face and Arthur’s struggling form. “As for her family disputes, I believe the truth will come to light through the proper legal channels, not through a poorly staged internet mob!” Dr. Harrison’s words hit like heavy iron. The security guards moved in. Completely ignoring Diane’s screeching and Arthur’s cursing, they physically dragged the two of them out of the hospital doors. The absurd theatrical riot ended in total humiliation. The storm settled for the moment. I had just changed out of my scrubs when the ICU nurse called my extension. “Dr. Crawford… your father… he woke up due to the agitation.” The nurse’s voice was hesitant. “He is incredibly worked up. He is demanding to speak with you.” The phone was handed over. A second later, a weak but violently arrogant voice crawled through the speaker like a venomous snake. “You… wicked brat…” “Get your ass back here right now…” “Give me… the kidney…” “Or else… even if I die… I will haunt you as a ghost… I will never let you go…” That voice sounded exactly the same as his furious roar in the rain ten years ago. Dripping with entitlement and toxic hatred. I did not say a single word. I just listened to him wheeze. Then, I reached out and tapped the red button. I powered my phone off completely. The world was finally, beautifully quiet. 3 Diane’s live stream may have ended in disaster, but her claims about the urn and the fractured rib had successfully ripped open a gap in the public narrative. The internet was not entirely stupid. Amateur detectives started digging frantically for clues. I did not give them much time to speculate. The very next morning, I handed a crystal-clear audio file to a trusted journalist friend. The recording featured an elderly woman’s voice, thick with pity and regret. “…Diane, I have to say, you went way too far.” “That was Evelyn’s ashes. Throwing them like that… it is a mortal sin.” “And little Stella. She is just a child. How could you lie to Robert and say she pushed you?” “Are you trying to drive that poor girl to her death?” The voice belonged to Mrs. Higgins, our old next-door neighbor. She had watched me grow up. She had witnessed every ounce of misery I endured after Diane moved in. Ten years ago, she was terrified of Robert’s violent temper and kept her mouth shut. Ten years later, her son had made a fortune and moved her to a luxury condo in another city. She had absolutely nothing to fear anymore. When I tracked her down, she held my hands, tears spilling down her wrinkled cheeks. “You poor girl. You have suffered so much all these years.” The moment the audio file dropped, the internet narrative flipped instantly. [Holy shit! So the stepmother threw the urn herself and framed the daughter for pushing her?] [This stepmother is pure evil! Who does something like that?] [I take back every bad thing I said about Dr. Crawford. If that were me, I wouldn’t just refuse the kidney, I would go back and slap her across the face!] [My heart breaks for Dr. Crawford. Being born into a family of bloodsuckers is a nightmare.] Diane’s phone was bombarded with calls. Thousands of hateful direct messages flooded her social media accounts like a tidal wave. Her carefully curated persona of the perfect, suffering wife shattered into a million pieces overnight. The Crawford family was in complete chaos. They held an emergency family summit that lasted well into the night. Finally, a call came through to Dr. Harrison’s personal cell phone. It was Great-Uncle Henry, the patriarch of the Crawford family trust and the most powerful figure in their circle. He ordered Dr. Harrison to hand the phone to me. Through the speaker, the old man’s voice was hoarse and dripping with absolute authority. He spoke in a tone that refused any argument. “Stella, this is your Great-Uncle Henry.” “Your father is dying. As his daughter, you are required to return immediately!” “If you continue this ungrateful, ridiculous tantrum and drag the Crawford family name through the mud, we will convene the board and legally strip you of the Crawford name and your inheritance!” Disinherited and erased from the family. That was the absolute worst punishment their tiny, pathetic minds could come up with. How hilarious. They thought a last name I was desperate to scrub from my identity was a bargaining chip. I smiled softly into the receiver. “Sure.” “Time and place.” Great-Uncle Henry was clearly shocked by how quickly I agreed. He paused for a moment before giving me the address to the main Crawford estate and the meeting time. The next day, I walked right into the grand library of the Crawford estate on the dot. The room was packed with people. A sea of dark suits and grim faces, all staring at me with judgmental, condemning eyes. The air was thick with the smell of old wood polish and suffocating tension. Diane sat in the chair closest to the patriarch. Her eyes were swollen. When she saw me walk in, she started sobbing quietly, playing the role of the brutally victimized wife flawlessly. Great-Uncle Henry sat in a massive leather armchair at the head of the room. He slammed his silver-tipped cane hard against the hardwood floor. “On your knees!” I stood perfectly still. A flash of pure rage crossed his cloudy eyes. “Stella! Your father is dying in a hospital bed! You owe us your life, your very flesh and blood belongs to your parents! Saving him is your absolute duty! You will go to that hospital, get matched, and donate that kidney right now!” “If you refuse, you are a traitor to the Crawford bloodline!” My flesh and blood belongs to my parents. I looked around the room, making eye contact with every single one of these hypocritical relatives, and let out a sharp laugh. “My flesh and blood?” “Ten years ago, when Robert Crawford used a steel pipe to break my ribs and threw me out into the street like a stray dog, why didn’t he think about my flesh and blood then?” “Did a single person sitting in this room stand up and say one word in my defense?” The grand library was dead silent. My gaze finally locked onto Diane. She flinched, shrinking back into her chair. I stared at the massive diamond ring sparkling on her right ring finger. Even in the dim light of the library, the stone gleamed with pure greed. “Diane, that is a gorgeous diamond ring.” She froze, completely confused as to why I was bringing up her jewelry. “You bought it with my mother’s heirloom, didn’t you?” My voice was quiet, but it hit the room like a live grenade. “Her favorite vintage emerald pendant. It was worth a fortune. Less than six months after she died, Robert pawned it for a hundred grand.” “And he used that cash to buy you that diamond ring, along with a closet full of designer bags.” “Am I right?” All the blood instantly drained from Diane’s face. She looked like a ghost. The rest of the Crawford relatives looked at her with sheer shock and visible disgust. They started whispering furiously among themselves. The fact that Robert had pawned his dead wife’s jewelry to spoil his mistress was clearly news to them. I completely ignored their reactions and took a slow step forward. My voice was not loud, but I made sure every single syllable was razor-sharp. “You are all sitting here demanding I give up my kidney, preaching about family love and moral duty.” “But is it really because he is my father…” “Or is it because… when I was ten years old, he bought a massive five hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy on me?” “And the sole beneficiary listed on that policy was Robert Crawford.” I stopped walking. My eyes cut across the horrified faces in the room like a surgical blade. Finally, I looked up at the massive family crest hanging above the fireplace. “I have spent years thinking about one specific detail.” “Ten years ago, in the freezing rain. If that heavy steel pipe had swung just a few inches higher and crushed my skull instead of my ribs…” “Could he have legally claimed that half a million dollars and lived happily ever after with you, Diane?” The grand library was submerged in absolute, terrifying silence. You could hear a pin drop. Every single face in the room was painted with horror and sheer disbelief. The majestic Crawford family crest suddenly looked incredibly pathetic, like the punchline to a very dark joke. 4 The word “insurance” dropped like a depth charge, blowing the stagnant waters of the Crawford family wide open. Buying a massive life insurance policy on a minor child, with himself as the sole beneficiary. Every adult in that room knew exactly what that implied. No one dared to bring up “family duty” anymore. No one threatened to disinherit me. The way they looked at me shifted from righteous anger to pure terror. They looked at me like I was an avenging ghost crawling back from the abyss. The ridiculous family summit ended in total disaster. When Robert heard the news, his failing body took another massive hit. According to the nurses, he started foaming at the mouth and had to be rushed back into emergency resuscitation. He was finally terrified. He stopped issuing orders and sent a corporate lawyer to contact me instead. The lawyer was a sharp-looking man in his forties. When we met, he got straight to the point. “Dr. Crawford, Mr. Robert Crawford has authorized me to negotiate with you.” “He states that if you agree to donate a kidney, he will immediately transfer all of his assets to you before the surgery. This includes two luxury estates, a premium vehicle, and thirty percent of his corporate shares.” “He is prepared to draft a legally binding will and have it notarized today.” It was an astronomical amount of wealth. Enough to guarantee a person absolute financial freedom for the rest of their life. When Diane caught wind of the offer, she completely lost her mind. She threw a massive tantrum in the hospital lobby, screaming at the lawyer, rolling on the floor, crying that Robert had gone insane. She demanded that half the assets legally belonged to her and her son. Someone filmed her greedy, hysterical meltdown and posted it online, sparking another wave of vicious mockery. I sat quietly in the hospital coffee shop, listening to the lawyer lay out the terms. When he finished, I picked up my coffee cup and took a slow sip. “Tell your client something for me.” “His money is filthy.” The lawyer blinked in pure shock. He clearly had not expected such a flat, instant rejection. “Dr. Crawford, are you sure you do not want to reconsider? We are talking about an eight-figure portfolio.” “I am sure.” I stood up, looking down at him. “And a piece of professional advice. I highly suggest you drop him as a client.” “Because I have a feeling your client is about to transition from a civil dispute into a primary suspect in a major criminal homicide investigation.” I turned around and walked out, leaving him sitting there with his jaw practically on the table. That afternoon, I accepted a text-based interview with a major national news outlet. The journalist’s questions were sharp, asking why I was being so incredibly ruthless. [Dr. Crawford, the public understands you survived a horrific childhood. But Robert Crawford is still your biological father. Now that he is willing to surrender his entire fortune in exchange for your forgiveness and a kidney, why do you still refuse?] I stared at the blinking cursor, typing my response word by word. [Because I want to know why my mother, who was only suffering from a mild winter cold, suddenly died of heart failure in her own bed.] I typed the next sentence slower, making sure it was perfectly clear. [I want to know exactly who snuck into her room the night she died and swapped her vital heart medication for a handful of over-the-counter vitamin pills.] Then, I delivered my final statement. [I have formally retained legal counsel and petitioned the authorities to officially reopen the investigation into the death of my mother, Evelyn Crawford.] [I believe the law will give me the truth.] The second the interview went live, the entire internet went completely silent. If the allegations of abuse and the life insurance policy were scandalous family drama. The words “medication tampering” and “premeditated murder” elevated the situation into a fight to the death. This war over a kidney transplant had finally reached its true climax. I never wanted his money. I never cared about his apologies. I wanted the truth. I wanted them to pay for my mother’s life with their own blood.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397505”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The air was thick with the lingering scent of us when his friend showed up. Ashton and I had just finished. His buddy, a bottle of bourbon dangling from his fingers, gave me a knowing once-over and let out a low whistle. “Whoa, bad timing? Damn, Ashton, you’re a lucky man.” A hot blush crept up my neck. I mumbled something about needing to buy groceries and fled the apartment. But as the door clicked shut behind me, I heard his friend’s voice, low and conspiratorial. “Seriously, man. Felicity’s coming to town soon. What’s the deal with the girl in your room?” My feet froze to the floor. A long moment passed before I heard Ashton’s voice, casual and laced with a dismissive sneer I’d never heard before. “What’s to think about? She’s just a colleague. A bit of fun, that’s all.” His friend clicked his tongue. “And Felicity?” “Felicity?” He tapped the ash from a cigarette, his voice softening. “She’s different.” 1 At that moment, my mind went completely blank. I’d been chasing him, sometimes subtly, sometimes not, for five years. I thought we were finally, truly together. I was even planning to take him home for Christmas to meet my parents. I’d already figured out which train tickets to book, how I’d introduce him to my relatives, all the charming spots and hidden diners in my hometown I wanted to show him… The beautiful little future I’d built in my head shattered like glass, destroyed by those few careless words. Just a colleague? A bit of fun? The phrases hit me like a bucket of ice water, and I couldn’t move. The conversation inside continued. I peeked through the crack in the door. “By the way, I heard Felicity applied for grad school here. That’s because of you, right?” Ashton chuckled, his eyes softening into something warm and gentle. “Yeah. I had someone look into it for her, she’s pretty much a shoo-in. When she gets here in a few days, I’ll take her to meet her advisor.” “Look at you, pulling out all the stops. A regular knight in shining armor for your little princess.” Felicity. I’d heard her name before. She was Ashton’s childhood neighbor, three or four years younger, still in college. He’d never mentioned any special feelings for her, so I’d always assumed he saw her as a little sister. “Since she’s coming, you should probably clean things up here. Don’t want the kid to see this and get her heart broken.” “You think I don’t know that? I’ve got it handled.” Ashton took a drag from his cigarette, his expression vanishing into a cloud of white smoke. I couldn’t listen anymore. Tears blurring my vision, I stumbled down the stairs and ran. 2 I couldn’t understand it. Just last night, he was whispering “I love you” into my ear in a haze of passion. How could he turn so cold, so fast? Ashton. In my mind, he was brilliant, proud, and a little aloof to the world, but always, always gentle with me. He was a year ahead of me in college, and now we were colleagues at the same massive tech firm. I’d fallen for him the first time I saw him on campus. After graduation, I followed him right to this company. Our workplace even encouraged inter-office dating, so I pursued him openly. At first, he barely gave me the time of day, but slowly, he started to come around. When he finally kissed me, pulling me into his arms, I thought my devotion had finally won his. I never imagined this was how he saw our relationship. “Where’d you go? You’ve been gone forever.” My phone rang. It was Ashton, his voice a low rumble. “Just browsing at the supermarket,” I said, wiping away a tear and forcing my voice to sound steady. “Alright. Well, take your time.” He paused. “Oh, hey, we’re out of the ultra-thins. Grab a box on your way back.” Just as the line went dead, I heard someone in the background chuckle. He’d actually said that to me in front of his friend. Shame and anger washed over me. “Just a bit of fun…” His words echoed in my head, a sharp knife twisting in my heart. God, Ava, you’re so cheap in his eyes. I took a deep, shaky breath and opened my email, finding the transfer offer Sarah from HR had sent a few days ago. The company wanted to promote me to department head and relocate me to the Chicago office next month. My hometown wasn’t far from Chicago. It was a promotion, a raise—a golden opportunity. But for Ashton, I’d turned it down without a second thought. Sarah had pulled me aside for a chat afterward. When she realized I was rejecting the offer because of him, she’d hesitated. “Ava, love is important, but so are you… Just think about it a little more.” Now… Now I finally understood. I quickly typed out a reply: I accept the transfer. 3 I didn’t go back to the apartment I shared with Ashton. I went to my old room in the company dorms instead. When he called that night asking me to come home, I just told him I was swamped with work. Sarah had mentioned that the Chicago position was highly coveted, with several people vying for it, so she advised me to keep it quiet until the New Year. I wasn’t an idiot. If Ashton never considered me his girlfriend, then there was no need for a breakup. Where I was going and what I was doing was none of his business. The end-of-year rush was brutal, though. I had to wrap up all my current projects before the transfer, so I wouldn’t leave a mess for my colleagues. I found myself working until 3 a.m., and I’d only been asleep for a few hours when Ashton’s call jolted me awake. “Ava? What’s the name of that place you get those breakfast burritos and that weird green juice from?” “Huh?” I squinted at my phone. It was only 6:30. Ashton was usually dead to the world at this hour. “You know, the one with the extra crispy hash browns inside… Is it the one on the corner or the food truck downtown?” “The one downtown.” “Got it.” The call ended, but I was wide awake. Sleep was impossible now. Ashton was a night owl who always skipped breakfast. During the years I was trying to win him over, I’d bring him all sorts of things to eat in the morning. He loved the burritos from that specific truck, so I’d often take an early bus across town, a half-hour ride each way, just to get them for him. Was he up early today to buy breakfast… for me? A bitter, hopeful feeling swelled in my chest. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken up early for me. Last winter, I came down with a nasty flu and was stuck in my dorm room. I was drifting in and out of a feverish sleep when I heard the doorbell ring, thinking I’d imagined it. Later, I found out he’d gotten up at five, a personal record for him. He’d made me rice porridge from scratch, the kind my mom used to make, then went to the pharmacy for medicine, delivering it all to my door before he had to be at work. He grew up wealthy; he’d never cooked a day in his life. He deliberately handed me the soup and medicine with his left hand, but I still saw the bandages on the index and middle fingers of his right hand, tucked at his side. I can still remember the comforting aroma of that porridge. But today… I waited until 9 a.m., the start of the workday. He never showed. 4 “Ava! Ava, you won’t believe who I saw at the subway station today.” At lunch, Dani sidled up next to me in the cafeteria line. She was my partner on my main project and my best friend at the company. “It was Ashton. He took the day off, did you know?” Dani watched my face carefully. “No, I didn’t,” I said, my voice flat. Usually, I’d wander over to his desk during our breaks, chat for a bit, maybe grab a coffee together. Today, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. “He was with this really sweet-looking girl, heading for the L-train. I bet they were going to Six Flags.” Six Flags? After we’d gotten together, I’d asked him to go with me several times. He always said no. Turns out it wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He just didn’t want to go with me. “The girl twisted her ankle on the stairs, and he just knelt right down, took off her shoe, and started rubbing her foot. He was blowing on it and everything, looked like he was about to kiss it…” “I snapped a picture. Here, look.” Dani handed me her phone. In the photo, a girl with a delicate, fair-skinned face and exquisite features sat on the steps, dressed in a wool skirt and black stockings. Ashton was kneeling before her, cradling her foot on his knee like it was a priceless treasure. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I understood. The breakfast burrito this morning was for her. Taking the day off was for her. Felicity. She was here. “Look, Ava, don’t think I’m overstepping,” Dani said, “but you’ve been chasing this guy forever, and he’s never given you a straight answer. I always thought he was a player, and today just proves it.” “Now you see him for what he is, right?” My colleagues and his all knew I was pursuing him. But no one knew we’d actually been dating for a while. That was because Ashton had never made it official. I used to think it was just his personality, that he was private and didn’t like public displays. I even found his reserved-in-public, passionate-in-private persona charming. But between yesterday and today, even I couldn’t be that stupid anymore. Dani took her phone back and deleted the picture with a decisive tap. “Jerk. He’s disgusting.” “You need to stop hanging all your hopes on him! You’re gorgeous, Ava. There are plenty of guys in this office who’d kill for a chance with you. In fact, that cute new guy from R&D was just asking me about you…” “Thank you, Dani,” I managed a smile. “But I’m not looking to date right now. I’m…” I told her about the promotion and the transfer. Dani was trustworthy, and since she was my project partner, she deserved a heads-up. “Oh my God, congratulations! Ava! You have to treat me to dinner!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me in a hug. “Deal!” I laughed, prying her off me. I leaned in closer. “I heard from Sarah that they might be expanding the Chicago office even more in the second half of the year. Your department might send someone over…” “That would be amazing! I’d be the first to volunteer!” Dani grinned. “We could go to Navy Pier together!” 5 Two days later, Ashton showed up at my dorm room with a cup of bubble tea. I was on my laptop, trying to finish up some work. “Ava, can you please come home tonight? I can’t sleep when you’re not there.” The warm lamplight softened the lines of his face, making his eyes look deep and sincere. He sounded so loving, so gentle. My gaze fell on the cup on my desk. A coconut matcha latte, my old favorite. In the past, on the rare occasions I’d gotten upset with him, a single cup of this was all it took to soothe my anger. It wasn’t about the drink itself. It was because I was that easy to please. But things are different now, Ashton. “I’m not coming back. I’ll pick up the rest of my stuff in a few days.” I didn’t even look up from my screen. “What’s wrong?” He frowned slightly, then a look of understanding, mixed with a hint of amusement, crossed his face. He leaned over and pulled me into his arms. “I had to take a couple of days off for an emergency. My fault, I forgot to tell you. Is that it? You’re mad because you haven’t seen me for a few days? You’re the one who’s been hiding out here working late.” He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply, trying to take things further in the privacy of my room. He’d done this before, and I’d mistaken it for love. Now I knew he was just horny. I shoved him away, hard. My arm knocked over the latte on the table. The pale green liquid splashed across the floor, blooming like a sickly flower and filling the air with a cloying sweetness that made my stomach turn. “Ava!” His voice finally sharpened with anger. He grabbed my wrist. “What the hell is your problem? I asked around. Your department is busy, but not this busy. What are you really doing here every night?” He trapped me against the desk, his lean forearms bracketing me. His dark, narrow eyes narrowed menacingly. “Or are you avoiding me to see someone else?” The air went still. My eyes suddenly burned with tears. I had wanted to end things quietly, to just disappear. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Ashton, I’m not shameless like you! You’re the one who doesn’t give a damn about me! You’re the one seeing someone else! Felicity! I know she’s here!” Ashton froze, his shock quickly morphing into fury. “How did you know? Are you spying on me?!” “Ava, we’re not married! We just slept together, and you’re already watching my every move… I’m very disappointed in you.” “I’m disappointed too,” I choked out, looking up at him. All the pain I’d bottled up over the last few days burst forth like a flood. This man, the man I had loved for years, had taken my love and forged it into a thousand tiny knives, plunging every single one of them into my heart. Seeing my tears, Ashton’s anger faltered. He fumbled for a tissue, trying to wipe my face. “I’m sorry, that was too harsh. I just mean… Ava, I need my space. You can’t control everything I do…” “I won’t anymore.” I pushed his hand away, wiping my tears on my sleeve, swallowing them down. I’m done with you, Ashton. I heard voices in the hallway; my roommate was coming back. “You should go,” I said, pushing him toward the door. Ashton stood there for a moment, then pressed the crumpled tissue into my hand. “Fine.” “Calm down. We’ll talk on the phone tonight.” 6 My roommate tiptoed around the puddle of latte on the floor, her eyes wide with surprise. “Ava, what happened?” “It’s nothing.” I grabbed a mop and cleaned the floor, scrubbing until it was spotless, as if nothing had ever been spilled. Then I took out my phone, blocked Ashton’s number, and blocked him on every social media app. That evening, my mom called. “Ava, have you and your boyfriend booked your train tickets yet? I cleaned out the guest room today, so he’ll have a place to stay…” I paused, then cut her off. “Mom… we broke up.” Every time I went home for the holidays, the first question from every aunt and uncle was about my relationship status. My parents never pressured me, but I knew they were secretly hoping I’d bring someone home. When my mom had called last week and I asked if I could bring my boyfriend for Christmas, she had been ecstatic. Now, just a few days later, I had to let her down. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before my mom’s voice returned, as cheerful as ever. “Well, that’s okay! You’re young, these things happen.” “You’ll find someone better when the time is right.” “Ava, just make sure you book your own ticket home soon! I can’t wait to see you…” “Okay,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. The next day, I took a half-day off and went back to the apartment. I threw my few clothes and makeup into a suitcase. The stuffed animals, the lipstick, the handbag he’d bought me—they all went into a trash bag. Downstairs, I tossed the bag into the dumpster and walked away, pulling my suitcase behind me without a single look back. I wondered if Ashton had noticed I’d blocked him, if he was furious. Or maybe he was too busy with Felicity to even care. Either way, he didn’t contact me again for the next few days. Soon, it was the company’s annual anniversary party. Employees were allowed to bring a plus-one, and the ballroom was filled with spouses and partners. A few of Ashton’s colleagues passed by me, their eyes darting away as they mumbled a hello. “Ava!” Dani called out, nodding toward the front of the room. “Ashton’s here. And he brought her.” I turned. Ashton stood with his back to me at the dessert table, next to Felicity. She took a small bite of a strawberry panna cotta, then playfully fed the rest of it to him. Ashton put on a show of exasperated affection. I remembered how he’d never once touched food I’d already eaten. Even when we shared a bag of chips, we had to have separate bowls. The ballroom was chaotic, with kids running everywhere. As I stood there, lost in thought, a little boy about five or six years old, holding a chocolate ice cream cone, ran straight into my white dress. Before I could even react, he burst into tears. His mother, assuming I was the one who had bullied her precious child, immediately started scolding me. Dani tried to explain, but the woman wouldn’t listen. A crowd of colleagues gathered, but no one knew what had happened, so they just stood there watching. Finally, a guy holding a large camera stepped in front of me. “Ma’am, your son ran into her. I caught the whole thing on video, if you’d like to see?” After reviewing the footage, the mother offered a half-hearted apology and dragged her son away. The guy turned to me and smiled. He had a kind, handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He held out his hand. “Noah. R&D department.” Dani nudged me with her elbow, a teasing glint in her eye. “The cute new guy from R&D.” Noah’s ears turned a little red. I got the hint. “Ava, from Product,” I said, shaking his hand politely. “Thanks for that.” “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” 7 I was still trying to scrub the chocolate stain out of my dress when a call came through from an unknown number. I answered. It was Ashton’s deep voice. “Ava, where are you? Who was that guy?” He’d seen what happened. He didn’t even ask if I was okay. The first thing he asked was who the other guy was. “Ava, stop this childish game! You blocked me, you cleared out your stuff from the apartment, and now you’re putting on a little show with this guy right in front of me?” His voice was strained with disappointment and fatigue. “This is exhausting!” “I only brought Felicity today to introduce her to a few people. She’s leaving in a couple of days. You don’t have to be so petty…” I almost laughed. He actually thought I’d staged the whole thing just to get his attention. “Ashton, I’m not being petty! What are we, anyway? We’re colleagues, remember? Why would I put on a show for you? Frankly, this dress is worth more to me than you are!” I dabbed at the stain again. It was fading, but it wouldn’t come out completely. A shame. It had cost me three hundred dollars. “Fine, Ava. Just fine,” he seethed through the phone. “You…” I didn’t hear the rest. I hung up and blocked his new number. It was all just noise. I didn’t want to hear another word. When I came out of the restroom, Dani and Noah were rushing toward me, both out of breath. Noah was holding a paper bag from a sportswear store. “Ava, this was the best I could do on short notice,” he said. “It’s just a tracksuit, but you can change into it for now.” “Thank you, Dani!” I said, taking the bag. “Don’t thank me! It was his idea, and his money. I just picked the size,” Dani said with a grin, pointing at Noah. The tall, broad-shouldered young man gave me a shy smile.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397504”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day my patron was exposed as an imposter, the true heir of the city’s wealthiest family forced him into a basement where he tried to kill himself. I had just stolen the sponsorship agreement we’d signed years ago, planning to shred it and run. Suddenly, a stream of text began to scroll before my eyes, like comments on a live feed. Typical gold digger. She’s ditching him now, which is perfect. Makes room for our girl, the real heroine. After she leaves him, she’ll find some psycho benefactor who tortures her to death. If only she knew that in six months, he’ll have staged the most epic comeback in history, surpassing the Blackwood dynasty to become the youngest self-made billionaire. He and the heroine will become a legendary power couple. She’d probably claw her way back from the grave out of sheer spite. My hand trembled, and the agreement ripped in two. There was no time to think. I burst into the bathroom and saw him, Alistair, with a fresh cut bleeding on his wrist. I threw myself forward, grabbing his arm, my tears flowing without a shred of dignity. “Alistair, don’t you die on me! Who’s going to take care of me if you’re gone? I was hoping we could renew our contract!” His gaze, dark and hollow, drifted to the two pieces of the agreement on the floor. He spoke, his voice a ghost of its former self. “Really?” 1 “You were only ever with me for the money,” he said, his eyes scanning the damp, grimy basement as if he were a machine. “And now, you see what’s become of me.” His lips, always so vibrant, were now bloodless. I pressed my hands over the gash on his wrist, but crimson still dripped onto the cracked concrete floor. “I’ve been cast out of the Blackwood family. I’m hiding in this hellhole, a man who can’t even support himself, let alone you. So just go. I won’t blame you.” A cold dread prickled my skin, and I shivered. I’d been with Alistair for eight years. To the world, he was the suave, gentle heir. But I knew the truth. He was a viper coiled behind a mask of civility, and he never forgot a slight. His words might have sounded like a release, but the hand hidden behind his back was clenched so tight his knuckles were white. I didn’t know whether to believe the strange text floating in my vision, but my instincts, honed by years of surviving at his side, screamed at me to make a choice. I couldn’t leave. If I did, I wouldn’t have to wait for some future psycho to kill me. Alistair would do it first, and he’d do it slowly. I lunged forward and crushed my mouth against his pale lips. He seized control instantly, kissing me with a desperate hunger that left me breathless. When I finally pushed him away, gasping for air, I snatched the torn agreement from the floor. As he watched in stunned silence, I ripped it into tiny pieces. I cupped his face in my hands, my voice earnest. “Alistair, I don’t want to be your mistress anymore.” A flicker of murderous intent, the kind born from having nothing left to lose, flashed in his eyes. The comments in my vision were just as scathing. [Wow, I actually thought she’d had a change of heart. Turns out she’s just here to twist the knife. Just you wait. When her new patron is torturing her, she’ll be begging Alistair for help, and he won’t even give her a second glance.] [As soon as this parasite leaves, the heroine will burst in and save him. And that’s when his epic revenge story begins. Get the popcorn ready!] I ignored their vitriol, my voice dropping to a soft, trembling whisper. “I know this is probably the worst possible time to say this, but… now that you have nothing, I feel like I can finally reach you. So, Alistair, will you be my boyfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. But before he could answer, my vision went black. The last thing I saw was a single line of text materializing in the darkness. [Changing your mind won’t save you. Deviate from the script, and you’re the one who suffers.] A furious fire ignited in my soul. Follow the script? The script wanted me dead. Why the hell should I? In the suffocating dark, a searing heat consumed me. I ran and ran, desperate to escape, until finally, my eyes flew open. I shot upright, drenched in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital bed, a piercing pain radiating from my core. A soft groan escaped my lips. A cool hand touched my forehead, and Alistair’s voice, thick with fear, washed over me. “Sasha? Are you feeling any better?” The pain was a constant torment. After eight years of him catering to my every whim, never letting a single scratch mar my skin, I had grown soft. The agony was too much. I broke down, sobbing. “It hurts. It hurts so much.” He stood up, helpless, and rushed out to find a doctor. The man who returned with him shot me an irritated look. “If you don’t have the money for tests, you need to be discharged. Stop taking up a bed. What do you want me to do? No money, no treatment. It’s that simple.” Alistair’s voice was a low, furious growl. “Run the best tests you have. I have…” His words died in his throat. His proud posture, always so straight, seemed to crumple. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes. The doctor scoffed. “You should probably get going. You don’t have anything left to pawn for another night’s stay.” That’s when I noticed it. The family signet ring he always wore on his little finger was gone. Ignoring the searing pain, I threw myself out of bed, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the exit, chattering nonstop to soothe him. “Honestly, just being with you is like a painkiller, you know? It doesn’t hurt nearly as much. You can’t get rid of me, Alistair. You just can’t.” A single, hot tear landed on our joined hands. His voice was a raw, broken whisper. “I won’t.” A small smile touched my lips. And I wasn’t even lying. 2 [He chose to take the side character to the hospital and missed his fated meeting with the heroine. The plot is completely derailed.] [The system’s punishment seems weaker, too. That’s probably why she can still walk. The original penalty for defying the script should have left her in a state worse than death.] [You know, I’m kinda shipping them. The fallen tycoon and his fiercely loyal canary. You don’t see that every day.] I hid the glint in my eyes, piecing together a path to survival from these fragmented clues. So, if I defied the script, I’d be punished. But if Alistair chose me, without hesitation, every single time, it could break the script’s hold. The punishment might weaken, or maybe even… disappear? It all hinged on Alistair’s love. I turned to look at the man who was once the untouchable prince of the city, now trailing behind me, holding my hand with such gentle care. I smiled, my eyes crinkling. “Alistair, you’re my boyfriend now. So you’re going to work hard and get rich again so I can have my old life back, right?” “I promise,” he said, his voice firm, his words a vow. [Is it just me, or did he go from being her sugar daddy to her lapdog?] [Just wait until he starts working. The humiliation and degradation he’s about to face… that’s when the heroine swoops in to save him from rock bottom. Their love story will ignite. That’s the most important plot point.] [So they missed their first meeting. Big deal. It won’t stop them from falling in love. The side piece should start looking for her next benefactor now, before it’s too late.] I didn’t stop Alistair from going to work. The pain was a relentless beast, and sleep was my only escape. He came back exhausted every day. His clothes, once impeccably clean, now had dust ground into the knees. I knew from the comments what was happening. He’d gone to an old acquaintance from his circle, a man named Rick. Rick despised Alistair for being an imposter, but he couldn’t deny his business genius. So he tormented him with petty cruelties. The man who once oozed pride was on his knees, polishing another man’s shoes. He was hauling heavy water coolers up twenty-six flights of stairs, replacing the jug in every office. He was standing in the breakroom for three hours, making coffee for the entire company. Rick even made Alistair clean the toilets. I had smelled the acrid scent of disinfectant clinging to his skin. But despite all that, the first thing I saw when he walked through the door each night was a smile. He’d set down the groceries he’d bought and immediately pull me into his arms. “Feeling any better today?” I’d blink my eyes open, still groggy, and plant a loud kiss on his cheek. “Just having you hold me makes it all better.” “I’m starving. I want dinner.” Alistair, carrying the bag of groceries, moved to the small kitchen with practiced ease. I propped my head on my hand, enjoying the absolute meltdown happening in the comments. [This is the man who used to take three showers if he got a whiff of cooking smoke on him. Now he’s living in the kitchen just to cook for her.] [All she has to do is give him one compliment and he’s putty in her hands. And her whole ‘you’re my painkiller’ line? So cringe, I got goosebumps.] I rolled over in bed. Oh, there’s so much more than that. After dinner, Alistair would wash my clothes by hand, clean our tiny apartment, and then give me a full-body massage. Only after I was sound asleep would he start on the work he’d brought home. Whenever he was here, the slightest sound from me was treated like a national emergency. Like right now. Wearing an apron, he knelt beside my bed. “Did rolling over hurt? Do you need me?” I put on my sweetest voice. “I need my boyfriend to kiss me.” He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his hands, the same hands that had signed billion-dollar deals, began to gently massage my temples. The throbbing ache inside me subsided a little. I closed my eyes, content, and directed him to my shoulders. A shrill ringtone shattered the peace. Alistair’s hands paused before he answered the call. His brow furrowed, and he gave me an apologetic look. “Something came up at work, Sasha. I have to go out for a bit. You finish dinner, just leave the dishes on the table. I’ll wash them when I get back.” I watched him go. The comments exploded. [Rick has been plotting this all along. This isn’t about work. It’s a setup. He’s going to break Alistair’s pride, humiliate him, assault him. But thank god, the heroine is about to make her grand entrance and save the day! I’ve been waiting for this scene. My ship is finally sailing!] [After tonight, that manipulative gold digger will be kicked to the curb. I am so tired of her cutesy, fake act.] 3 A jolt of energy shot through me. I forced myself up, ignoring the pain, and scrambled out the door after Alistair, determined to intercept his and the heroine’s fated romantic encounter. Following the directions from the comments, I found the nightclub and slipped past a distracted bouncer. The pounding music amplified the pain in my body. In the center of the main floor, a noisy crowd had formed a circle. I pushed my way through and saw him. Alistair, pinned to the floor. Rick had his foot on Alistair’s face, grinding his heel into his cheek. The floor was littered with shattered glass, the shards digging into Alistair’s skin. Blood and spilled liquor pooled around him, the metallic, sweet stench making my stomach turn. “Still think you’re some kind of prince?” Rick sneered. “You’re a fake. A nobody. Thrown out on the street with nothing. If I wasn’t feeding you, you’d be begging for scraps right now.” “All I asked was for you to do a little striptease for us. You had no problem getting on your knees to polish my shoes. Why the high-and-mighty act now?” A vile smirk spread across Rick’s face. He grabbed Alistair’s chin, pinching his cheeks until they were red. Rick was notorious in their circle for being into men and women, but I never thought he’d set his sights on Alistair. “You’ve had a tough time, haven’t you? Just soften up a little. Be a good boy and play with me, and I can give you all the money and power you could ever want.” Alistair’s chest heaved, his eyes burning with silent fury. He spat a mouthful of blood onto Rick’s face. The response was a vicious storm of kicks and punches. Rick wiped his face, his expression twisting into a mask of rage. “Break his arms and legs! Strip him naked and hang him from the ceiling! Let’s see how long he lasts with no food or water!” A bouncer lifted a chair over his head and brought it down hard. Alistair let out a muffled grunt, swallowing the scream that rose in his throat. My vision turned red. Forgetting everything about the plot, I grabbed a fruit knife from a nearby table and charged into the circle, swinging it wildly. “Let us go! Or none of us are walking out of here alive!” My voice shook uncontrollably. I’d never been this close to real danger. My frenzied state made Rick stumble back a step. He squinted, and a slow, dawning smile spread across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t Alistair’s little pet canary, Sasha. Still sticking with him even though he’s broke. What a loyal little whore.” His lecherous eyes darted between us. “I’ve had men, and I’ve had women. But I’ve never had a matching set before. Looks like I’m trying something new tonight.” “You can be my little plaything,” he said to me. “I’ll give you more than he ever could.” The words had barely left his mouth when Alistair, who had been lying limp on the floor, exploded. Veins bulged on his forehead as he snatched the knife from my hand and plunged it straight into Rick’s eye. “You dare touch her!” But Rick had numbers on his side. Bouncers swarmed forward, pinning Alistair down and beating him mercilessly. Rick writhed on the floor, screaming. “A doctor! Get me a goddamn doctor! And skin that bastard Alistair alive! I want him to beg for death!” I tried to shield Alistair with my own body, but someone kicked me so hard I flew backward, crashing into a table and coughing up a mouthful of blood. The fists landing on Alistair were brutal, each blow a sickening thud. But he seemed to feel nothing. His only focus was on me. When he saw the blood spill from my lips, he began to struggle with renewed ferocity. His eyes were blazing red, staring straight at me. He mouthed two words: Run now. [I knew this scene was coming, but it’s still brutal to watch. This incident leaves a permanent scar on him. It’s only with the heroine’s love and support that he’s able to heal.] [No wonder Rick is the one who eventually tortures the side character to death. I wish I could jump through the screen and kill him myself.] That sentence flashed in my mind. A wave of fury and defiance surged through me. Why should I die at the hands of scum like this? Why does he get to humiliate Alistair without consequence? I grabbed a jagged piece of broken glass from the floor and scrambled toward the now-unprotected Rick. As he roared in agony, I drove the shard deep into his neck. Hot blood sprayed across my face and hair. Suddenly, a clear, commanding female voice cut through the chaos. “Stop! Anyone who lays another hand on Alistair Blackwood will answer to me.” It was as if fireworks had exploded in my vision as the comments lit up in celebration. [The hero and heroine have finally met! The plot is back on track!] A wave of unimaginable pain washed over me, stealing the last of my strength. I collapsed to the floor. With my last ounce of will, I turned my head to look at Alistair. And I saw it. A flicker of awe and astonishment in his eyes as he looked at his savior.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397503”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Isabelle Ridley and I grew up inseparable. The day we turned eighteen, our families announced our engagement. From then on, I counted the days. But Isabelle saw it as a cage. “Most people get to fall in love a few times,” she once said bitterly. “Why am I stuck with you, from cradle to grave?” She shrugged, adding, “You should date around too, Noah.” She lived by her words. In the year after our engagement, Isabelle cycled through seven boyfriends. With each one, I calmly said it was fine, telling myself she’d get it out of her system and return to me eventually. Then came the eighth. She brought him to her family’s annual gala, holding his hand as he called her “Izzy.” I set down my fork and, in front of everyone, slid the signed engagement contract to the center of the table. “You were right, Isabelle,” I said steadily. “Committing to one person for life? It’s a raw deal.” Later, when I stood before her with Sophia Langdon—the Langdon heiress—Isabelle smashed her champagne flute, her eyes red with fury. “Noah, what is this?!” I smiled. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I tried. And she’s a perfect fit.” … I’d been to the Ridley family gala many times. But tonight was the first time I walked through those doors as something other than “Isabelle Ridley’s fiancé.” “Is that Noah Prescott? What is he…” “Who is he holding hands with? Is that the Langdon girl?” “And who’s that standing next to Miss Ridley? What is going on…” Isabelle shot to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping a jarring shriek against the polished marble floor. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she pointed a trembling finger at Sophia. “Do you have any idea who he is? He’s my fiancé!” Sophia glanced at me, a silent question in her eyes, asking if she should speak. I gave a subtle shake of my head. Mrs. Ridley forced a smile, trying to smooth things over. “Noah, there must be a misunderstanding. Izzy is just young and likes to have her fun. In her heart, she’s still yours…” I looked at Isabelle’s mother and offered a smile of my own. “Mrs. Ridley, she’s had her ‘fun’ for a year. Seven boyfriends. I never said a word.” “Tonight is your family’s most important event of the year, and she brings number eight. If I stay silent now, should I be expected to give up my seat for number nine?” Mr. Ridley’s face turned to stone. He shot Isabelle a look that could kill. She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with a raised hand. “You were right, Isabelle. Being faithful is a bad deal.” “So, I’m ending the engagement. It’s over.” I nudged the contract further across the table, then turned to my own father. His expression was unreadable. He met my gaze for three long seconds, then stood. “Richard,” he said to Mr. Ridley, “let’s not interfere in our children’s affairs. But if Noah wants to end this engagement, he has my full support.” Mr. Ridley’s face darkened. He roared at Isabelle, “Get out of my sight! Now!” Isabelle was banished to the study. Even through the thick wooden door, we could hear the sound of things being thrown and smashed. Mrs. Ridley said nothing more, simply following her daughter into the room. Isabelle’s date, a young man named Caden, was left standing alone, wilting under the stares of the entire room. He ducked his head and hurried out of the main hall. The gala ended abruptly. I walked Sophia to the door, releasing her hand once we were outside. “Thank you for tonight, Sophia.” She looked up at me, her gaze warm and uncomplicated. “It was my honor to play a part in your little drama.” Then she got into her car and vanished into the night. I stood there in front of the Ridley estate, a cool wind brushing against me. A red wine stain on my white shirt had dried, leaving a dark, rust-colored mark. When I got home, I collapsed onto the sofa and lay there for a long time with my eyes closed. My mind drifted back to the year Isabelle first took my hand, declaring, “Noah Prescott is mine.” I remembered our eighteenth birthday, the day of our engagement party, when she announced to everyone, “He’s the one for me, for life.” And now, at twenty-two, she had brought her eighth boyfriend to meet me. The person I had sworn to protect was no longer mine to protect. I opened my eyes, took out my phone, and opened my chat with Isabelle. The last message, from three days ago, was a picture of her and Caden. New boyfriend. Cute, right? I hadn’t replied then. And I wouldn’t be replying now. I tapped her profile picture and selected “Delete Contact.” 2 A week after the engagement was broken, I drove out to a tea garden in the countryside to discuss a new project. The place was designed like a classical estate, with a small courtyard at the entrance and a flagstone path lined with bamboo. As I walked through the courtyard, I saw him. Caden. He was sitting at a tea table under a covered veranda, smiling and chatting, with pastries and tea laid out before him. Across from him sat Isabelle. Caden saw me first. A flicker of recognition lit his eyes before he quickly composed himself and pretended to continue his conversation. A hostess came to greet me, and I told her I had a reservation. She led me to a table in a quiet corner. The spot wasn’t far from their table, close enough to overhear their words. I had just sat down when I heard Caden say, “Izzy, about what happened with Noah the other night… what’s the latest?” The teacup in my hand paused halfway to my lips. Isabelle’s voice drifted over. “What’s to handle? He’s the one who broke it off. You don’t expect me to beg him to take me back, do you?” Caden chuckled. “But for him to do that in public… it was a huge slap in the face for you.” Isabelle laughed along with him. “He thinks he can scare me by ending the engagement? Please. Our families arranged it. His word alone doesn’t mean a thing.” I lifted the cup and took a slow sip. It was a premium green tea, this year’s harvest. It was good. Caden asked another question. “So, are you going to see him again?” “See him for what?” Isabelle’s tone was breezy, indifferent. “I have you now.” Caden lowered his voice. “So… when are you going to marry me?” There was a two-second pause. Then, Isabelle’s voice, clear as day. “Soon. As soon as things settle down, I’ll marry you.” I swallowed the tea and poured myself another cup. The steam rose, warming my face, leaving it feeling damp. Caden was still talking, but his voice had become a dull buzz in my ears. Her words echoed in my head, over and over. As soon as things settle down, I’ll marry you. Things settle down. I almost laughed. I had waited an entire year for her to come back to me. And here she was, promising to marry someone else as soon as things “settled down.” I drained my cup, called the waitress, and paid the bill. As I stood to leave, I walked past their table. I didn’t slow my pace. I even wore a faint, polite smile. Caden’s expression shifted, likely surprised by my composure. Isabelle watched me, her gaze following me until I was out of the courtyard and gone. Once I was in my car, I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white. My nails dug into my palms, the pain a sharp, welcome sting. I sent a message to the project manager, changing the location of our meeting. Three seconds later, I started the car and drove away. Back at the tea garden, Isabelle pushed away the pastry Caden offered her. “Let’s go.” Caden looked confused. “Where?” “You go home first. I have something to take care of.” His face fell, but he didn’t dare argue. That evening, the client for my new project was finalized. It was the Ridley Corporation. The next day, I received another message. The project liaison would be Caden. I stared at the message for a long time. Did Isabelle get him a job at her family’s company? Or was he already working there? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. I put down my phone and went back to revising the proposal. 3 At the project kick-off meeting, I found myself sitting across from Isabelle as a contractor for the first time. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, her expression all professional. Caden, also in a suit, sat beside her. I opened my laptop and began my presentation. Five minutes in, Caden held up a hand, interrupting me. “Mr. Prescott, I believe there’s an issue with your target demographic positioning.” I paused and looked at him. “The positioning was determined by preliminary market research. Your team signed off on the report.” Caden smiled. “That was before. I’m in charge of the project now, and I don’t think it’s appropriate. It needs to be changed.” Isabelle nodded beside him. “Caden’s right. Revise it.” I paused for a beat. “Alright.” I continued. Ten minutes later, Caden interrupted again. “This customer flow design is also unacceptable. It’s too convoluted. Did your team even do a site visit when you drafted this?” “We conducted three site visits,” I replied evenly. “The flow is based on…” Caden cut me off again. “I’ve seen your analysis report. The data sources are all wrong. Do it over.” Isabelle nodded again. “Do as he says.” Her gaze met mine for a fleeting second before she looked down at her phone. I took a deep breath. “Understood.” For the rest of the meeting, Caden interrupted me every five minutes, his criticisms growing more and more absurd. The other people in the room exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to speak up. When I finally finished, I closed my laptop. Caden smiled. “Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Prescott. Please take the proposal back and revise it thoroughly. We’ll meet again soon.” After the meeting, he cornered me in the hallway. He gave me a slick, smug smile. “Mr. Prescott, I’ll be your point of contact for this project moving forward. Let’s make sure we communicate frequently.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Izzy told me that the success of this project will directly impact the future partnership between the Prescott and Ridley corporations.” “Don’t worry,” he added, his voice dripping with insincerity. “I’ll be sure to ‘cooperate’ with you fully.” I looked at his face and felt a sudden, sharp urge to ask him a question. Do you have any idea that the woman you’re with went through seven boyfriends in a single year? But I didn’t. I just said, “Then let’s stick to the protocol.” His smile widened. “Of course, I’ll follow protocol. I’m just worried Mr. Prescott might not be used to it.” He turned to leave, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Prescott. Izzy said that after this project is completed, we’ll be officially announcing our engagement.” I stood there, motionless, and watched him disappear down the hall. For the next week, I worked late into the night, every night. I revised the proposal eight times. Each time I submitted it, Caden sent it back. My colleagues complained in private, saying he was doing it on purpose. I just told them, “Keep revising.” I knew he was doing it on purpose. Arguing was pointless. At eleven o’clock one night, I was alone in the office, working on the proposal. A knock came at the door. I looked up to see the security guard. Someone was here for me. I went downstairs. Sophia Langdon was standing in the lobby, holding a plastic bag. 4 Sophia walked over and handed me the bag. “I was passing by and thought you might be hungry.” I opened it. Inside was a container of hot soup and a coffee. I looked up at her. “Sophia, did you plant a tracking device on me?” She pretended to think about it. “That would be illegal.” “Then how did you know I hadn’t eaten?” She just smiled, not answering. I started on the soup. The warm broth soothed something deep inside me. She stood beside me quietly, just watching. Suddenly, I let out a small laugh. She looked at me. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just… I feel like it’s been a long time since I’ve laughed like this.” She met my eyes, her gaze soft and light. I didn’t say anything more. I went home that night and completed the ninth revision of the proposal. I submitted it at two in the morning. At eight a.m. the next day, I received a reply: [Approved.] The project’s milestone reception was held in the grand ballroom of a five-star hotel downtown. The moment I walked in, I could hear the whispers. “Isn’t that Noah Prescott? I thought he was engaged to the Ridley girl. Why is her family giving him such a hard time now?” “I heard they broke it off, but I don’t know the details.” “That Caden guy seems to be Miss Ridley’s new favorite. I bet an announcement is coming soon.” The words floated into my ears, but I kept my face a blank slate. At precisely eight o’clock, Caden entered with Isabelle on his arm. He was dressed in a sharp white suit that made him look dashing. Isabelle was in a magnificent gown, a polite smile fixed on her face. Someone braver than the rest called out, “Miss Ridley, is it true you and the Prescott family have called off the engagement?” Every head in the room turned to look at Isabelle, and then at me. Just as she was about to speak, I set down my glass. “It’s true,” I said, my voice cutting through the murmurs. “The engagement between the Ridley and Prescott families has been cancelled.” A wave of shock rippled through the ballroom. Isabelle’s face paled. She stared at me, her eyes wide. I met her gaze without flinching. Then, a slow, deliberate smile spread across her face. She wrapped her arms around Caden’s neck. And in front of everyone, she stood on her toes and kissed him. Caden froze for a second, then a look of pure joy washed over his face as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back. Gasps and whispers erupted from the crowd. When the kiss ended, Isabelle pulled back, her eyes still locked on me. “Mr. Prescott is correct,” she announced, her voice ringing with false triumph. “The engagement is off.” “Because the man I’m going to marry… is him.” The room exploded. Caden was so overjoyed his eyes turned red. He held her waist tightly, as if she might disappear. But Isabelle wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at me. Waiting for my reaction. Waiting for a crack to appear in my composure. But my expression remained a perfect, unreadable mask. Just as I was about to say something, a voice came from behind me. “What a coincidence.” I turned. Sophia Langdon was walking through the crowd, a vision of elegance in her evening gown. She moved toward me, her gaze passing over everyone else until it landed on my face. She stopped in front of me, reached out, and took my hand. Then she lifted her head, looking at Isabelle, at Caden, at the entire room. “Because I’m going to marry him.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “397502”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When popular actress Ruby’s secret Instagram account was exposed, hundreds of love letters made her the number one trending topic on social media overnight. She wrote: “The man I love became someone else’s husband.” Her fans all felt sorry for her: “You’re so devoted!” “These love letters are so touching! I’m crying!” I was lying in bed scrolling through my phone when I casually commented: “How can someone make falling for another woman’s husband sound so innocent?” One minute later, Frederick’s call came through: “Ruby didn’t do anything wrong. Saying that will cause her trouble.” I froze for a moment, then suddenly laughed. So in a relationship between three people, the extra one had always been me—the wife. The man Ruby couldn’t have in her posts was my husband of nearly three years, Frederick. I opened my mouth, wanting to explain I’d only commented casually. But the words that came out were: “How did you even see it?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. I suddenly understood. With tens of thousands of comments on the trending topic, Frederick—currently on a business trip abroad—had spotted my account among all those comments at a glance. Not because I was important to him, but because he’d been following Ruby’s every move. He’d even scrolled through every single comment. “Serena, delete the comment first.” Frederick’s tone softened slightly from before. “I’ll handle things with Ruby. You don’t need to worry about it.” I bit my lip. “Sorry. I didn’t know those love letters were written to you. I’ll delete it.” He paused. As if he wanted to say something more, but in the end just hummed in acknowledgment. The call ended. I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at the screen for a few seconds. Frederick had always been gentle and courteous with me. This was the first time he’d confronted me like this. I set my phone face-down on the nightstand and lay back down with my face mask on. Fifteen minutes later, I went to the bathroom to wash my face. The person in the mirror looked normal, except her eyes were a bit red. I leaned in for a closer look. Probably some mask serum had gotten in my eyes. After washing up, I reopened that trending topic. All the posts were titled “Letters to Mr. F.” Documenting Ruby’s years-long obsession with a man. I found my comment, clicked on it, and deleted it. When I exited, the number one trending topic had already changed. “Who Is the Man in Ruby’s Love Letters?” I scrolled past it and closed the app. My phone stayed quiet. It didn’t ring again. I turned off the light and lay back in bed. In the darkness, I suddenly remembered something. The prenuptial agreement between Frederick and me had a three-year term. Only two months remained.

Three years ago, the Ashford family faced a crisis. Stock prices plummeted. Partners withdrew funding one after another. At that time, as the only daughter of the Hayes family, I proposed a marriage alliance. Some said I was taking advantage of their misfortune. Some said the Hayes family was bottom-fishing. What no one knew was that I liked Frederick. Since college. For seven years. To avoid putting pressure on Frederick, I drafted an agreement myself: a marriage term of three years. During those three years, we would cooperate to handle family matters and attend public events together. After three years, if either party proposed divorce, the other must agree unconditionally. This marriage held no benefits for me. I wanted nothing—just a chance to be with him for three years. Later I heard that he apparently had a girlfriend he was deeply in love with at the time. His parents forcibly separated them and made him marry me to save the company. Over these three years, Frederick had been very good to me. Genuinely good. Considerate, gentle, fulfilling his duties as a husband. He would bring me late-night snacks when returning home from business dinners. He would bring me gifts when returning from business trips. He never brushed off any holiday or anniversary. When I was sick, he would stay by my bedside. Even in our intimate life, he was attentive. I thought he was slowly falling for me. Now I understood. He was just fulfilling contractual obligations. As for feelings— Those weren’t in the contract. I turned over, burying my face in the pillow. Before long, the pillow was wet in one spot.

The next evening, Frederick returned from his business trip. I sat in the living room waiting for him. Before he could raise his arms to hug me, I pushed the agreement across. “What’s this?” He was clearly startled, sitting down beside me. “The prenuptial agreement.” “We have two months left until the three-year term expires. But if you’re in a hurry, we can end the contract early.” He frowned. “Serena, what do you mean?” I looked up at him calmly. “I don’t care about your business with Ruby. But I don’t want to stay in this position.” “Before proposing the alliance, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. I’m sorry, but I have no interest in being the one who gets in the way of true love.” Frederick’s expression froze slightly. He reached out to put his arm around me, his tone softer than before. “She and I ended completely long ago. Those love letters were written by her. They have nothing to do with me.” I moved back slightly. His arm froze in midair. “Don’t overthink it,” he said, finally placing his hand on my shoulder and patting it reassuringly. “The three years aren’t up yet. You’re still Mrs. Ashford.” I nodded. “Okay.” He looked at me for a few seconds, stood up, and said he was going to shower. That evening, we ate dinner together. After the meal, we sat together in the media room watching an old movie. During the end credits, we became intimate. Afterward, he carried me to bathe as usual. He let me fall asleep on his arm. I almost doubted again that he liked me. I woke in the middle of the night to find the spot beside me empty. I instinctively looked toward the balcony. The curtains weren’t fully drawn—there was a gap. Through it I could see a figure on the balcony, back turned to me, phone raised. I got out of bed quietly and walked to the door. “…I’ve already handled the trending topic.” His voice drifted in from the balcony, kept very low. “I don’t want this to affect the cooperation between the Ashford and Hayes families.” Silence for a few seconds. “Ruby, what we had is in the past.” I stood behind the curtain, my fingers clenched tight. He listened for a while longer, then said, “Get some sleep.” The call ended. I thought he would come back, but he made another call. “Mr. Johnson, the company needs a global brand ambassador for the new season. Contact Ruby’s agent. Accept whatever conditions they ask for.” I heard the sound of a lighter. A flash of flame—he lit a cigarette. Smoke drifted into the night. His profile was briefly lit by the cigarette’s glow, then darkened again. When we first got married, he occasionally smelled of smoke. I would cough a few times. After that, I never saw him smoke again. I stood behind the curtain watching him smoke one cigarette after another. My feet felt cold. I realized I was standing barefoot on the floor. I tiptoed back to bed, lay down, and closed my eyes.

On the weekend, Frederick had a gathering with friends. I hit traffic and arrived later than planned. The moment before I pushed open the private room door, voices from inside filtered through. “Frederick, if the Hayes family hadn’t taken advantage of the situation back then, you would have married Ruby by now, right?” “You two were doing so well together, forcibly torn apart.” “Exactly.” Another voice chimed in. “Serena’s move was pretty calculated. I heard that when your family had problems, she was the first to jump out proposing a marriage alliance. Who knows if her family was behind it all?” “I’ve wanted to say this for a while—you and Ruby were such a perfect match back then. She still can’t forget you, writing all those love letters. So devoted.” “Serena’s just been taking advantage these three years, when you get down to it.” Laughter, voices agreeing. Then I heard Frederick’s voice. His tone flat, almost cold. “It’s all in the past.” My hand stopped on the door handle. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t say Serena wasn’t that kind of person. Didn’t say she wasn’t scheming. Didn’t say she was his wife. He didn’t even tell them to stop. One dismissive “it’s all in the past.” Drowning three years of marriage and my dignity in their mockery. My nails dug into my palm. It hurt a little. I had looked into Ruby. When the Ashford family was in crisis, she had quickly latched onto a new benefactor. Even I could easily find this out. I didn’t believe Frederick couldn’t. Unless he trusted her completely. I suddenly recalled three years ago. When the Ashford family was in crisis, my family opposed the marriage alliance. They said the Ashford family’s problems were too deep—the Hayes family didn’t need to get involved. I was the one who sold all the properties under my name and mortgaged my shares in Hayes Corporation. I scraped together that money and transferred it to Frederick’s finance department under the guise of working capital. I never told anyone about this. Including him. I thought that was love. Turns out in others’ mouths, it was called taking advantage of someone’s misfortune. The laughter inside continued. I released the handle and stepped back. Before tears could fall, I left the club.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “373618”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance

After my husband Damien Carter died in the line of duty, I visited his grave every weekend. Five years later, on another weekend, I was in a car accident on my way to the cemetery. When I woke up, my best friend Gwen Mitchell tried to comfort me. “He’s been gone for so many years now. You need to move on and live your own life.” I nodded and agreed, deciding to take a job in the UK. Before heading to the airport, I decided on impulse to say goodbye to my husband at the cemetery. His headstone was gone. I pulled up the cemetery’s security footage from three days earlier. My husband — who had supposedly died in a fire — was there, holding hands with a pregnant Gwen. That evening, Gwen called asking if I’d landed yet, wondering why I wasn’t replying to her messages. I raised my hand and knocked on her door, smiling at her shocked, wide-eyed expression. “Your belly’s gotten so big. Why didn’t you tell your best friend?” That evening, I arrived at Gwen’s door and knocked. The moment she saw me, her phone clattered to the floor. I bent down and picked it up for her. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” She seemed to snap out of a daze, forcing out a smile. “Didn’t you fly to the UK? Why did you suddenly come find me without saying anything? I could have picked you up.” I let out a cold laugh. “Didn’t you sprain your ankle?” After my car accident, she’d been anxious and apologetic, saying she’d twisted her ankle and couldn’t get back from Los Angeles to see me. All lies. Just then, a delivery guy emerged from the elevator, handing over a large bouquet of roses. “Delivery for you — flowers.” Gwen didn’t take them. I did. “Honey, is that the delivery?” From inside the apartment, a man’s familiar voice made my heart lurch violently. The next second, Damien Carter walked out of the kitchen wearing an apron. Seeing me, he froze completely, his pupils trembling. I pulled out the card from the flowers. It was in Damien’s handwriting. “Dear Mrs. Carter, Happy Fourth Wedding Anniversary. Thank you for marrying me and giving me a lifetime of happiness.” I read it aloud mockingly, watching both their faces grow increasingly pale. “How wonderful.” They both stood frozen, unsure how to react. I walked toward the photo wall in the living room. Five years ago, Damien had supposedly died saving people, his body obliterated in a fire explosion. I’d been devastated, crying day after day until my retina detached. While they moved into their new home, excitedly planning their new life together. The day before I attempted suicide by cutting my wrists, they’d registered their marriage. While I was downing antidepressants by the handful, finding it difficult to even breathe or feel my heartbeat, they were traveling and vacationing around the world, skiing and diving. While I could only fall asleep listening to Damien’s old voice messages, he’d gotten my best friend pregnant and was reading picture books to their baby in her belly. I took down the ultrasound photo of the baby, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Have you picked a name for the baby yet? How about Luna?” At Damien’s wedding, he’d said in his vows: “I fell in love with you at first sight. The night we first said hello, I’d already thought of names for our children. Luna.” Everyone had laughed, including my maid of honor — Gwen. Gwen had held the bouquet and playfully hit Damien. “If you dare hurt Keira, I won’t let you get away with it.” Damien had laughed and said he knew. Back then, immersed in exhausted happiness, I hadn’t noticed the subtle tension between them at all. I took a deep breath, grabbed a potted plant by the sofa, and hurled it at the photo wall with all my strength. Gwen jumped in fright, her face going pale as she clutched her belly. “Honey…” Damien immediately rushed to support her, helping her sit down. Gwen shook her head and pushed him away. “I’m fine. Go check on the soup in the kitchen. Remember, don’t add cilantro when it’s done — Keira doesn’t eat it.” I let out a cold laugh. “My dear best friend, so thoughtful and considerate.” “Enough!” Damien’s face darkened, his voice a low, angry growl. I laughed again, staring straight into his eyes as I walked up to him. I slapped him across the face. Not satisfied, I hit him several more times. He turned his face away, veins bulging and pulsing on his forehead. My hand went numb from shaking, my whole body trembling. Over these five years, I’d lost count of how many times I’d dreamed of this exact scene. I’d come home, push open the door, and Damien would suddenly be standing there alive before my eyes. I’d hit him, curse at him, cry and ask him why he left me alone. “Keira, I’m sorry…” Gwen dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “It’s all my fault. If you want to hit someone, hit me. I was the one who fell for Damien first. I seduced him, pursued him. I deceived you and betrayed our friendship.” She desperately pushed away Damien as he tried to help her up. “Go away! Go home with Keira! The baby… I’ll abort the baby. She never should have existed anyway, and I don’t deserve to be her mother.” Damien held her tightly, his eyes full of heartache. “Don’t talk nonsense. I love you. I love our daughter. You two are my family.” My heart felt like it was being crushed by a giant fist, the pain making my breath tremble. Suddenly everything went dark. I thought my retinal detachment was acting up again. Thankfully, it was just a power outage. “Ah…” Gwen screamed. She grabbed my leg, and I kicked her in the stomach. “Honey… the baby… my stomach hurts so much…” Damien frantically found his phone and turned on the flashlight. Seeing the footprint on her dress, his eyes filled with furious rage. He kicked me away with one foot. My head hit the cabinet corner, my back pressed against the broken ceramic shards of the flowerpot. My hand touched something wet — blood. Damien picked up Gwen to take her to the hospital, saying through gritted teeth: “Keira Summers, if anything happens to them, I won’t let you get away with it.” The door slammed shut. I lay on the floor, laughing and crying in the darkness. I don’t know how long passed before I seemed to smell gas. I tried to crawl up, but like in a nightmare, I couldn’t move at all. Maybe dying like this would be better. I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. I woke up with a splitting headache. My vision blurry, I instinctively grabbed Damien’s hand, my voice carrying a grievous sob. “Don’t leave!” He clearly stiffened. The next second, I snapped fully awake, remembering everything. He pried my hand away and placed it on top of the blanket. “Be careful. Don’t dislodge the IV.” His concern carried a deliberate distance and avoidance. I laughed self-mockingly. “Sorry, I forgot you’re my best friend’s husband now.” His expression darkened at that. He turned and pulled my phone from the drawer, handing it to me. “Your company called. They asked why you didn’t report for work.” He paused. “You should start a new life.” Everyone around me had been saying the same thing. A new life… just three words when spoken, but only I knew how difficult it actually was. From the moment I fell in love with him, all my visions of the future included him. When he died, my heart died with him. Now I’d tasted something a thousand times more painful than death. I swallowed the bitter taste in my throat. “Damien Carter, I won’t let you two get away with this.” His eyes flashed sharply, glaring at me with vigilance and resentment. “If you dare hurt Gwen and the child again, I’ll definitely make you pay.” With that, he turned and left. I stared at the ceiling and let out two cold laughs. When I first started working, my boss would take me to business dinners and subtly take advantage of me. I didn’t dare resist directly, so I complained to Damien when I got home. A few days later, my boss’s face was swollen like a pig’s head. “Don’t worry, he won’t suspect us.” Damien’s expression held a trace of pride, though it quickly turned serious. “Keira, no matter who it is, if anyone bullies you, I’ll definitely make them pay.” Looking at his serious, determined eyes, I was so moved my nose stung. I jokingly asked him: “What if the person bullying me is you?” He wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing his forehead to mine. “That won’t happen.” “If one day I really do make you sad… then punish me by losing you forever.” Losing me had once been the greatest punishment for him. But a few years later, I became the shackle he desperately wanted to shed. For that, he didn’t hesitate to fake his death and escape. I wiped away the tears rolling down my temples into my hair. Gwen pushed open the door. “Keira, eat something.” While arranging the contents of the lunch box on the table, she chatted casually. “The baby’s nickname is Joey. We haven’t decided on a full name yet. You’re the child’s godmother — why don’t you help us choose one?” “You understand, right? Your Damien can never come back to you. If you haven’t vented enough anger, we can keep playing along.” “Beef stew — Damien’s specialty. You haven’t had it in a long time, right?” Smelling the meat, I was hit with an even stronger wave of nausea. She smiled. “Oh, didn’t you tell me your sister finally got pregnant after so many rounds of IVF? Twins, even.” “What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth, my eyes bloodshot as I glared at her. “I don’t want anything.” She looked innocent. “The key is — what will you do?” 3 She returned my phone. My sister happened to call right then. “Keira, I just received a package. Inside were two really exquisite dolls. Did you buy them?” My heart jumped. I shouted urgently: “Don’t touch them! Throw them out!” My sister was startled, asking what was wrong. I took a deep breath, watching the faint smile on Gwen’s lips, my spine going cold. My parents died in an accident when I was young. My sister dropped out of high school to work, supporting me and putting me through college. Her difficulty getting pregnant was largely due to overwork that damaged her health. Gwen knew how deep my relationship with my sister was, so she was using her to control and threaten me. After hanging up, I admitted defeat and compromised. “I won’t do anything. I don’t know anything. Nothing happened. My husband is already dead.” Gwen smiled with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, the dolls are just ordinary dolls.” “Hurry and eat. The food’s getting cold.” But the next second, she heard movement at the door. She flipped the small table over. Soup and dishes spilled all over my bed and body. The lunch box rolled to the floor with a clatter. Damien rushed in from outside. “Gwen! Did you get burned?” Gwen shook her head and smiled. “No, I’m fine. Check on Keira quickly.” Damien held her back, glancing at me sideways. “She’s fine. Don’t worry about her.” Another knife to the heart. Gwen looked even more satisfied. Damien protectively walked her out. I heard his voice, kept very low: “Keira’s emotionally unstable right now. What if she goes crazy and comes after you? I’ve already arranged for someone to come.” Gwen’s voice was soft and coquettish with a hint of laughter: “You’re so thoughtful.” They left. A nurse came in to clean up. I hid in the bathroom and called my sister back. “Hailey, will you come to the UK with me for a while? Have your husband take you to get your visa today. I’ll come back to get you.” Someone knocked on the door. I hurriedly told my sister one more thing and hung up. It was the nurse’s voice. I opened the door, and a man pushed his way in. Before I could scream in terror, my mouth and nose were covered, and I quickly passed out. When I regained consciousness, I was lying in bed wearing my hospital gown. Under my clothes were bruises all over. Gwen came in supporting her waist, like a friend sharing gossip as she showed me nude photos of myself. “Since you don’t trust me, I had to keep some leverage on you too.” “If you don’t want your sister, your coworkers and friends, or even strangers to see these things, you’d better keep your mouth shut forever.” I trembled all over, gritting my teeth and nodding. Gwen drove me to the airport and gave me a card. “Live well on your own.” I took it, but she didn’t let go immediately. “The password is the day Luna left. I’ve always felt guilty. Especially after I got pregnant myself — I kept dreaming about it.” I froze, realizing in a flash. “The car accident… you did it on purpose!” After Damien’s “death,” I discovered I was pregnant. Gwen advised me not to keep it. I couldn’t bear to give it up, so she said she’d help me raise it after it was born. But a few days later, she drove me out to relax, and we got into an accident. I lost the baby. “A child without a father is too pitiful. Better not to come into this world to suffer.” I swallowed the bloody taste rising in my throat and got out of the car. Just after getting off the plane, my old phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated frantically: “Is this Keira Summers, Hailey Summers’s sister? Your sister opened a package delivered to her home today. It had a strong allergen on it. She’s hemorrhaging badly and had a miscarriage. The situation is critical. You need to get to the hospital immediately to sign papers!” My fingertips instantly went ice cold. I turned around and went to the counter to change to the earliest flight back to New York. On the plane, I had a good cry. Back in New York, I bought a new phone and switched it on, then made a call. “This is Keira Summers. You said I could come to you if I needed help. Does that still stand?” 4 I brought my sister to New York, temporarily staying in a secure private community that the man had arranged. I felt somewhat reassured. I organized evidence and documents, writing two complaint letters. I printed the complaint letters and put them in two separate envelopes. One I sent to Gwen’s workplace, the other to Damien’s military unit. The afternoon after mailing the letters, I sat on a park bench, watching the falling leaves in a daze. These years I’d spent as a widow for Damien — it was all a joke. If only he had really died in the line of duty. At least then, we wouldn’t have come to this point, and my sister’s children would still be alive. Three days later, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Damien standing outside, holding two crumpled letters in his hand. The very complaint letters I’d sent. “Keira, don’t do anything foolish.” He threw the letters on the coffee table, his tone carrying a warning. “Fighting a losing battle won’t end well for you. Your sister is the best example.” I suddenly stood up, my chest heaving violently: “I already agreed! Why did you have to destroy everything I had left?” For the first time, Damien’s eyes showed a trace of guilt. His expression was complicated. Suddenly he reached out and pulled me into his arms, apologizing: “I’m sorry, Keira. Don’t do anything foolish. Just live your own life properly.” I broke down crying, tears hitting the floor: “Damien Carter… why are you doing this to me?!” He didn’t answer. The accumulated grievances and anger exploded again. I continued crying and asking him: “Damien Carter! How can you?! How can you destroy everything I have and then tell me to live well?!” He let me hit him, but his arms only tightened around me. “I’m sorry…” he kept repeating. I cried until I was drained of strength, using what little energy I had left to push him away. When he left, he left behind a card. “Let’s end this here. Gwen still has those photos of you. I don’t want her to hurt you again.” “This card — consider it some compensation from me to you and your sister.” I looked at him with a smile and nodded okay. With my sister’s situation still unresolved, how could I possibly let them go? If I really gave up now, wouldn’t that be exactly what they wanted? If I was in pain, they shouldn’t get to be comfortable either. But I didn’t expect they had no intention of letting me go either. The next morning, I went to bring my sister breakfast. Just as I walked out of the community gate, a black sedan suddenly accelerated toward me. The blinding headlights made me unable to open my eyes. I instinctively stepped back but tripped on a step. After being hit by the car, only one thought remained in my mind. I can’t die. In the last second before losing consciousness, I felt someone pick me up. I struggled to open my eyes and saw a face with distinct features. The man’s voice was deep and gentle. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “373617”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance

In my past life, Ethan’s mom found a pair of sexy underwear in his room. Faced with Ethan’s pleading eyes, I accepted by default that the underwear was mine. From that day on, I became a thorn in his mother’s side. Later, after the SAT, Ethan—who should have gotten into an Ivy League school—only made it into community college. Ethan’s mom lost her mind. She set fire to my house and burned my entire family alive. Reborn into this life, back to the day the lingerie was discovered. This time, I’m not taking the fall. “You little slut! So young and already seducing my son into sleeping with you? Have you no shame!” Victoria Lane’s shrill voice exploded through the apartment complex courtyard. A pink piece of lingerie landed on my face, reeking of an indescribable fishy smell. My whole body trembled. In an instant, I remembered the bone-searing pain of being burned alive in my past life. In my past life, it was also today. Mrs. Lane publicly accused me of seducing her son. I was about to open my mouth to refute when I caught Ethan’s slightly pleading gaze. The rebuttal on the tip of my tongue was swallowed back down. I promised Mrs. Lane over and over that I would keep my distance from Ethan, never imagining that was just the beginning of a nightmare. From that day on, whenever Ethan’s grades showed the slightest fluctuation, Mrs. Lane would show up at our door crying and making a scene. My parents were tormented beyond endurance and even lost their jobs. I originally thought that after the SAT ended, things would gradually calm down. I never expected that Ethan—whose grades should have been good enough for MIT—dropped a bombshell on SAT score release day. He only scored just over 300 points. Mrs. Lane went crazy. In the middle of the night, she doused our house with gasoline and burned our entire family alive. My parents and I were trapped inside. The agony of flames licking my body and the smell of burning flesh intertwined. The heart-wrenching screams of my parents are something I’ll never forget in this lifetime. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Ethan ran over and grabbed his mother. “Mom! Stop embarrassing yourself here!” Mrs. Lane thought her son was protecting me and plopped down on the ground, wailing, “I worked so hard to raise my son. Ethan is my only hope. If you wanted a man, go find those delinquent punks who don’t study. Why target my son? Are you trying to destroy me?” Mrs. Lane knelt toward me. “Lily Thompson, I’m begging you, please leave our Ethan alone. I’ve never wronged you all these years. Just let me live, okay?” With such a big scene, neighbors gathered around, pointing and whispering about me. “This Lily seems so proper though…” “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” “And pink lingerie too. Young people these days really know how to have fun.” I took a deep breath, my eyes uncontrollably drifting toward Ethan. Ethan’s eyes were full of pleading, just like in my past life. In my past life, I was soft-hearted and nodded, then carried the reputation of being frivolous and promiscuous from then on. Mrs. Lane went around saying I was young but already knew how to seduce people. Our whole family couldn’t hold our heads up in the complex. And Ethan, the actual culprit, never once stood up to say a word in my defense from beginning to end. I took a deep breath. “This underwear isn’t mine.”

Mrs. Lane froze, then sneered, “Lying through your teeth, huh? If it’s not yours, whose could it be? Besides you, Ethan never brings other girls home!” I explained, “I get to school at 7:30 every morning and finish evening study hall at 10:30. My mom and dad take turns picking me up. Plus, every time I go to your place, Mrs. Lane, aren’t you always there?” I looked into her eyes. “Besides, the building security cameras can check, the school entrance logs can check. If you don’t believe me, you can go look right now.” Mrs. Lane’s neck stiffened. “What if you cut class?” “I’m ranked second in my grade. You think I got a 600+ score by cutting class?” Seeing more and more onlookers gathering, the security guard quickly came over to maintain order. Guard Wilson squeezed through the crowd. “Alright, alright. I work night shift every day. This girl really does get picked up by her dad at 10:30 sharp every night. On weekends she still has to go to tutoring. Where would she have time to seduce your son? Making accusations requires evidence, doesn’t it?” My mom has always been kind to others and has a good reputation among the neighbors. The onlookers began to switch sides. “Yeah, I’ve watched Lily grow up since she was little. She’s well-behaved and sensible. She even tutored my daughter in freshman and sophomore year. Her character is beyond question.” “Lady, accusing a young girl without any proof is a bit much, don’t you think?” “Exactly. Besides, that thing is attached to your son. If he wasn’t willing, could a girl force him?” “Victoria, did you misunderstand something?” Mrs. Lane’s face turned the color of liver. Ethan’s expression was also ugly. He grabbed his mom and left. “Mom! Stop making a scene. Let’s go home!” Mrs. Lane was being dragged away but didn’t forget to turn back and glare at me with a vicious warning look. I stood in place, my palms full of sweat, but I knew this wasn’t over. Because Ethan really did have a girlfriend he didn’t dare let his mom know about. In the future, whatever trouble the two of them caused would be dumped on my head again. Soon enough, I met Ethan’s girlfriend. The next day at school, there was a girl sitting on my desk. The books and test papers I’d stacked neatly were swept onto the floor. She sat crookedly, as if trying very hard to contort herself into alluring curves. The originally oversized school uniform had been altered to fit her body, the collar open wide so you could see the low-cut bra underneath from above. I knew her—Madison Brooks from the class next door. With her grades, it would be hard for her to get into a good school. I stood in front of her. “Move. This is my seat.” She sat on the desktop without moving. “Oh, so this is Ethan’s little childhood friend? Pretty ugly, but you sure dream big.” She deliberately raised her voice. “I heard you left your lingerie at Ethan’s place yesterday. Mrs. Lane didn’t hit you, did she?” The students nearby perked up their ears, no longer sleepy or busy, listening in on the gossip. Ethan still said nothing. I smiled. “Madison, it’s not good to badmouth your boyfriend like this, is it? You two have already gotten intimate. Too scared to own up to it? Want to pin it on me instead?” “Enough!” Ethan looked at me with disappointment. “Why are you joining in on this nonsense?” I took a deep breath. “Ethan, control your girlfriend. If she keeps spreading rumors about me, I’ll tell Mrs. Lane about you two.” Madison obviously knew how formidable Mrs. Lane was and awkwardly shut her mouth. I gathered my things from the floor, grabbed my backpack, and walked straight to the last row, sitting down next to the school bully. The school bully was named Derek Frost. Tall and built, he slept in the back row year-round, and no one dared mess with him. He lifted his head to glance at me, then laid it back down. Ethan walked over, lowering his voice. “What are you doing? Move back!” “No.” “Don’t joke around with your grades.” He frowned. “Class is about to start.” I looked at his face and suddenly felt disgusted. In my past life, I took the fall for him. What did he do afterward? After our family of three died, Mrs. Lane was sentenced to death. He “turned over a new leaf,” changed his name, repeated senior year, then went straight to MIT. Living his happy, brilliant life. Never once saying sorry from beginning to end. “Where I sit is my freedom.” I looked down at my book. “Don’t bother me.”

During the break, I went to the bathroom. Just as I closed the stall door, I heard a “click”—someone locked it from the outside. Madison’s laughter came from outside. “Lily, you were pretty bold just now, huh? If you kneel down and beg me, I’ll be kind and pour a little less water on you.” As soon as she finished speaking, a bucket of cold water poured down from above. I was soaked through. Madison and her group laughed hysterically outside. I wiped my face, stepped back two paces, and slammed into the bathroom door. “Bang!” The lock broke. I rushed out and grabbed Madison by the hair, shoving her head into the dirty sink beside us. “Ahh—!” She screamed and struggled. The other three were terrified. No one dared move. I pressed her down, enunciating each word. “I’m not interested in Ethan. Don’t provoke me. Got it?” Just then, Ethan suddenly rushed in and without a word, slapped me across the face. “Smack!” My cheek stung with burning pain. “Lily, this is bullying!” He stood protectively in front of Madison. The dean arrived at the sound. “Everyone stop right now!” Madison covered her face and collapsed crying into Ethan’s arms. “I don’t know why she suddenly came at me. I just got a little closer to Ethan. If you didn’t like it, you could have just said so. Why bully me like this?” Ethan looked at me coldly. “Dean, Lily struck first.” I laughed coldly. “Then explain why I’m soaking wet.” “There’s a surveillance camera at the bathroom entrance. Who’s right and who’s wrong will be clear with one look.” The dean glanced at me, then at him. I knew that between Ethan and me—one ranked first in grade, one ranked second, both aiming for Ivy League schools—punishing either of us could cause problems. In the end, the dean glared at Madison. “Madison Brooks, 5,000-word self-criticism, to be read aloud at Monday’s school-wide assembly!” Madison glared at me hatefully. “Lily! I’m not done with you!” Monday, just after Madison finished reading her self-criticism, the school forum exploded. A user called “Ethan’s Wife” went on a posting spree on the forum. [Ethan wore a white shirt today, so handsome!] [Worthy of being my boyfriend, want to lick, want to lick] [That idiot Madison, why is she so close to my boyfriend?] [Ethan and I are childhood friends. I’m Mrs. Lane’s handpicked daughter-in-law. Does that bitch think she can compete with me?] The attached images were all private photos of Ethan—eating, sleeping, wearing a tank top… The angles were extremely intimate, clearly taken at home. Based on the deliberately provided “clues” in the posts, you didn’t even need to guess—it was obviously “me.” The student next to me gave me a thumbs up. “Holy crap, girl, you’re amazing!” “Lily dares to love and hate. Truly an inspiration to us all.” “Is this what academic love looks like? So thrilling!”

Soon, the homeroom teacher called me to the office. Sitting beside her were Mrs. Lane and Ethan. As soon as Mrs. Lane saw me, she rushed over, hand raised high. But before the slap could land, my dad grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing!” My dad pulled me protectively behind him. The teacher sighed. “You know about the forum posts, right? It’s a very bad influence, and Ethan’s grades have been greatly affected recently…” Ethan glanced at me, his eyes dark with unreadable emotion. “Lily, what’s the point of doing this? I don’t like you at all… If my past behavior made you misunderstand, I apologize, but can you please stop making things up about me?” Hearing Ethan’s words, Mrs. Lane became even more convinced that I was the one who posted on the forum. “I knew you had bad intentions! Last time it was lingerie, this time spreading nonsense online! If my son doesn’t get into MIT, I’ll kill you!” Both my parents spoke at once. “Our daughter would never do such a thing!” I pressed down my angry parents and spoke directly to the teacher. “Teacher, the post has such high visibility now that the whole school knows about it. The impact is huge. This could be prosecuted. Why don’t we report it to the police and have the cyber police trace the IP? Whoever posted it gets arrested.” Mrs. Lane froze, then immediately nodded. “Yes! Call the police!” Now it was Ethan’s turn to look pale. “We can’t call the police.” Ethan suddenly stood up. Mrs. Lane glared at him. “Ethan, how can you be so confused! The most important thing now is to root out the real vixen. You can’t let this affect your studies!” Ethan avoided her gaze. “Mom, we’re all classmates. Making this bigger will affect my studies even more. Let’s just drop it. I promise I’ll definitely rank first in grade next time.” The homeroom teacher didn’t want things to escalate either. If this somehow made the news and went viral, her meager salary wouldn’t be enough to cover the deductions. She quickly tried to smooth things over. “That’s right, Mrs. Lane. They’re just kids having little squabbles. If this gets out, Ethan will be pointed at wherever he goes in the future. Don’t worry, our school will definitely investigate thoroughly and won’t let other people affect your child’s studies.” Mrs. Lane looked at him suspiciously, then at me. Finally, she left through gritted teeth. Only Ethan and I remained in the hallway. He leaned down, lowering his voice. “What’s going on with you lately? Changing seats, getting into fights, now you want to call the police. Do you have to give me trouble?” I laughed. “Ethan, get it straight. We’re just ordinary neighbors. Your mom wrongly accused me, you gave false testimony for Madison, and now you want to pin the blame on me. I’m not allowed to fight back?” His face turned iron-blue. He couldn’t say a word. “Stop putting yourself on a pedestal.” I picked up my backpack. “I have no interest in causing you trouble. Don’t disgust me either.” As I walked past him, Ethan grabbed my hand. “Lily, you weren’t like this before…” I laughed coldly. “Ethan, I once thought you weren’t this kind of person either.” This time, I shook off his hand and didn’t look back. Mrs. Lane still didn’t trust me. She installed surveillance cameras in the hallway just to monitor what time I came home. She even stalked all my social media accounts. Even if I posted about going out to have fun, she’d immediately screenshot it and ask my mom if I’d brought her son along. My mom was afraid it would affect my mood, so she just endured Mrs. Lane’s harassment. But I couldn’t stand it. Friday evening study hall, I glanced at Ethan’s seat. He wasn’t there again. I heard he’d taken sick leave, but Mrs. Lane was the type who would make him go to school unless he was dying. I didn’t believe he was really sick. I took out my phone and snapped a panoramic photo of the classroom. Ethan’s seat was in the lower left corner. Most people wouldn’t notice, but I was sure Mrs. Lane would spot her precious son’s absence at a glance. I clicked send and added a caption: “Another day of hard work studying. When will the SAT come!” Less than ten minutes after posting, hurried footsteps echoed through the classroom hallway. Mrs. Lane rushed into the classroom, out of breath. “Where’s Ethan?” I didn’t even lift my head, focused on my work. “No idea, Mrs. Lane. Maybe check wherever there aren’t many people around?” Mrs. Lane seemed to think of something. Her expression changed, and she turned and ran. I leaned against the window ledge, watching her figure disappear toward the far end of the field. Before long, a piercing scream came from the direction of the small grove.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “373616”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance

I gave nine years of my youth to the wrong person. Tristan Ford said Sophia Moore was just an ordinary friend, yet he held her daughter at the doctor’s office and let the child call him daddy. Before we even broke up, he had already proposed to Sophia. He didn’t know that the girl who’d worked three jobs for him in that basement apartment, who’d miscarried after drug trials for money, was the long-lost heiress of the Hawthorne Group. She was the long-lost heiress of the Hawthorne Group. Later, when he knelt in the rain begging me to come back, I laughed. “Tristan Ford, do you think I take in trash?” Chloe POV “I had a few drinks, can’t really drive…” The voice on the other end of the phone was slightly hoarse. I gripped my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white, cutting him off with rapid-fire words. “Tristan Ford, don’t tell me you’re planning to spend the night at your ex-girlfriend’s place tonight?” Silence on the other end for a moment. Then the man’s voice dropped, clearly displeased. “Sophia and I are just ordinary friends. Don’t let your imagination run wild.” “Am I imagining things, or are you hiding something?” Tears fell onto the back of my hand without warning, scalding hot. “Tristan, have you forgotten you have a girlfriend now? Staying overnight at another woman’s house in the middle of the night. Have you even considered my feelings?” My voice shot up sharply, my throat feeling like I’d swallowed broken glass. “Is it really because you can’t drive after drinking, or do you just not want to come home? You want to stay there with Sophia?!” These past few days, I’d been in denial. Like a thief afraid of the light, I’d been secretly checking Sophia Moore’s Instagram and Twitter. One evening, I went to bring Tristan stomach medicine. Outside the VIP lounge door, I heard his elite friends mocking me. They called me a clingy old hag throwing herself at him. But I didn’t have the courage to push open the door and confront them. Yet I was the one who’d been Tristan’s girlfriend for nine years. I struggled desperately to control the fragility and humiliation inside me. But my throat couldn’t help releasing a faint, suppressed sob. He clearly heard it. After a long silence, Tristan spoke with obvious irritation. “I’ll come home now, okay?” The call disconnected. Listening to the dial tone, I felt no happiness at all. I could hear Tristan’s impatience. He was only compromising because I’d forced him to. What he really wanted was to stay there with Sophia. I walked to the living room like a lost soul. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just sat on the sofa, watching the New York night outside the window gradually fade, waiting from darkness until dawn. The door never opened. Tristan didn’t come home. At that moment, I already had a vague premonition that Tristan and I probably had no future. But I was so unwilling to accept it. Nine years together, my entire youth. How could I just let it go? If Sophia hadn’t gotten divorced and come back to New York, if she hadn’t shown up with that child, we’d be at City Hall right now, getting our marriage license. We’d be planning a small ceremony. I picked up my phone and checked the date. Friday. The wallpaper was a photo from our junior year when we became official. Back then, I was young and bright, smiling so radiantly. But Tristan in that photo looked indifferent, his lips curved in only the slightest arc. I’d once seen the way Tristan looked at Sophia. It was on Stanford’s campus. Tristan held Sophia’s hand, smiling so tenderly, his eyes seemingly full of stars. That’s why I was so wary of Sophia. Because I knew Tristan had once loved Sophia unreservedly, with his whole heart. Did Tristan love me? Nine years, and Tristan had never once said he loved me. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes, haggard expression-this face wasn’t young anymore. I took out my makeup and layered it on to cover the exhaustion, forcing myself to produce a smile. Tristan had promised me we’d go to City Hall today. Even though a voice inside me was screaming: Tristan won’t come. I still went out.

Chloe POV Outside the doctor’s office at the hospital, it was bustling with people. I stood at the end of the hallway, my whole body ice-cold as I watched the scene just steps away. Tristan wore the same shirt from yesterday, bent over, patiently coaxing a little girl about three or four years old. Sophia stood beside Tristan, her eyes red-rimmed, looking pitifully helpless. A family of three, picture-perfect harmony. I walked over stiffly. When Sophia saw me, she flinched first, then spoke with a face full of guilt. “Chloe, I’m sorry… Tristan said he was supposed to go to City Hall with you today. You should take him and go. Give me the child. I can take my daughter to the doctor by myself…” As Sophia spoke, she reached out to take her daughter. But the little girl clung tightly to Tristan’s neck and burst into loud tears. “I don’t want Mommy! I want Daddy! I want Daddy to take me to the doctor! Daddy, don’t go!” Sophia’s eyes reddened as she tried to pull the child away. “Be good! Daddy needs to go to City Hall with Chloe to take care of business. You can’t be difficult and delay them, or Chloe will be angry!” Chloe. When my name came out, combined with the scene of forcing a man to go get married, the looks from the people waiting in line around us instantly changed. “What’s wrong with this woman? The child has such a high fever, and she’s still forcing the man to go register their marriage. Marriage-obsessed much?” “Look at how she’s dressed-doesn’t look like a good person. Probably a mistress trying to force her way into legitimacy, right?” “Has to be! Just now this mom and dad looked so loving together. As soon as this woman showed up, she scared the kid into crying. Definitely going to be an evil stepmother later!” Every word pierced my ears like needles. I trembled with anger, staring hard at Tristan. I hoped Tristan would step forward and explain to these people. Tell them that Sophia was just his ex-girlfriend! That this child had no blood relation to him whatsoever! And that I was his fiancée of nine years! But he didn’t. Tristan’s brows were tightly furrowed, his face full of impatience as he looked at me. “Chloe, stop making a scene, okay? Go home first. I’ll go to City Hall with you next week…” “Next week?” I laughed bitterly, tears instantly flooding out. “Tristan Ford, you said the same thing last week. Nine years-how many more ‘next weeks’ do you expect me to wait for?” In that moment, seeing the coldness in Tristan’s eyes, I finally heard the sound of my heart breaking. Gritting my teeth, I spoke word by word. “If you don’t leave with me right now, we’re breaking up!” Tristan’s brows instantly knotted into a tight knot. He stared at me with those dark, inscrutable eyes that held a trace of disgust. “I told you I can’t leave right now. If you can’t even be this understanding, then we really don’t need to register our marriage!” A roar in my head. My mind went blank as I stared at Tristan, my eyes full of hurt and disbelief. I moved my lips but couldn’t make a sound. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain making it impossible to breathe. “Tristan, how can you say that to Chloe?” Sophia chided him gently, then turned her head to look at me apologetically. “Chloe, Tristan is just too sentimental. Don’t take it personally.” Too sentimental? Sentimental toward his ex-girlfriend? Tears broke through uncontrollably. I cried in front of everyone like a complete joke. The nurse called out a number. “It’s the child’s turn. Let’s go in.” Tristan didn’t even glance at me. He picked up the child and walked into the examination room without looking back. Sophia followed behind Tristan. Before entering, Sophia turned her head and gave me a provocative smile.

Chloe POV I couldn’t remember how I got home. As soon as I sat down on the sofa, my phone started vibrating. It was a FaceTime call from Sophia. I answered but didn’t speak. After a few seconds of silence, Sophia’s slow, contemptuous voice came through. “Chloe, you’re old enough that you wouldn’t stoop to desperate clinging, right?” I gripped my phone tighter. “What do you mean?” “Stop playing dumb.” Sophia snorted coldly. “Tristan just broke up with you. If you have any self-respect, you should pack your things and get out now. Stop lingering in Tristan’s house and pestering him!” “I’m pestering Tristan?” I laughed bitterly in my anger, though tears still fell. “What else? Nine years and Tristan wouldn’t marry you. Don’t you understand yet that Tristan doesn’t love you at all?” Sophia’s voice carried condescending pity. “Wasn’t today’s choice obvious enough? Tristan has always loved me. If I hadn’t gone to Europe back then, you wouldn’t have had a chance. Nina would have been Tristan’s biological daughter!” I bit through my lip, tasting blood. “But there are no ‘what ifs’ in this world! You were the one who abandoned Tristan back then! Sophia Moore, you’re shameless!” “Yes, I abandoned Tristan. So what?” Sophia’s laugh was particularly grating. “The one who’s favored always acts with impunity. I have the capital to be willful. Chloe, let’s make a bet, shall we?” Without waiting for my response, Sophia continued on her own. “Leave for three months. During those three months, I’ll get Tristan to propose to me. If I succeed, you disappear from Tristan’s world forever. If I lose, I’ll take Nina back to Europe and never bother you again. Do you dare?” My whole body trembled, my nails digging deep into my palms. “Don’t dare?” Sophia mocked. “Nine years, and you don’t even have that much confidence? Chloe, you’re truly pitiful. No wonder Tristan doesn’t want you.” “I’ve already broken up with Tristan.” I closed my eyes, desperately suppressing my breakdown. “You two can do whatever you want. You disgust me!” I hung up harshly. Within seconds, Sophia sent a text: “I hope you keep your word.” I blocked Sophia directly. I stood up, dragged out the suitcase from the corner, and started packing. This apartment wasn’t large, but every single item, from the succulents on the balcony to the rug in the living room, had been carefully selected by me. Once, I thought this would be my forever home. I thought we’d get married here in New York, have children, raise a cat. Now looking at it all, it only felt bitterly ironic. I didn’t have many clothes-one suitcase was enough. I left the keys on the coffee table. Dragging my suitcase downstairs, it had started pouring rain outside at some point. Cold wind mixed with rain hit me in the face, making me shiver. The world was so big, yet I didn’t know where to go. I stood in the rain for a long time before finally taking out my phone and dialing a number I hadn’t called in years. “Hello?” A low, cold male voice answered. The moment I heard that voice, all my grievances exploded, and I cried uncontrollably. “Hunter… can you come pick me up?”

Chloe POV Airport terminal, people coming and going. I sat on a bench in the waiting area, my eyes red and swollen. Hunter stood not far away, on the phone. Hunter wore a perfectly tailored black suit, his posture straight, his features cold and stern. Hunter was my stepbrother, the true power holder of the Hawthorne family, a low-profile billionaire. Years ago, to be with the penniless Tristan Ford, I’d had a falling out with my family. My father was so angry he declared he’d never had a daughter like me. These nine years, I’d suffered every hardship, doing Tristan’s laundry and cooking, scrimping and saving to support his business ventures, even secretly begging Hunter to invest in him. But now, I was slinking back home in disgrace. The announcement for boarding came over the speakers. My phone suddenly started vibrating frantically. Tristan Ford’s name flashed on the screen. Looking at that name, my heart ached with a kind of numbness. I answered. “Where are you? Why is all your stuff gone from the house?” Tristan’s voice was frantic, with that self-righteous anger. “We already broke up. I moved out.” I said flatly. “Have you lost your mind?” Tristan roared. “Just because I didn’t go to City Hall with you today? Is it such a big deal? You packed up and left home over this? Chloe, you’re almost thirty. Can you stop playing these games!” The airport announcement sounded again, reminding passengers on the flight to Washington to board. Tristan heard it, his voice suddenly tight. “You’re at the airport? Where are you going?” “Home.” I said lightly. “You paid the rent on that apartment. It’s not appropriate for me to keep living there.” “Chloe!” Tristan spoke through gritted teeth. “So I stood you up twice? You want to get married, we’ll go Monday! Stay there, I’m coming to get you now!” Tristan thought I was just throwing a tantrum, thought that as long as he beckoned, I’d come running back like a dog wagging its tail. “No need, Tristan.” I looked at the tarmac outside the glass window, tears silently falling. “Nine years. I’m tired. Let’s end it here.” “Chloe! Try walking away! If you leave, don’t you dare regret it!” Tristan threatened in furious desperation. I hung up and powered off the phone, popped out the SIM card. And threw it in a nearby trash can. Hunter finished his call and walked over, glancing at the trash can, then at my pale face. Hunter didn’t ask anything, just naturally took my suitcase. “Let’s go. Let’s go home.” By the time we arrived at the Hawthorne estate in Washington, it was late at night. My father sat on the living room sofa, his hair much whiter than before. When he saw me, his eyes reddened, but he stubbornly turned his face away with a cold snort. “So you finally remembered to come back?” I walked up to my father, crying uncontrollably. “Dad, I’m sorry… I was wrong. I was so wrong…” Nine years of obsession, nine years of humiliation. In this moment, they shattered into dust. My dad sighed and patted my head consolingly. “It’s good you’re home. I’ll introduce you to some new men. Your childhood friend Lucas Sterling has been wanting to see you!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “373615”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance

When I was sixteen, Lucas killed my stepfather, the beast who had molested me for years. When reporters asked if he regretted his impulsive action, he smiled calmly and candidly: “Of course I regret it. I regret not getting rid of him sooner.” As everyone watched in shock, he lowered his eyes and laughed softly. “Trading my worthless life for Violet’s peace of mind and freedom for the rest of hers.” “It was worth it.” Three years after Lucas went to prison, I turned around and fell into the arms of a wealthy elite. That same year, Lucas had his sentence reduced. Later, Lucas and I reunited at a nightclub after his release. He had leaped from being a discarded pawn of the Reed family to becoming the revered Mr. Reed of the elite circles. And me? I was just a waitress serving drinks to pay off debts. Someone in the private room asked, “Mr. Reed, I heard the woman you once saved, her sugar daddy went belly up. If she knew who you are now, she’d be kicking herself.” Lucas held his girlfriend close and casually blew out a smoke ring. “That’s all in the past.” The next second, his cold, piercing gaze drifted lazily to the top of my head. “But I’ve long regretted it too.”

The moment Lucas finished speaking, the room erupted in chaos. “I heard that woman was Lucas’s childhood friend. The second he went in, she immediately climbed into Daniel’s bed.” “But even fate can’t stand watching a backstabbing bitch like her have everything go her way.” “Look, Daniel went bankrupt and left her alone to pay off the debts while he ran off to avoid trouble abroad.” Amid everyone’s ridicule, Lucas’s dark, deep eyes never left me. “Yeah, she deserves this ending. She brought it on herself.” I stood beside Lucas holding a drink tray, my chest feeling as if it were pierced with countless fine needles. My heart ached unbearably. “Waitress, come pour the drinks… wait! Aren’t you Violet?!” The woman beside Lucas exclaimed in surprise, and everyone’s eyes immediately turned to me. She rose gracefully, dimples gracing the corners of her mouth. “Hello, I’m Madeline. You’re Violet, right? I recognize you.” “Thank you for letting him go, for letting Lucas see what kind of person you really are. I’m able to be with him partly thanks to you.” “You absolutely must come to our wedding.” I smiled awkwardly, my fingers unconsciously clenching tight. The next second, Lucas’s jacket was stained with spilled wine. The incident caught me completely off guard. After a long moment, I heard Lucas’s icy voice from above. “Is this the level of professionalism from the waitstaff here? Call your manager.” I suppressed the bitterness in my heart and spoke tremblingly. “I’m terribly sorry… Name your price, I’ll… compensate you.” The previously lively room fell silent in an instant, until someone broke the stillness. “Compensate? Can you afford it?” “Lucas wears only designer brands. How will you pay? By selling yourself?!” “Strip off one piece of clothing for a hundred grand. Strip everything and I’ll pay for you-how about that?” The crowd around continued their jeering, their mocking or gleeful voices drilling into my ears. “Any woman who caught Daniel’s eye and climbed into his bed must have a smoking hot body.” “Strip and let us feast our eyes!” “Yeah, when will you ever pay off your debts as a waitress? Why not come with me instead? I’ll give you five thousand a night-how about it?!” “Lucas, what do you say?” Lucas just took a sip of his drink without answering. I listened to the tide of humiliation. My hand holding the drink tray wouldn’t stop trembling. “Enough, stop it.” In the dim lighting, I saw Lucas furrow his brow, a hint of restraint seeming to flash in his eyes. Even knowing he hated me to the bone, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope rise in my heart. Thinking he would step forward like before, protect me, save me from the flames. But the next second, Lucas’s words made my heart stop violently, cold blood coursing through my entire body! “Violet, when you betrayed me, did you think about today?” “Strip off one piece of clothing-two hundred grand.”

I instantly froze in place, swallowing the sourness in my throat. My trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons on my clothes, creating several tangles before I managed to undo one. Whistles blew continuously behind me as Madeline walked up to me in front of everyone, swirling her wine glass. The next second, sharp red wine splashed directly at my face. My eyes stung unbearably-I could barely open them. “Oops, so sorry~ my hand slipped.” Through my blurred vision, I saw Madeline playfully stick out her tongue at Lucas. He smiled indulgently and reached out to pull her into his embrace. “No need to apologize. At most, we’ll give her an extra three thousand.” I pressed my lips together, my nails digging in tighter. “It’s taken this long and the jacket’s only half off. So slow. Let me help you!” A man’s drunken laugh rang in my ears, followed by a harsh riiip- My jacket was torn open by brute force, revealing my short waitress uniform underneath. “Well, well, dressed so slutty. Who are you trying to seduce?” I desperately clutched at my skirt hem, but to no avail. More hands joined in. My skirt zipper was pulled down, the hem roughly torn open. Large expanses of skin were completely exposed to the cold air and prying eyes. “No!” I screamed until I lost my voice, curling up my body desperately, trying to use the remaining scraps of fabric and my trembling arms to cover myself. “Fuck! Never thought this bitch had such a hot body. No wonder Daniel was willing to spend a million to buy her!” “So what? She’s probably been used up by everyone. Otherwise why would Daniel be willing to abandon such a beauty?” A bone-chilling wind blew through the window, so cold it felt like it was cutting straight through my skin. But even more piercing than the cold wind was the inescapable, burning humiliation. Tears blurred my eyes as suffocating panic occupied my entire mind. Through my blurred vision, I desperately reached out, trying to grab Lucas’s pant leg. But I saw him intimately leaning against the sofa with Madeline, carefully wiping the wine stains from her hands, looking at me as if I were someone completely insignificant. No longer with the heartache of before. I collapsed on the floor, trembling like a leaf, my heart aching as if being slowly sliced apart. “Violet, if you can’t handle just this, did you ever think about how I survived those five years inside?” “This is what you owe me! You deserve this!” As he spoke, an unfamiliar man took the opportunity to tear off my last shred of covering. His disgusting thing suddenly appeared before my eyes. The darkness from ten years ago engulfed me once again, my stepfather’s sick, leering expression constantly surfacing before my eyes. “Let me taste what this bitch is like!” Instantly, I felt all the air around me being sucked away, the icy suffocation gripping my throat. I kicked hard at the man’s groin. A howl followed as a sharp slap came flying at me. Tears mixed with blood blurred my face as he grabbed my neck and slapped me again. During the struggle, a crystal ring on my chest fell to the ground and shattered. “You fucking bitch, believe me when I say I’ll kill you! I’ll fuck-” Before he could finish, Lucas kicked the man to the ground. His gaze locked deadly on the ring. After a long moment, his calm expression finally showed a crack. His throat rolled slightly as he stared fiercely at the man against the wall. “That’s enough, stop messing around. Everyone get out!” Everyone’s eyes focused on me, whispered conversations continuing around me. Unable to bear this terrifying pain any longer, I picked up my clothes from the floor and fled in panic.

After returning to my rental, I desperately scrubbed my body. Trying to wash away that sticky, disgusting feeling. I didn’t stop until my skin was raw, cracked, and bleeding. When looking for bandages, my eyes were drawn to a protective charm in my nightstand drawer. Lucas crawled up the three thousand steps, kneeling and praying every step of the way to get it for me. I clutched the charm tightly to my chest, and my tense nerves finally relaxed temporarily. In my dreams, I returned to the year I first met Lucas. My mother divorced and remarried with me to my alcoholic stepfather who turned violent when drunk. My nightmare began that day. Unable to bear the humiliation, I tried to drown myself in the river, but was saved by Lucas, who shared an equally tragic fate. I’ll never forget his determined expression. “Hey, I saved your life, so from now on, I’m protecting you!” “Cough, cough. My name’s Lucas. What’s yours?” “Violet, nice name. Don’t be afraid, I’ll protect you.” “As long as we keep living, we’ll find a way out eventually. Anyone who dares bully you, I’ll fight them to the death!” … Later, he truly put his heart into keeping his promise. At thirteen, my mother died. My stepfather told me I’d have to trade my body if I wanted him to pay for my education. Lucas rushed in alone, using his young body to shield me from my stepfather’s fists, pulling me out of that muddy home. “Violet, come with me. I’ll protect you!” At fourteen, I was diagnosed with kidney failure. Lucas, who never believed in gods, threw himself to the floor and begged heaven to give me a chance to live. He knelt in the church for three days and three nights just to pray for my safety. “Violet, Violet… please open your eyes and look at me. It’s me, Lucas.” “I won’t let you leave me like this. I’d rather lose you in life than lose you to death.” At fifteen, facing pressure from tuition fees, Lucas skipped classes to work odd jobs, do manual labor, and collect trash others threw away, saving up seven years of tuition for me. “Don’t be afraid. You just focus on studying and boldly move forward. I’ll always be behind you.” At sixteen, my stepfather lured me home with my mother’s belongings to assault me. At the critical moment, Lucas came in with a knife and ended the nightmare that had haunted me for years. He held me tightly in his arms, crying even harder than I did. “Violet, thank god you’re okay. You never have to live in fear again. Your nightmare is finally over.” “From now on, you’re the freest, most carefree Violet.” The sound of my phone ringing pulled me from my dream. The club manager’s voice came through. “Violet, it’s almost evening and you’re still nowhere to be seen. I’m marking you down for being absent!” “Hurry up and get to Twilight. Some big shot specifically requested you for service!”

The moment I stepped into the private room, I saw Lucas. The dazzling crystal chandelier’s refracted light outlined his distant yet handsome profile. All the top-tier elites were competing to toast him and curry favor. The manager gently pushed me forward from behind. “Serve this important person well. If anything goes wrong, you’ll pay for it!” Lucas sat in the main seat, his gaze casually sweeping over me, fingers lightly tapping the table. I looked at the wine glass pushed in front of me and instantly understood my situation. I could only pick up the glass and drink it all under everyone’s watchful eyes. At this moment, a pot-bellied man stood up, his greasy, fat hand landing on my shoulder. “This waitress is quite a looker.” Everyone first glanced at Lucas, and seeing his expressionless face, they began forcing drinks on me. The sharp, burning liquid went down my throat and then surged hotly through my body. When drunk and dizzy, I laid my head on the table. I vaguely heard someone discussing my fate. “Mr. Reed, if you’re not interested in this top-tier beauty, why not do me a favor and let me enjoy her tonight?” After a moment, Lucas’s mocking, contemptuous voice rang out. “A woman who’s been used up-I’m not interested.” A lewd smile immediately spread across the man’s fat face. Suddenly, a pair of hands appeared on my chest, groping everywhere. Like a bucket of cold water poured from head to toe. I used all my strength to struggle and rise, but he pushed me back down. “Oh, quite feisty. If you serve me well, you could fly up the social ladder from being just a waitress.” Even though I held back my sobs, tears still fell quietly. My shattered dignity made me lower my head to Lucas once again. “Please, help me…” As I spoke, I turned my face away, painfully closing my eyes, but my body shivered uncontrollably. Lucas laughed, his superior manner carving his noble face with striking definition. A cold voice poured into my ears, “Violet, what makes you think I would help you?” I was pressed into the man’s embrace, the glass on the table reflecting my desperate, pale face. “Look, no one will help you. If you behave, I’ll take you to get a room. If you resist, I don’t mind performing for everyone right here.” “In front of everyone, let me feel if you’re soft… huh, why does this face look so familiar?” The man suddenly stopped moving, roughly turned my face, and pulled out his phone. The next second, a young girl’s crying voice echoed through the entire hall. My stepfather’s seductive, lewd voice pulled me back into my childhood nightmare! It was the video that beast had recorded all those years ago! Blood instantly rushed to my head, then drained away completely the next second. “Holy shit, so she was already used up when she was just a teenager.” “Already knew how to seduce people at such a young age, and now she’s pretending to be some virtuous woman in front of me.” The man’s foul words echoed in my ears as my vision went white. The sounds from the video continued. “Good girl Violet, spread your legs…” The empty hall erupted in an uproar. I thought my nightmare had long ended, that my life would clear up. I never imagined it was just the prelude to an approaching storm! I stood barefoot and helpless at the center of public opinion, my blood cooling bit by bit until I was completely cold and trembling. “Lucas…” In the crowd, I met Lucas’s eyes out of focus, only to see in his pupils- Shock, disbelief, despair, my own face pale as paper. Lucas only froze for a moment before grabbing my chin, lifting my face to force me to meet his eyes. Then he suddenly laughed. “Violet, isn’t that the truth?” “Aren’t you just a slut who sleeps around?” My world instantly collapsed. Rage surged through me like never before. I let out a shrill cry. Using all my strength, I slapped Lucas across the face. What I got in return was more abuse and a barrage of hits from all sides. Warm liquid poured from my nose and mouth simultaneously, the metallic sweetness spreading throughout my mouth. Suddenly everything began to spin. Before losing consciousness, in my last glance, I seemed to see Daniel rushing over, his face full of anxious panic. I only heard an enraged roar in my ears, followed by the sounds of fists and kicks. “Lucas, you beast!” “Violet doesn’t owe you anything!” “Do you think you got out so fast and made it in the elite circles all on your own? Think again!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “373614”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance