After my cousin Lexi stole eight of my boyfriends in a row, I decided it was time for a little revenge. I took her photos and used them to catfish an obsessively possessive guy online. His name was Silas. He was over six feet tall with a face sculpted like a fallen angel and a perfectly shredded core. More importantly, he had obscene amounts of money. Once we started talking, I never had to buy my own food, clothes, or necessities ever again. He would randomly wire five figures to my account just because he felt like it. On our one hundred day anniversary, he sent me a picture of a heavy metal chain. “Baby, if you ever dare to leave me, I am going to lock you up.” That was exactly what I was counting on. That very same day, I texted him a breakup message, blocked his number, and deleted his contact entirely. Half a month later, Lexi was right in the middle of flirting with boyfriend number nine when the front door of the cafe swung open. Silas walked in. 1 I always knew Silas would come hunting for me. I just never expected him to track me down this fast. We lived across the country from each other. Aside from giving him Lexi’s real name and face, every single piece of information I fed him was a complete lie. But looking at him now, I had to admit the photos did not do him justice. Seeing that impossibly gorgeous face appear right in front of me caused my traitorous heart to skip a heavy beat. He did not even glance my way. His eyes swept over the room with cold indifference before he walked straight toward Lexi. At that exact moment, Lexi was proudly clinging to the arm of the guy I was supposed to be dating. Silas seamlessly wedged himself between them, his gaze fixed purely on Lexi. “Is this guy your boyfriend?” Standing next to a physical masterpiece like Silas made my slightly above average boyfriend look like an absolute nobody. Lexi’s eyes practically sparkled with greed. She shoved the guy she had just spent weeks stealing right out of her way without a second thought. “No way. He belongs to my cousin over there. They got into a fight, and I was just trying to play peacemaker.” She flashed me a sickly sweet smile. “Avey, come on. You two need to make up already.” Just as expected, the dark hostility swirling in Silas’s eyes faded the second she said those words. The corner of his mouth curved upward into a breathtaking smile. He stared at Lexi without blinking. Watching them together felt like staring directly into the sun. I lowered my head and dug my fingernails into my palms. I kept repeating the same thought in my head. Was this not exactly what I wanted? With Silas in the picture, Lexi would never try to steal my boyfriends again. I could finally date like a normal person. I was supposed to be thrilled. But my mind kept dragging me back to all the memories I shared with Silas. During those three months together, I experienced what it felt like to be loved with absolute, undivided devotion. Whenever work got too chaotic and I skipped meals, my stomach would twist into agonizing knots. Silas would wire me money for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, demanding proof that I was eating properly. He shared every mundane detail of his day with me. It felt like he was standing right beside me, holding my hand through life. When he found out I had a thing for muscular guys, he started practically living at the gym. Every single night, he sent me videos of his progress. He would even dim the lights, take off his shirt, and dance just to make me smile through the screen. Even through a phone, the raw burning affection in his eyes was impossible to ignore. Thinking about how all of that devotion now belonged to Lexi made my chest ache. It felt like my heart was soaking in a glass of freezing, bitter lemonade. 2 Silas had not noticed my existence at all. He kept his focus entirely on Lexi. His voice was velvet soft, yet laced with a dangerous undertone. “Since he is not your boyfriend, do I have the honor of claiming that spot?” Lexi tilted her chin up and shot me a look of pure, unrestrained triumph. Her expression was screaming at me. Look at this. Everyone wants me, and absolutely no one wants you. She let the silence stretch out just long enough to look dignified before giving Silas a slow nod. “That depends entirely on how you treat me.” Silas chuckled softly. “I promise you will be more than satisfied.” My knuckles turned white. I did not even have the courage to look up and see how sickeningly sweet they looked together. My brain decided to torture me by replaying all the obsessive, whispered promises Silas used to tell me late at night. “Baby, do not ever leave me. I cannot breathe in a world where you do not exist.” “If you ever abandon me, I will hunt you down and we can leave this earth together.” I fully admit that I fell for him. No one had ever made me feel like I was the center of their universe before. But that exact overwhelming affection was why I had to cut ties and run. People always say that men with his kind of dark obsession never change their minds once they lock onto a target. But the face he locked onto was Lexi. There were countless nights we spent on the phone where I could hear the dangerous, heavy rhythm of his breathing. When his mind went to those dark places, the face he was picturing belonged to my cousin. If I kept the game going, the only person who would end up shattered was me. So when our one hundred day anniversary rolled around, Silas demanded we meet in person. “Baby, I have my ID and passport ready. The second I see you, we are going straight to the courthouse.” He told me he had lawyers drawing up the paperwork to transfer all his properties and shares into my name before we even signed the marriage certificate. He said he wanted it to be my personal safety net. He even promised to fly us to Europe to plan the wedding of my dreams. He was fully prepared to give me the world. The more he talked, the more my heart shattered into pieces. None of those beautiful promises actually belonged to me. So I cut him off, typed out a brutal breakup text, and blocked his number before he could even process what happened. Lexi suddenly called my name, ripping me out of my downward spiral. “Avey, Silas is taking me out for an amazing dinner. You should totally tag along!” I knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted a front row audience to show off her incredibly rich, impossibly handsome new prize. The smart move was to walk away. Going would only inflate her ego and make me feel infinitely worse. But somehow, I still found myself following them to the restaurant. Once we sat down, Lexi started ordering platters of exotic seafood. Silas paused, giving her a very strange look. “Baby, I thought you absolutely hated seafood. You always told me the smell made you sick.” Lexi froze with the menu in her hands. She shot me a highly calculating look. She recovered instantly, batting her eyelashes. “Well, do you not like it?” She gambled, and she won. The dark clouds in Silas’s eyes instantly cleared up. “I knew my girl would remember my favorite foods.” I sat with my head bowed the entire time, feeling like an absolute ghost haunting their date. I managed to keep my mouth shut until Lexi confidently ordered a massive slice of mango cake for dessert. My chair scraped loudly against the floor. Silas was deathly allergic to mangoes. But knowing his twisted, obsessive personality, if Lexi ordered it for him, he would view it as a punishment from his girl and eat the whole thing with a smile on his face. It could literally kill him! The words exploded out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You cannot order that!” Silas snapped his head toward me. His gaze cut through me like a frozen blade. He looked annoyed by the interruption, but there was a heavy layer of deep, penetrating suspicion in his eyes. I scrambled to find an excuse. “You guys already ordered all the entrees you wanted. I want to swap the dessert for strawberry shortcake.” I absolutely despised strawberry shortcake, just like I despised watching the two of them sit together. I made a silent vow to myself right then and there. This was the absolute last time I would ever interfere. Whatever happened between them from now on was none of my business. I tried to convince myself that they were perfect for each other. With Silas keeping her busy, Lexi would leave my love life alone. This was a massive win for me. But the only thing answering my logic was the suffocating, bitter ache spreading through my chest. 3 After that agonizing dinner, I threw my entire soul into my job. I worked myself to the bone, desperate to treat my online romance with Silas like a fever dream I could just sweat out. Just when I thought I was finally moving on, I walked out of my apartment building and saw Silas leaning against a car, waiting in the shadows. I genuinely thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I checked my phone. It was past ten at night. Silas pushed off the car and started walking slowly toward me. Panic rooted my feet to the pavement. I started twisting the hem of my shirt, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Silas. What are you doing here?” His next words sent a violent shiver crawling all the way down my spine. “Does Lexi have any close friends? The kind of friends who might have total access to her phone?” “She does not feel like the girl I have been looking for.” A massive wave of pure, terrifying joy crashed over me, only to be violently shoved back down by reality. He figured out Lexi was not the girl he fell for. But did that even matter? The only reason he loved me was because he thought I looked like her. Since he arrived in town, he had not shown a single shred of interest in the real me. Rather than dragging the messy truth into the light and ruining everything, it was safer to just let the misunderstanding continue. I put on my best confused face. “Really? I thought you two looked amazing together. You are literally a match made in heaven.” Silas stared at me with razor sharp intensity. He let the silence stretch for an agonizing minute before finally speaking. “I am thirsty. Take me up to your place so I can get a glass of water.” He did not even wait for me to agree. He simply walked past me and headed straight for the lobby doors. I knew Silas well enough to know that once he decided to do something, trying to stop him was completely useless. I hurried to catch up with him. But the exact second I unlocked my front door, absolute dread washed over me. The blood froze in my veins. Right there on the entryway table, nestled between expensive little decorative pieces, sat an old, scuffed up smartphone. It was the exact device I used to catfish him. After the breakup, I could not bring myself to wipe the memory out completely. Whenever the loneliness got too loud, I would turn it on and read our old messages. More importantly, it held all the videos of his workouts and dances. I was so hopelessly addicted to looking at him that his shirtless photo was still set as the lock screen. I lunged forward, desperate to grab the phone and shove it in my bag. But Silas had much longer legs and a much faster reaction time. He clicked his tongue. “Keeping a piece of trash like this out in the open? There must be some heavy secrets hidden in here. Does this belong to you, or does it belong to Lexi?” Using his massive height advantage, he snatched the phone right off the table. His thumb hovered dangerously over the power button. It was completely over. In a matter of seconds, he was going to realize the girl he had been pouring his soul into was not Lexi. It was me. I heard the distinct mechanical click as he pressed the button. 4 Right before Silas could look down at the screen, pure survival instinct took over my entire body. I let out a desperate shout and literally launched myself at him, stretching my arms as far as they could go to snatch the device. I did not care how crazy I looked. Before I even realized what was happening, his arms instinctively wrapped around my waist to catch me. We both froze completely still. I could clearly see the violent struggle flashing through his dark eyes. His first instinct was definitely to drop me straight onto the hardwood floor. But after a tense second, he let out a heavy breath and gently lowered my feet to the ground. He still kept the phone completely out of my reach. My panic about the phone vanished for a split second, replaced by pure shock that he actually caught me. I remembered a time we were on a voice call and I heard a girl screaming, followed by a loud crash on his end. Silas had coldly explained that some girl tried to fake a trip and fall to land in his arms. Because he was distracted talking to me, she managed to brush her hand against his sleeve before he violently shoved her to the floor. He threw that expensive dress shirt directly into the trash the second he got back to his office. He swore to me that he would never let another woman touch him, and he would never touch anyone else. But just now, he caught me. Did that mean I was somehow different in his eyes? Before I could unravel that thought, his dark, teasing voice echoed from above me. “Why are you panicking? Now I really need to see what kind of secrets you are hiding.” He lifted the phone high above his head and pressed the power button again. I was nowhere near his height. I could not reach it even on my tiptoes. Despair swallowed me whole. I shut my eyes tight, waiting for the explosion. Until I heard Silas mutter, “Why will it not turn on?” I cracked an eye open. The screen was completely black. The battery was dead. Then I remembered. I had stayed up until two in the morning watching his old dance videos and completely forgot to plug it into the charger. Silas leaned down, bringing his face dangerously close to mine. “Avery, what exactly are you hiding?” I found my voice and snapped back at him. “What does it matter? I am not Lexi, so my business has absolutely nothing to do with you!” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Fair point. You have nothing to do with me. I am leaving.” When the heavy door clicked shut behind him, my knees finally gave out. I slid down the wall and hit the floor. The air in my apartment was still thick with the scent of sandalwood. It was the exact cologne I had picked out for him online. Before me, he hated wearing scents. Afterward, he wore it every single day just to prove he was listening. He used to tell me that one day, he would wrap me up so tightly in his arms that the scent would sink into my skin permanently. But none of that mattered anymore. I made a silent promise to myself right there on the floor. I needed to stay as far away from him as possible. We belonged to two completely different worlds now. It was over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524629”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At City Hall, the clerk pushed our papers back. Harrison was still married. His jaw tightened as he coaxed me to wait one more month to finalize things with Jane. I believed him. Instead, I watched him live her life online. He took her whitewater rafting and skiing in Aspen while ignoring my requests. I waited months for a Santorini reservation, only to see him take her, kneeling at the altar and tying a blessing cord on her wrist. He threw her the wedding we never had. The roses, the chiffon drapes, the entrance song—all were my choices, stolen for her day. In the video, Jane wore the gown I’d tailored, glowing under the lights I designed. I asked if he ever loved me. He stayed silent, then kissed her forehead. “I hate you,” he said. Finally, I understood. Hatred is just unfinished love. And I was done waiting. I closed out of the wedding video Jane had texted me and caught a cab straight to the hotel. The hallway was littered with champagne roses. Half of a dismantled white chiffon arch leaned against the wall. Even the broken string lights scattered across the carpet were the exact ones I had bought for my own wedding. The hotel banquet manager walked up to me holding a clipboard. “Miss Phoebe, I just need your signature on the final vendor clearance.” I froze for a second before taking the clipboard. Right there on the dotted line, printed in bold black ink, was Harrison’s name. It hit me all at once. He did not just steal my entire wedding concept and give it to Jane. He had actually put me down as the point of contact to clean up their mess. I signed my name, turned around, and pushed open the heavy double doors to the bridal suite at the end of the hall. The moment the door opened, my feet rooted to the floor. Jane was still wearing my custom gown. She was sitting squarely on Harrison’s lap, leaning her flushed, seemingly drunken face against his cheek. Her lipstick was smeared right at the corner of his mouth. Harrison was a massive germaphobe. Normally, if I tried to kiss him right after dinner, he would frown, push me away, and tell me to go brush my teeth first. But right now, he was not pushing Jane away at all. Instead, his hands were resting firmly on her waist, holding her steady so she would not slip. Jane turned her head and noticed me standing there. She bit her lip and shrank back into Harrison’s chest. “I am so sorry, Phoebe. I had a little too much champagne and lost my balance. Harrison was just catching me.” His first instinct was not to let her go. It was to tighten his grip and pull her closer, shielding her against his body. I stared at the expensive silk of my wedding dress, now wrinkled and stained. “Why are you wearing my dress?” Harrison looked up at me. His tone was perfectly flat. “Jane never got to wear a wedding dress when we got married. It has always been a heavy regret for her.” “You can just buy a better one later.” Jane’s eyes welled up with tears that immediately spilled over her lashes. “Phoebe, please do not be mad at him. I will take it off right now and give it back to you.” She reached behind her back, pretending to struggle with the zipper. Harrison immediately caught her hand. “Do not take it off. The AC is blasting in here, you will catch a cold.” He personally adjusted the shoulder strap that had slipped down her arm, then picked up his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Watching how incredibly gentle he was with her brought back a bitter memory. When I went for my first fitting in that exact dress, the zipper caught the skin on my back. The pain was so sharp I broke out in a cold sweat. I called out for Harrison to come into the fitting room and help me. He stood completely still on the other side of the velvet curtain. His voice was freezing cold. “It is not appropriate for me to go in there. Just call a sales associate.” It was not about being appropriate. It was just because the woman inside the curtain was me. I did not say another word. I walked straight past them toward the vanity mirror and reached for the velvet ring box sitting on the glass. The second my fingers grazed the box, Jane lunged forward and slammed her hand over it. “I wore this ring tonight. Can I just keep it until tomorrow? I promise I will return it then.” I gripped the box and yanked it hard. Harrison immediately clamped his hand around my wrist. His grip was terrifyingly strong. My bones ground together in pain. “It is just a piece of jewelry. Stop backing her into a corner.” All the color drained from my face. Cold sweat rolled down my temples from the pain. He did not even look at me. He just leaned down and asked Jane in a soft whisper. “Did that scare you?” Jane shook her head, her fingers gripping the lapel of his shirt like a lifeline. Harrison finally turned his head to look at me, his brows pulled together in deep annoyance. “Just go home.” “Tomorrow morning, I am taking Jane to the lawyer’s office to finalize the asset division.” “Once the paperwork is signed, we are completely finished. I will make this right with you then.” I ripped my wrist out of his grip. I left the ring, turned my back on them, and walked out of the hotel. The second I got into a taxi, my phone lit up. Jane had used Harrison’s phone to text me a photo. In the picture, she was wearing my wedding ring, and her hand was completely engulfed in Harrison’s palm. The next morning, Harrison called me. He told me to bring my birth certificate and ID to his lawyer’s office. He wanted me to personally witness him and Jane signing the final asset division. “I want you there so you stop overthinking and realize I have absolutely nothing left to do with her.” I packed my documents in my bag and pushed open the glass door to the conference room right on time. Jane was wearing Harrison’s jacket again. Her bare feet were resting right next to his knee. Harrison was leaning over, carefully applying a bandage to a tiny scratch on her ankle. His touch was incredibly light. I remembered the time I wore new heels and the blisters bled so badly I could barely walk. He did not even step out of the driver’s seat. He just rolled down the window and stared at me. “There are spare flats in the backseat. Put them on yourself.” But now, he was holding Jane’s foot like she was made of antique glass that would shatter if he breathed too hard. Hearing the door open, Jane made a fake attempt to pull her leg back. Harrison caught her ankle to keep her still. “Stop moving. If the cut reopens, you are going to cry about the pain again.” He smoothed the edges of the bandage before finally looking up at me. He pointed to the empty leather chair across the table. The lawyer slid two thick stacks of paper into the center of the table. I thought it was the final divorce decree. But when I read the bold font at the top of the page, a loud ringing started in my ears. “Deferred Asset Division Agreement.” I pointed at the thick stack of paper and looked right at Harrison. “What the hell is this?” Harrison leaned back in his chair, his tone leaving absolutely zero room for argument. “Jane is in a very fragile state right now.” “The art gallery, the lakehouse, and the offshore trust fund will remain exactly as they are.” “Once her mental health stabilizes, we will deal with the paperwork.” I stared at him. “Yesterday you told me you were cutting ties completely today. How exactly is keeping joint assets cutting ties?” His expression darkened instantly. “Property is property. Feelings are feelings.” “Stop twisting every single thing into some kind of romantic conspiracy.” Jane looked at me with bloodshot eyes, massive tears rolling down her cheeks. “Phoebe, I am not trying to compete with you.” “I am just so terrified that once I sign my name, every single memory I have left of him will be erased.” Harrison pulled a tissue from the box and reached out to wipe the tears from her face. The warm pad of his thumb gently traced the corner of her eye. Watching them, my throat closed up tight. Whenever I cried and fought with him, begging him to show he cared, he never once comforted me. He would just slide the entire box of tissues across the table. “We will talk when you stop being hysterical.” The lawyer pulled out a single sheet of paper and slid it in front of me. “Miss Phoebe, this is a declaration confirming you consent to Mr. Harrison and his ex-wife maintaining joint assets. Please sign at the bottom.” Harrison looked at me, lowering his voice into a warning. “The more gracious you are about this, the easier it will be for her to let go of the past.” “Phoebe, you have always been the mature one. Do not throw a tantrum right now.” I picked up the heavy metal pen and dragged a thick, black line straight through the signature box. I dropped the pen onto the mahogany table. “I refuse.” Seeing the blacked-out signature, Jane let out a weak gasp and slumped directly into Harrison’s chest. “I shouldn’t even be alive. I am just a burden to everyone around me.” Harrison immediately wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back to calm her down. He looked up at me. His eyes were like absolute ice. “Phoebe, are you really not going to stop until you completely humiliate everyone in this room?” I did not give him an answer. I turned around and walked out of the conference room. The second I stepped into the hallway, my phone started ringing. It was the city hospital. “Miss Phoebe, your mother’s cardiac surgery has been moved up. We have to operate this afternoon.” “It is a highly critical procedure. We need a family member here immediately to sign the consent forms!” I rushed to the hospital as fast as humanly possible. The charge nurse shoved a massive stack of liability waivers into my hands. “Sign these quickly, the surgical team is waiting.” Looking at the dense paragraphs listing every possible fatal complication, my hands shook so violently I could barely hold the pen. Harrison had promised me he would be right by my side today. He had officially met my mother as my fiancé and swore to her that he would be there to hold my hand while she went under anesthesia. I pulled out my phone and called him. The first call rang out completely. The second call was sent straight to voicemail. On the third try, the line finally connected. But the only sound coming through the speaker was Jane’s hoarse, breathless sobbing. “You cannot throw this picture frame away! It is from the first time we went to the beach together!” I took a deep, trembling breath and asked him. “Where are you?” Harrison sounded completely exhausted. “Jane said she needed to grab a few things from the lakehouse. Looking at all her old stuff completely broke her down.” “I cannot just abandon her here while she is like this.” I kept my voice dead level. “My mother is about to be wheeled into open-heart surgery. You promised you would be here.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. Then, he spoke with absolute, chilling entitlement. “Your mother is surrounded by top surgeons, and she has you.” “Jane only has me right now. She cannot be left alone.” Listening to his voice, I closed my eyes. I remembered the very first time I brought him home for dinner. My parents spent the entire afternoon cooking a massive feast of his favorite foods. Halfway through the meal, Jane texted him. [I found my old wedding ring. I am having a panic attack.] Harrison dropped his fork, muttered an excuse about a corporate emergency, and walked out the front door without looking back. He left me sitting alone at the dining table, staring at my confused parents and the cold food. Now, the woman lying on a stretcher waiting to have her chest cut open was my mother. And he still chose Jane without a second of hesitation. “Do whatever you want.” I hung up the phone, gripped the pen, and signed my name on every single liability waiver. After they wheeled my mother through the double doors, I sat entirely alone on the freezing plastic bench in the waiting room. My phone screen lit up. I was scrolling through Instagram and saw Jane’s latest story. She had set it so only I could see it. In the photo, Harrison’s dress shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he was carefully adjusting a massive wedding portrait of the two of them on the wall. Jane was barefoot, wearing his oversized slides. His jacket was draped over her shoulders again. The caption read: [He said he would cut ties, but his hands always catch me first.] Staring at that picture, I thought about the very first day I moved into his apartment. I brought out the only framed photo we had together and tried to put it on his nightstand. He took the frame and placed it face down in a drawer. “Do not leave pictures out in the bedroom. Visual clutter ruins my sleep.” At ten thirty that night, Harrison finally walked into the surgical waiting room. “Your mom made it out fine, didn’t she?” “Stop acting like the sky is falling every time something happens. You are just stressing yourself out for nothing.” I looked up at him. “You knew the mortality rate for this surgery was incredibly high. You knew she might never wake up. And you still chose to go hang a picture frame with her?” His brow furrowed into a tight knot. “Jane is in a very dark place mentally. The doctor said she cannot handle any emotional triggers.” “Can you just be a little understanding for once? Stop treating everything like a competition with her.” Right on cue, his phone vibrated. It was a voice note from Jane. “Harrison, I am too scared to sleep in the lakehouse alone. Please come back.” Harrison stood up from the bench almost instinctively. I reached out and grabbed the cuff of his shirt. “If you walk out of this hospital tonight, you and I are completely finished.” He looked down at my knuckles gripping his sleeve. He did not look panicked. He did not even stop moving. He just gave me a look of pure, unadulterated exhaustion. “Stop using breakups as a threat.” “Phoebe, you have always been the rational one. Do not start throwing cheap, dramatic tantrums like she does. It is not a good look on you.” He ripped his sleeve out of my grip and walked out of the corridor with long, confident strides. I watched his back completely disappear around the corner. Then I raised my left hand and pulled the diamond engagement ring off my finger. I picked up my phone and called the county clerk’s office. “Hello. I need to secure the absolute first appointment for a marriage license tomorrow morning.” The next morning, Harrison did not come home. Around seven, he sent a text. [Jane finally fell asleep after taking her medication. I will take you out to dinner tonight.] I read the message and put the phone in my pocket. At ten o’clock, another message came through. [I know I lost my temper last night, but I was just trying to keep her calm. Stop forcing me to choose.] I stared at the screen and let out a dry laugh. I was never the one forcing him to choose. It was just a simple fact that the moment Jane appeared, his gravity shifted entirely to her. And then he would turn around and demand that I be the understanding one. The mature one. At noon, Harrison walked into the hospital room. “Your mom’s vitals are stable now, right?” He pulled up a chair and sat down. “I wasn’t out partying last night. Jane kept screaming my name in her sleep. I was terrified she was going to hurt herself if I left her alone in that big house.” I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. “Because she screamed your name, it was perfectly fine to leave my mother bleeding on an operating table?” Harrison fired back instantly. “Your mom had a team of surgeons looking after her, and she had you.” “Jane had absolutely no one but me.” The words landed on me with the weight of a feather. I was too drained to even feel angry anymore. I just felt a deep, freezing finality. Seeing my silence, Harrison assumed I was doing exactly what I always did. Swallowing my feelings and backing down. His voice softened, and he reached out to grab my hand. “Alright, enough fighting.” “As soon as your mom is discharged, we are going straight to City Hall to get legally married.” I pulled my hand away before he could touch me. “You told me you were in no rush. Why the sudden desperation to get the paperwork signed?” He pulled his hand back, his tone filled with absolute certainty. “Because once we are officially married, Jane will see that I have my own family. It will finally force her to give up.” A sudden laugh escaped my throat. It was so pathetic I could feel tears prickling the corners of my eyes. He was not rushing to marry me because he loved me. He was only doing it because Jane was suffocating him, and he needed a human shield to block her. “So I am just a tool you are using to make her back off?” The color drained from his face. “What kind of crazy logic is that? That is not what I meant.” “You are the woman I want to marry. Jane is just my past. The only thing I feel for her is a lingering sense of responsibility.” Before he could finish his sentence, his phone started ringing in his pocket. It was Jane. He glanced at the screen and hit decline. The phone immediately started ringing again. On the third ring, he caved. Jane’s hysterical, ear-piercing sobs echoed through the speaker. “Harrison! The maid threw away the porcelain bowl I bought for the cat!” “If you let them throw away the bowl, you are just throwing me away too!” Harrison shot up from the chair. The annoyance he had directed at me just seconds ago completely vanished, replaced by sheer panic. “Baby, please stop crying. Do not dig through the trash, you are going to cut your hands. I am on my way.” He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. I leaned against the wall and calmly reminded him. “You said you were having dinner with me tonight.” He paused for a fraction of a second, his back still turned to me. “She is in a crisis.” “Can you please stop keeping score over every little thing?” He pushed the door open and practically ran down the hall. This time, I did not stay in the room waiting for him to come back. At two in the afternoon, I took my documents and walked into City Hall. I filled out the registry, signed the documents, and stood before the clerk. When the heavy ink stamp slammed down on the paper, I took my crisp, brand new marriage certificate and slid it into my purse. At six in the evening, Harrison finally remembered I existed. He called me. “I handled the situation. Pack your things.” “Tomorrow at nine AM, I am taking you to City Hall to get the license.” I looked out the window at the setting sun and gave him a three-word answer. “No need anymore.” The line went dead silent. His voice dropped an octave, laced with warning. “What does that mean? Phoebe, are you seriously throwing another tantrum?” I did not offer him a single syllable of explanation. I hung up the phone and blocked his number. At eight that night, Harrison pushed open the door to his apartment. Half of the shoe rack in the entryway was completely empty. My clothes, my books, my skincare bottles. Every trace of me was gone. The panic finally hit him. He started aggressively calling my phone. Over a dozen calls, all sent straight to voicemail. He opened his social media app, ready to send me a furious message. Instead, he saw the post I had uploaded that afternoon. It was a photo of two marriage certificates sitting side by side. The caption was just one sentence. [Starting today, everything is brand new.] Harrison stared blindly at the screen. The unsigned divorce decree slipped out of his fingers and hit the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524628”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While filling out my handwritten wedding invites, I mindlessly browsed a popular forum on my phone. A trending thread grabbed my eye. [What is the wildest thing you’ve ever done for a best friend?] The top reply held over twenty thousand upvotes. [The craziest thing I ever did was giving the guy I loved deeply to her.] [Back in high school, my best friend and I liked the same boy. The twist? He didn’t love her—he loved me.] [I wanted her happy. So I secretly took his love letter meant for me, passed it to her, and pulled away entirely to let them date.] [Ten years have passed, and they’ll marry next month. Truth is, I never stopped loving him. Yet I have no regrets. We spent one night together after heavy drinking, and that single memory carries me through every year.] The comment section turned brutal. Half mourned her sad love story, while the rest slammed her as fake for sleeping with her closest friend’s fiancé yet playing the martyr. A response to that top post sent chills down my spine, filled with ten years of stifled regret. [So that night wasn’t just a drunk dream. It really happened.] [Sophie, I only dated her because I thought you never cared for me. If you loved me all along, why did we throw away ten years?] My hand lurched sharply. The gold ink pen scratched a thick, ugly mark across the pricey wedding invitation cardstock. My one closest friend in the whole world was Sophie. No. That was impossible. The world is a massive place. There has to be more than one Sophie out there. This was just a sick coincidence. My fingers were trembling so badly I could barely tap on the girl’s profile. The page was entirely blank. No posts. No photos. But my eyes instantly locked onto the short bio written right under her username. “I just want a steady kind of happiness.” The phone slipped from my sweaty palm and clattered against the hardwood floor. Ever since we were kids, Sophie had used that exact same quote on every single social media platform she owned. My name is Gwen. It means steady. So all these years, Sophie wasn’t praying for her own happiness. She was praying for mine. I leaned over to pick up my phone, my vision completely blurring as tears spilled down my cheeks without my permission. Sophie had not replied to his comment. But the man, my fiancé David, was still flooding the thread, begging her in front of thousands of strangers. [You have let her have her way since we were kids. But I am not a toy you can just pass around. I am a living, breathing person. What gave you the right to hand me over to her?] [I hate that you always put her first. I hate that you always martyr yourself. I hate that you loved me but spent ten straight years pretending you didn’t.] [Sophie, when are you going to finally live for yourself?] Even David knew it. I was always the most important thing in Sophie’s universe. We met when we were seven. Growing up, she let me have the best of everything. It started with the biggest, juiciest strawberry in the fruit bowl. Then it was the lead princess role in the middle school play. Later, it was the Ivy League. Everything she could possibly give me, she gave me. In high school, Sophie and I were the top two students in our graduating class. There was only one early admission recommendation letter for Columbia University. To make sure I got it, she purposely left an entire page of her final AP Calculus exam completely blank. I cried my eyes out and called her an idiot. She just laughed, flicked my forehead, and told me she could get into any college she wanted without a fancy letter. She told me to just wait for her in New York. In the light of day, Sophie had sacrificed so much for me. I never imagined that in the shadows, she was still playing the puppet master of my happiness. She even gave up the man we both loved, quietly slipping him into my hands. But Sophie, did you ever stop to ask if I wanted him like this? I collapsed over my desk, sobbing until I couldn’t pull air into my lungs. I looked up and saw our gorgeous engagement photos framed on the wall. I looked down and saw the ruined wedding invitations scattered across the desk. In the corner of the room sat the pristine boxes of wedding favors David and I had spent hours picking out together. Silk ribbons, fairy lights, custom wooden gift boxes. There was so much stuff. It practically suffocated the room. Every memory I had of David began flashing behind my eyes like a relentless movie trailer. At seventeen, he stood in the freezing rain just to buy me my favorite hot latte before first period. At twenty, he drove three hours to a remote monastery and hiked up a mountain to get me a protective charm before my semester abroad. At twenty-two, my mom suffered a massive stroke. The medical bills were a bottomless black hole. David took the fifty grand he had scraped together from years of grueling side hustles and shoved it into my hands, leaving himself with barely enough cash for groceries. That money was his sacred startup fund. He had dreamed about his own tech company for years. But when he gave it to me, he didn’t even blink. He just called me silly for crying. He said my mom was his mom, and saving her was the only thing that mattered. His warm smile. His soft kisses. The way all my anxiety melted the second he pulled me into his chest. It was all so beautiful. So unforgettable. But none of it was meant for me. I swiped past the final photo in my camera roll and harshly wiped my eyes. Some delusions need to be shattered. I walked like a mindless zombie toward Sophie’s apartment building. Just as I turned the corner, I froze. David and Sophie were standing near the alleyway, locked in a heated argument. My chest tightened painfully. I quickly shrank back into the shadows of a nearby building. David was supposed to be on a business trip in Seattle. A flight from Seattle takes hours. That meant the absolute second he saw that Reddit post, he dropped everything and rushed back like a madman. Was he really that desperate to claim her? David had a vice grip on Sophie’s wrist. She was struggling wildly to pull away. “David, let me go!” “You are marrying Gwen in literally three weeks. What is the point of bringing this up now?” David stared at her, his eyes dark and frantic, his voice completely wrecked. “The point is everything!” “Gwen and I haven’t signed the marriage license yet. We can cancel the catering, the venue, everything. I will go to her right now and confess. She can put all the blame on me and hate me for the rest of her life.” “Sophie, I have missed out on you for a decade. I am not going to miss out on you for a lifetime. Please, just stop pushing me away.” Before she could speak, he yanked her against his chest and crashed his lips down onto hers, completely losing control. Sophie pushed against his chest for a second. Then her hands curled into his shirt, and she gave in. They kissed with a raw, violent desperation. It was as if they were trying to suck ten years of stolen time out of each other’s lungs. I opened my mouth to scream, to stop them, but my throat was sealed shut. Not a single sound came out. My stomach violently turned inside out. I slumped against the cold brick wall and began to dry heave. David, when you were swallowing her sighs, did you ever once think about the woman who has loved you for the last ten years? My entire twenties had been nothing but a pathetic joke. Smack. A sharp slap echoed in the alley, breaking the kiss. Sophie shoved David away with all her strength. Her eyes were bloodshot as she screamed at him. “Do you have any idea how long Gwen has been dreaming about this wedding?” “You don’t, but I do! She has been planning this for ten years. She has wanted to be your wife since we were seventeen!” “She literally starved herself for six months just to fit into that dress. We designed that gown together, David! She sat there hand-writing every single invitation until her fingers cramped…” “You are going to give her this wedding. I swear to God, if you do anything to break Gwen’s heart, I will kill you myself!” “What happened today never happened. We are never seeing each other alone again.” David grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Do you honestly think I want to hurt her? Seeing Gwen cry is the worst thing in the world to me.” “But the only thing worse than breaking her heart is losing you again.” “That night in my apartment, are you going to pretend that never happened too? If you hadn’t posted that online, I would have gone to my grave thinking it was just a booze-fueled hallucination. But I had you. You were mine. How do you expect me to just walk away from that?” He dove in and kissed her again. This time, Sophie didn’t fight back at all. Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with equal fire. David suddenly scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside the building. The dried tears on my face felt tight and itchy. It was the middle of summer, but I was shivering so violently my teeth chattered. I stumbled out of the shadows and followed them inside. I stood in front of Sophie’s door for what felt like hours. Finally, I pulled out the spare key Sophie had given me for emergencies. I took a deep breath and twisted the lock. The heavy, sickening scent of sweat and sex hit me the second the door cracked open. I clutched my stomach and gagged. Hearing the noise, the two naked bodies tangled in the sheets jerked up in pure terror. Both sets of eyes locked onto me. David moved with lightning speed, throwing the heavy duvet over Sophie to cover her nakedness and protect her dignity. This man, who cared about his image and reputation more than anything else in the world, threw away every ounce of his pride. He stepped out of bed, completely exposed, and stood between me and the bed. “Gwen, please don’t be mad at Sophie. This is entirely on me.” “You know she values your life more than her own. She never wanted to betray you. I lost my mind. I forced myself on her. You can hate me, but please don’t hate her!” I stared dead into David’s panicked eyes and let out a hollow, broken laugh. To protect his precious Sophie, David was willing to look like a monster. He was ready to take every drop of the blame just to keep her hands clean. So this is the power of a high school sweetheart. With me, he was always so rational, so gentle, so painfully composed. But for Sophie, he was willing to bow down. He was willing to lose his damn mind. I glared at him, pure venom dripping from my voice. “Forgive her? My absolute best friend in the world just spread her legs for the man I am supposed to marry. How exactly do I forgive that?” “Sophie, David, you both make me sick. I never want to see either of you again.” Hearing the absolute fury in my voice, Sophie scrambled out from under the covers. She crawled across the cold floor, her eyes swollen and red, and grabbed tightly onto the hem of my jeans. “Gwen, please! Today was a mistake. It is all my fault. I seduced him. I practically threw myself at him.” “He only has you in his heart. You are the only woman he actually loves. I know how much you love him, Gwen. I know how badly you want this wedding. Please, don’t throw your entire future away because of a stupid, impulsive mistake. Please!” David grabbed a knit blanket from the armchair and gently wrapped it around Sophie’s bare shoulders, handling her like she was made of fragile spun glass. His eyes briefly flicked to my shaking shoulders, and a tiny frown creased his forehead. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to comfort me, but closed it a second later. Instead, he simply reached for the remote on the nightstand and turned the air conditioning up. He still remembered. Today was the first day of my period. I was always prone to agonizing cramps when I got cold. Sophie yanked aggressively on David’s arm, screaming at him in total panic. “David, tell her! Tell her I manipulated you into this! Tell her it was just a moment of weakness, and that you have only ever loved her! Tell her she is the only woman you want to marry!” David wanted to refuse, but the second he looked into Sophie’s desperate, begging eyes, he faltered. He knew her better than anyone. If he didn’t do exactly what she said right now, she would never speak to him again. He swallowed hard, the words clawing their way out of his throat. “Gwen, please forgive me.” “You are the one I love. You are the only one I want to marry.” “Can you just give me one more chance?” He was speaking to me, but his eyes never once left Sophie’s tear-stained face. I looked down at the floor, laughing so hard new tears sprang to my eyes. They were literally fighting to take the bullet for each other. They looked like star-crossed lovers pushed to the brink by a cruel world, while I felt like the evil wicked witch trying to tear true love apart. It was poetic, really. They had always loved each other this fiercely. From the day we met until this exact second, they had been carrying this tragic, earth-shattering romance in secret. I was the third wheel. I had always been the third wheel. I didn’t waste another breath on them. I turned around and walked out the door, feeling completely numb. Why was it that I wanted to hate them so badly, but my heart just felt painfully empty? When I got back to my apartment, I opened my laptop and pulled up the email from the tech firm in Silicon Valley. “I will take the project manager position. I accept your offer.” My eyes drifted to the stack of wedding invitations sitting on the dining table. My fingers twitched. David, Sophie. You two have done so much for me behind my back. Let me do one last thing for you. I picked up my pen and methodically crossed out my name on every single invitation, writing Sophie’s name in its place. Consider this my final parting gift. The next morning, I dragged my exhausted body downstairs to throw away the trash. When I looked up, I saw David and Sophie standing near the entrance of my complex, wrapped in a tight embrace. Sophie was holding a paper bag of fresh croissants, and David had a tray of iced coffees. My exact breakfast order. Even though I had already decided to leave the country and let them be together, a vicious sting still hit the back of my eyes. Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps. My mom was marching down the sidewalk, her arms loaded with massive bags of wedding decorations. She stopped dead in her tracks. The girl she had treated like a second daughter, and the man she proudly bragged about to all her friends, were standing right in front of her, shamelessly clinging to each other behind my back. Before I could even shout a warning, my mom hurled a heavy bag of decorations straight at Sophie’s head. “Sophie! You are supposed to be Gwen’s best friend! You are literally trying to steal your best friend’s fiancé? Are you that desperate for a man?” “You disgusting piece of trash! I will kill you both!” David instantly pulled Sophie behind his back, shielding her with his own body as my mom slapped and clawed at him. Sophie peeked out from behind him, sobbing hysterically as she tried to grab my mom’s hand. “Mrs. Harper, please, you have to listen to me! It isn’t what it looks like…” My mom ripped her hand away and slapped Sophie square across the cheek. “Save your bullshit! I saw it with my own two eyes!” David shoved Sophie firmly behind him. Seeing the bright red handprint blooming on her pale skin, his shoulders began to shake with pure rage. My mom raised her hand to strike again, completely blinded by anger. David finally snapped. He shoved my mom backward with brutal force. “Stop acting like a crazy old bat!” “I liked Sophie from the very beginning! If she hadn’t taken pity on your pathetic daughter and forced me to date her, Sophie and I would have been married years ago!” “Sophie is the greatest thing that ever happened to Gwen. She gave Gwen everything! Your daughter is the one who stole from her! Gwen is the one who owes her!” My mom’s eyes went wide with sheer horror. She pointed a trembling finger at the two of them, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to pull in a breath. Then, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed onto the concrete. “Mom!” I screamed, sprinting across the courtyard with tears flying from my eyes. The moment they saw me, all the color drained from David and Sophie’s faces. Pure terror replaced their anger. They knew I had heard every single word. The ambulance arrived in minutes. The three of us loaded her in and sat in suffocating silence during the ride. It felt exactly like the day she had her stroke six years ago. Back then, David did everything in his power to save her. He gave his money, his time, his sanity. But this time, she was in a hospital bed because she caught him cheating and he pushed her to the ground. Thankfully, the ER doctors stabilized her quickly. They said she just suffered a severe panic-induced fainting spell and would wake up soon. I let out a shaky breath, feeling a massive weight lift off my chest. Standing in the sterile hospital corridor, David and Sophie took turns begging for my forgiveness, their voices cracking with guilt. I just nodded, my face entirely blank. “As long as my mom is okay, that is all that matters.” Seeing how incredibly calm I was, the guilt in David’s eyes only deepened. He reached out and grabbed both of my hands, squeezing them tight. “Gwen, I am so sorry. I swear I am going to marry you. I will take care of you and your mom for the rest of our lives. I will never make you cry again.” Sophie wiped her eyes, offering me a fragile, watery smile. “You are going to be the most beautiful bride in the world, Gwen.” I looked down at the linoleum floor and smiled softly. They had absolutely no idea. This wedding didn’t belong to me anymore. On the day of the wedding, while the sun was barely coming up, I was already sitting in first class on a direct flight to San Francisco. I was officially a Silicon Valley corporate drone. David, Sophie. I really hope you enjoy my gift. … Back at the venue, David stood at the end of the aisle, strangling a custom bouquet. His palms were sweating through his tailored suit. The massive mahogany doors swung open. David held his breath, a practiced smile on his face as he prepared to see Gwen. But he froze. The only person standing in the doorway was Sophie, wearing a gorgeous bridesmaid gown. Where was his bride? Sophie sprinted down the aisle, her face pale with panic. “David! Gwen is gone! I have ripped the entire hotel apart and she isn’t here!” Right on cue, the confetti cannons exploded from the ceiling. The massive digital screen behind the altar flashed with elegant gold lettering. Groom: David. Bride: Sophie. The blood drained from David’s face as reality finally crashed down on him. He ripped his phone from his pocket and frantically dialed Gwen’s number. He was met with the cold, automated voice of the operator. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently out of service.” Gwen was gone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524627”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Out of nowhere, some self-proclaimed “Judge” popped up on the national college forums, vowing to expose the true colors of every popular, high-achieving student on campus. For the past three months, student representatives from the top Ivy-tier universities had been falling from grace one by one. They were outed for bullying, cheating, and cheating on their partners. Their scholarships were entirely revoked. One girl from a low-income family even buckled under the immense psychological pressure and jumped from an eighth-floor dorm window. Overnight, paranoia gripped universities across the country. The very next day, right before my mandatory major seminar began, a tall girl with sharply stunning features walked into our lecture hall. Her eyes scanned the room, lingering for two seconds on Noah, my childhood best friend and the undisputed campus heartthrob. Then, her gaze locked dead onto me, the girl sitting comfortably in the top one percent of the grading curve. “Hey everyone. From this moment on, I will be using the utmost fairness to expose those who do not deserve their pedestals.” 1 When The Judge first surfaced on the forums, everyone treated it like a joke. “What kind of edgy Judge is this? What a clown.” “Just some clout chaser desperate for attention.” That was until the student icons of the top three universities were completely wiped out over the span of three months. No one was spared. The prodigy of Alden University, a future star in the physics world, was outed for having zero basic life skills. The Judge claimed she relied entirely on her boyfriend to spoon-feed her and manage her life. The genius fell from grace overnight. The Student Body President at Bancroft College was exposed for abusing her power and facilitating campus bullying. By the next morning, she was impeached, and her mugshots were plastered all over the internet. Then came Laura, the stunning but impoverished sweetheart of Camden University. She was once the literal poster girl for the school’s social media admissions campaign. The Judge accused her of two-timing multiple guys and having an inappropriate relationship with a professor. As soon as the scandal gained traction, Camden University scrambled to save its reputation. They instantly revoked three years’ worth of Laura’s scholarships and suspended the professor in question. Outside the college forums, the internet trolls absolutely worshipped this anonymous vigilante. “Full support for judging all these fake elitists! Hell yeah!” “This is so satisfying to watch. I’ve always hated these snobby college kids. Why should they get all the societal perks? They’re the reason class inequality exists!” Inside the national college forums, however, the atmosphere grew increasingly suffocating. No one knew if they were going to be next. “Our school, Dalton University, is ranked fourth nationally. You don’t think the next target is…” As I walked across campus, I could feel several pairs of eyes subtly darting in my direction. “You mean Amanda?” “It has to be. She takes the national valedictorian scholarship every single year, and she’s the President of the Student Coalition. That creep definitely has eyes on her.” “Man, I feel bad for Amanda. She’s actually really nice.” “Yeah, well, people said Laura was nice too. Look what happened after all her dirty laundry got aired out. She took her own life. People have multiple faces.” Noah glanced at my expression, his jaw tight. “I heard this psychopath usually starts digging by questioning the people closest to the target. If she comes to me, I’m going to absolutely tear that clown apart.” I pulled my gaze away from the whispering crowd and smiled. “You don’t need to do that. Whatever she asks, just tell her the truth.” Honestly, I was more worried she wouldn’t be able to dig up anything at all. On the second day after Harper transferred to our school, I had my English public speaking competition. I was on stage, delivering my speech with perfect flow, when the background music suddenly cut off. A figure stormed onto the stage and snatched the microphone right from my stand. “I am reporting contestant number three, Amanda, for plagiarizing someone else’s transcript! She is violating the rules of this competition!” 2 The faces of the ten judges in the front row dropped instantly. Harper looked at me, raising an eyebrow. Her smile was laced with pure provocation. “I demand a secondary review of her manuscript. We absolutely cannot cover up this kind of blatant cheating!” The faculty member in charge of script vetting shot up from his seat. “That is impossible. All contestant scripts undergo a rigorous screening process.” “Miss, I know you feel a strong sense of justice, but you cannot just throw baseless slander around!” Harper clearly hadn’t expected a professor to stand up and challenge her. Her face darkened, the hostility in her eyes thickening. She let out a cold scoff and muttered under her breath. “You’re all rotten to the core.” I stood on the stage, completely silent. I just watched quietly as she manipulated the LED screen behind me, displaying my exact transcript. She pointed out which sentence came from where, how I had heavily spun the text, spinning a wildly convincing narrative. She was smart. Speech script paraphrasing has always been a gray area. The themes are practically identical, and the sentiments are universal. If you force two speeches side by side, you can always find a couple of sentences that mean the exact same thing. The school rules dictated that if plagiarism was confirmed, the student would be permanently banned from competing. If it was only suspected, the student would be temporarily disqualified and could only try again the following year. But I needed to win this exact competition to apply for my study abroad program before this year’s deadline. And this exchange program was my one and only shot, an opportunity I had secured after sending countless emails back and forth with a foreign mentor. When Harper finished her presentation, the judges in the audience exchanged nervous glances, their faces twisting in visible dilemma. They knew me well. They knew my actual capabilities. But they also knew that if they openly trusted me right now, Harper would very likely drag them down into the mud too. That was exactly how Laura’s professor had been “judged.” “Amanda, maybe we should…” “I understand.” I gave a blank, emotionless bow and walked straight out of the auditorium. 3 Threads about me flooded the forums almost immediately. But the comment sections were dead, eerily quiet. Other than Harper, no one dared to speak up. It had been this way for a while now. Whenever the last victim was being judged, anyone who spoke up in her defense was instantly branded as an accomplice and canceled just as hard. A thick fog of tension and terror blanketed the campus. The speech competition was just her warning shot. It wasn’t anywhere near the intensity of her previous purges. For the next few days, I lived like a criminal under 24/7 surveillance. Harper’s eyes were everywhere. In the lecture halls, the dining hall, the dorm corridors. When eating at the dining hall, Noah and I always had a habit of sitting at the second table by the window. The moment we sat down, Harper materialized right next to me. “Amanda, I noticed you sit here every single day. The dining hall has open seating, yet when it’s packed, no one else dares to take this spot.” “Are you leveraging your title as Student Coalition President and class rep to exercise special privileges?” I glanced over my shoulder. There were massive patches of empty seats all over the cafeteria. Before I could even open my mouth, Noah snapped back. “Where we sit is none of your damn business. Do you really have nothing better to do?” She glared at Noah, looking genuinely offended. “Noah, I am warning you for your own good. Stay away from her, so you don’t get dragged down when she eventually crashes and burns!” Noah let out a harsh laugh. “Who the hell are you?” A flicker of genuine hurt crossed Harper’s face, quickly replaced by a look of bone-deep hatred aimed right at me. She spun around and stormed off. The very next day, the seats I usually occupied were coated in industrial rubber cement that couldn’t be scrubbed off. Then came the annual need-based financial aid review. As usual, the academic advisor assigned me to be the head of the review committee. Harper immediately stood up and loudly objected in front of everyone. “Why is Amanda the default head of this committee? I did my research. She has led the financial aid review every single year, and every single year, the grant goes to Sarah. I have every reason to suspect this committee is completely rigged!” The advisor gave her a tired look, sighing in defeat. “Fine. You can join the review board too.” But during this year’s review, Sarah’s application was missing a crucial document. The student who suddenly looked best on paper was Brad, a guy whose family was actually doing quite well. I received a text from Sarah. “Amanda, I was too embarrassed to hand in my paperwork back then. You only made me apply because you found out how bad things were at home.” “Thank you for taking care of me these past three years. But please, don’t give me the grant this year. I don’t want to drag you down.” My heart ached. I gritted my teeth and turned to the committee. “Sometimes the faculty has leftover, unused grant slots. Why don’t we try applying for one of those on Sarah’s behalf?” “Absolutely not!” Before anyone else could speak, Harper spearheaded the opposition. “Sarah couldn’t even put a complete file together, and you claim you aren’t playing favorites? I knew these past few years of grants were dirty. Tell us, Amanda, how much of a kickback have you been taking from Sarah’s money?” When she sabotaged my competition, I barely felt a thing. But this was about whether a genuinely impoverished student could get the help she desperately needed to survive. I absolutely refused to let her ruin this! Suppressing my fury, I fired back. “I am simply applying for an unused surplus slot. We aren’t taking money away from anyone else. Why shouldn’t we try?” Harper sneered. “Look at you. You top-tier students always think you’re the ones following the rules. But the second it touches your own interests, the rules mean absolutely nothing to you!” “You’re all just a bunch of rotting hypocrites.” I stared at her, my eyes entirely dead. I picked up my pen and, completely ignoring her protests, wrote Sarah’s name onto the application form. The day the financial aid results were posted, I went viral. Dozens of clickbait accounts plastered my face across social media. [Dalton U’s Amanda: Where is the federal financial aid really going?] [The God of Justice challenges the campus elite! I’m voting for the grassroots Judge!] [Campus is a mini-society, and Amanda thinks she’s a dictator.] Every time I opened an app, I saw heavily edited, meme-ified videos of my argument with Harper captured by the CCTV cameras. I had officially become the new target of the purge. 4 The reason I’m only bringing this up now is that in the previous three purges, the real trial didn’t start when Harper physically walked onto campus. It started the moment she weaponized the internet to hold her kangaroo court. Social dynamics are a web, and the internet is the thickest, most suffocating spiderweb in existence. The moment a flawed person is thrown into it, the threads quickly wrap around them until they choke. Harper’s only job was to point out the very first flaw. Soon enough, my entire life was dug up by the masses. Everything about me was slapped with a massive question mark. How did I even get into Dalton? How did I become the Student Coalition President? What dirty tricks was I using to win all those competitions? Seeing the wild speculation and disgusting rumors, Noah was furious enough to go hunt Harper down. I reached out and gently held him back. “The favor I asked you to do. How is it going?” He nodded sharply. “I should have the results by today.” I exhaled in relief. Good. Time was running out. But I hadn’t expected Harper to strike even faster than I calculated. Monday was the general election assembly for the entire Student Body and Coalition. The auditorium was packed with judging faculty and students running for office. I pulled up my slides and began my reelection pitch for Coalition President. “In the coming year, I will continue to work tirelessly to serve all of you. I hope I can count on your vote!” The professors in the front row nodded in satisfaction, but their expressions suddenly shifted as they looked past me. I turned my head. Harper was standing at the entrance. She walked slowly up to the podium, shoved me aside, yanked my flash drive out of the computer, and jammed hers in. One of the professors frowned deeply. “Miss, if you are planning to run for a position, please wait for your turn.” Harper shot her a look and rolled her eyes dramatically. “I couldn’t care less about your little elections. Do you really think everyone wants to kiss up to your bureaucratic nonsense?” Hearing such blunt disrespect, several professors scowled. The Dean of the college, sitting dead center in the front row, watched quietly and said nothing. Harper opened a folder full of screenshots, set up her phone on a tripod, aimed the camera right at my face, and started a live stream of her purge. Then, she spoke, her voice ringing with absolute certainty. “I believe Amanda is entirely unfit to continue serving as Student Coalition President.” “Furthermore, she is unfit to even be a student at Dalton University!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524626”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My older brother, Simon, was born with selective mutism and severe autism. To cure him, our mother tried every desperate measure imaginable. When I was a year old, I accidentally rolled off the bed and started crying hysterically. Miraculously, Simon spoke his very first words. “Sister… fell. It hurts.” “Mom, make it better for sister.” But the moment I stopped crying, Simon sank back into complete silence. My mother looked at me, and her eyes filled with a sudden, terrifying hope. From that day on, I became Simon’s speaking doll. The longer my mother made me cry, the more words Simon would speak. Over the years, I learned to perform on cue. Whenever Simon had a recitation competition, I would force myself to cry bitterly for exactly thirty minutes. Not a second more, not a second less. But there were times when the tears wouldn’t come. During those times, Mother would resort to any physical pain to coax them out. The longest I ever cried was when I fell down the stairs and broke my arm. Simon practiced his speech all night, and the next day, he won first place. To celebrate, Mother bought me a massive chocolate cake. Everything changed on the day Simon was scheduled to meet his wealthy biological father. Simon froze, unable to squeeze out a single word, and his father left in deep disappointment. Mother snapped. She screamed hysterically, shaking Simon by the shoulders. “If you don’t speak, your father will never come back! Without him, there’s no point in me living!” “I am going to cure you once and for all today!” She grabbed my arm and dragged me up to the rooftop of our apartment building. She tied a rope around my waist and suspended me over the edge, hundreds of feet above the cold concrete pavement. I could see the old rope fraying, thread by thread. But this time, I didn’t cry. I looked up at Simon and gave him a bright, beautiful smile. Because Simon had once whispered to me that he loved seeing me smile. Suspended in the empty air, the wind lashed against my face, making my body swing violently. The knots around my waist bit deep into my skin, burning like fire. I kept my eyes fixed upward, refusing to look down. Simon’s face was deathly pale, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the fraying rope. He was shaking so hard he could barely stand. He didn’t dare raise his voice to provoke our mother, so he just desperately pulled at her sleeve, pointing at the rope, begging her to pull me back up. But Mother refused to listen. She wept, screaming at him. “Simon, I don’t want to hurt you!” “But if you hadn’t stood there like a mute in front of your father, would I have to do this?” “Your sister is suffering today because you are useless!” Simon flinched, looking at me with absolute despair. I looked down at the frayed threads near my waist, then back up at my brother, mouthing silently: Don’t worry, Simon. I had realized long ago that in this family, my tears were a commodity. My mother would pinch my thighs to make me cry before Simon’s doctor appointments. She would find ways to hurt and humiliate me before his school events. The harder I cried, the more Simon spoke, and the happier Mother became. The time I broke my arm, I spent the entire night shivering in pain. But Simon had stayed by my hospital bed, clumsily practicing his words over and over. When he won his trophy the next day, Mother was ecstatic, buying me that giant cake. Back then, I was foolish enough to believe that my pain could buy a little bit of sweetness. But Simon was different from our mother. Mother only cared about the results of her sick experiments. Simon, however, carried an immense burden of guilt every time I was hurt. He would secretly hide candies in my pockets, whisper “don’t cry, sissy” in my ear, and sit by my bed when the pain kept me awake at night. I could never hate him. The wind grew stronger, and I felt my body drop another fraction of an inch as the rope groaned against the concrete ledge. A broken, strangled sound finally tore from Simon’s throat. “Stop… stop… save sissy…” Hearing him speak, Mother’s face lit up with a manic joy. “Keep going! Say more!” She didn’t notice that the moldy hemp rope was unraveling at its thinnest point. Another gust of wind caught me, swinging my body outward. The sudden pressure against my ribs was so agonizing that I nearly let out a scream. Seeing this, Simon lunged forward, his knees slamming hard against the gravel on the roof. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed the rope near Mother’s hands. “Save sissy…” “Mom, please…” But Mother, completely consumed by her delusion, shoved him away. “Now you’re scared?” “Why didn’t you speak yesterday? Your father looked at you like you were defective! If you don’t speak, he is never coming back!” “Without him, I have nothing!” Below us, a crowd was gathering on the street. People were pointing, shouting, and recording with their phones. But Mother was oblivious to the chaos. Like a desperate gambler who had finally hit a winning streak, she grabbed her phone, hit record, and shoved it in Simon’s face, forcing him to keep talking. “Speak! Tell me you’ll speak to your father next time!” She didn’t care that her daughter was hanging by a thread over an abyss. She only cared about the audio file. Simon was on the verge of collapse. Looking at me, his voice trembled violently, but he didn’t dare stop, terrified that if he fell silent, she would let go of the rope. “Sissy, don’t be scared…” “Mom, save… sissy.” I stared up at him, my throat tight. I knew he wasn’t choosing to be silent. He was sick. But Mother refused to accept his diagnosis, preferring to use my life as his medicine. As the minutes dragged on, Simon’s voice grew raspy, every word sounding as if it were tearing his throat apart. “Dad, Dad…” But Mother wanted more. She wanted him to sound natural, to sound like a normal child. “Keep going!” “Say you want your father to come home!” Her voice was shrill, cutting through the wind. Simon’s face was flushed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled to force the words out. “Dad… come back…” “I will… be good…” “I will… speak…” His entire body was convulsing with the effort. Yet, the only thing in Mother’s eyes was an increasingly manic excitement, as if she were looking at a machine she had finally fixed. Suddenly, Simon went quiet. His eyes locked onto the rope near the ledge, and his face turned translucent with horror. He saw it. The rope was down to its final threads. Simon screamed and lunged for the rope to pull me up, but Mother, assuming he was trying to back out, yanked the line backward, shrieking at him. “Just a little more!” “Once we get through today, you’ll be cured! We’ll be a family again!” Frantic, Simon struggled to wrest the rope from her grip. Mother lost her footing, stumbling backward, and the rope slipped through her fingers. My body dropped several feet in a sudden, violent plunge. My heart stopped, and a terrified scream escaped my lips. That scream finally broke the tension below. The onlookers panicked, and sirens began to wail in the distance. Hanging there, I felt a deep, hollow exhaustion. It wasn’t a physical fatigue. It was a weariness that went down to my bones. I had lived a short life, but I had never lived a single day for myself. My tears belonged to Simon’s progress; my pain was the proof of Mother’s methods. My entire existence was defined by how much of myself I could sacrifice. But Simon was the only one who hated seeing me cry. The clearest, most deliberate sentence he had ever spoken to me was that he loved my smile. Thinking of that, I decided I didn’t want to cry anymore. Suddenly, the heavy metal door to the rooftop was kicked open. My father had finally arrived. The moment he saw me dangling over the edge, he froze, his face turning entirely pale. He sprinted to the ledge, his hands gripping the rope alongside Simon, the veins in his arms bulging with exertion. Seeing the state of the rope and my bloodless face, he knew I didn’t have minutes left. He turned and roared at my mother, “Are you out of your mind!” But Mother was completely detached from reality. She laughed, her shoulders shaking with excitement. “Just a little more, Charles!” “Simon is speaking! He’s almost cured!” “We can get back together now! We can have our family back!” Charles evaluated the situation quickly. He knew he couldn’t reason with her. Although sirens were approaching, the rescue teams wouldn’t make it to the roof in time, and the rope was seconds away from snapping. He had to play into her delusion. He clenched his teeth, forcing his voice to soften. “Let Tessa up first, Eleanor.” “Pull our daughter up, and I promise I’ll sign the remarriage papers. I’ll do whatever you want.” “You wanted to prove to Valerie that you didn’t lose, right? We can do that. Just pull her up.” Eleanor froze. In her twisted mind, she had just won everything. Her son was speaking, and her husband was returning to her. Weeping with joy, she let go of her end of the rope and ran to tie the remaining slack to a heavy concrete pillar on the roof, believing it would secure me. She didn’t realize that the fibers of the rope were already severed at the ledge. Eager to secure her victory, she demanded they go to City Hall immediately. She didn’t trust verbal promises; she wanted the paper. To prevent Charles and Simon from pulling me up without her, she dragged them toward the exit. “The rope is tied to the pillar; she’ll be fine for an hour!” “If you don’t come with me to sign the papers right now, I’ll cut the rope myself!” Charles looked as if he wanted to strangle her, but looking at my fading consciousness and the fragile state of the rope, he had to comply to keep her from doing something even more drastic. Eleanor locked the heavy metal door to the rooftop behind them, dragging Charles down the stairs. Simon, left on the other side of the door, kicked and pounded on the metal, his voice growing hoarse as he screamed through the small iron grate. “Hold on, sissy! I’m here! I won’t leave you!” During the drive to City Hall, Charles’s mind was entirely consumed by his daughter hanging from the building. Beside him, Eleanor was laughing and crying, clutching his arm. “We’re going to start over. Simon is speaking. Our family is whole again.” At the registry, Charles signed his name with a trembling hand, his heart sinking into his chest. And at the exact moment Eleanor held up the fresh marriage certificate, weeping with triumph, the frayed rope on the rooftop finally snapped. A dull, terrible crack echoed across the empty roof. Simon watched from the window as my body plunged toward the earth. He let out a soul-shattering scream. I hit the emergency cushions the onlookers had set up below, but the impact from that height was too massive. The world went completely black. Simon sprinted down the stairs, falling and scraping his knees, before throwing himself into the ambulance beside me. Meanwhile, Eleanor and Charles were caught in a sudden traffic jam on their way back. An ambulance with blaring sirens sped past their car. Charles felt a sudden, icy dread in his chest. Beside him, Eleanor was still smiling, planning their future. “Charles, we’re going to live a good life now. I’ll take care of you and the children.” Charles couldn’t say a word. At the hospital, Simon was already standing outside the operating room. Covered in my blood, he stood there like an empty shell. For the first time in his life, without any prompting or pain, he spoke in full, coherent sentences. He begged the surgeons to save his sister, crying that she was terrified of pain, that he had promised to buy her a cake, that she couldn’t die. But the fluency of his words was nothing but a cruel irony. It was exactly what our mother had wanted, but it had cost my life. After what felt like an eternity, the surgeon stepped out of the room, lowering his head. “I am sorry. We did everything we could…” Simon stood frozen. At that moment, my spirit detached from my body. I looked down at the operating table, seeing my pale, blood-stained face. I was dead. Simon pulled out his phone and dialed Mother’s number. Eleanor answered, still talking excitedly about the marriage certificate. Simon let out a ragged sob. “Sissy is dead.” Eleanor’s voice faltered. “That’s impossible. The rope was tied. She was fine when we left. You’re just upset, Simon.” But Charles had already grabbed the wheel, turning the car around and speeding toward the apartment building. When they arrived, the police had already broken open the rooftop door. Eleanor ran to the pillar, her eyes locking onto the severed hemp rope. She froze, stumbling toward the ledge. Looking down, the dark, dried pool of blood on the concrete pavement below pierced Charles’s eyes. He collapsed, clutching his head as he let out a guttural cry of grief. Eleanor gripped the railing, her face entirely bloodless. The marriage certificate slipped from her fingers, drifting slowly down into the wind.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524625”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I have a habit. Whenever I dine, watch films or ride taxis, I always leave the seat beside me vacant. I once truly believed Rick would fly into my city and surprise me out of the blue. Yet across our three years apart, he never visited once. I tried wedding gowns and booked the venue entirely alone, worn down to total exhaustion. Trembling, I sent him a message. [I have a 102-degree fever. No medicine at home.] He took thirty minutes to reply. [So what?] [Do you expect me to sprout wings and rush over with pills?] [I’m reviewing a project draft. Just get delivery meds.] My hands shook too hard to grip my phone, and I slipped into blackout. I woke to my best friend Arielle beside my bed, red-eyed as she handed warm water and tablets. “He only neglects you since you’re endlessly forgiving,” she murmured. “I would’ve broken things off ages ago.” Two weeks later, Arielle caught a severe fever too. I planned to hurry over to look after her. Then I spotted her social media post: a shot of a man’s hand gripping a soup spoon. Seasonal flu knocked me flat, but my knight dropped all work and drove five hundred miles overnight with homemade chicken soup. I knew that wrist instantly. The watch I’d spent six months’ wages buying for Rick sat right there. A harsh truth sank in. The spare seat next to me wasn’t empty from his distance. It was empty because he never cared enough to come. There was no sense saving that seat any longer; I’d only been fooling myself. I stood outside Arielle’s apartment door, holding a bag of medicine. The door wasn’t fully closed. Through the gap, I heard Arielle’s nasal, playful laugh. “You drove all night. What about the New York project? Are you really planning to stay in Boston for good?” Rick answered without a second of hesitation. “I don’t care about the project anymore.” “You were here with a fever, and I couldn’t stop worrying. I’ve already applied for a transfer back to the Boston office. No more long-distance.” Arielle’s tone was light. “Well, isn’t Candice going to be thrilled to hear that?” “I only care about making you happy.” My fingernails dug into the plastic handle of the bag, leaving a bloodless, stark white mark on my skin. Three years ago, holding my mother’s critical illness notice, I had tugged at his sleeve and begged him to stay. I asked him if we could avoid the long distance. He had picked up his suitcase and walked out without looking back. “Candice, you know how important this promotion is for me. I’m doing this for our future. Stop being so selfish.” The night he left to pursue his career, my mother passed away. I spent the night alone, shaking and crying in the dark. Over the past three years, I had suggested ending the long distance countless times. I had even offered to give up my career in Boston just to move to New York for him. But he rejected me every single time. “The cost of living in New York is too high. You coming here would only slow me down.” “Grow up, Candice. Stop using your emotions to hijack my career.” Yet that very career and future became entirely worthless the moment Arielle caught a cold. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Rick was sitting by the bed, holding a bowl of soup. When he saw me, his forehead creased instantly. “What are you doing here?” I placed the plastic bag of medicine on the nightstand. “I came to check on Arielle. And, apparently, to see the knight who flew five hundred miles.” Arielle quickly waved her hands in panic. “Candice, please don’t blame Rick. I was burning up last night and just complained to him offhand.” “I didn’t expect him to actually drop his work and run back. If you’re upset, I’ll tell him to leave right now.” Rick’s face darkened. “You’re this sick. Why would I leave?” He set the bowl down, looking entirely shameless. “Candice, drop the attitude.” “Arielle is your best friend. She has a 102-degree fever. Do you expect me to just sit back and watch her rot in here?” I looked at the bowl of chicken soup. The herbs, the shredded chicken, the perfect golden broth. It was a recipe I had spent weeks perfecting, writing down step-by-step instructions to teach him. Because he used to complain that the food in New York didn’t suit his taste. He was using the exact method I taught him to care for another woman. “I had a 102-degree fever two weeks ago,” I said quietly. “You told me to order delivery.” Rick paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes. “But you got through it on your own, didn’t you?” “Arielle is different from you. She isn’t as independent. Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over your own best friend?” Suddenly, the memory of myself begging him for help seemed incredibly pathetic. I let out a soft, self-mocking laugh. Seeing me laugh, his expression relaxed, replaced by a patronizing sigh of relief. “Good, you’re smiling. Let’s drop this, and don’t bring it up again.” “I’ve already applied to transfer back to Boston, so we won’t be apart anymore. You got what you wanted. Arielle just said she wants some cupcakes from that bakery on West Street. Go grab some.” I turned and walked out. My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Hi Ms. Candice, the wedding dress you liked has arrived. When would you like to come in for a fitting?” “No need. Please cancel it.” I used to think a long-distance relationship was just a long queue. As long as I kept the seat on my right open and waited, he would eventually sit down. Now I knew that the five-hour train ride was never the issue. He was never unable to return; he had simply changed his destination long ago. There was no point in waiting anymore. I didn’t buy the cupcakes. I went straight back to my apartment and started packing. I threw the extra toothbrush, the dark gray towel, and the matching mug from the bathroom sink straight into the trash. No matter where I lived, I had always kept a double set of everything. I had foolishly believed he would suddenly show up in Boston to surprise me. So I stubbornly kept half of my life empty for him. Now he was back, but the surprise wasn’t for me. Rick didn’t come home that night. Arielle posted another update. The best part of being sick is having someone stay up to watch a 2 AM movie with you. The attached photo showed the projector screen and the soft, gentle profile of a man’s face. It was the movie I had wanted to see for months. I had begged Rick to watch it with me, but he always dismissed it as boring. I liked her post. Three minutes later, a text from Rick popped up. [Get dressed and come downstairs. It’s Grandma’s 80th birthday today. I’m picking you up on the way to the family estate.] According to our original plan, today was also the day we were supposed to formally announce our engagement to his family. When I walked down, Arielle was already sitting in the passenger seat. She was holding a steaming latte, her other hand casually playing with a spare key to Rick’s apartment. The keychain had a hand-woven lucky knot I had made for him. Now, it was stained with coffee. She turned to me with a sweet smile. “Candice, you don’t mind me catching a ride, do you?” Rick turned up a French song Arielle liked on the radio. “Arielle just recovered. I didn’t feel safe leaving her alone, so I brought her along to get some fresh air at the estate.” “Besides, she’s still weak.” “You sit in the back.” Half an hour later, we arrived at the family estate. Arielle couldn’t wait to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Oh, I can smell the food already!” She naturally walked up to Rick’s side, and the two walked in shoulder-to-shoulder. I followed behind them like an insignificant shadow. In the main hall, his grandmother sat on the antique armchair. “Rick, bring your girl over. Let me get a look at her.” Arielle stepped forward gracefully. “Grandma, I wish you a very happy birthday.” The old lady smiled, patting Arielle’s hand. “This is the lovely girl you brought home last New Year’s Eve, right?” “So pretty. No wonder you’re always thinking about her.” A few relatives who actually knew me exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes shifting toward me. I picked up a cup of tea and took a slow sip of the warm water. Last New Year’s Eve, I had sat alone in Boston with a table of cold food. Rick had told me over the phone that a major crisis had hit his project, and his entire team was pulling an all-nighter at the office. As it turned out, his all-nighter was spent bringing Arielle home to meet his family. The old lady slid a stunning, deep green heirloom emerald bracelet off her wrist and placed it directly onto Arielle’s. “This has been passed down to the wife of the eldest grandson. I’m giving it to you today.” “Rick… I couldn’t possibly. Grandma has mistaken me for someone else.” Arielle made a show of protesting, but she made no move to take the bracelet off. Rick leaned down, whispering in my ear. “Candice, let Arielle keep it on for now. I’ll have her give it back to you after the party.” “Be sensible. Don’t throw a tantrum today of all days.” I shook my head. “No need to give it back.” Rick stared, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes. “It’s good that you can be so understanding. It actually looks quite nice on her anyway. I’ll buy you a new one some other day.” I set down my teacup. The aroma of the Earl Grey tea was rich. It was Arielle’s favorite blend, and even Rick’s grandmother had remembered her preference. The home I was supposedly entering for the first time was a place Arielle had already visited countless times. “Since the bracelet is already on her wrist, she should keep it.” “Rick, we’re done. Let’s break up.” The smile wiped off Rick’s face instantly. “Over a bracelet? Candice, when did you become so incredibly petty?” “Yes, over a bracelet.” Arielle frantically tried to pull the bracelet off. “Candice, please don’t be mad. I’m taking it off right now. You two have been together for nine years. You can’t let it ruin everything because of me.” In her haste, her wrist turned bright red, and tears welled up in her eyes. Rick grabbed her hand to stop her. “Why are you taking it off? You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Arielle isn’t fully recovered yet, and you’re forcing her to humiliate herself in public?” I couldn’t stand being there for another second. I turned and walked out. Behind me, whispers drifted from the dining hall. “She has a terrible temper.” “Exactly. Men have their harmless fun. She should learn to turn a blind eye.” Arielle spoke up softly. “Rick, go after her. Candice is just angry. Make sure she’s okay.” Rick sneered. “We’ve been together for nine years. She’s a thirty-year-old woman. Who else would even want her?” He raised his voice so it would carry out the door. “If someone wants to play hard to get, then we might just have to push the wedding date back a bit further.” Later, the wedding boutique owner sent me a picture of the main dress to confirm. “Ms. Candice, the deposit is non-refundable. You came in so many times for this. Are you sure you want to cancel?” I stared at the screen for a long time. I had tried on seventeen different dresses in that shop all by myself. Every picture I sent to Rick was met with a cold, detached reply: Busy. You decide. I finally realized that one person’s hope can never sustain a future meant for two. “Cancel it.” The next morning, I went to the office and found a transfer notice sitting on my desk. Due to poor recent performance, Candice is hereby reassigned to the administrative support team. Right after that, a company-wide announcement went out: Arielle was being promoted to Project Manager. The proposal attached to her promotion was the very project I had spent seven sleepless nights writing and revising fifteen times. The author’s name had been changed to Arielle. At the bottom of the document, the approver’s signature read: Rick. I dialed Rick’s number. “Saw the notice? I was just about to call you.” “Rick, why is my proposal under Arielle’s name?” He let out a dry laugh. “You embarrassed Arielle in front of my family yesterday. She went home and cried the entire night.” “Giving her this project is a way to comfort her, and a small lesson for you.” Arielle’s weak voice came through the receiver. “Candice, if you’re upset, I can give the position back to you.” Rick cut her off. “Don’t give back anything. She brought this on herself.” “Candice, if you behave and apologize to Arielle, the wedding is still on.” “I’ll make sure you get the next promotion.” The sheer absurdity of it washed over me. He was using my hard work to keep another woman happy. I said, “Fine.” After hanging up, I submitted my resignation and clicked confirm on the international offer I had received weeks ago. Right after I bought my plane ticket, my phone vibrated. An alert from my bank popped up: One million dollars debited. My breath caught. That was the inheritance my mother had left me, set aside for my dowry. Only Rick and I knew the password to that account. I called the bank customer service and tracked the recipient. I rushed to the luxury condo he had recently purchased. Rick and Arielle were sitting on the leather sofa, flipping through interior design catalogs. “Rick, I love the floor-to-ceiling windows in the master bedroom. The morning light must be gorgeous.” Rick smiled warmly. “If you like it, we’ll knock down the wall between the master bedroom and the guest room to make it bigger for you.” On the coffee table lay the newly signed purchase agreement. The name under the owner’s section read: Arielle. My chest heaved. “You took the money my mother left me?” He looked up, annoyance written all over his face. “We’re getting married anyway. The money was just sitting in the account. Might as well put it to good use.” “Then why is her name on the deed?” “Arielle grew up relying on charity. She’s always wanted a place to call home. She was worried she wouldn’t have a place here once we got married.” “Putting her name on the deed makes her feel secure.” A loud buzzing sound echoed in my head, and the final thread of my patience snapped. Arielle grew up on charity? Her parents died in a car crash when we were kids. I had begged my parents to take her in. My parents had treated her like their own daughter for twenty years, providing for her food, her clothes, her education. And now, in Rick’s mouth, it was “relying on charity.” Arielle grabbed my arm, her expression innocent. “Candice, if it really bothers you, I can move out anytime.” “But please believe me, Rick loves you. He even reserved the quietest bedroom on the north side just for you.” I violently yanked my arm back. “Don’t touch me!” “Give me back my money!” Arielle lost her balance and fell to the floor with a sharp cry. Rick’s face twisted in rage. He lunged forward and shoved me hard. I crashed against the doorframe, a dull, agonizing pain radiating through my shoulder. “Candice, you’re out of your mind! It’s just a house! Was it really necessary to get physical? I must have been blind to ever think about marrying a toxic woman like you!” Without looking back, he scooped Arielle into his arms and rushed out the door toward the hospital. I leaned against the doorframe to steady myself, then dialed my lawyer’s number. After handing the entire matter over to the firm, I hailed a cab and headed straight to the airport. The afternoon sun pierced through the airplane window, casting a warm light over my face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524624”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Born spoiled, I’d always been the center of my family’s world. On move-in day, bodyguards hauled my custom luggage into the dorm. Scanning the cramped room, I laid down my rules. AC at seventy, nonstop. Silence after eleven. Wipe the bathroom dry after every use. No manual labor—five hundred a pop for chores. My three roommates stared, stunned. “Don’t take this wrong,” I added. “First time sharing a room. Better to be upfront.” Then I handed out gifts: full La Mer sets and the latest Apple bundles. Their eyes lit up; they squealed, calling me a god. Yet the dorm’s quiet martyr, Melissa, stirred trouble. She whined I was flaunting charity, insulting her pride. “She thinks money buys me,” she sneered. Even wilder, my fiancé Preston flew in from Europe to defend her. “Jena, tone it down,” he snapped. “Melissa’s got nothing. Dumping luxuries on her is suffocating. Drop the spoiled act.” Watching him shield her, I laughed. Since they saw me as a bully, I’d show them exactly how a true Upper East Side heiress operates. 1 My family is obscenely wealthy. My friends always jokingly call me Manhattan royalty. Honestly, it is not much of a joke. I have the backing of a century-old elite dynasty. So when I stood in the doorway of a dorm room smaller than my walk-in closet at home, realizing four girls were supposed to live here, I genuinely had a headache. I waited in the hallway until my bodyguards finished setting up my bed, and only then did I step inside. My three roommates were standing awkwardly to the side, sizing me up. Their faces displayed unfiltered, blatant judgment. I glanced at the line of bodyguards standing outside the door and the mountain of designer luggage taking up half the dorm. Okay, maybe it was a bit excessive. I took a seat on my freshly made mattress, offering a polite smile to my new roommates. “Hi everyone. I am Jena Kensington, born and raised in New York. We are going to be roommates for the next four years.” “I have never shared a room before, so I have a few ground rules.” “First, the AC stays at seventy degrees all day. I will pay the electricity bill.” “Second, I am a very light sleeper. Total silence after eleven at night.” The three girls across from me exchanged incredibly awkward looks. Their eyes screamed two words: high maintenance. I waved my hand, and my bodyguards carried in three massive gift boxes. “These are welcome gifts from Miss Kensington,” one of the men announced. The three girls opened their boxes, and their faces went entirely blank for a solid minute. Full sets of La Mer skincare, brand new MacBook Pros, iPads, iPhones, and a massive Chanel lipstick vault. I knew my demands were a bit much, so buttering them up with gifts was only fair. This was standard networking in my social circle anyway. Throwing money at a problem is always infinitely cheaper than owing someone a favor. “I do not mean anything malicious by this. I just want to set boundaries early so we do not fight later.” A girl named Brooke, who had a loud and outgoing vibe, immediately accepted the terms. “Oh my god! I thought we were getting a spoiled brat with princess syndrome, but we got actual royalty!” “You are way too generous, I almost feel bad taking this.” I offered a soft smile. “Also, I refuse to do manual labor and I do not clean. If you clean my area, it is five hundred dollars. If you pick up my packages from the mailroom, it is a thousand.” I paused for a second before continuing. “If you guys are not comfortable with that, I can always ask the girls next door.” Brooke jumped up instantly, pulling the girl next to her, Roxy, up with her. “I am comfortable! Things like serving royalty should absolutely stay in-house. Consider me hired.” Roxy looked at me with more determination than my own security detail. “Miss Jena, I actually know a bit of martial arts. I will be your personal bodyguard on campus!” As the ice broke and we started laughing, I noticed the last girl, Melissa, sitting quietly in the corner. She was gripping the designer shopping bags so hard her knuckles were white, biting her lower lip. I did not think much of it at the time. I just assumed she was shy and took longer to warm up to people. I had no idea this girl was about to bring the most unexpected drama into my college life. 2 When did I realize things were weird? Girls from the neighboring dorms would pass me in the hallway and pretend I was invisible instead of smiling like they used to. During lectures, everyone sat a solid three seats away from me, except for Brooke and Roxy. I thought I was just being paranoid. After all, I grew up in gated estates with security so tight I barely ever saw my own neighbors. I did not have a great radar for being socially iced out. Until one night, Brooke finally snapped. I had just stepped out of the shower, toweling my damp hair, when Brooke pushed the door open and sat on the edge of my bed with a bizarre expression. “Jena, have you seen this?” “Seen what?” She hesitated, then pulled out her phone and opened a massive group chat. I scrolled up. A girl named Ashley had fired off three consecutive texts. “Do you guys know that Jena girl from class four? She brought literal bodyguards on the first day. She really thinks she is a princess.” “She gave her roommates La Mer, but the catch is they have to be her maids. Five hundred to clean, a thousand to fetch packages. Is that not just humiliating people with money?” “Melissa from the dorm next door told me. She said she felt incredibly humiliated receiving the gifts, but was too terrified to say no because she did not want to get on Jena’s bad side.” Reading that, I admit, my blood pressure spiked. There were nearly a hundred replies under Ashley’s texts. Some called me a tasteless newly-rich snob, while others called me a toxic elitist. Someone even sent a row of candle emojis with a sarcastic comment: “Poor Melissa, having to share a room with a monster like that.” I handed the phone back to Brooke. “Melissa started all this?” “The texts literally name-drop her, but look at Melissa playing dumb in the chat!” Brooke was fuming. I scrolled further down. Melissa had sent a pitiful little paragraph. “I did not want everyone to know. I just complained to Ashley privately. Please do not attack Jena or cause her any trouble.” Brooke rolled her eyes so hard I thought they would get stuck. “Give me a break! A private complaint that somehow spread to three different majors?” I stayed quiet. Brooke thought I was genuinely hurt and quickly added, “Jena, do not let it get to you. Bitches like her just cannot stand seeing other people thrive. If you want to put her in her place, I have your back!” I shook my head. “No need. Something this petty does not require an operation.” The next morning on my way to class, I purposely walked right past Melissa’s usual row. She was staring down at her textbook. Without a word, I dropped my bag and sat in the empty seat right next to her. She stiffened instantly. The girls sitting around her darted nervous glances in my direction. I unlocked my phone, pulled up the screenshot of the group chat, and slid it directly onto her textbook. “Care to explain?” Melissa took one look at the screen, quickly shoved the phone back toward me, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I… I just felt a little uncomfortable, so I casually vented. It was just a joke.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “You gladly accepted my La Mer, the Apple tech bundle, and the Chanel lipsticks. And then you went behind my back and told the entire school I was giving you charity? That I used my money to humiliate you?” Her eyes instantly flooded with tears. A few students nearby were already turning their heads. Melissa suddenly covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling as her voice cracked into a sob. “Jena, what did I ever do to you? Why are you hunting me down just to bully me?” She sniffled, looking up at me with eyes full of stubborn grievance. “You dumped all those wildly expensive things on me. I know you are filthy rich, but you know exactly what my financial situation is. How am I supposed to pay you back?” “I am terrified to even use them. I leave them in my closet and feel sick looking at them every day. So what if I complained to Ashley? Am I not allowed to have feelings?” I sat there in total silence, watching her put on a masterclass performance. Melissa simply stood up, her chair legs screeching harshly against the floor. “Yes, I am poor! So just because I took your stuff, I am supposed to fall on my knees and worship you?” “What gives you the right to act so superior and dictate our relationship? You weaponized your money to crush my self-esteem. Am I not allowed to feel uncomfortable?” The moment she finished her speech, the tears fell even harder. The students around us started whispering furiously. “Jena, back off. Just because you have money does not mean you can psychologically torture people.” My voice was deadpan. “Melissa, are you done crying?” Her sobbing hitched for a second. “First. If you felt so incredibly guilty and pressured by the gifts, you can bring them all back to me tomorrow.” “Second. You claim my money turned you into a slave. Funny how you did not feel humiliated when you were cashing in.” Her mouth opened, tears still streaming down her cheeks, but no words came out. I stood up and smoothed out my jacket. “I saved the screenshots from the group chat. I strongly advise you to watch your step.” I cast a cold glance at the crowd of self-righteous students around us. “I do not care if they believe your little act. But cross me again, and I will not be this polite.” After my warning, Melissa and her internet defenders stayed dead silent for two days. But a week later, I received a phone call from my fiancé, Preston. 3 Preston is my fiancé. Our families go way back. When we were ten years old, the adults had dinner and finalized our arranged marriage right on the spot. If you scrolled up in our chat history, his last message was a dry “Happy New Year” from months ago. “Jena, is Melissa your roommate?” “You know her?” “She is my family’s sponsored charity student. We have paid her tuition since high school. She called me a few days ago, crying hysterically for hours.” I inspected my manicure, entirely unbothered. “And?” “She said you forced incredibly expensive gifts on her, and she was too terrified of being isolated to refuse. Later, she vented about the pressure in the dorm, and you publicly humiliated her in front of the entire lecture hall.” Preston sighed, his tone dripping with condescension. “Jena, she really struggles financially. Your lifestyle is a massive burden to her. Can you just tone it down? Interact with people normally instead of throwing your wealth in their faces.” “I am saying this for your own good. Your arrogant personality is going to make you a lot of enemies.” I basically had the whole picture now. Melissa had the guts to spread rumors behind my back because she thought she had a powerful backer. But she severely miscalculated one tiny detail. Preston did not have the authority to lecture me. I found the entire situation hilarious. “Preston, you know perfectly well that if I actually wanted to ruin someone, they would not even be allowed to set foot in New York.” Preston choked on his words. Before he could respond, I hung up. A man who could not even be bothered to text me on holidays for ten straight years had just flown across the Atlantic to lecture me over a charity case. I tossed my phone onto my desk. Brooke leaned over, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Jena, who was that?” “A self-important idiot.” The next afternoon, Preston was leaning against a luxury sedan right outside the campus gates. He was dressed in a sharp custom suit, exuding the effortless arrogance of someone who had never worked a day in his life. Standing right beside him was Melissa, her head bowed, eyes red-rimmed, looking like she had just survived a war zone. As I walked out of the gates, Preston stepped forward and blocked my path. “Jena. We need to talk.” I glanced at the crowd of nosy students gathering around us and gave a short nod. We sat down in a high-end cafe near campus. Melissa sat practically glued to Preston’s side. She kept her eyes glued to the table, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. Preston cut straight to the chase. “Jena, maybe I was not clear enough on the phone yesterday, so I will say it to your face.” “Melissa has had a brutal life. Getting into this university took everything she had. Your extravagant gifts and the way you speak to her are psychologically crushing.” I leaned back into the plush leather chair, took a sip of my iced lemon water, and said absolutely nothing. Seeing me ignore him, Preston’s frown deepened. “You were spoiled rotten by your family since birth. You cannot comprehend the struggles of normal people. But since you are my fiancée, I expect you to have some basic empathy.” “Melissa has cried to me multiple times. She says she is terrified to even breathe in the dorm, constantly paranoid that she will upset you.” Melissa finally looked up, her voice trembling violently. “Preston, please stop. Jena is not targeting me. I am just too sensitive. It is all my fault.” As she spoke, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with her sleeve in a blatant display of tragic bravery. Seeing this, Preston’s face darkened completely. When he turned back to me, his voice was laced with pure anger. “Jena, look at what you have reduced her to! Can you not just swallow your pride and apologize to her?” I finally set my glass down and looked Preston dead in the eye. “Preston. How old are you?” He froze. “What?” “You are twenty-five, right?” I let out a mocking laugh. “A twenty-five-year-old man getting played like a fiddle by a teenager. You flew all the way back from Europe just to play white knight. Do you not feel pathetic?” Preston’s face turned completely rigid. “Jena, watch your attitude.” I tilted my head, my gaze completely bypassing him to lock onto Melissa. “Melissa. I will ask you one last time. Did I, or did I not, bully and humiliate you?” My voice was eerily calm. Melissa bit her lip so hard it almost bled. “You… you forced the gifts on me in front of everyone. I was too scared to say no.” I let out a harsh scoff. “Too scared to say no, but perfectly fine turning around and telling the whole campus I treated you like a beggar?” “Fine. If you were so scared to take them, give them back. Go to the dorm right now and bring them to me. I will wait.” Melissa’s face drained of all color. “What is wrong? Can you not bear to part with them?” I tilted my head, staring her down. “Or have you already cracked open the La Mer? Booted up the MacBook? Swatched the Chanel lipsticks?” Melissa’s tears spilled over again. She turned frantically to Preston, her voice cracking. “Preston, I swear I did not. I did not open them. I have not even touched the packaging.” Preston reached out and patted her shoulder protectively, then shot me a venomous glare. “Jena, that is enough! It is just some cheap skincare. Why are you acting like a psycho over this?” “Melissa is poor, so what if she is a little sensitive? Can you not just be the bigger person and let it go?” His words were so absurd I actually laughed, but the warmth completely vanished from my eyes. “Preston, I dropped thousands of dollars of my own money to ensure a peaceful living environment for four people. And somehow I am the villain?” Preston took a deep breath, trying to suppress his temper. “Jena, regardless of your intentions, your arrogant attitude is the problem. You have always been.” “My arrogance is backed by my family’s empire. I do not owe her a single thing.” Preston suddenly shot up from his chair. “Jena! You are crossing the line! I came here in good faith to mediate, and you are purposely making this as ugly as possible!” “You are humiliating Melissa in public. Do you have zero conscience?” Melissa tugged at his sleeve, sobbing quietly. “Preston, please, let us just go. It is my fault. I should never have told you.” Preston glared at me, his chest heaving with rage. Then, he violently snatched the iced coffee from the table and sloshed it directly across my chest. “Jena, I will make you get on your knees and beg Melissa for forgiveness.” The shock of the freezing coffee left me stunned for exactly two seconds. When I looked up, Melissa was hiding behind him, the triumphant smirk in her eyes completely undisguised. I snapped out of it, blinking hard until my eyes were genuinely red and glassy. Then I pulled out my phone, snapped a selfie of my ruined blouse, recorded a tearful voice memo, and sent it straight to my family group chat. “Daddy. Preston hit me and threw coffee on me to defend a charity student. My eyes are swollen from crying.” Across the table, Preston sneered. “Our families are close allies. Do you really think playing the victim is going to get me punished? You really think you are a princess!” Three. Two. One. Screeching tires echoed from the street, followed instantly by the cafe doors being violently shoved open. “Who has a death wish and dares to touch my precious girl?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524623”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Just as I had convinced myself to become a sugar baby for a greasy, middle-aged businessman, floating text suddenly materialized out of thin air right in front of my eyes. [This cannon fodder side character is ridiculously stupid. Her roommates are using her selfies to catfish hot billionaires, and she is out here willingly settling for a wrinkled creep.] [The worst part? She catches something incurable from the old guy, loses her mind, and ends up jumping off a roof. Tragic.] [You have to admit, the female lead is an absolute genius. To avoid getting caught, she dragged her other two roommates into the catfish ring so they were all complicit.] [The funniest plot twist is that the three billionaires are childhood best friends. LMAO. They were all hiding their online relationships from each other. If they had just compared notes once!] [In the end, all three guys fall for the female lead in real life. It just proves they did not love the side character’s face, they loved the female lead’s beautiful soul.] Behind me, my three roommates were busy flexing the luxury gifts their “online boyfriends” had just sent them. Brittany, the self-appointed dorm president, suddenly called my name and pointed her phone camera at me. “Sienna, give me a heart!” I looked straight into the lens and smiled sweeter than I ever had in my life. Since they were using my face as bait to reel in these massive catches, it was only fair that I claimed the fish for myself, right? 01 [Oh my god, Brittany sent that photo to Asher, and he absolutely loved it. He just transferred her another five grand to buy the newest iPhone.] [Asher is not just new money, his family has deep political ties. Five grand is literally pocket change to him. But whatever, all his wealth is going to belong to our female lead baby eventually anyway.] I looked down at my own phone. The screen was shattered like a spiderweb. Five grand for a single selfie. I fully admit, I was deeply jealous. Brittany should have been thrilled about the cash, but she suddenly let out a panicked gasp. The other two girls instantly swarmed her desk, asking what was wrong. Brittany shot a look in my direction, clearly thinking she was being subtle. Vanessa, who was sitting closest to me, cleared her throat and put on a fake smile. “Sienna, were you about to head to the dining hall? Could you grab a salad for me?” Ever since these three started their billionaire catfish operations, they decided campus food was beneath them and exclusively ordered delivery from five-star restaurants. If Astor University did not have a strict mandatory dorm policy for underclassmen, they would have rented luxury apartments off-campus ages ago. Vanessa was obviously just finding a cheap excuse to get rid of me. I kept a perfectly straight face, quietly slipped a disposable paper cup into my sleeve, and smoothly agreed before walking out. The moment the door clicked shut, I pressed the open end of the cup flat against the wood and pressed my ear to it. Brittany’s voice came through, trembling with sheer panic. “What do I do? Ash is asking to meet up in person again.” “This is the third time. If I reject him again, he is definitely going to get suspicious.” Brittany had milked Asher dry. In just one year, she had hoarded over a dozen designer bags, not to mention a mountain of other extravagant gifts. For her birthday this year, he literally shipped her a diamond necklace worth tens of thousands of dollars. Having grown addicted to this lavish lifestyle, Brittany was terrified of losing her golden goose. In comparison, Vanessa remained entirely calm, playing the mastermind. “Just agree to the date for now. When the time comes, tell him your roommate had a medical emergency and you cannot make it. Penny and I will back up your story.” Brittany acted like she had just been handed a life preserver, thanking Vanessa profusely. With the crisis averted, the dorm fell silent. The floating comments, however, were going absolutely wild. [Our female lead is truly the brains of this trio. So smart!] [Those two should literally worship the ground the female lead walks on. They would not have a dime without her brilliant ideas.] [Luckily, all three male leads eventually fall for the female lead, forcing these two freeloading parasites to cough up everything they stole.] Reading that, I finally confirmed my theory. Vanessa was the legendary “female lead” the comments were raving about. And that greasy old man I almost sold my soul to? He was a contact Vanessa had specially introduced to me. 02 I did not even have to eavesdrop to find out the details. The floating text helpfully leaked the exact location of Brittany and Asher’s supposed date. Incredibly, it was the exact same luxury hotel where I had just been hired for a part-time job two days ago. Because I had previously planned on accepting the sugar daddy arrangement, I had lost all motivation to work and called the hotel to decline the job. Thankfully, when I called the hiring manager back, he did not give me any grief. He told me I could come in and start my shift immediately. I could not help but reach up and touch my own cheek. I knew exactly why the manager was so accommodating. It was because of my face. Ever since middle school, I knew I was stunning. My locker was constantly stuffed with love letters. But my mother always drilled it into my head that I should never use my looks for deceitful gains. So I had always kept my head down, relying on my own hard work to make a living, never once considering taking a shortcut. Ironically, I refused to take the shortcut, but someone else happily borrowed my face to take it for me. I rushed to the hotel. Thanks to my looks, I was immediately assigned to the front entrance as a VIP greeter. Through the comments, I knew Asher had been sitting in his private dining suite waiting for Brittany for three solid hours. Exactly five minutes ago, he received the text that he was being stood up. Catching a glimpse of a tall, imposing figure descending the grand staircase, I deliberately shifted my tray of drinks and crashed right into him. Asher was already visibly frustrated from being stood up by his online girlfriend. When I bumped into him, his head snapped up, his eyes flashing with irritation. I kept my head bowed, frantically apologizing while dabbing at his expensive suit jacket with a napkin. Right before he could snap at me, I jerked my head up. The absolute second Asher saw my face, he froze completely. He grabbed my wrist with an iron grip, his voice cracking with unfiltered shock and joy. “Baby?!” I put on a flawless mask of confusion and quickly yanked my hand back. “Sir, I believe you have the wrong person.” Asher panicked, stepping closer. “Baby, it is me. It is Ash.” “Sir, I honestly do not know you. Please step back.” My absolute coldness acted like a bucket of ice water over Asher’s enthusiasm. He stood frozen in the lobby, his expression cycling through confusion, realization, and then a dark, stormy anger. Just as the tension reached a breaking point, my cell phone rang. 03 Listening to the voice on the other end, I let my tears spill over, crying silently and beautifully. I hung up the phone. Completely ignoring the mess I had made and not even bothering to tell my manager, I bolted toward the hotel exit. Asher chased right after me. He reached out, instinctively wanting to wipe the tears from my cheeks. But his hand hovered in the air, stopping just short of my skin. I did not let him pull away. I grabbed his hovering hand, letting my tears fall thick and fast. “Sir, do you have a car? It is impossible to get a cab around here right now. Could I please beg you to drive me to City General Hospital?” In the passenger seat, I kept up a quiet, heartbreaking rhythm of soft sobs. Asher kept his eyes on the road, freeing up one hand to pass me a tissue. “Did something happen? Maybe I can help.” I bit my lip, looking incredibly embarrassed. “We are complete strangers. You driving me is already too much of an imposition.” Asher glanced at me. “It is fine. I just like helping people.” Getting the exact opening I needed, my cheeks flushed red, and I asked with hesitant desperation, “Could you… could you possibly lend me some money?” Terrified he would think I was a scammer, I quickly promised, “I swear I will pay you back. I can write you a formal IOU right now.” My mother was diagnosed with acute leukemia last year. She required long-term hospitalization and aggressive chemotherapy. The hospital had just issued a final notice. If we did not clear the massive balance today, she was getting kicked out of her bed. I watched Asher’s brows furrow deeply. I lowered my eyes, playing the tragic victim. Thanks to the comments, I knew Brittany’s entire persona with Asher was stolen straight from my actual life. A dead father, a critically ill mother, and a beautifully broken girl holding it all together. Brittany had milked a fortune out of him using my real tragedy. Same face. Same exact tragic backstory. If Asher could not put the pieces together now, his IQ was genuinely in the single digits. When Asher finally spoke, his voice was tight and raspy. “Are you absolutely sure you have never heard the name Ash?” I tilted my head, pretending to search my memory very hard. “I really have not. But it does sound slightly familiar, like someone mentioned it in passing.” Asher did not say another word for the rest of the drive. When we got to the hospital billing department, he bypassed me entirely and deposited a flat hundred thousand dollars into my mother’s account, guaranteeing we would not have to worry about bills for at least three months. Because of Asher’s massive deposit, the staff even upgraded my mother to an intensive care VIP suite. Watching my mother sleep peacefully, a massive weight lifted off my chest. I pulled out my phone and sent a twenty-dollar tip to the nurse who had agreed to call me at that exact time. Exposing Brittany’s lies to Asher was really just a side quest today. Securing my mother’s treatment was the real victory. Finally catching my breath, I looked up at the floating comments. [Is this side character completely insane? Her little stunt just threw the female lead’s entire plan into chaos.] [Asher is completely ignoring Brittany’s texts. Brittany is throwing a massive tantrum in the dorm, blaming the female lead for giving her a terrible excuse.] [Our female lead baby has never been treated this unfairly! She tried to help, and now she is getting yelled at. I am so mad!] 04 I had already drafted the IOU while sitting in the hospital waiting room. On the drive back, I held it out to Asher, but he refused to take it. I stubbornly kept my hand suspended in the air, playing the role of the fiercely independent, prideful poor girl to absolute perfection. Asher finally sighed deeply, shaking his head in defeat as he accepted the piece of paper. I could feel it. The way he looked at me had completely changed. Whenever Brittany took his money, she never once politely declined. Half the time, she outright asked for it. Before today, Asher probably did not think much of it. But now, comparing her greedy behavior to my stubborn, tearful independence, Asher was obviously feeling a deep sense of whiplash. Even though this amount of money was nothing to him, this was the fundamental flaw in the male ego. I can give it to you, but you are not allowed to reach out and demand it. More importantly, Asher originally fell for Brittany because of my face. He only bothered to learn about her “inner beauty” because he was captivated by my photos. When Asher offered to drive me all the way back to campus, I politely declined. I asked him to drop me off back at the hotel where I worked. Just before I stepped out of the car, Asher suddenly pulled up a photo on his phone and asked me when it was taken. I nailed the look of utter bewilderment. “Why do you have a picture of me on your phone?” Asher looked me dead in the eye. “My online girlfriend sent it to me.” I muttered softly, acting incredibly confused. “Online girlfriend…” I suddenly froze, my eyes widening in horror as I slapped a hand over my mouth. Asher’s sharp gaze locked onto me. “You know something, do you not?” I stammered, looking terrified, before finally spilling the beans about my three roommates and their massive online dating ring. “That photo… my roommate Vanessa took it yesterday. She loves taking candid pictures of me in the dorm.” In reality, Brittany was the one obsessed with snapping pictures of me. Even though all three roommates used my face, their methods were completely different. Brittany preferred the organic route, constantly finding sneaky excuses to take real-time photos of me. Penny was lazy, she just stole old pictures off my social media feeds. Vanessa, the female lead, was the true mastermind. She used advanced AI to manipulate my face into whatever videos or photos she needed. She even used deepfake software to video chat with her targets. By pinning the blame entirely on Vanessa right in front of Asher, I was throwing her straight under the bus. The floating text instantly exploded, cursing me out with every vile word in the dictionary. Watching Asher’s face turn completely thunderous, I slowly closed my eyes. The comments insisted that Asher would eventually fall in love with Vanessa’s brilliant mind anyway. I decided I was going to sever that little red thread of fate right here, right now. 05 Asher operated with ruthless efficiency. He dumped Brittany instantly, demanding she return every single penny he had spent on her, or he was bringing down a massive lawsuit on her head. But the money was already gone. Brittany desperately begged Penny and Vanessa for a loan, throwing an absolutely apocalyptic tantrum in the dorm. She straight up blackmailed them. Because Penny had once logged into her social media on Brittany’s laptop, Brittany had secretly memorized the username of Penny’s billionaire boyfriend. If they did not bail her out, she was going to expose all of them. If she was going down, she was dragging the whole ship with her. I have no idea how the three of them negotiated a truce behind closed doors. All I know is that the mountain of designer bags stacked in Vanessa and Penny’s closets mysteriously vanished overnight. And Brittany was permanently exiled from their little alliance. The second I walked into the dorm, the atmosphere was suffocatingly weird. Looking at Brittany sitting alone in the corner, I knew this was only the beginning of her nightmare. I pretended to be completely oblivious and sat down at my desk to study. Vanessa suddenly hovered over me and physically dragged me out into the hallway. She looked at me, eyes burning with gossip. “My aunt told me your mom’s hospital bill was completely paid off today.” She paused, winking conspiratorially. “Did you go on a date with Mr. Henderson this morning?” Mr. Henderson was the greasy old creep Vanessa had so generously introduced me to. Vanessa’s aunt worked as a nurse at the hospital where my mother was admitted. That was how Vanessa found out about my desperate financial situation, allowing her to “kindly” point me toward selling my body to an old man. I looked at Vanessa’s eagerly expectant face and shook my head. “Someone lent me the money. I paid it off for now.” Vanessa looked highly skeptical. “That is a massive amount of cash. Who would casually lend you that kind of money?” “Besides, loans have to be paid back eventually.” She was gearing up to gaslight me into calling Mr. Henderson, ready to hype up his wealth and generosity. I cut her off smoothly. I remembered reading online that the fastest way to make someone shut up is to ask them for a loan. “Vanessa, your boyfriend buys you all those luxury bags and gives you a massive weekly allowance. Could you lend me some money to pay off my debt?” Vanessa snapped her mouth shut instantly. She stuttered out a pathetic excuse about how she had already spent all her allowance. She was not entirely lying. Every dime she scammed off her online boyfriend went straight into funding her elite spa treatments and luxury skincare routines. Before I could press her further, Vanessa spun around and darted back into the dorm. I followed right behind her, just in time to hear Penny sighing in massive relief. “Thank god Declan has not demanded we meet in person yet.” Unfortunately for her, she was celebrating way too early.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524622”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 A TikTok street interview went viral; the host asked Ryan how he maintains a long relationship. Smiling to the camera, Ryan shared they never skip daily routines even mid-fights: goodnight texts, meal photos and constant updates. The quote shot him to top trends, netizens praising him as the ideal boyfriend. Among warm comments stood one bitter reply from his ex Natalie, claiming Ryan used to have a violent temper. My smile faded. Their breakup was brutal, so I rushed to defend him online. I wrote he calms his rage by assembling furniture at our future house and sends blurry work photos to signal he needs comfort. Users went crazy over his thoughtfulness. My training ended early, so I rebooked a flight to surprise and comfort him in person. The door of our new house hung ajar when I arrived. Ryan pinned a woman against our wedding portrait, her messy handprints smearing my face in the photo. My hand shook on the doorknob. His daily reminder chimed. He snapped a blurry photo of curtains and tossed his phone aside. The woman sneered that his sweet girlfriend would collapse if she learned the truth behind those photos. Ryan stayed cold and unyielding, telling her to hush and calling me a far better girl than her.In my pocket, my phone vibrated. The blurry, dark picture of the curtains popped up on my screen. With a slight shudder of my hand, the door swung open. Our eyes locked. Ryan froze for a brief moment, then slowly, calmly, he began buttoning his shirt. He walked over and took the suitcase from my hand. “Maybe it is better you saw this. Keeping it from you was getting exhausting.” He pointed at the woman. “This is Natalie. My ex.” Natalie arched an eyebrow. She walked past me to the cabinet, pulling out a bath towel with practiced ease. She looked me up and down, then tilted her head toward Ryan. “You have decent taste. No wonder you like her. The sweet girl looks even better in person than she does on social media.” Ryan’s expression darkened. He grabbed her wrist. “Social media? She is different from you. Stay away from her.” Natalie slapped his hand away, stuck her tongue out, and strolled into the bathroom. The sound of running water started almost immediately. Ryan turned back to me, pulling me toward the sofa. “If you were coming back early, why didn’t you ask me to pick you up?” He sighed, trying to smooth things over. “Even when we fight, I am still your boyfriend.” It took me a long time to find my voice. “Not anymore,” I whispered. Ryan’s brow furrowed. With a sudden sweep of his hand, the orange-scented candle I had brought back as a gift was knocked off the coffee table, shattering on the floor. “Jane, I can never bring myself to take my anger out on you. What is so wrong with me finding an outlet?” He glared at me. “I update you on every single detail of my day. Is that still not enough for you?” In an instant, his words tore open a buried memory. Years ago, my parents had a silent fight, and my father walked out, vanishing for a week. My mother had gone out into a raging blizzard, crying as she tried to reach the police station, only to receive the news of my father’s fatal car crash. She collapsed in the snow, breaking her leg. At the funeral, Ryan held my trembling hand and whispered over and over, “Don’t be afraid, Jane. I will always tell you where I am. I will update you on everything so you never have to worry.” Now, the sharp scent of the orange candle mixed with the musk of sex in the room, making my eyes burn with tears. Ryan’s warm fingertips touched my cheek, his tone softening. “The house is finished. Let’s get married. We can move your mother in with us.” He pulled a ring box from his pocket. “I even designed the place with her in mind.” I looked around the apartment. There were no thresholds at the entrance, the hallways were wide enough for a wheelchair to turn smoothly, and all the sharp corners of the furniture were wrapped in soft padding. My chest tightened. The doctor had told me my mother’s health was failing rapidly, and her greatest wish was to see me walk down the aisle. The bathroom door clicked open. Natalie stepped out, wrapping the towel loosely around herself. “So? Does she like the ring?” She smiled, looking at us. “Since we fell for the same man, our tastes must be identical.” She patted Ryan on the shoulder, the towel slipping down a fraction more. “Just deduct my consulting fee from my wedding registry gift.” I could not take it anymore. I grabbed the ring and hurled it straight at her face. “Why are you always here? Do you not have your own home? Why do you have to ruin everything?” A heavy silence fell over the room. Natalie’s eyes welled with tears, and she let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “Actually, I don’t. My dad abandoned us, and my mom died of a heart attack.” She bent down, picked up the ring, and placed it on the coffee table. As she pulled on her coat, she mumbled, “I’ll leave. If you need a discount on wedding catering, let me know. I can get you a deal.” Ryan grabbed her by the wrist to stop her. He turned his gaze to me, the anger in his eyes no longer hidden. “Jane, didn’t you just say we were broken up?” My mouth opened, but no sound came out. He let out a cold laugh, grabbed my suitcase, and pushed me out into the hallway. The door slammed shut in my face. Through the thin wood, I heard his voice, sharp and clear. “Then who said this house was yours?” At three in the morning, the wind off the river was freezing, bringing down a sudden torrent of rain. Standing by the curb in nothing but thin clothes and slippers, the rain poured down my collar and ran down my back. I shivered to the bone. I hailed a cab back to the research institute’s staff apartments. The driver was an older woman. She glanced at me in the rearview mirror and spoke gently. “Sweetheart, there is nothing in this life you can’t get over. The past is just scenery. You have to keep moving forward.” She paused, handing me a tissue. “My daughter is about your age. Don’t cry. Your mother would be heartbroken to see you like this.” I reached up to touch my face, only to realize I was completely drenched in tears. She was right. I had to look forward. I took a deep breath and sent a message to my director. “I will take the lead on the joint research project in Boston.” Within seconds, my phone rang. The old director’s voice was filled with excitement. “You’ll take it? That changes everything. Our success rate just doubled. I thought you backed out because you were getting married. I’ll book your flight right away.” When I unlocked the door to my apartment, I was shocked to find Ryan sitting on the sofa. Hearing the door, he stood up, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck. “Jane, I am so sorry. You have no idea how worried I was about you.” I pushed him away, looking straight into his eyes. I held out my hand. “Give me back my keys.” Ryan gripped my shoulders, his tone patronizing, as if he were dealing with a throwing a tantrum. “Stop being childish, Jane. Tomorrow I will help you pack, we will move your things to our new place, and then we will head to City Hall to register our marriage.” He hesitated before adding, “But Natalie has no one else in this world. We should set aside the guest room for her, okay?” My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the confirmation for my flight to Boston, departing in three days. I gave a dull nod. Ryan stared at me, visibly caught off guard by how quickly I had surrendered. A relieved smile spread across his face. “I missed you so much while you were gone.” He leaned in to kiss me, but a wave of nausea washed over me. I pushed him away and gagged. He reached out to pat my back, but I took a sharp step away from him. His fingers hovered in the air before he slowly pulled his hand back. The next second, his phone began to ring. “Ryan, Natalie just had a massive asthma attack at the mixology competition!” Ryan hung up the phone. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with profound disappointment. “Jane, don’t do things like this again.” I stared at him, confused. He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. “You saw on her social media that she has asthma, so you deliberately brought that orange-scented candle into the house to trigger her.” “Stop these pathetic little games.” “Get some sleep. I will come by to help you move tomorrow.” The door clicked shut behind him. Outside, the headlights of his car swept across the window before fading into the rainy night. My phone screen lit up with endless notifications from the institute’s group chat. “Jane, let’s celebrate your promotion and the Boston trip. We are out tonight, come join us!” I looked at the bar location they shared. It looked familiar. Perhaps driven by the final, stubborn ember of resentment in my chest, I replied, “On my way.” The bar was a blur of flashing lights and loud music. My colleague Lily immediately pulled me into a booth and handed me a glass of juice. “You finally made it! This place is famous for its live mixology tournaments.” She pointed toward the stage. In the center of the spotlight, Natalie was flipping bottles, the liquor carving elegant arcs through the air. I let out a bitter laugh. Of course it was this bar. Lily leaned in closer, whispering the local gossip. “You missed the drama earlier. The bartender coughed a few times, and this incredibly handsome guy rushed in from outside. I heard he is her ex. Apparently, they had a horrible breakup years ago, but true love always finds a way, right?” I followed her gaze. Right across from the stage, Ryan was leaning back in a leather chair, a drink in his hand, his eyes locked onto Natalie. When his eyes shifted and caught mine, he froze. He stood up abruptly, cutting through the crowded dance floor, and grabbed my wrist with a tight grip. “Jane, are you stalking me?” He hissed. “Do you really trust me that little?” Lily leaned over, confused. “Jane, is this the devoted guy from online? Are you guys friends?” Only then did Ryan notice my colleague sitting next to me. I took a slow sip of my juice and smiled faintly. “No, we aren’t close.” In our three years together, he had never once attended a single gathering with my coworkers. I had always assumed he had social anxiety. It turned out he simply reserved his presence for a different circle. Natalie noticed the commotion and walked over from behind the bar. She looked at me, a smirk playing on her lips as she lightly shook a metallic shaker. “You wouldn’t snub my signature drink, would you?” I frowned, but before I could speak, Lily blocked the glass. “Sorry, my friend doesn’t drink. Find someone else.” Natalie’s eyes turned red instantly. She looked around at the gathering crowd, letting out a soft sigh. “I guess my mixology skills aren’t refined enough to impress this lady.” Without warning, Ryan snatched the juice from my hand and forced Natalie’s cocktail glass into my palm. “Just one glass, Jane. Give it a try.” I stared up at him, my voice barely a whisper through my gritted teeth. “Ryan, you know I have a life-threatening alcohol allergy.” He leaned in close to my ear, his voice low. “Today is Natalie’s big championship. I know about your allergy.” “But if someone with an allergy drinks it and loves it, doesn’t that prove how incredible her skills are?” A mocking smile touched my lips. The logic was entirely absurd. He paused, then added, “If you help her win this trophy tonight, I can finally marry you with a clear conscience. Jane, just consider this a favor to help me fulfill her dream.” Lily’s voice was filled with shock. “You are Jane’s boyfriend?” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Why?” I locked eyes with him. “Why should I have to pay the price for your lingering attachment to your ex?” Embarrassment flashed across Ryan’s face, and he coughed nervously. Natalie chose that moment to tug gently on his sleeve. “It is fine, Ryan. If I don’t win tonight, I can always try again in three years.” Ryan squeezed her hand, then glared back at me. “Jane, your mother’s physical therapy bills still have two unpaid cycles.” My vision blurred, and a loud ringing filled my ears. “Fine, Ryan. I will drink this.” My hand shook as I raised the glass. “And we are officially done.” He smiled, dismissive of my words. “Sure. We can stop being boyfriend and girlfriend, and go straight to being husband and wife.” I downed the liquid in one throat-burning gulp. By the time the empty glass hit the table, my vision was already spinning. I tried to stand, stumbling blindly toward the exit as my airways began to constrict. Suddenly, my jaw was forced open. Ryan pulled a small amber bottle from his pocket, popped two pills, and forced them down my throat, tilting my head back to make me swallow. “You are fine, Jane. I always keep your allergy meds on me. I wouldn’t have pushed you if I didn’t have a safety net.” He began rubbing my back to help me catch my breath. But my breathing did not improve. My chest felt as though it were being wrapped tighter and tighter in plastic wrap. Bright red hives began spreading rapidly from my wrists up my arms. Ryan’s brow furrowed. “What is going on? Why isn’t the medicine working?” Natalie let out a sharp gasp, covering her mouth in mock horror. “Oh no… when I was at your place the other day, I think I mixed up my asthma inhaler pills with the allergy meds in your coat pocket…” Lily jumped up, frantically dialing 911. Ryan’s face turned icy cold. He shoved Natalie’s hand away. “How could you be so stupid? You can’t do anything right.” But in the next heartbeat, he grabbed Natalie’s arm, pulling her toward the exit. “I am taking her to get a new inhaler before she gets blamed for this.” As he passed me, he cast a brief, detached glance downward. “Jane, your friend already called the ambulance. You are smart, you can handle yourself.” I collapsed onto the floor, my phone slipping from my hand and ringing loudly. Lily answered it for me. Just before darkness claimed my consciousness, a voice drifted from the speaker. “Miss Jane, your mother… she jumped from the building during her physical therapy session.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524621”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At our college graduation party, someone suggested we play “Me Through My Boyfriend’s Lens.” Every guy with a partner had to pull up three photos of his girlfriend from his camera roll. The cutest, the sexiest, and the funniest. When it was Austin’s turn, the crowd erupted, chanting his name and slamming their glasses. They declared him our star photographer and raised the stakes. Thirty pictures, they demanded, or he had to down his drink. Curious to see how he saw me, I leaned closer. But the moment I moved, Austin shut off his screen with a sharp, defensive flick. Without a word, he grabbed his glass and drained it. The laughter died, replaced by an awkward silence. Sensing the tension, Austin forced a casual laugh. “Caitlin is way too cute. I’m not sharing her with you guys.” The mood warmed back up. A friend nudged him, teasing that Austin had fried four memory cards shooting Brandi’s portfolios. There was no way he didn’t have thirty photos of his own girlfriend. He was just hoarding them. Brandi laughed it off, playfully hitting the guy. “Those were strictly for my portfolio!” The group chuckled and let the topic slide. I watched Austin release a slow, visible sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing. My chest tightened, a cold weight settling in my stomach. Amidst the blaring music and clinking glasses, my voice cut through, flat and clear. “Austin, I want to see your camera roll.” The room went quiet again. Austin, sitting right next to me, went rigid. A second later, he recovered his smile and draped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Come on, babe. I will show you when we get back home.” I shook my head. “I want to see it now. I am really curious to see what I look like through my boyfriend’s eyes.” I looked at him, forcing my lips to curve upward, though the warmth never reached my eyes. His grip on my shoulder tightened, his tone laced with soft exasperation. “Caitlin, don’t be like this. You know I have confidential family business files saved on there.” It was always the same excuse. In our three years of dating, I had never once looked through Austin’s phone. He had a locked vault on his device, and whenever I asked, he claimed it was filled with sensitive documents regarding his family’s logistics company. Since he had taken over a portion of the family business during our freshman year, I had never doubted him. I had respected his privacy and never brought it up again. But tonight, I did not want to be reasonable. His sheer panic made me desperate to know the truth. “I won’t look at your files,” I said, my voice steady. “Just text the photos to me.” “You don’t even have to send thirty. Just ten.” “We have been together for three years, Austin. Surely your phone has at least ten photos of me.” The more observant people in the room began to exchange knowing glances, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of drama. As the silence stretched, my heart sank lower and lower. I had never imagined he would struggle to find even ten pictures. He could fill gigabytes of storage with Brandi’s modeling shoots, but he could not produce ten simple photos of the girl he supposedly loved. A wave of profound absurdity washed over me. I grabbed my bag from the booth, ready to walk out. Austin finally snapped out of his daze, reaching for my arm. “Caitlin, wait, let me explain…” Brandi stood up from across the table, quickly walking over to grab my hand. “Caitlin, is this because of what they said? Please don’t misunderstand.” “Don’t listen to them. You know I need to constantly update my social media for my modeling gigs, and Austin is the only decent photographer I know. It was purely professional. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will never ask him for help again.” “And who else is going to take them?” Austin suddenly snapped. His brow was furrowed, his voice dropping into a sharp, displeased register. “Did you forget that freelance photographer who stalked you to your apartment? What if you run into someone like that again?” Brandi shot him a desperate look, trying to signal him to stop talking, but he ignored her completely, his face tight with protective worry. “If anything happens to you, how am I supposed to face your mother?” The two of them stood there, arguing back and forth, entirely shutting me out of the conversation. Behind me, I caught the hushed whispers of two classmates. “Austin is still as protective of Brandi as ever.” “Well, they have been inseparable since middle school. If Brandi hadn’t dated that guy during freshman year, Austin probably would have confessed to her back then.” “Then what about Caitlin?” “Maybe she is just the placeholder? You know, the substitute for the dream girl.” My throat felt incredibly dry, my chest aching with a bitter, suffocating resentment. I wanted to speak, to defend myself, but as I parted my lips, I realized I had absolutely no ground to stand on. Austin finally finished his debate with Brandi. Having lost the argument, she huffed, crossing her arms as she walked to the far side of the room. When Austin turned his gaze back to me, the warmth was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, impatient irritation. “Caitlin, it was just a party game. Why do you have to ruin the mood like this?” “Brandi is my childhood friend. Am I supposed to stand by and watch her get hurt?” My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. “I didn’t say that…” I just wanted to know if I mattered to you. But he cut me off, his voice flat. “You want photos? Fine. I will send them.” He tapped on his screen for a few moments. Soon, my phone buzzed with incoming notifications. Ten photos. Exactly ten, not a single one more. All of them featured me. A few curious onlookers peeked over my shoulder, letting out relieved chuckles as they patted my back. “See? He had them all along. Look at these, they are all candid shots. Austin was telling the truth, he just wanted to keep them for himself.” “Caitlin, you were totally overthinking it.” “Alright, drama over! Let’s get back to the music!” Nobody noticed that my fingers were gripping the phone so hard my knuckles had turned white. Yes, the photos were of me. But my eyes instantly locked onto the details at the edges of the frames. In one photo of me at a cafe, a familiar fabric peeked into the corner of the shot, the sleeve of the dress Brandi had worn that exact day. In another, a few stray locks of long, chestnut hair hovered in the margin. These weren’t candid photos Austin had taken of me because he found me beautiful. These were tightly cropped details, sliced out of larger photos he had taken of Brandi. My lungs felt tight, a sharp pain radiating through my chest. When he looked through that camera lens, who was he actually focusing on? Me, or the girl standing right beside me? A flood of memories rushed over me. We had started dating in the spring of our freshman year, and it wasn’t long before he introduced me to Brandi. At the time, she was still with her college boyfriend. The four of us would occasionally go out for dinners. Every single time we ordered, Austin would effortlessly recite Brandi’s favorite dishes, her exact spice tolerance, and her allergies. Once, Brandi’s boyfriend joked, “Austin, buddy, let me do the ordering next time, or Brandi is going to think I don’t care about her preferences.” Austin had laughed it off, promising to step back, but by the next dinner, he was right back to his old habits. Later, after Brandi broke up with her boyfriend, we still hung out constantly. Whenever I bought tickets for a movie or planned a weekend getaway, Austin would always add, “Great, let me text Brandi to see if she is free to join us.” When I voiced my discomfort, he would reassure me, saying that his mother had promised Brandi’s family to look after her. Since her family had helped him during his childhood, he felt obligated to repay the debt. I had swallowed my pride and endured it. Then Brandi started her modeling work, and her schedule became packed. I thought we would finally have some time to ourselves. Until that creepy photographer stalked her. The night she called him, terrified, Austin left me sitting alone in a dark movie theater to rush to her side. I understood the gravity of the situation, so I hadn’t complained. But after that night, Austin became her personal photographer. They spent more time together than we did. Across the room, the speakers blared a classic ballad about unrequited love. I looked over. Austin had reclaimed his seat next to Brandi, leaning in close to whisper something to her, his attention entirely consumed by her. In this crowded, noisy room, she was the only one who existed to him. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped my throat. I should have seen the signs long ago. I had simply chosen to remain blind. Without a sound, I slipped out of the room. I pulled out my phone. A text from my internship supervisor sat at the top of my notifications. The company wanted to offer me a permanent, full-time position. Austin came from a wealthy family and possessed incredible natural talent. I had desperately wanted to be successful enough to stand beside him as an equal. So, I had entered one of the most competitive firms in the city. Out of thirty interns, only one would be offered a contract. To secure my place in this city, I had worked myself to the bone. I had stayed up until dawn finalizing proposals even when running a high fever. I had planned to share this incredible news with him tonight. Now, I realized there was no point. My fingers tapped lightly against the glass screen. “Thank you for the opportunity, but I must respectfully decline. Please offer the position to someone else.” I was going back to Savannah. During our senior year, Austin had rented an apartment close to my office, and I had been living there with him. But that night, I didn’t go back. I went to my old dorm room instead. The next morning, I woke up to several missed calls and messages from him. “Why didn’t you come back last night?” “Caitlin, are you still throwing a tantrum?” “Brandi hired a female photographer, I won’t be shooting her portfolios anymore. Is that enough to satisfy you?” I read the texts, finding no trace of genuine remorse, only a tired, heavy annoyance. I began typing a reply, then deleted it. After some thought, I decided we needed to end this in person. I owed our three years together a proper conclusion. I sent him the address of a quiet cafe near campus. After waiting for thirty minutes, Austin arrived, but the familiar figure of Brandi was right behind him. Under the table, my fingers curled into tight fists. They walked over and sat down across from me. Austin picked up the menu, while Brandi offered a bright, cheerful wave. “Caitlin, you left so suddenly last night without saying goodbye.” “But oh my gosh, this cafe is absolutely beautiful! The lighting is perfect for a shoot. I should have asked my new photographer to come along. Oh well, Austin, you can just snap a few quick ones of me later.” Austin smiled, his tone a mix of indulgence and affection. “Whatever you say, princess.” He waved down the waiter. “A sweet latte, an iced americano, and…” He paused, finally looking at me. “Caitlin, what are you having?” A bitter pang went through my chest. Three years, and he still did not know my order. “Just a glass of water, please,” I told the waiter. Austin seemed to realize his mistake, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Are you sure? What about a cappuccino? Or a vanilla latte?” “Austin, it doesn’t matter,” I cut him off. “I asked you here because…” “Oh my gosh! Look at that sunlight!” Brandi squealed, pointing at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Austin, quick, get the camera!” The sunlight streamed through the glass, catching the golden highlights in her hair, making her look radiant. Austin’s eyes lit up instantly. “That is perfect. Let me grab the camera.” He pulled out his phone, a vintage CCD camera, and his professional DSLR from his bag, carefully adjusting the settings as he began directing her poses. He was entirely absorbed in his work, treating it like a grand artistic endeavor. I remembered the times we had traveled together. When I asked him to take a single photo of me against a beautiful backdrop, he would snap a quick picture in three seconds flat, barely looking at the screen. He had never truly looked at me through that lens. As long as Brandi was in the room, his eyes would only ever find her. They continued their impromptu shoot, completely ignoring my presence. The waiter returned with the drinks, smiling warmly at them. “I don’t think I have ever seen a boyfriend so dedicated to taking photos of his girl.” “Yes, he is quite dedicated,” I said quietly. The waiter’s voice was clear, and Brandi’s eyes flickered in my direction. She had definitely heard him, but she made no effort to correct him. Instead, a subtle, smug triumph flashed deep within her eyes. “That expression is perfect!” Austin exclaimed, clicking the shutter. Whether he had heard the waiter or not, it didn’t matter anymore. I took a slow sip of my water, placing the glass back on the table with a soft click. “Austin, let’s break up.” Click. Austin took one last shot, reviewed the image on his screen, and finally turned his head to look at me. “What? Sorry, Caitlin, what did you say?” I glanced at Brandi, offering a faint smile. “Brandi heard me. You can ask her.” With that, I stood up and walked out of the cafe. On my way back to the dorms, my phone began to ring incessantly. I hesitated before picking up. A heavy silence stretched across the line for a full minute before his voice came through, low and tense. “Caitlin, you want to break up?” “Yes.” “Why? Have I not been good to you?” I was stunned by the question. He genuinely had no idea why I was leaving. If I looked at our relationship in a vacuum, Austin was a decent boyfriend. He bought me expensive gifts, helped me with career advice, and supported me whenever I faced challenges. But that was only when Brandi wasn’t involved. “Austin,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Have you ever paused to think about who you actually love?” The line went dead silent, his breathing catching. “I am not going to spend my life playing second fiddle to someone else. Let’s just end it here.” I hung up, refusing to answer any of his subsequent calls or texts. The next few days passed in quiet isolation. On my final day at the internship, my supervisor pulled me into her office. “Caitlin, are you absolutely sure about this? Most graduates would kill for a starting position here.” I smiled gratefully. “Thank you, but my mind is made up.” I knew that with my qualifications, I could secure a good job back in Savannah. When I stepped out of the office building, I was surprised to find Austin leaning against his car, his eyes locked onto me. He strode over, grabbing my hand in a tight grip. “Caitlin, what did you mean by that phone call?” “You are my girlfriend. If you want to end things, you owe me a real explanation.” “I have already said everything I need to say,” I replied, pulling against his grip. “Please let go of me.” His fingers dug in deeper, a stubborn, frantic energy rolling off him. “Is this about the photography? I told you, she has a new photographer now. I am done shooting for her.” “But you still took her photos at the cafe, didn’t you?” I asked, a mocking smile on my face. He flinched, his voice faltering. “That was… an exception.” I did not want to waste another breath. I pulled away and walked quickly toward the bus stop. My bus back to campus was arriving. Suddenly, a loud engine roared from down the street. As the motorcycle sped past, a gloved hand reached out and violently snatched my bag from my shoulder. The force of the yank sent me crashing onto the concrete. My palms and knees scraped hard against the asphalt, blood welling up immediately. “Caitlin!” Austin rushed over, his face pale with panic as he knelt beside me, trying to pull up his phone to dial 911. Before he could dial, his phone began to ring. He glanced at the caller ID, freezing for a fraction of a second before answering. “Brandi…” Within seconds, Austin stood up, his face turning completely cold. “That creep came back to your place?” “Hang on, I am on my way!” I bit my lip against the throbbing pain, my bloody fingers reaching out to grab the hem of his coat. “Austin…” He looked down at me, a flash of conflict crossing his eyes. Then, he knelt back down, using his thumb to gently wipe some dirt from my cheek. “I called the ambulance, they will be here soon. Brandi is in immediate danger, I have to go help her. Caitlin, wait for me.” Before I could say a word, he turned and ran down the street, disappearing around the corner. I stared at his retreating back, slowly letting go of the breath in my throat. The question I wanted to ask him, Now do you see who you really love? remained unspoken. I thought my heart would break, but perhaps the physical pain of my scraped limbs numbed the ache. I felt incredibly, terrifyingly calm. When my parents heard the news, they drove through the night to reach the hospital. The police were efficient, apprehending the thief and returning my stolen belongings within a day. I spent three days recovering in the hospital. Many friends came to visit, but Austin was never one of them. Lying in bed, I scrolled through my feed and saw Brandi’s latest post. It was a picture of a harbor at sunset, with the caption: Grateful for the harbor that always waits for my ship. I tapped the heart icon and closed the app. The next day, Austin finally rushed into the hospital lobby. “I am looking for Caitlin. Which ward is she in?” The receptionist checked her computer and looked up. “I am sorry, she was discharged yesterday.” Unable to reach me by phone, he drove straight to my office, only for my supervisor to adjust her glasses and sigh. “Caitlin? She declined our offer, resigned from her internship, and left the city. She should be back in her hometown by now.” Her words hit him like a physical blow, pinning him to the spot. Austin’s face drained of all color.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “524620”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel