The bleeding wouldn’t stop. I lay on the delivery bed, the overhead lights blindingly white. Someone shouted, “More pressure!” I could hear running, the sound of shoes squeaking frantically against the linoleum floor. My consciousness was sinking. I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. Just cold. A deep, creeping cold starting from the soles of my feet. The delivery room door wasn’t shut completely. Voices drifted in from the hallway. It was my mother-in-law, Martha. She was on the phone. “…Five hundred thousand dollars, that was the agreed-upon dowry. If she doesn’t make it, can we get that money back?” I heard it perfectly clearly. Every single word. 1. I didn’t die. The doctor said I hemorrhaged two liters of blood and they spent forty minutes trying to stabilize me. They managed to save my uterus. The baby lived, too. Six pounds, two ounces, a little boy. When the nurse brought the baby over for me to see, I was still shaking. Not from the cold, but because my body hadn’t fully returned from the edge. I looked at my son. A wrinkled little face, eyes squeezed shut, mouth opening and closing like a baby bird. I didn’t cry. I was thinking about that sentence. “If she doesn’t make it, can we get that money back?” The hospital room door opened. David walked in. He looked pale, his eyes a little red. He stood by the bed, looked at me for a moment, and said, “You scared me to death.” I looked back at him. “When you had to sign the consent forms, how long did you hesitate?” He froze. “What?” “To save the mother or save the child. When the doctor asked you to sign. How long did you hesitate?” “I didn’t hesitate,” he answered quickly. Too quickly. People don’t answer that fast when they’re telling the truth. I didn’t push it. I was too exhausted. Tubes were sticking out of me, and a blood transfusion was still dripping into my arm. I closed my eyes. David sat beside me for a while. He didn’t hold my hand. He didn’t ask if I was in pain. He was looking at his phone. Through my half-closed eyes, I saw the screen. It was a text thread with his mother. He was replying to her. I shut my eyes completely. Ten minutes later, the door opened again. Martha walked in. She was carrying a thermos, walked straight to my bedside, and set it on the nightstand. “You’re awake? Eat something.” She glanced at the baby, a smile breaking across her face. “Six pounds two ounces, not bad.” She opened the thermos, poured out a bowl of soup, and held it out to me. “Drink this, it’s pork rib broth.” I didn’t take it. I was staring at her face. This was a face I had looked at for three years. A round face, eyes that crinkled into slits when she smiled, a loud, booming voice. The neighbors all called her the friendly Mrs. Hayes. Twenty minutes ago, this same face was out in the hallway on the phone, voice lowered, weighing my worth like a piece of meat on a scale. Could they get the five hundred thousand dollar dowry back? While I was bleeding out, she was doing the math. “Mia, are you going to drink this or not?” she asked again, her voice a notch louder. I took the bowl. My hands were shaking. A little bit of broth spilled onto the blanket. She didn’t notice. She was too busy looking at the baby. “He looks just like David,” she smiled. I lowered my head and sipped the soup. I couldn’t taste anything. It tasted like absolutely nothing. That night, David went home. He said he needed to clean up the house and get things ready for the baby. Martha left, too. She said she’d be back first thing in the morning. Only the baby and I were left in the room. Out in the hallway, I could hear other new mothers talking, men’s voices coaxing them—”Does it hurt? What do you want to eat? I’ll go buy it.” The husband of the woman in the bed next to mine came back with a bouquet of flowers. On my nightstand sat that half-finished bowl of pork rib broth. Cold. No flowers. No fruit. Not a single “You went through so much today.” I rolled onto my side, facing the wall. The baby let out a tiny grunt from his bassinet. I closed my eyes. I didn’t cry. My brain just kept replaying that one sentence, over and over. “If she doesn’t make it, can we get that money back?” The next morning, the nurse came in for rounds. “Where’s your family? Why isn’t anyone here with you?” “They went home to clean up,” I said. The nurse gave me a look but didn’t say anything else. She changed my dressings, checked my bleeding, and told me to get plenty of rest. I asked her, “Yesterday, during the emergency… who signed the consent forms?” “Your husband.” “Did he… sign them quickly?” The nurse hesitated. “You just focus on resting.” She didn’t answer. But her hesitation was all the answer I needed. 2. On my third day postpartum, Martha came by. Not to see me. The first thing she said when she walked in was, “I looked into a postpartum doula. Twelve thousand a month, that’s way too expensive. I’ll just take care of you during your recovery. Save us some money.” I didn’t say anything. She continued, “And that postpartum rehab package you wanted? Eighteen hundred dollars? Don’t bother. Women in the old days never did any of that ‘postpartum rehab’ nonsense, and they turned out just fine.” I stared at her. Eighteen hundred dollars. On the third day after I almost died, she was here to haggle over my recovery. “You’re healthy, you’ll bounce back quick,” she said with a smile. “We’ll save that money for the baby.” I stayed silent. I had heard that exact phrasing before. During my first year of marriage, I wanted to join a yoga studio. The annual membership was three hundred bucks. Martha had said, “Why do you need to pay for classes? Just do it at home. Save that money; having a kid is expensive.” Three hundred bucks. That same year, for her daughter Sarah’s birthday, Martha bought her a $4,800 designer bag. She even opened the package right in front of me. I hadn’t said a word. Three hundred versus eighteen hundred—the numbers changed, but the principle remained the same. My money wasn’t real money; only her daughter’s money mattered. We didn’t hire a doula. Martha came to “take care” of me. Her version of taking care of me consisted of: Cooking breakfast, microwaving the leftovers for lunch, and David bringing home takeout for dinner. When the baby cried at night, Martha didn’t get up. “I’m older, I don’t sleep well. You handle the night shifts.” I was just a week out from a massive hemorrhage. My incision still ached terribly. I had to get up every two hours to nurse. And David? He slept in the guest room. “I have to work tomorrow, I need to sleep.” No one ever asked, “How are you doing? Does your incision still hurt?” On the fifth day, I spiked a low-grade fever. 100.7 degrees. I told David. He said, “Just take some Tylenol. You’re breastfeeding, you can’t go to the hospital anyway.” Then he left for work. Martha was in the living room watching TV. I took my own temperature, took the medicine myself, and filled a thermos with hot water to keep by my bed. The fever broke that afternoon. No one knew. And no one cared. That afternoon, while the baby was sleeping, I propped myself up against the headboard and scrolled through my phone. David had posted on Facebook: “Welcomed our baby boy! Both mother and son are safe and healthy. Thank you everyone for the well wishes!” Attached was a picture of the baby. No picture of me. The comments were flooded with “Congratulations!” and “David’s a dad now!” David replied to every single one with smiley face emojis. Both mother and son are safe and healthy. He used those exact words. As if I were merely an incubator. Now that my function was complete, the incubator itself was irrelevant. I set the phone down next to my pillow. No ‘like’. No comment. I got up and changed a diaper. On my twelfth day postpartum. David’s sister, Sarah, came to visit. She brought a case of imported formula, a set of baby clothes, and a pile of colorful gift bags that covered the entire table. She held the baby, gave him a few kisses, and chatted and laughed with Martha. No one called me out of my room. From the bedroom, I heard Martha ask, “This formula looks fancy. How much was it?” Sarah replied, “About eighty bucks a can.” Martha said, “It’s a little pricey, but it’s good quality. We should give the baby the best.” Eighty dollars a can for formula, and she says, “give the baby the best.” Eighteen hundred for my postpartum rehab, and she says, “women in the old days never did that.” Twelve thousand for a doula, and she says, “way too expensive.” Spending money on the baby? Acceptable. Spending money on her daughter? Acceptable. Spending money on me? Too expensive. I sat in the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and the sound of laughter from the living room drifted in waves. I looked down at my hands. My nails were clipped short, and the skin on my fingertips was peeling from constantly washing baby bottles in hot water. I tucked my hands under the blanket. When Sarah left, she walked past my bedroom door, peeked her head in, and said, “Rest up and get better soon, Mia!” Her tone was light and cheerful. She didn’t step inside. The door clicked shut. 3. My physical recovery went alright, all things considered. Not because Martha took good care of me, but because I pushed through it myself. On the day the baby turned one month old, David suggested having a family dinner to celebrate. I said fine. At the restaurant, Martha held the baby, basking in the compliments from a crowd of relatives. “Martha, you’re so blessed. Look how healthy your grandson is.” “David’s done well for himself, finding such a good wife.” Martha laughed and said, “Yes, Mia is a good girl, just a bit too frivolous with money sometimes. But young people, you know, they’ll learn.” Frivolous with money. I sat at the very edge of the table. I paid for this entire dinner. The formula, the diapers, the utilities for the past month—I paid for all of it. The groceries during my recovery, my own medication—I paid for it. And I was “frivolous with money.” I didn’t argue. I picked up a piece of food, chewed it twice, and swallowed. That night, after clearing the table and seeing everyone out. David was in the living room playing video games. Martha was in the bedroom with the baby. I was alone in the kitchen, washing dishes. By the time I got to the third plate, I stopped. Today was my birthday. Nobody had mentioned it. In our first year of marriage, David remembered and bought me a lipstick. The second year, he forgot. When I brought it up, he said, “We’ll celebrate another day.” That ‘another day’ never came. The third year was today. The baby’s one-month celebration. Everyone remembered the baby turning a month old. No one remembered my birthday. I put the plate in the drying rack. Dried my hands. Went out to the balcony to bring in the laundry. Folded it, put it in the closet. I did these things every single day. Today was no different. Two weeks later, on a quiet afternoon while the baby was sleeping, I was reviewing my bank statements. Our expenses had been high that month, and I wanted to balance the books. And then I saw a transfer. Three months ago. From my and David’s joint account. Two hundred thousand dollars. Recipient: Sarah Hayes. Memo: “Down payment.” I stared at that number for thirty seconds. Two hundred thousand dollars. For Sarah’s down payment on a house. From our joint account. I scrolled further back. This joint account was opened after we got married. Martha had suggested, “It’s easier to manage if the family’s money is pooled together.” At the time, I thought it made sense. Let the mother-in-law handle the finances; less for me to worry about. My dowry—the four hundred and eighty thousand dollars my parents had given me—was deposited into this account. David’s family had offered a five hundred thousand dollar “bride price.” My parents received it, kept twenty thousand as a token gesture, and returned the remaining four hundred and eighty thousand, plus some of their own money, back to me as my dowry. Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. I kept scrolling. Eight months ago. A transfer of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Recipient: One of David’s cousins. Memo: “Loan repayment.” What loan? Four months ago. A transfer of eighty thousand dollars. Recipient: An investment firm. Memo: “Investment capital.” Who invested it? I scrolled some more. A smattering of smaller transfers—five thousand, eight thousand, three thousand… all sent to Martha’s personal checking account. Added together, it easily surpassed forty or fifty thousand. I closed the banking app. Opened the calculator. 200 + 150 + 80 + 50. Four hundred and eighty thousand. Exactly four hundred and eighty thousand. Down to the last penny, it matched my dowry. I sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. The screen was bright. The numbers glowed. My dowry. Not a single cent was left. The baby stirred in his crib beside me. I locked my phone. Placed it on the nightstand. Walked into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and took a sip. My hands weren’t shaking. My heart wasn’t racing. But a string snapped inside my head. The string labeled “Family.” Things my mother-in-law had said lined up in my memory— “Pooling the dowry together is for the good of this family.” “We’re all one family, there’s no ‘yours’ and ‘mine’.” “What does it matter who holds onto the money?” It mattered a great deal. Because when she held onto it, it vanished. 4. I didn’t confront David immediately. Nor did I go looking for Martha. I called my best friend, Jen. Jen is a CPA working at a major accounting firm. After I told her everything, she was silent for five seconds. “Screenshot all the bank statements and send them to me right now.” I did. She reviewed them for twenty minutes before calling me back. “Mia, this two hundred thousand for Sarah’s down payment—is the house in her name?” “I assume so.” “The hundred and fifty thousand ‘loan repayment’—do you know whose debt that was?” “No idea.” “The eighty thousand investment—did David ever discuss that with you?” “No.” “Your entire four hundred and eighty thousand dollar dowry has been drained. Did you have any idea before today?” “None.” Jen fell silent again. “Look up the deed for Sarah’s house. And get me the name of that investment firm, I’ll run a background check on them.” “Okay.” “Mia.” “Yeah.” “Don’t let them know you know.” “I know.” Checking the deed was easy. While David was at work, I took a trip down to the county clerk’s office. With my marriage license and ID, I pulled the property records for Sarah’s new place. Purchased entirely in cash. Two hundred thousand dollars. Owner: Sarah Hayes. It had absolutely nothing to do with me. My two hundred thousand dollar dowry bought a house with my sister-in-law’s name on it. Jen got back to me, too. That investment firm—David was listed as one of the partners. The eighty thousand went in, but the company had filed for bankruptcy and dissolved six months ago. Dissolved. Eighty thousand dollars, gone. And that hundred and fifty thousand dollar “loan repayment”? Jen did some digging. It was money Martha’s brother had borrowed a decade ago. He defaulted, and Martha used my dowry to pay off his old debt. My dowry paid off my mother-in-law’s brother’s ten-year-old debt. I sat in Jen’s office. Spread out in front of me were three printed stacks of bank statements, a property record printout, and a corporate dissolution notice. “Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars,” Jen said. “Yeah.” “Does David know?” “I’m not sure.” Actually, I was sure. But I didn’t want to say it out loud. Because if he knew… That would destroy me far more than losing the four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. I went home. Evening. David got back from work. I was cooking dinner. He took off his shoes, walked to the kitchen doorway, and asked, “What’s for dinner tonight?” “Braised short ribs.” “Sounds good.” He turned to leave. “David.” “Yeah?” “The money for Sarah’s house… did we pay for that?” His back stiffened. Just for a moment. Maybe a second. Then he turned around. “Yeah, Mom said to let her borrow it for now, she’ll pay us back eventually.” Borrow. He used the word “borrow.” “How much was it?” I asked. “…About a hundred grand or so.” A hundred grand or so. It was two hundred thousand. He cut the number in half. “When did this happen?” “Sometime last year, while you were pregnant. Mom said not to tell you, she didn’t want you to stress over it.” Didn’t want me to stress over it. When I was eight months pregnant, I cut my finger while chopping vegetables in the kitchen. I had to find and put on a band-aid myself. Nobody stressed over that. But spending two hundred thousand dollars of my money? That, they didn’t want me to stress over. I didn’t ask any more questions. I turned back around and kept chopping vegetables. He left. The sound of the TV drifted in from the living room. I put the ribs in the pot and put the lid on. Then I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes. Not out of exhaustion. But because I had just confirmed a fact. He knew. He had known the entire time. 5. For the next few days, I didn’t act out of the ordinary. I cooked, took care of the baby, did the laundry. Martha would drop by occasionally, hold her grandson, and say things like, “He’s growing so fast,” or “He looks just like David when he was a baby.” I would smile and agree. But every night, after everyone had gone to sleep, I did one thing. I audited our finances. Not just the joint account. I checked David’s credit card statements—he had an authorized user card I didn’t know about, issued to Martha. She was spending one to two thousand dollars a month on it, all at department stores, supermarkets, and pharmacies. I checked our mortgage payments—the house was David’s before we got married. Martha paid the down payment, and the mortgage was in David’s name. But the monthly payments… I checked the history… for the last two years, every single payment had been deducted from our joint account. Meaning, my dowry had been paying off David’s mortgage. On a house I didn’t own. I ran the numbers again. The $480,000 dowry was entirely gone. Adding my salary from the three years we’d been married, I had contributed about $45,000 to the household—groceries, utilities, baby expenses, general living costs. $480,000 plus $45,000 equals $525,000. I stared at that number for a very long time. Five hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Initially, the Hayes family offered a $500,000 “bride price.” My parents returned $480,000 of it. Doing the math, the Hayes family essentially paid a net total of $20,000. While I had put in a net total of $525,000. Who owed who? Outside the delivery room, Martha’s morbid calculation— “Can we get that five hundred thousand dollar dowry back?”— The five hundred thousand she was referring to was the initial amount the Hayes family offered. But she completely ignored the $480,000 she took back. And she certainly didn’t factor in the $45,000 I subsidized out of my own pocket. In her twisted ledger, the Hayes family spent five hundred thousand dollars to “buy” me. If I “died,” it was a bad investment. So she wanted a refund. I compiled all the numbers into a document and saved it on my phone. I password-protected it. Then I did something else. I called my mother. “Mom, you know that $480,000 dowry you gave me? Do you know what Martha did with it?” My mom went silent. “Mia, what’s wrong?” “Just answer the question first.” “…Your mother-in-law told me she put it in a high-yield CD for you two to use later.” A high-yield CD. Not a single cent was invested. It was all spent. My mom had no idea. My parents handed me the $480,000, I transferred it to the joint account, and Martha managed it. They thought the money was still there. The money had been gone for a long time. “Mom, it’s fine. I was just asking.” “Mia—” “Seriously, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” I hung up. I sat out on the balcony. The baby was on his playmat in the living room. The sun was shining brightly. I remembered my wedding day. My mom held my hand and said, “Live a good life with his family. If you ever run into any hardships, tell Mom.” I said I would. I thought “living a good life” meant cooking, raising kids, and not sweating the small stuff. I never imagined that the price of “living a good life” would be $525,000 and almost losing my life. That night, I unlocked David’s phone. I knew his passcode. I didn’t look at his texts with anyone else. I was looking for one specific thing. His chat history with Martha. I scrolled back to the day I gave birth. David: “Mom, the doctor says I need to sign the consent form to prioritize saving the mother.” Martha: “Don’t rush to sign anything just yet. Ask the doctor if there are any other options.” David: “She’s already hemorrhaging, it’s critical.” Martha: “I know it’s critical. But think about it—if you sign that, and what if… what happens to the money?” David: “…” Martha: “Just hold them off for a minute. Let me make a phone call and ask someone.” A gap of seven minutes. Seven minutes. Seven minutes while I was bleeding out in the delivery room. Then David sent a text: “Signed it.” Martha: “Fine, you signed it. If she pulls through, we’ll deal with the rest later.” I took screenshots of the conversation. I saved them to my personal email. Then I put his phone exactly back where I found it. My hands were perfectly steady. I had long passed the point of trembling. 6. The next day, I met Jen for lunch. I showed her all the documents. The bank statements. Property records. Company dissolution notice. Credit card bills. Mortgage payment history. Chat screenshots. And the document I created myself—the grand total of $525,000. Jen looked through it all without touching her food. “What are you going to do?” “Divorce him.” “And then?” “Get my money back.” “How?” “First, let me ask you a question.” “Shoot.” “The $480,000 dowry went into a joint account, but it was used entirely to benefit the Hayes family—buying Sarah a house, paying off his uncle’s debt, funding David’s investment. Legally, how is that classified?” Jen thought for a moment. “Although the dowry entered a joint account, its use was clearly a unilateral transfer to his relatives without your consent. This qualifies as the unauthorized disposal of joint marital assets by one spouse. You can argue that David should receive a smaller portion, or none at all, of the remaining assets during the divorce.” “Is that enough to get my money back?” “Yes. But you need a bulletproof chain of evidence.” I smiled. “I have it.” I printed out a complete set of all the screenshots, bank statements, and inquiry forms. I kept the digital originals. I made two sets of physical copies—one for Jen to keep, one to stash at my parents’ house. I went to see a lawyer. His name was Mr. Stevens, in his forties, and he had been handling divorce cases for over a decade. He reviewed the files. “The evidence is very strong,” he said. “In cases like this, there is a very high probability you can recover the vast majority of your dowry.” “I don’t want the vast majority.” “Hmm?” “I want all of it. $480,000. Every single cent.” Mr. Stevens gave me a look. “We can negotiate. You hold all the cards.” Leaving the law firm, I stood on the sidewalk for a moment. It was blazing hot. A brutal July sun. I remembered this time last year. I was eight months pregnant, taking an Uber by myself to my prenatal checkup. David said he had a meeting. Martha said her knee was acting up. I sat alone outside the ultrasound room waiting for my number to be called. Every other pregnant woman had someone with them. A husband, a mother-in-law. I was the only one alone. When the ultrasound printout came, I took a picture and sent it to David. He replied with an “Okay.” Just one word. Back then, I thought— Whatever, he’s busy. Looking back now— He wasn’t busy. He didn’t care. He hadn’t cared from the very beginning. The only things he cared about were what his mother said, the money his mother managed, and following every step his mother planned for him. I hailed a cab. “Driver, take me to Elm Street.” Elm Street was where my parents lived. It was time to tell them.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394929”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment the meeting ended, I knew this thirty-million-dollar deal was in the bag. I had just closed my laptop when my supervisor, Miranda Hayes, walked over with her arms crossed. She looked me up and down, her tone dripping with mockery. “Nice choice of dress. But I think educated women like us shouldn’t submit to beauty standards.” I froze for a moment, then explained, “We were hosting an important client. Dressing appropriately is basic respect, isn’t it? Besides, the proposal itself is what really matters.” She immediately raised her voice so the entire department could hear: “Respect? The client’s a man, and you’re the only woman in the room wearing a dress. Isn’t your intention obvious? Stop catering to men! Wake up!” One of the male colleagues tried to smooth things over. “Miranda, that’s too much. She really did well in the presentation today…” She immediately cut him off. “Of course you men would defend her! She’s a classic case of being disciplined without even realizing it, thinking she’s so professional and dedicated!” “If we professional women want respect, we need to break free from this mindset first.” “Next time, I suggest you come bare-faced and let your ability speak for itself. Don’t embarrass the rest of us women.” ……

When you’re utterly speechless, you really can’t help but laugh out loud. I had simply put on light makeup and worn an appropriate dress, yet somehow I was being labeled with all these accusations. “Miranda, you should really spend less time scrolling through social media. Just because someone feeds you content doesn’t mean you should swallow it whole. Do you even actually know what the term ‘disciplined thinking’ means?” “Your binary, single-track mindset is what really needs some training.” Her face instantly turned red. She’d probably never been talked back to by a subordinate in public before. “Jane! How dare you speak to me like that?!” She slammed the table, her finger almost poking my nose. “I’m your superior! Do you have any sense of propriety?!” I didn’t back down an inch, throwing her own words right back at her. “Propriety? Weren’t you just saying we should let our abilities do the talking? I just closed a deal. Let me see your abilities?” She was just a parachute manager with no real competence. She flew into a rage and swung her hand toward my face. I didn’t react in time. My cheek stung with burning pain. After hitting me, she seemed to regain her confidence, breathing heavily as she shouted. “Let me tell you something, Jane! I know you’re capable! But everyone knows how you got those abilities!” “Right now, in this company, I am your superior! You need to learn respect! Don’t think that just because you can seduce men with that face and land some small projects, you can throw your weight around here!” As soon as she finished speaking, several colleagues who had always been jealous of my better performance immediately crowded around, chiming in one after another. “Capable? Who knows what kind of capability? Shady tactics will never be respectable.” “Dressing like that—who are you trying to impress? Miranda is trying to save you. Don’t be ungrateful.” “Exactly. We honest people earn our living with real skills, not by flirting. Why don’t you thank Miranda?” I covered my face, fury burning in my chest, about to lash back regardless of consequences. The director grabbed my arm. “Alright, alright, Jane, say no more! You worked hard today. Come on, I’ll treat you to dinner to help you cool off!” He half-dragged me toward the cafeteria, lowering his voice. “Why are you going head-to-head with her? She’s Mr. Hayes’s only daughter! We’re just employees—we can’t afford to offend her!” Mr. Hayes’s daughter? How come I didn’t know my dad had given me such a sister?

But before I could say anything, the director had already pulled me to the employee cafeteria. He kept rambling on about how I should just endure it for the sake of peace, while I mindlessly pushed the food around on my tray. Just then, my phone buzzed. Messages in the company group chat were flooding the screen. I opened the chat. The top few messages were photos and videos posted by Miranda! She had actually gone to my desk while I was away. In the photos were all my personal belongings: A pair of stockings I’d just taken off to bring home and wash, high heels I kept at the office for emergencies, and my commonly used lipstick and perfume. Then came a voice message from her, sickeningly affected, played on speaker. “Everyone take a look! Our company must eliminate this kind of unhealthy atmosphere! We’re banning behavior that sells one’s body and appearance to please men! Things like lipstick, perfume, stockings… none of these should appear in the company anymore!” “Today, I’ve confiscated some dirty items from a certain colleague. Following the principle of not being wasteful, I’m holding a little auction here!” “Let’s see if anyone’s interested in our project goddess’s personal items! Highest bidder wins!” My stomach churned. I felt so sick I almost threw up the food I’d just eaten. And there were actually sleazy men in the group responding, with bids popping up one after another. I cursed under my breath, unable to take it anymore, and rushed back to the office. When I reached my desk, the scene before me made my blood pressure spike even higher. Miranda hadn’t just gone through my storage locker—she was now going through my personal laptop. “What are you doing?!” I rushed over and slammed the laptop screen shut. “This is my personal computer! It has my private information!” Miranda jumped at my action, then raised her chin, looking self-righteous. “What am I doing? Inspecting, of course! You use a computer at the company, so I need to check whether you’ve stolen company secrets or made deals with that project manager using company interests. After all, someone like you… who knows what you’re capable of?” I was shaking with anger, my fingers gripping the edge of the laptop tightly. I was about to argue when a male colleague wearing black-framed glasses shamelessly approached. “Miranda, I’m here to pick up the stockings I bid on.” Miranda nodded knowingly, pulled out my stockings, and handed them to him. “You look honest, but I didn’t expect you’d be into this. Take them. Just transfer me the money.” “Miranda Hayes! What gives you the right to auction off my things! I’m not selling!” “What gives me the right? Because these items that cater to men cannot appear in the company! I’m purifying the workplace environment!” I was completely enraged and fired back. “Necessary attire is professional etiquette! Just because I dress appropriately and look presentable, that means I’m pandering to men? By your logic, when I wear a skirt, should I also wear bright red long underwear underneath to be considered proper?!” My voice wasn’t quiet, drawing whispers from colleagues who had been watching the show. Some couldn’t help but chuckle softly, clearly finding Miranda’s behavior too absurd. Her face immediately flushed with embarrassment, her eyes growing more vicious. “Jane! Are you crazy? Believe it or not, I’ll make sure you can’t survive in this company!” I didn’t want to waste another word on her. “Move. I need to get to work.” I said coldly, reaching to close my laptop.

But she pressed down hard on the computer, her fingers rapidly scrolling through my SnapChat conversation interface. “Work? Your work is having in-depth exchanges with CEOs from various companies on SnapChat, right?” Her voice was shrill, deliberately making sure everyone could hear. “Come on, let me read a few lines for everyone to learn from!” She cleared her throat, imitating an affected tone. “‘Mr. Hayes, thank you so much for today. I’d love to treat you to dinner sometime!’ Look, a blatant invitation! Jane, don’t you know this Mr. Hayes is a married man? His wife is famously fierce, and you still dare to throw yourself at him? You’ve got some nerve!” I was almost amused by her stupidity. “It’s just normal business courtesy. What else should I say?” “Courtesy? Then look at this one!” She clicked open another chat window with the contact name “Old Hayes.” The conversation inside was indeed more casual, with me complaining about work being tiring and the other person reminding me to eat on time, the tone intimate. “Oh my! You’re even closer with this Old Hayes! Acting all sweet! Calling him ‘Daddy’? How disgusting! What kind of fetish is this? Some rich old man must be keeping you! No wonder you get project after project. I bet your sugar daddy is this guy, right?” Looking at her face twisted with jealousy, my inner mockery deepened. Idiot, she can’t even recognize my dad’s SnapChat, yet she dares to call herself Mr. Hayes’s daughter? When I graduated, I made a bet with my old man that without using any of his connections, I’d join the company and close deals worth a hundred million dollars on my own merit, and then I could take over as general manager. But I never expected that right before the finish line, I’d be humiliated like this by this clown who claims to be the chairman’s daughter. Fine, if you want to put on a show this badly, I’ll play along to the end. Let’s see how much longer you can enjoy yourself. Seeing that she had no intention of backing off and was instead escalating her invasion of my privacy, I completely lost patience. I suddenly turned around, rushed directly into her office, grabbed her laptop, and returned. “What are you doing! Put down my computer!” she shouted in panic. I ignored her, my fingers randomly sliding across the touchpad. Actually, I’d long heard rumors about Miranda’s office affairs. But everyone, out of deference to her position as supervisor, never mentioned it to her face. I clicked open a hidden file. The next second, embarrassingly explicit moans and gasps streamed from the computer speakers. “Is that voice Miranda’s?” “Playing it pretty wild, huh? Even filming yourself in the office as a keepsake?” The surrounding colleagues instantly erupted in whispers. Her face turned pale. She rushed over and snatched the computer, slamming it shut, shaking all over as she pointed at me. “Jane! Stop framing me! I’m completely innocent! You must have just snuck in and copied that filth onto my computer!” “The woman in that video is probably you! For projects, what wouldn’t you do?” But everyone still looked at her with suspicion. She immediately stood up and loudly announced her identity. “I didn’t want to say this, but I’m the chairman’s daughter! I came in undercover to help my father clean up the company culture! Employees like Jane who got ahead through improper means and maliciously slander others are exactly who we’re targeting for removal!” She looked around, her eyes carrying naked threats. “Anyone standing here watching and laughing at me today better think carefully about whether you want to have good days in this company in the future!”

This tactic of making an example worked immediately. Colleagues who had just been mocking the supervisor instantly changed their expressions. Several female colleagues who had always been jealous of me were the first to jump out. “How vicious! Your own hands aren’t clean, yet you want to drag the supervisor down with you!” “Exactly! Always making jokes about women’s reputations—her heart is truly wicked!” “An educated woman? I think she hates women! She wishes all women would rely on men like she does! She’s the typical man-pleaser who hates women!” I couldn’t be bothered with those buzzing behind me. I picked up my personal computer and contract and left to sign that thirty-million-dollar deal. The process was exceptionally smooth. The client representative even reassured me. “Miss Jane, although we’ve heard some rumors, we absolutely recognize your professional ability and project proposal. Looking forward to our cooperation.” On the way back to the company, I called my dad. “Dad, mission accomplished. The cumulative amount exceeded a hundred million long ago. You should honor your agreement and prepare for the handover, right?” His gratified laughter came through the phone. “Haha! As expected of my daughter! Dad keeps his word!” I paused, then asked out of the blue. “Dad, you’ve never betrayed Mom, have you?” My dad’s voice immediately rose eight octaves, full of survival instinct. “How could that be possible! Heaven and earth as my witness, I’ve only loved your mother my whole life! Sweetheart, who’s been feeding you nonsense?” “Never mind.” I hung up the phone, a cold smile forming at the corner of my mouth. As soon as I returned to my workstation, I heard Miranda being surrounded by a group of people. “At the company restructuring meeting in a few days, I’ll probably be taking the general manager position.” She pretended to be modest as she brushed her hair. “I remember everyone who’s been good to me. You’ll all benefit in the future.” Immediately, a chorus of flattery rose around her. “Miranda is amazing! This is real advancement based on ability, not relying on men!” “Exactly! So much better than certain people who use underhanded methods!” “From now on, we’re following Miranda!” She glanced at me smugly, provocatively. “What’s wrong, Jane? Jealous? Someone like you who relies on men could never reach such a high position.” I ignored her, focusing on preparing my performance report. Jump all you want. The higher you jump, the harder you’ll fall. Over the next few days, my colleagues found all kinds of ways to sabotage me. My cup tasted like dish rags, dead cockroaches appeared on my seat from time to time, printed documents disappeared… I didn’t bother with it, just took my laptop and moved to the coffee shop downstairs. Soon, the day of the election arrived. I deliberately wore a sharply tailored, high-quality professional dress, with exquisite makeup and a commanding presence. As soon as I walked through the company entrance, Miranda stopped me. She looked me up and down, jealousy flashing in her eyes, then put on a stern face. “Jane! How many times have I told you! Don’t come to the company all dressed up like this! Who are you trying to seduce?” I looked at her, noting that she had also obviously dressed up carefully, and retorted. “Miranda, aren’t you also dressed quite formally today?” She immediately raised her chin, looking superior. “Me? I’m completely bare-faced! Not like certain people who can only rely on makeup to cover up their ugliness and gild their faces!” I smiled, and without another word, pulled out a small bottle of makeup remover from my bag and splashed it directly at her face! Miranda screamed. The liquid ran down her cheeks. Her carefully drawn eyeliner and mascara instantly smudged, her face turning patches of purple and red, like an overturned palette, utterly disheveled. “If you’re bare-faced, then what’s this stuff on your face?” “Jane! I’ll kill you!” She was shaking with rage, lunging at me with claws out, trying to slap me. The director nearby quickly held her back. “Miranda! Calm down! The meeting’s about to start! Quick, go to the restroom and clean up!” Miranda was dragged away, her resentful eyes almost boring through me. I straightened my collar and walked toward the top-floor conference room. Just as I reached the entrance, the receptionist stopped me, her face wearing a formulaic fake smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Jane. Today’s senior management restructuring meeting is invitation-only by name. Your name isn’t on the list, so you cannot enter.” Miranda and a few of her followers had also cleaned up and rushed over. Seeing the situation, they immediately mocked. “Oh my, you actually dared to come?” “Shameless, aren’t you? This is a place you can enter?” I looked at them and smiled. “How about making another call to confirm with higher-ups?” The female receptionist’s face showed impatience, clearly thinking I was being unreasonable. She reluctantly picked up the internal phone and walked aside to inquire in a low voice. A few seconds later, her expression changed dramatically. She ran back, bowed respectfully to me, her voice trembling. “Miss Jane, please come in! Your seat is at the head table. Please take your seat!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371571”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn

My fiancé, Marcus Grayson, died trying to save me. After his death, his parents knelt before me, begging me—someone blessed with exceptional fertility—to bear a child for the notorious mafia boss Xavier Cross to settle their debts. Overwhelmed with guilt, I tearfully agreed. Everyone assumed that becoming the gang leader’s woman would bring me endless luxury and privilege. But these past three years, I’ve been nothing more than his breeding tool, subjected to endless humiliation. Three months into my pregnancy, Marcus came to visit me. As I gazed at that face I’d longed for day and night, I felt like I’d fallen into an icy abyss. I never imagined the man I’d loved for years had been deceiving me for three whole years. With trembling hands, I scheduled an abortion and sent Xavier a delayed message. “The child we worked so hard to conceive has been killed by Marcus.” Now I’d just sit back and watch them tear each other apart. During the three years Marcus faked his death, I lived every day consumed by heartache and guilt. I was even willing to stay by Xavier’s side, never fighting back no matter how he beat or cursed me, just hoping to get pregnant soon and clear the debt. “Wendy, my son and I have wronged you so deeply. If Marcus hadn’t died so young, we would never have let you suffer like this…” Every time my depression flared up and I wanted to end it all, my father-in-law would blame himself. Seeing his graying hair and his anguished expression, I could only endure. Only in the dead of night, alone with Marcus’s photo, could I pour out my grief and longing. Who could have imagined that this very man had sent me to Xavier just so he could run away with another woman? My phone suddenly rang. I frantically pressed the power button to turn it off. But Marcus’s voice continued. “Dad, Vivian rejected an arranged marriage for my sake. I have to make her happy.” “Besides, Wendy’s pregnant with Xavier’s child now. She already has a good life. Even if she knew I was alive, she’d only be able to wish us well. Now is the perfect time to plan the wedding.” My chest felt like it had been filled with concrete. I couldn’t breathe, and everything went dark. I stumbled back to the living room. Before I could even sit down, a slap struck my face. “How dare you hang up on me? Were you sneaking around with some guy just now!” Xavier’s eyes were bloodshot as his hands clamped around my throat. Stomach acid surged up, and I vomited all over him. Xavier froze for a moment. When he came to his senses, he yanked off his belt and began beating me viciously. “You disgusting bitch! I’ll beat you to death!” I curled into a ball, letting my tears fall silently. Marcus, is this the happy life you promised me? Glass suddenly shattered. Marcus jumped through the window. “What gives you the right to hit Wendy!” Before Xavier could explode in rage, my father-in-law rushed over and held the pregnancy test result up to his face. “Mr. Cross, please calm down. She’s carrying your child now.” When he turned to look at me, a flash of impatience crossed his face. “Wendy, why can’t you behave now that you’re pregnant? What if something happens to the baby? How would you face Marcus?” Marcus frowned and pulled me behind him, using his body to shield me from my father-in-law’s accusing gaze. Xavier stared at the pregnancy test with wild joy, examining it over and over, completely ignoring me. “So the useless woman finally did something right. My money wasn’t wasted! But you’d better know your place. Don’t think being pregnant makes you special.” My father-in-law’s eyes lit up as he leaned close to Marcus’s ear and whispered. “Judging by that lunatic’s reaction, we’ll definitely get the final payment in the next few days! Once the money comes through, we’ll hold your wedding with Vivian right away!” I clenched my fists hard against my abdomen, my heart aching so badly I could barely breathe. Since I owe him nothing, then this ends here. Xavier didn’t leave until he’d laughed maniacally for what felt like forever. Only then did Marcus breathe a sigh of relief. He turned to help me sit down, then quickly brought me a glass of milk. “Wendy, you need to learn to protect yourself. Even for the baby’s sake, you can’t let that maniac abuse you like this.” “If Marcus knew about this, how heartbroken would he be?” He knelt on one knee, holding my ice-cold hands, his eyes full of concern that seemed completely genuine. His gentleness made me feel disoriented again, as if everything had returned to three years ago. A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at my lips. I asked him softly. “Marcus, would you really be heartbroken?”

Marcus froze for a moment, then affectionately ruffled my hair. “Wendy, you’re Xavier’s woman now. Don’t bring up the past anymore. If Xavier found out…” I closed my eyes, unwilling to see his false concern any longer. “I want to rest. Please leave.” Seeing that I didn’t press further, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief. “I heard you have a prenatal checkup tomorrow? Let me take you.” I laughed softly and tilted my head back, refusing to let my tears fall. I’d only agreed to this pregnancy out of guilt. Now that I knew it was all a lie, what reason was there to keep going to checkups? “We’ll see tomorrow.” After he left, I furiously wiped away my tears. Ten years ago, we had a brief encounter. He protected me throughout my senior year of high school. He still has a scar on his ribs from when he fought off street thugs for me. At the freshman welcome party, he stood on the stage and confessed his love for me through a passionate guitar solo. Once our jobs stabilized, he proposed to me without hesitation. “Wendy, give me two years. I’ll make you the happiest bride.” I was completely intoxicated by the vision of our future together. I even told him my secret—that I had exceptional fertility—right before our wedding. Who knew it would become the beginning of this nightmare? My father-in-law walked in from outside, contentedly playing with his bank card. When he saw me, his eyes shifted, and he sat down beside me with a smile. “Wendy, Marcus came all this way to see you. Now that he’s getting married, it wouldn’t be right if you didn’t send some money as a gift, would it? We’re all family, so you don’t need to give much—thirty thousand should do.” I just wanted to escape as quickly as possible, so I went along with what he said. “Fine. I’ll definitely attend the wedding. I’ll prepare a big gift.” My father-in-law’s face creased with his smile. I stood up and went straight to my room. He had no idea that day would never come. The next day, I wanted to return to the place Marcus and I used to live together to retrieve my belongings. The moment I pushed open the door, the blood in my veins began to freeze. Torn clothes were scattered across the floor. The trash can was filled with used condoms. My eyes instinctively scanned the room. The guitar he’d used to confess his love to me was now covered in childish stickers. Three words were crudely carved into the body: “Vivian Fletcher.” A faint burning smell drifted from the balcony. I walked closer and looked down. Only scattered ashes remained, with a few fragments of paper showing the words “Love Wendy Forever.” The last thread in my mind finally snapped. These were the love letters Marcus had written to me. They’d been my spiritual anchor, read countless times over these three years. A scream suddenly came from outside the door. “Who are you? How dare you break into my house?” I turned around to find a girl in a tank top and short skirt standing in my line of sight. Before I could speak, she began crying and shouting loudly. “Marcus, where are you? Someone broke into my room!” Marcus ran over and embraced her, his voice carrying a tenderness I’d never heard before. “Vivian, don’t cry. I’m here!” His sharp gaze stabbed toward me, but softened when it touched me. “Why is it you? Vivian’s been sick. Don’t upset her like this—her body can’t take it.” “Wait, I should be questioning you. Why are you crying like that?” I stood there in a daze, wiping my face only to realize tears were already streaming down my cheeks. “My letters were all burned. Even this room has been defiled!” Marcus frowned impatiently, his expression darkening. “Is that all? You’re dredging up ancient history? Wendy Turner, I’d advise you not to make a scene with me.” I glanced at Vivian making faces at me, unable to say another word. Forget it. It was all fake anyway. What’s there to miss? I turned and left the estate, heading to the hospital for the procedure.

I walked alone for a long time through the drizzling rain. At some point, a trail of blood began streaking across the wet ground behind me. The cramping in my lower abdomen grew more and more obvious. My whole body felt increasingly heavy. Marcus’s villa was in a remote location. There was no way to catch a cab nearby. In my daze, the screech of brakes pierced the air. Muddy water from the roadside splashed all over me. A Cayenne stopped not far away. The window rolled down, revealing Marcus’s panicked voice. “Wendy, what are you doing?” I turned to look at him and called out for help. “Help… help me…” After I spoke, everything went black and I collapsed toward the ground, struggling to breathe. Marcus’s face went deathly pale with alarm. He pushed the car door open, about to come help me. Vivian’s sweet voice complained from inside. “Wendy, even if you’re mad at me, you can’t take it out on your baby. If something happens to your child, that maniac Xavier will never let the Grayson family off.” Marcus’s movement to exit the car stopped. When he looked at me again, only disgust remained in his eyes. “Wendy, I never realized you were such an actress. What’s that on the ground? Ketchup, right? You almost fooled me!” With that, he slammed the door shut forcefully. I weakly shook my head desperately, using every ounce of strength to try to explain. But in the end, I didn’t even have the energy to speak. Vivian laughed mockingly. “Wendy, you don’t actually think you look like some fragile beauty right now, do you? You just look dirty and pathetic, like an idiot.” “Marcus, I’d advise you to control her better, so she doesn’t keep acting stupid. If she really does something extreme someday, it’ll be too late…” I couldn’t hear the rest. A ringing filled my ears. I couldn’t hold on any longer and collapsed completely. Marcus observed me with furrowed brows, a hint of internal struggle occasionally flashing in his eyes, but ultimately replaced by coldness. “Stop pretending even now!” Blood flowed more and more freely, gradually staining the ground beneath me into a red puddle. I kept praying in my heart, hoping he would change his mind and take me to the hospital. But all I got in return was choking exhaust fumes. “Vivian’s in a hurry to get to her concert, so I’ll let you off today!” “Since you love acting so much, go ahead and put on a show for yourself!” The Cayenne’s departing taillights became the last image I saw before losing consciousness. The pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils as I frowned and slowly opened my eyes. My hand instinctively moved to my lower abdomen. The cramping pain had completely disappeared. “You’re still young. You can have children again in the future.” The doctor shook her head sympathetically. “Thank goodness a kind person got you to the hospital in time. A few minutes later, and not even a miracle could have saved you.” I weakly thanked her. Even though I’d already decided to terminate this pregnancy, my heart still ached uncontrollably. “Baby, I’m sorry. But I absolutely cannot let that maniac Xavier be your father. You’ll understand Mommy, won’t you?” The moment I closed my eyes, tears seemed to break free from all restraint, pouring out recklessly. My phone suddenly rang. Seeing “Marcus” displayed on the screen, I didn’t hesitate to hang up. Now that the deception was exposed, I would settle accounts with him one by one.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371570”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic

On April Fool’s Day, my sister and I moved into our new apartment. Mr. Johnson Mr. Johnson’s fridge was covered with notes containing bizarre rules. One of them read: Never eat anything from the neighbor in 404—she’ll consume parts of your memory. I dismissed it as Mr. Johnson’s holiday prank. That afternoon, the neighbor from 404 knocked on our door and brought over a freshly baked tiramisu. I thanked her with a smile and immediately put it in the fridge. The next morning when I woke up, my sister pointed at me in terror and asked, “Who are you?” “Chloe, what are you talking about? I’m your sister.” I stepped forward to take her hand, but Chloe backed away, grabbing a throw pillow and clutching it tightly to her chest. “I don’t know you! Who are you! How did you get into my home!” I froze in place. The fear and resistance in Chloe’s eyes didn’t look like an act. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Chloe, calm down. We just moved in together yesterday, don’t you remember?” Chloe shook her head frantically, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t remember having a sister!” I pulled out my phone, opened my photo album, and handed it to her. “Look, this is us at the beach last month. You forgot?” In the photo, we were smiling brightly, her arm linked intimately with mine. A flash of confusion crossed Chloe’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by wariness. “Photos don’t mean anything—they can be AI-generated!” “Then look at our chat history.” I opened SnapChat, hundreds of messages, scrolling up endlessly. Chloe glanced at it and pushed the phone back. “My phone was stolen. How do I know you didn’t fake this?” I was stunned. She was right—her phone had been stolen a few days before we moved. It was precisely because our old rental had such a chaotic environment that we’d decided to move. I looked at Chloe, my mind in turmoil. Could memories just vanish like that? She knew her name was Chloe, knew her phone had been stolen, but she’d forgotten me entirely. I suddenly remembered yesterday’s note on the fridge. I spun around and rushed into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge door. The tiramisu was gone. My hands were shaking. How could something so coincidental and bizarre happen in this world? I suppressed the panic rising in my chest and called Mr. Johnson. The phone rang for a long time before someone answered. A drowsy voice came through. “Hello?” “Sir, this is Aria, I just moved into your place yesterday.” “I want to ask about the rules you posted on the fridge. My sister ate something from the 404 neighbor, and now she doesn’t recognize me!” The voice on the other end paused for two seconds, then burst into laughter. “Young lady, don’t you know what day yesterday was? April Fool’s Day! I just wrote those notes for fun. Is your sister upset with you about something?” “She’s not upset. She genuinely doesn’t recognize me.” My voice cracked with urgency. But Mr. Johnson still treated it as a joke. “Come on, nobody loses their memory after one night’s sleep. You young folks just love pranking each other.” The call ended. I rushed to door 404 and pressed the doorbell. The door opened quickly. Mrs. Patterson was wearing an apron, holding a spatula, looking at me with confusion. “Young lady, it’s so early. Is something wrong?” “Ma’am, what did you put in that tiramisu box you gave us yesterday?” “My sister doesn’t recognize me after eating it!” Mrs. Patterson looked stunned, then showed an innocent, amused expression. “How is that possible? It’s just regular cake. I ate some myself.” She stepped aside slightly. “I still have some left from yesterday. Why don’t you come in and try it?” “Maybe your sister hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Sometimes poor sleep can cause hallucinations. Should I help you schedule a doctor’s appointment?”

When I returned to the apartment, Chloe was standing in the living room. Two police officers sat on the sofa, taking notes. Chloe looked up at me, her eyes filled with unfamiliar wariness. I stood at the door without moving. The officer spoke first. “Are you Aria?” “Yes, I’m her sister, Aria.” The officers spread photocopies of our IDs and household registration on the coffee table, exchanging glances. “Ladies, is there some misunderstanding? You are indeed biological sisters. It’s written clearly here.” The younger officer tried to mediate. But Chloe wouldn’t listen. She stubbornly insisted I was a stranger who’d broken into her home. “There’s no misunderstanding. I just don’t know her. Take her away!” The officers had no choice. They quietly told me, “Why don’t you stay somewhere else tonight? Wait until her emotions stabilize, and if that doesn’t work, contact your parents.” I sat on the stairwell steps, my mind in chaos. I didn’t dare go far. I found a budget hotel nearby. I called my mom. She seemed to be playing cards. I kept it brief, not mentioning the prank notes, just saying Chloe didn’t seem to recognize me. Mom sighed. She said, “Aria, is your sister still angry with you?” I didn’t understand. “Angry about what?” Mom said, “About Zachary.” “You forced her to break up with him, made her block him. Chloe hasn’t been quite right since then.” Zachary was Chloe’s boyfriend of three years. Three months ago, Chloe caught him with another girl. They were being intimate. Chloe called me, crying so hard she couldn’t form a complete sentence. I told her to break up immediately, block him, leave no way back. “She might have mentally linked you to that painful period, so she doesn’t want to remember you at all.” I hung up, my mind a tangled mess. Was this really a psychological issue? I searched online for a well-reviewed counseling center. The doctor listened and nodded. “Your sister has amnesia specifically about you, correct?” “Yes.” “This is called dissociative amnesia, a form of selective memory suppression.” “Her brain isn’t damaged, and the memories exist intact. Her psychological defense mechanism has simply sealed off that part, preventing her from accessing it. She hasn’t truly forgotten.” I was silent for a moment. “Can she remember again?” “Yes.” The doctor spoke with certainty, no hesitation. “But she needs a trigger point, something to give that sealed memory an outlet.” He paused. “Was the starting point of your sister’s amnesia the trauma within that relationship, or how it was handled after the breakup?” “I don’t know.” “Then you need to find out.” He picked up his pen again. “You could try finding her ex-boyfriend. If that relationship can reach true closure in a meaningful sense, it might be a breakthrough.” “If your sister is willing, she could also come here so we can talk.”

The one who tied the bell must untie it. But could that bastard Zachary really untie this knot? I found Zachary’s number and called. No answer. I sent a message on SnapChat: [This is Aria. I need to talk to you. 3 PM, Countryside Café on South Street.] I arrived half an hour early. I chose a window seat with a view of the street corner. Three o’clock. Zachary didn’t show. Three-thirty. Zachary didn’t show. Four o’clock. The coffee had gone completely cold, and Zachary still hadn’t appeared. I tried calling him again. The line wouldn’t connect. Then my phone buzzed on the table—an unknown number. “Hello, is this Ms. Aria?” “Yes.” “This is the Criminal Investigation Unit of the City Police Department.” I thought something had happened to Chloe. My hand shook, nearly knocking over the coffee cup. “Do you know Zachary? We received a report that he was found in an alley in the west district with severe head trauma. He’s in the hospital now, unconscious.” I didn’t catch the next few words. My ears were ringing. “We checked his recent communications. Both you and Chloe contacted him recently. Please return to your apartment now to assist with the investigation.” I left the café. The cold wind outside jolted me awake. Back at the apartment, Chloe was curled up on the sofa, arms wrapped around her knees, making herself as small as possible. The officers said there was no surveillance at the crime scene, no witnesses, and no weapon found. Zachary’s phone was also missing. Chloe shook her head to every question. “Zachary? Who’s that? I don’t know him.” “I don’t remember him contacting me. I don’t remember meeting him.” “I’ve been home these past few days. I haven’t gone anywhere.” Her answers were airtight. Naturally, the police couldn’t get anything from me either. After all, Zachary hadn’t answered my call—I’d only sent a SnapChat message and never met him. The officers told us to keep our phones available for further assistance with the investigation. After the police left, I pulled Chloe onto the sofa. “Chloe, tell me the truth. Did you go see Zachary these past two days?” Chloe looked up, her eyes red and full of confusion. “I don’t remember. I really don’t remember who Zachary is.” But I knew her too well. When she was nervous, she’d unconsciously wring her fingers. From the moment the police entered until now, her hands hadn’t stopped that small gesture. My doubts grew stronger. But I didn’t press further. After she fell asleep, I quietly entered her room. In her nightstand drawer was a diary with a combination lock. I tried several of her common passwords. None worked. I hesitated, then entered my birthday. The lock opened. I flipped it open. The first few pages were in her usual handwriting. Further in, the writing became messy. The last few pages made a chill run down my spine. “Zachary says he owes a lot of debt. The creditors will kill him.” “He says he wronged me and wants to see me one last time before he leaves.” “I don’t know if I should agree.” “If Aria finds out I’m still in contact with him, she’ll definitely yell at me. I can’t let her know.” I closed the diary and sat in the darkness for a long time without moving. My mind was even more chaotic. Had Chloe gone to see Zachary? Did Zachary’s injury have anything to do with Chloe? I didn’t dare think further. Each question pressed down on me until I could barely breathe.

I looked up and found Chloe already awake, watching me quietly. I walked over and placed the diary in front of her. “Chloe, do you really not remember at all?” Tears silently fell from Chloe’s eyes. She didn’t wipe them, just let them drop onto the blanket. “You went to see him, didn’t you?” But she bit her lip and said nothing. “You were there, weren’t you?” Still no response. I shouted sternly, “Chloe!” She jerked her head up, crying. “I don’t remember. I really don’t remember anything.” “I read what I wrote, but I don’t remember what I did that night. My mind is blank. I’m not lying. I don’t even remember you.” “When I heard he was hurt, I thought maybe I did something, which is why I forgot. I’m so scared.” “Don’t cry yet. Listen to me. There’s only one thing you need to do now.” She looked up, eyes blurred with tears. “We’re going to the police station. You need to tell them everything you know.” Her body stiffened. “I…” “Chloe, we still don’t know who hurt Zachary, but I believe you wouldn’t do something like that.” I gripped her hand. “If you keep hiding and saying nothing, that’s when there’ll be real trouble.” “Trust the police. Let them find the truth.” Chloe bit her lip, silent for a long time, then nodded. I accompanied Chloe to the Criminal Investigation Unit. Chloe handed over her diary. She explained everything from start to finish, including Zachary contacting her and the gap in her memory. The officers’ expressions changed after hearing it all. Police further retrieved all surveillance footage from our apartment complex that night. The footage clearly showed that Aria had indeed never left the apartment that night. But after I fell asleep, Mrs. Patterson had visited our apartment. She stayed in our apartment for a while, then hurriedly left the complex and took a taxi. After a considerable amount of time, she returned looking anxious. The officer looked at me and Chloe. “We’ve made another major discovery. Zachary’s ex-girlfriend—besides Ms. Chloe—there’s also a woman named Rachel.” “Her mother is someone you know—this Mrs. Patterson.” I gasped. “Mrs. Patterson?” From the prank notes, to Mrs. Patterson from 404 bringing cake, to Chloe’s amnesia after eating the cake, to Zachary’s injury—didn’t everything start after the cake was delivered? My mind raced through all the recent details. These fragmented details were like scattered beads suddenly strung together on a thread, and the other end of that thread seemed to point to the same person. The moment this thought emerged, I felt cold all over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371569”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic

Six months ago, I found a little girl who blinked up at me and said, “So this was what you were like back when you were full of life.” Before I could understand what she meant, she dropped to her knees in front of me. “Please take me in. I don’t have parents. I’m starving to death…” Looking at her face that resembled mine in some ways, my heart softened and I brought her home. Strangely enough, she seemed to know all my habits, like she was my shadow. “Serena, I love you more than anyone in this world… No, I only love you.” She always looked at me with bright eyes, but looked at my husband with eyes full of poison. Until the day I got pregnant, she suddenly became a different person… During the time my husband and I were trying to conceive, I found a girl downstairs. She blinked at me cutely. I was still hesitating about whether to take her to the police station when she suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me. “Please take me in. I don’t have parents. I’m starving to death…” Looking at her face that resembled mine in some ways, my heart softened and I brought her home. My husband Marcus woke up and came out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes. When he saw the girl I was supporting, he froze for a moment, then showed a gentle smile. “Is this your sister? You two look so alike.” I laughed. Taking a closer look at the girl, we really did look similar. “Found her downstairs. She has a high fever,” I said. Marcus immediately came over to help. The moment his hand touched the girl’s shoulder, she jerked away like she’d been shocked, staring at Marcus with eyes that made my back go cold. “She’s probably scared,” Marcus said, withdrawing his hand. His smile looked a bit stiff. “I’ll go get fever medicine.” I changed the girl into dry clothes. She was very thin, with protruding collarbones and wrists so slender they looked like they might snap. While drying her hair, I noticed a scar behind her ear that looked like an old wound. For some reason, this made my heart clench, and I unconsciously softened my movements. Marcus brought warm water and medicine, but the girl refused to drink. I took the cup, and only then did she open her mouth, her eyes never leaving me. “What’s your name?” I asked gently. “…Lily.” “And your last name?” She was silent for a long time, then glanced up at me before quickly lowering her eyes again. Her voice was so soft I could barely hear it. “Whitmore.” Same as mine. What a coincidence. That night I slept in the guest room with her. I don’t know why, but facing this child of unknown origin, I couldn’t muster much wariness. Instead, I felt a strange sense of closeness. I woke up in the middle of the night to find her staring at me with eyes too complex for a child. “Go to sleep.” I tucked the blanket around her. “You shouldn’t have brought me back,” she suddenly said. “Why?” “You’ll regret it.” I didn’t take it seriously, thinking she was delirious. By morning, her fever had broken, but she insisted on not contacting family or going to the police station. “I don’t have any family,” she said. Marcus suggested at breakfast, “We should still contact the police. What if she ran away from home…” “I’m not leaving.” Lily cut him off, her voice cold. The atmosphere became awkwardly tense. I tried to smooth things over. “Let her stay a few days. We can talk about it when she’s better.” Marcus glanced at me with a look that made me uncomfortable. But he quickly smiled. “Whatever you say.” He was always like this—gentle, considerate, always putting me first. My colleagues all said I was lucky to marry such a perfect husband. I thought so too, but Lily didn’t seem to agree. Lily settled into my home. She was very quiet, so quiet she was almost like a shadow. But I could feel her gaze always following me, watching me make coffee, watching me answer the phone, watching me stand on the balcony lost in thought. On the third day, she did something that surprised me. My migraine flared up and I was searching everywhere for medicine. Lily silently walked over and handed me a box of ibuprofen and a glass of warm water. “You usually keep it in the left second drawer,” she said. “But you ran out last time. This is newly bought.” I froze. The medicine was indeed in the left drawer, and I had indeed run out. I hadn’t had time to buy more yet. “How did you know…” “I guessed.” She looked away. Later I discovered she knew too many things. She knew I only drank water at 131 degrees Fahrenheit, knew I had a back injury and couldn’t sit for long, knew I bit my nails when stressed. Once when I was cutting fruit and cut my hand, she rushed over with abnormal speed, grabbed my wrist to check the wound, her face frighteningly pale. “It’s fine, just a small cut.” I tried to comfort her. Her expression looked so fragile. But Lily stared at the blood mark, her eyes vacant for a moment. “…It was like this before too.” “What?”

“Nothing.” She let go and walked away. She was very good to me. Too good, even. I had just moved my laptop to the dining table, preparing to handle a difficult work report. Sunlight streamed through the window, making my eyes water. I instinctively squinted and raised my hand to shield them. As I focused intently on the data on the screen, a figure approached silently. Lily brought over a cup of freshly brewed green tea and gently set it by my hand—exactly the strength I preferred. What made me freeze was that she reached out and smoothly adjusted the angle of the blinds behind me. “This way, it won’t be so bright.” She said softly, then retreated to the kitchen counter, picking up a book she was reading, as if she’d just done the most ordinary thing. Looking at her, my heart suddenly felt so soft. I didn’t know why she was homeless, but at that moment, I really considered adopting her. But toward Marcus, she was completely different. When Marcus served her food, she wouldn’t eat it. When Marcus spoke, she kept her head down and stayed silent. When Marcus tried to chat with her, she went straight to her room. “Does that child hate me?” Marcus asked me one night, his tone aggrieved. “She’s just shy around strangers.” “It’s not just that.” Marcus hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Serena, I know you’re kindhearted, but letting a child of unknown origin live in our house really isn’t safe, and…” He paused. “And what?” “The way she looks at me is wrong.” Marcus’s voice lowered. “I can’t explain it, but… it’s creepy.” I turned to look at him. Under the lights, his face remained gentle, his brow slightly furrowed. He was genuinely worried. At that moment I wavered. Maybe Lily really did have problems? Maybe I should listen to Marcus? But this thought was quickly dismissed. Because the next day, I found Lily going through the trash. She was squatting by the kitchen trash can, holding Marcus’s vitamin bottle, examining it carefully against the light. Hearing my footsteps, she whipped around, a flash of panic in her eyes. “What are you doing?” She didn’t answer, hiding the bottle behind her back. I walked over and held out my hand. “Give it to me.” After a few seconds of standoff, she handed over the bottle. It was ordinary multivitamins. I watched Marcus take them every day. “What’s wrong with this?” I asked. Lily bit her lip and only spoke after a long while. “Don’t let him take these.” “Why?” “There’s… more than just vitamins inside.” I thought it was absurd. “Lily, these are from the hospital—” “Then get them tested.” She looked up at me, her eyes stubbornly intense. “Find a trustworthy lab. Don’t tell him. Test them secretly. If there’s nothing wrong, I’ll leave immediately and never bother you again.” Her tone was so serious, so serious that my heart trembled. I didn’t get them tested. But I put the bottle away and didn’t let Marcus continue taking them. When Marcus asked about it, I said I accidentally knocked it over. He smiled and said it was fine, then opened a new bottle. That night, I couldn’t sleep. In the darkness, I kept replaying Lily’s expression. I turned to look at Marcus sleeping beside me. His breathing was steady, his lashes casting faint shadows beneath his eyes. I’d looked at this face for seven years, kissed it countless times, once thought it was the most reassuring place in the world. Now, I felt an inexplicable chill. Two more weeks passed, and life seemingly returned to calm. Lily remained silent but started helping with housework, even learning to cook dishes I liked. Marcus kept his distance from her, but remained polite on the surface. I thought things would continue peacefully like this. Until I discovered I was pregnant. Two clear lines on the pregnancy test. I stared at it for a full minute, then rushed out to hug Marcus, crying and laughing. “Really?!” Marcus’s eyes lit up as he picked me up and spun me around. “I’m going to be a dad? Serena, we’re having a baby!” He immediately called his parents, then booked the best restaurant to celebrate. All evening, he held my hand without letting go, his eyes full of light. I was glowing too. I felt like I had the whole world—a husband who loved me, a baby we’d been hoping for, a perfect life. In the car on the way home, I touched my still-flat belly and suddenly thought of Lily. “We should tell her,” I said to Marcus. “She’ll definitely be happy.” Marcus’s smile faded slightly, but he quickly nodded. “Right, we should tell her.” I imagined Lily’s surprised expression. She was so good to me. She’d definitely be happy for me. I was wrong. When I handed Lily the ultrasound photo, she didn’t take it. The photo fluttered to the floor. She stared at the black and white image, her face visibly paling, her lips beginning to tremble. “You…” Her voice sounded forced. “You’re pregnant with his child?” “Yes,” I picked up the photo, still immersed in joy. “Look, even though it’s still small, the doctor said it’s very healthy—” “Get rid of it. Get rid of this baby right now!”

I froze. “What?” “Get rid of this baby.” Lily raised her head, her eyes frighteningly red. “Then leave him. Now. Immediately!” I thought I’d heard wrong. “Lily, do you know what you’re saying—” “I know!” She suddenly raised her voice, grabbing my wrist with painful force. “Serena, listen to me. You can’t have this baby. He’ll destroy you. He’ll—” “Enough!” I shook off her hand, angry at her for the first time. “I don’t know what you’ve been through or why you hate Marcus so much, but we’re complete strangers. He’s my husband. I love him. This is our child. How can you say such things?!” Lily took a step back, looking at me. Something shattered in her eyes. “…You love him.” She repeated, her voice as soft as a sigh. “Right, of course you love him. You always have…” “Lily, I understand you might have issues with marriage because of family problems, but Marcus isn’t like that. He’s good to me. We—” “It’s all fake!” She cut me off, tears falling, but her expression was cold. “He’s good to you now because you’re still useful. Once you have the baby, once you can’t run away, he’ll change. He’ll control you, monitor you, hit you, and finally—” “Shut up!” I was shaking with anger. Marcus heard the noise and rushed in. Seeing me crying, he immediately pulled me behind him. “Lily, I understand you’re upset, but you can’t talk to Serena like this. She’s pregnant and needs to stay emotionally stable.” He held me tightly, warmth spreading through my whole body. Looking at Lily’s face, I doubted for the first time whether I’d made a mistake. I should have taken her to the police station from the start. “Emotionally stable?” Lily laughed, the sound uglier than crying. “When he torments her to death, she’ll be stable forever.” Marcus’s face darkened. “You’re still living here because Serena is kindhearted, but you keep cursing her!” “You’re no longer welcome here. Leave this house immediately!” “You’re the one who should leave,” Lily stared at him, enunciating each word. “You don’t deserve her. You’ll only get her killed!” “Enough!” My voice came out shrill, startling even myself. I pulled away from Marcus’s embrace and stepped forward, my fingertip almost touching her nose. “What exactly do you want? Since you appeared, you’ve done nothing but slander my husband, curse my marriage, and now you won’t even spare my unborn child!” “This is my home, this is my husband, this is my child!” “Get out of my house right now!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371568”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

I was handling documents in my boyfriend River’s office. When I stood up, my pants were torn apart by super glue on the seat, exposing my underwear. River’s secretary, Vivian, took a photo and held up her phone, taunting me: “Who would’ve thought—you look so cold on the outside, but you wear something this slutty underneath! No wonder River always leaves work so early!” Furious, I grabbed the files from the desk and hurled them at her. River instantly rushed in, blocking her and shielding her protectively behind him. He looked at me coldly: “Vivian was just joking around with you. Do you really have to act like some crazy woman?” Vivian peeked out from behind him, looking at me with innocent-seeming eyes: “I just wanted to film an April Fool’s prank video. River already approved it. I heard you have a good temper—you’re not actually mad, are you?” River looked at Vivian with adoration, and my heart ached. “River, you said you’d be in London negotiating a deal all week. Why are you at the office?” My voice trembled as I questioned him. A flash of discomfort crossed River’s face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Vivian interrupted: “I’m the one who called River back!” Vivian’s voice carried a coquettish tone: “Those old men kept nitpicking everything—it was too much trouble! So I told River to cut off their partnership and come back.” “Madelyn, I was thinking of River’s best interests. Our company should work with younger people instead!” River’s face showed indulgent helplessness, his voice especially gentle: “You’re too impulsive. You can’t serve clients kids’ meals in the future.” I stared at River in disbelief. River used to be extremely strict about work, always treating every client with utmost courtesy. But now he actually severed the partnership I’d introduced to him—all for Vivian? Just then, the door opened. Several employees walked straight in with documents. “Miss Smith, we—” Their words caught in their throats. Their gazes at my torn pants turned stiff and awkward. “Miss Smith, your… your pants, how did they—” Humiliation and embarrassment made my face flush red. But Vivian giggled: “Aren’t Miss Smith’s panties sexy? You should all learn from her—otherwise, how else can you attract excellent men like River?!” Only then did River notice my torn pants. His expression changed, and he grabbed Vivian: “Vivian, you went too far this time. There are so many people in the company—what if someone photographed Madelyn? Apologize to Madelyn!” Tears instantly filled Vivian’s eyes, her face full of misery: “Why? You said the company needed to be more youthful and fun. That’s why I specially designed this April Fool’s prank.” “And you said Madelyn has a good temper and is very open-minded. Now you’re making me apologize because of her?” “River, you’re bullying me!” Tears streamed down Vivian’s face, looking utterly devastated. “I knew it—you never treated me as an equal from the start.” “You think I’m poor, think I’m just an assistant, so you can manipulate and humiliate me however you want!” She wiped her tears, raising her head proudly: “If that’s the case, I should’ve just let my depression take over and slit my wrists back then. Better than having you all bully me!” After saying this, Vivian shoved past me to leave, but River rushed forward and grabbed her. “Enough!” River’s tone softened almost instantly. His face showed heartache as he wiped away Vivian’s tears. “Enough. I was impulsive—I shouldn’t have lost my temper. But you can’t keep using your depression to scare me, understand?” Then River looked at me, his tone gentle but brooking no argument: “Madelyn, Vivian’s joke went too far because she misjudged the boundaries. I’ll remind her to avoid this next time.” “But you made mistakes too, so both of you take a step back and let it go!” I stood frozen, my throat dry. So in River’s eyes, the humiliation I suffered was just a trivial joke? I stepped forward, trying to confront River: “River, you—” I’d barely started when Vivian interrupted: “Fine, I’ll forgive you both this time!” She looked at me, triumph and provocation in her eyes: “But I guess Madelyn’s in no condition to handle the next contract now. I’ll make the trip for you!” With that, she pulled River toward the office door. “Madelyn, there’s nothing else at the company for now. You can go home!” “River! Have you ever cared about my feelings at all?!” I broke down screaming, but he left with Vivian without looking back. And Vivian turned her head to look at me, her face lifting in an innocent yet provocative smile. My face suddenly felt wet. I touched it and realized I was already crying.

“Madelyn, you and I are about the same size. These are spare pants I keep at the office. Please take them.” An employee handed me a bag with sympathetic eyes, speaking softly. I forced an awkward smile to show my gratitude, but my chest felt like it was tearing apart. I should have noticed River’s change of heart long ago. I’d paid fifty thousand dollars to buy Vivian’s life from her parents. If I hadn’t saved her back then, she would’ve been sold to a crippled, blind man who’d beaten three wives to death. I bathed her, bought her clothes, hired tutors for her studies. After college graduation, I arranged for her to join the company directly. At first, River was very resistant, finding her stupid, childish, and incapable of doing anything. He even fired her behind my back once. I was the one who convinced River to gradually accept her. But in the end, this is how Vivian repaid me. And I never expected River would trample on me together with her. Too dispirited to work anymore, I hurried home. During this time, I kept trying to contact River, but he never responded. I sat numbly on the sofa until ten at night, when Vivian finally posted on social media: [Thanks to my boss for canceling another partnership to take me out for a beautiful dinner. Today’s another day of being pampered by the boss~] Below the caption was her affected photo. In the bottom left corner of the photo was River’s hand, serving her food. I stared quietly at this photo until my eyes slowly started burning. Then a call from a partner manager interrupted me: “Madelyn, why can’t today’s partnership or the previous one proceed?” “Also, what’s the deal with that woman next to River?” The group chat? While on the phone, the manager sent me chat records. In the chat history, The photo of my exposed underwear after my pants were torn had been posted in the group by Vivian, Without any censorship at all! And Vivian was also posting mocking emojis while saying: [The color of her panties is so tacky? My mom wouldn’t even wear this color~] [Sigh, as expected, old women have no advantages to keep a man. You still have to look at us young people!] “Madelyn, one of my employees has access to this group. He sent it to me because Mr. River’s photo looked familiar.” “But before that, this photo had already spread. In our operations circle, this is a major taboo!” My palms were already bleeding from where I’d dug my nails in. My throat tasted metallic. But I still forced myself to chat with the manager for a few moments before hanging up. Just then, the front door finally opened. River had come home. His face still carried a trace of satisfaction he never had when with me. On his collarbone was an ambiguous red mark. “Madelyn, you’re still awake?” River’s face looked relaxed, as if nothing had happened. I threw my phone on the table, staring at him expressionlessly. He frowned slightly, picked up the phone, and looked at it for a moment. After a long pause, he sighed. “Madelyn, I understand how you feel right now, but Vivian actually did this for your own good!” I was stunned, unable to believe my ears for a moment. What was he saying? River smiled lightly. “In the past, our company’s operations concept was very old-fashioned and official. But after Vivian took over operations management, the account’s followers gradually increased.” “This fully proves that her entertainment-oriented, influencer-style approach is very innovative. That’s what people online love to see now.” “You’re usually too calm and cold. Having some energy and liveliness is good. Just stop holding grudges against Vivian!” I laughed bitterly. River must have forgotten— The previous operations concept was something he’d consulted with me for a long time before carefully deciding on. Now, for Vivian’s sake, he’d even abandoned the work attitude he used to value most. Turns out people really can rot in an instant. A person’s sincerity can also change in an instant… I took a deep breath, looking steadily at River. “River, if this is the excuse you’re making for Vivian’s mistakes, I don’t accept it.” “Your unprofessional attitude toward work, standing up partners, your terrible behavior, and trampling on my sincerity—” “River, let’s break up. The person you are now is no longer worthy of standing by my side!” But River just laughed, shaking his head. “Stop being dramatic, Madelyn. Right now I hold the most shares. If you break up with me, what will you have left?” “You haven’t worked hands-on in a long time. Isn’t it nice to let Vivian handle things while you relax at home?” He dismissed it, walking straight into the bedroom without looking back. A smile tugged at my lips. River, I warned you. You’re the one who didn’t cherish this last chance.

The next morning when I woke up, River was already gone from the house. Calmly, I first changed the door code, then made breakfast as usual. And I called my mom. Half an hour later, Vivian—with her mouth covered—was brought in by my mom’s butler, Bob, and his men. “Mmph! Mmph!” Vivian was thrown on the floor. She looked up at me, her eyes full of venom and resentment. I nodded to Bob. He removed the cloth from her mouth. Once freed, Vivian immediately started cursing: “Madelyn, what the hell gives you the right to kidnap me here? Believe it or not, I’ll have River call the cops on you?!” “You’re old, ugly, totally useless, and you shamelessly spend River’s money—no wonder River stopped loving you long ago!” “Let me tell you, Madelyn—the one who isn’t loved is the real third party. River loves me now. No matter how jealous you are, it’s useless!” I sat leisurely on the sofa, drinking milk while speaking indifferently: “Vivian, I think I’ve been very good to you. Why would you take revenge on me like this?” Vivian sneered. “We’re all human. Why do you get to have so much? Why should I be forced to marry an old man?” “So what if you sponsored me? I won River over myself. You need to accept your loss!” I smiled gently. “Vivian, when I sponsored you, did you fail to investigate my background?” Vivian looked completely puzzled. “I am Madelyn Smith, of the New York Smith family.” The Smith family of New York—if Vivian hadn’t done anything wrong, Just by carrying my name, Madelyn Smith, she could move freely anywhere in New York. “I don’t care whose family you’re from. I’m warning you—let me go now! Otherwise, I’ll have River sue you!” I shook my head gently. I’d given her one last chance to admit her mistake. “Bob, strip her!” Bob nodded. Ignoring Vivian’s screams, he had his men roughly tear off all her clothes. They photographed her, posting nearly a hundred photos in all the group chats in the operations circle. After all this was done, Vivian had already cried herself hoarse. I stretched lazily, my tone still indifferent: “You pranked me before. Now I’ve returned the favor.” “I heard young people like you don’t get angry even when pranked, right?” “Madelyn, you bastard! You violated my privacy rights! I’m going to sue you!” “I’ll make River cut ties with you completely. You won’t get a single penny from the company!” Bob didn’t give her much chance to speak, waving his hand to have his men throw her out. Vivian’s photos spread rapidly through the circle. In less than three hours. River had called me over a hundred times and sent countless messages. Just then, the sound of someone trying the door code rang out, failing repeatedly. After several attempts, the door was pounded violently. Along with it came River’s angry roar: “Madelyn, open the door!” Only then did I go over and open the door. Once opened, River grabbed my hand and dragged me outside. “Madelyn, Vivian slit her wrists because of you! She’s being resuscitated at the hospital right now!” “You must come with me to the hospital to donate blood. This is what you owe Vivian!” “Madelyn, I never realized how vicious you were! Vivian just played a little joke on you—was this really necessary?” “All that happened to you was your panty color being exposed, but Vivian could lose her life!” I laughed bitterly, violently shaking off his hand. “River, so in your eyes, Vivian is more important than me?” “Important enough that you disregard your identity as my boyfriend to protect her?” River sneered, his face full of disgust: “I only regret not seeing through what kind of woman you are sooner.” “Madelyn, you wanted to break up? I agree. From now on, you have no right to interfere in company matters!” “Now, please come with me to the hospital immediately to give Vivian blood, then kneel and apologize to her!” He opened the car door, trying to pull me in. But before he could touch my hand, someone slapped it away. “Mr. River, may I ask where you intend to take Miss Madelyn?” River looked at the person behind me in shock. It was Uncle Bob. Bob smiled and handed River an agreement. “Mr. River, this is the relationship contract our young miss signed with you previously.” “Since you violated it first, our side has the right to demand you return all the funds our young miss invested in your business!” “Please review it. If there are no issues, sign here!” River was stunned.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371567”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

My roommate’s uncle, River Wilde, had retired from the military. Word was he’d suffered nerve damage and would be wheelchair-bound for life. Most critically, he was impotent. But five years ago, on that stormy night, it was him. The man who’d left me so exhausted I could barely walk. I went to pick him up from the airport, terrified he’d recognize me. Until he saw my four-and-a-half-year-old son. That scar through his eyebrow, identical to River’s, was glaring under the lights. The man stared at this miniature version of himself and suddenly smiled. “Miss Sullivan, five years ago, the woman who slept with me, left two hundred dollars on the nightstand, and disappeared… that was you, wasn’t it?” Chloe POV My roommate’s uncle had retired from the military. They said he’d injured his nerves during peacekeeping operations overseas and would be wheelchair-bound for the rest of his life. Most critically, he was impotent. My roommate Madison was sobbing hysterically on the phone. “Our family line is finished! Chloe, can you pick him up from the airport tonight? I’ll cover your rent for the whole year!” I gripped my phone, frozen in place. River Wilde? No heir? Impossible! Five years ago, on that stormy night, the man who went at me like a rabid dog until I nearly fell apart, his stamina was unreal! Back then I’d blacked out drunk, slept with him thinking he was a male escort, left two hundred dollars as payment, and fled in the middle of the night. And then I got pregnant! I glanced instinctively at my son on the carpet. His eyes, his nose, and that naturally scarred eyebrow above his left eye-he was a miniature replica of that man! I’d been raising his son for four and a half years, and he didn’t have an heir? But… For Madison’s promise of free rent, I gritted my teeth and agreed. “Fine, I’ll go.” I took a deep breath, clinging to hope. After all, five years had passed. I’d gone from heavy makeup to bare-faced, and he was dysfunctional now-his memory should be fuzzy, right? Before leaving, I pinched my son’s cheek. “Sweetheart, I’m picking up a friend.” Liam blinked his eyes, so similar to River’s, and cut straight to the point. “Mom, your heart’s racing. Are you lying?” …This damned genetic dominance. 10 PM. Torrential rain. I parked my red Wrangler at the airport curb, my calves still cramping. Someone knocked on the window. A tall shadow stood in the rain. The man wore a black tactical jacket, rainwater sliding down his buzz cut and along his sharp jawline. This was supposed to be a broken man? This was clearly a wolf in his prime! Madison’s intel had never been reliable! I fumbled to unlock the door. The instant it opened, an aggressive wave of masculine pheromones flooded the car. The man slid into the passenger seat, his long legs cramped with nowhere to go. He turned his head, those pitch-black eyes sweeping emotionlessly across my face. His gaze felt tangible, like a blade scraping my skin. I held my breath, my heart nearly jumping out of my throat. “Hello, I’m Madison’s roommate, Chloe Sullivan.” Three seconds of dead silence. He suddenly quirked his lips, his voice low and teasing. “Why are your hands shaking? Am I that scary?” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. This voice was identical to the one that had whispered in my ear five years ago, forcing me to moan his name. He suddenly leaned in close, forcing me to lean back. Seeing me startled, he curved his lips in an ambiguous smile. “Why are you dodging? I’m just fastening your seatbelt.” His long fingers reached across me to click the buckle, but his gaze dropped to the collarbone visible at my neckline, his eyes darkening abruptly. “Though, Miss Sullivan, your scent… seems familiar.”

Chloe POV Those two words shot through me like an electric current. I went rigid, one thought consuming my mind. I’m done for. He recognized me. Five years ago that night, I’d used this exact custom body wash. It was a special blend from our studio, completely unavailable on the market. I clutched the steering wheel, my brain racing for an excuse. “R-really?” I forced a dry laugh, trying to kill the conversation. “Madison uses this body wash too. You probably smelled it on her.” River leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed yet radiating inexplicable pressure. “Drive.” I exhaled in relief and hit the gas. The car fell into suffocating silence. His deep voice suddenly broke it. “Madison said I’m a man with no reproductive ability?” I nearly ran a red light, jerking my head toward him in alarm, meeting his sardonic gaze. His fingertips tapped his knee. “She said my nerves are damaged, I’m in a wheelchair, sexually dysfunctional… do you believe that?” I couldn’t answer. Believe it or not, the key point was I’d experienced otherwise! That night had nearly broken my back. If that counted as dysfunctional, every man on earth would need ICU admission. But I didn’t dare say it. I could only play dumb. “Madison was just worried about you…” Just then, the car’s Bluetooth rang, the screen flashing “Ex-Husband”. That was the name I’d saved Madison as. My hand slipped and I answered the call. Madison’s booming voice immediately filled the car. “Chloe! Did you pick up that old cripple? Don’t provoke him! He might be impotent, but those hands are military-trained. He could crush you with one hand!” Deathly silence. The air pressure in the passenger seat plummeted to freezing. River narrowed his eyes, tongue pressing his cheek, laughing in disbelief. “Impotent?” He spoke coldly into the microphone. “Madison, is this how you introduce me to people?” A scream erupted from the other end, followed by an instant disconnect. I wanted to cry. I’d completely offended him now. River turned sideways, his large hand suddenly settling on my headrest, caging me in. He leaned in close, so close I could see the fine hairs on his scarred eyebrow. “Do you also think I’m impotent?” This was truly a life-or-death question. I improvised desperately. “No! I admire you! And I have no right to judge-my ex-husband had those same problems, which is why I divorced him and took the kid!” River paused, his expression strange. “You were married? You have a child?” “Divorced! The kid’s four and a half, has my last name.” He fell silent for a moment, his gaze roaming my face as if assessing truth from lies. After a long pause, he withdrew his hand and sat up straight. That aggressive pressure eased slightly, though his tone remained sharp. “That man was defective too?” I nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! He was tiny down there, and he used to hit me all the time! That’s why I left!” Insult away. I was cursing a nonexistent person anyway.. River snorted coldly, looking out the window, his voice emotionless. “That kind of trash deserves to die.” I quietly sighed in relief. At least I’d gotten through this round. But I didn’t notice- Reflected in the car window, the man’s expression wasn’t one of understanding. It was… excitement?

Chloe POV The car stopped outside Madison’s house. River didn’t move, his gaze landing on my phone screen that had just lit up. It showed a photo of me and my son Liam, his expression eerily similar to River’s. His slender fingers picked up the phone. “This is your son?” My scalp prickled as I snatched it back. “Yes! Just a random shot!” He didn’t dodge, his eyes narrowing. “Handsome kid. Doesn’t look like your ex?” “Not at all! Must be a genetic throwback or a mutation!” My guilty conscience made my volume spike. River scoffed and pushed open the door, tossing out an cryptic comment. “Let me take you to dinner sometime. I’d like to meet this genetically mutated little guy.” I watched him disappear, collapsing into the driver’s seat drenched in cold sweat. Meet Liam? Absolutely not! That scarred eyebrow would expose everything! When I got home, Liam was sprawled on the carpet drawing, looking up seriously. “Miss Sullivan, you’re forty-five minutes late.” I pulled him into a tight hug. “Sorry, I ran into a big monster.” Liam pushed me away, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Mom, you smell like smoke. It’s gross.” I sniffed my sleeve. It had indeed absorbed River’s sharp, domineering scent. In the shower, my thoughts drifted uncontrollably to five years ago. That night, the bathroom water had sounded just like this. That man had pinned me against the foggy mirror, his movements fierce, demanding over and over if I felt good. “Damn it!” I slapped my flushed face. This could never happen a second time! The next morning, Madison’s phone call woke me. “Chloe! Save me, Chloe!” Madison’s voice sounded near tears. “That psycho! First thing this morning he removed every lock in my house! Said it was for security checks!” “Worst part-he insists I take him to our studio! Says he wants clothes made!” My brain exploded with a bang. “Clothes? What clothes? We make women’s clothing!” “He says he wants men’s clothes! And he specifically wants you to take his measurements personally!” Madison was whimpering on the other end. “Chloe, for the sake of my life, I already agreed. We’ll be at the shop in ten minutes!” Ten minutes?! I looked at Liam still rubbing his eyes in bed. It was Saturday-no kindergarten! I’d planned to take Liam to the studio! If River ran into Liam at the shop… I didn’t dare imagine. “Quick! Liam, get dressed!” I yanked off the covers and frantically dressed my son. “Where are we going?” Liam looked confused. “Running for our lives!” I grabbed my son and rushed out, hitting the down button just as- Ding. The elevator doors slowly opened. Two people stood inside. One was a resigned-looking Madison. The other wore a black dress shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. River Wilde. He stood there in the elevator, his gaze piercing through the opening doors, landing precisely on me and Liam in my arms. In that moment, the world seemed to freeze. Liam blinked, then suddenly pointed at River and asked the ultimate question. “Mom, why does this Mr. Monster have a broken eyebrow just like mine?”

Chloe POV Madison’s jaw dropped. River’s pupils contracted sharply as he stepped out of the elevator in one stride, his presence overwhelming. I backed up with my son until I hit the wall. “Broken eyebrow?” River looked down at Liam, his voice light as a feather yet heavy as a hammer, his rough fingertip reaching toward Liam’s eyebrow. Every alarm in my head went off! I slapped his hand away hard. “Don’t touch my son!” A red mark bloomed on River’s hand. He didn’t get angry. Instead, he raised an eyebrow with an ambiguous smile. “Such a strong reaction? Afraid I’ll eat the kid?” I forced myself to stay calm. “This was… from when he was little! Right, Liam? He fell when he was two!” I blinked frantically, signaling him. Liam, who’d inherited his father’s intelligence, nodded calmly. “Yeah, Mom said I fell.” River withdrew his hand and tucked it in his pocket, his gaze glued to Liam’s face, scoffing. “Quite the technical fall-looks exactly like my natural one.” I laughed dryly. “It’s just fate, fate…” Madison quickly intervened. “Okay, enough about eyebrows! Let’s go!” I made an excuse about getting something and shoved Liam at Madison. “You two go to the car first!” River watched the little figure being led away. That swagger in his walk was a carbon copy of his own. He laughed softly. “What’s the kid’s name?” I was guarded. “Liam.” River gave me a disdainful look. “Like your ex-husband. No taste.” After that insult, he finally turned to follow Madison. I leaned against the doorframe, exhaling deeply. My legs were so weak I could barely stand. Just now, I really thought he was going to drag Liam off for a DNA test. But the crisis wasn’t over. The car ride ahead would be even more terrifying. One big, one small, sitting side by side-the atmosphere eerily harmonious. Liam suddenly pointed at River’s forearm. “Did your gunshot wound heal?” My hand jerked and I nearly drove into a ditch. River’s eyes flashed with appreciation. “How do you know?” That’s a special forces soldier’s badge of honor-why are you asking about everything! River didn’t seem angry though. He glanced down at his arm, asking casually. “How do you know it’s a gunshot wound?” “I saw it on TV.” Liam looked serious. “Only bullet wounds leave this kind of round scar.” River smiled. “Good observation skills.” He pulled out a mint and offered it. Liam shook his head. “Mom says don’t take things from strangers, especially ones who look like bad guys.” I choked on my own saliva. River’s face darkened, yet he remained patient. “I’m related to your mom’s roommate. You should call me…” Liam innocently finished the sentence. “Uncle?” Madison burst out laughing. “Told you you’re old!” A vein bulged at River’s temple as he gritted his teeth and pinched Liam’s cheek. “Fine.” The gesture looked fierce, but the pressure was gentle as a tickle. If you ignored the complicated history, they really did look like father and son. At the studio. Madison pushed River into the fitting room. “Chloe, go! You’re the measurement expert!” The door closed, leaving just him and me in the cramped space. Cool fragrance mixed with testosterone. River spread his arms in front of the mirror, watching my trembling form with amusement. “Miss Sullivan, let’s begin. I don’t like tight clothes-they’re constricting.” I took a deep breath and approached with the measuring tape. When measuring his shoulders, I had to press against his chest. Through the thin shirt, I could feel the hard planes of his pectorals and his powerful heartbeat. “Chloe.” He suddenly spoke my name. Warm breath washed over the top of my head, carrying a tingling sensation. “Don’t you feel like this position…” “Is a bit like five years ago?”

Chloe POV I jerked my head up, crashing right into his bottomless dark eyes. In that instant, I felt transported back to that stormy night five years ago. “Don’t understand?” River chuckled softly, not moving, letting me crouch at his feet. My line of sight directly faced his straight legs and… that supposedly dysfunctional area. My face exploded in heat as I grabbed the measuring tape and stood up-too quickly. My vision went black and I fell straight into a hard embrace. His arm tightened around my waist, a scorching palm locking me in place. “Throwing yourself at me?” The teasing voice exploded above my head. My palm pressed against his taut abs-even through the shirt I could feel the explosive power. This was a broken man? “Let go!” I struggled like a frightened rabbit. River only tightened his grip, forcing me closer until our noses nearly touched, his presence suffocating. “Chloe, your hands kept shaking when measuring my waist. Afraid of me? Or reminiscing?” He was testing me! I closed my eyes and deflected. “I have trauma! My ex used to hold me like this too, then hit me!” The air froze. River’s large hand stiffened for a moment, his expression shifting from playful to shocked, finally settling on disgust. “Hit you? That waste even beat women?” He released me, straightening my wrinkled shirt, his tone cold. “Terrible taste. That kind of garbage should be buried at sea.” I silently lit a candle for the nonexistent man while verbally agreeing. “Yes,you’re absolutely right. I’ve got the measurements, I’ll go select fabric!” I fled the fitting room to find Madison pressed against the door grinning. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, the main door suddenly slammed open. Liam, playing with blocks in the corner, jumped in fright. Three thugs in garish shirts swaggered in. The leader had bleached yellow hair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes sweeping the shop shamelessly before landing on me. “Miss Sullivan, business looks good.” The thug blew a smoke ring, looking completely shameless. “So? How about that protection fee we discussed last time?” My heart sank. These were local punks who’d been harassing businesses on this street. We’d called the police before, but since they never got physical, just came to be annoying every day, the cops couldn’t do anything. “I told you, we don’t need protection.” I pulled Liam behind me, face cold. “Please leave, or I’m calling the police.” “Police?” The thug sneered, stepping forward and reaching out to shove me. “Don’t want to cooperate, huh? Believe me, I’ll smash this dump today!” That dirty hand never reached my shoulder-a long, powerful hand shot out and caught his wrist mid-air. “Crack.” A crisp snap of bone. The thug let out a pig-like squeal, his whole body instantly contorting like a shrimp. River had appeared at my side without warning. One hand in his pocket, the other casually gripping the thug’s wrist-it looked effortless. But the expression on his face was cold, like something that had crawled straight out of hell. “Smash the shop?” He tilted his head, looking at the yellow-haired thug breaking out in cold sweat with detached eyes. His voice wasn’t loud, but it made everyone present shiver. “Who gave you the balls to touch my wo-my niece’s shop?” I stared blankly at his profile. In that moment, his tall frame blocked everything in front of me. That damned sense of security washed over me again. I was falling for him again. But…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371566”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #浪漫Romance

I’m a cake decorator. One day, I received an online order from a girl who wanted me to make an “apology cake.” “Could you hide a pair of handcuffs inside the cake?” she asked. “I went to a bar last night without telling my boyfriend first. He’s upset with me. I want to make it up to him tonight.” I thought of my own fiancé, Adrian—cold and emotionally distant. We only had sex once a month and never played games like this. I couldn’t help but envy this girl a little. That evening, I delivered the cake to the address she’d given me. The moment the door opened, I froze. Standing there was my fiancé—the one who’d told me he was going back to his hometown for a relative’s funeral. Adrian. The air felt like it had been sucked out of my lungs. The cake box in my hand nearly slipped from my grasp. The shock in Adrian’s eyes lasted only half a second. The next moment, his face returned to its usual cold detachment. Ruby poked her head out from behind him, her eyes darting curiously between Adrian and me. “Babe, do you know this delivery girl? Why is she staring at you like that?” Adrian wrapped his arm around Ruby’s waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles at the small of her back. He took the cake from me, frowning slightly. “No. Never seen her before.” Ruby said “Oh” and eagerly tore open the cake box. The handcuffs I’d carefully selected tumbled out. The silver metal gleamed harshly under the entryway lights. “Wow, these look high quality!” Ruby exclaimed. She held up the handcuffs, playfully waving them near Adrian’s wrist. “Mr. Hotshot Lawyer, are you my prisoner tonight?” Adrian’s eyes held an indulgent affection I’d never seen before. I opened my mouth, my throat dry and aching. “Adrian, you—” Before I could finish, Adrian grabbed a few bills from the entryway table and tossed them at me. The money hit my face lightly before scattering at my feet. “Thanks for the delivery. That’s your tip.” His voice was cold as ice, his eyes carrying a warning. Ruby was still laughing. “Babe, you’re so generous! Come on, pick it up! That’s a few hundred dollars right there.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. I wanted to smash that cake in his face. But I couldn’t. I thought of my brother, Cameron, still in prison, waiting for Adrian to help overturn his case. He’d been caught up in an art forgery scandal and was facing ten years. I crouched down and picked up the bills one by one. I turned and left, not even having the courage to look back. Behind me, I heard the door lock click shut. Then came Ruby’s teasing voice, dripping with pleasure. “Ooh, careful… the handcuffs are so cold…”

I returned to our cold, empty apartment. On the wall hung a photo from our engagement. In it, I smiled—gentle and compliant. Adrian was expressionless. Darkness swallowed me like a rising tide. My stomach felt like I’d swallowed lead—heavy and painfully tight. At three in the morning, I heard the electronic lock beep. Click. The living room lights blazed on. The sudden brightness stabbed at my eyes. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark like some kind of ghost?” Adrian frowned, his voice dripping with displeasure. He loosened his tie and tossed his jacket onto the couch. “Sitting there like a damn phantom. Bad luck.” He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and knocked it back. “Since you already saw, I’m not going to bother hiding it anymore.” He leaned against the cabinet, his posture lazy. “Ruby’s young. She’s vibrant. Being with her, I can actually relax.” “And you…” He looked me up and down. “We’ve been together too long. So long that when I’m having sex with you, I find myself distracted, counting how many new wrinkles you’ve developed.” My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my voice steady. “So that’s your excuse for cheating?” “Adrian, let’s break up.” Adrian stopped mid-sip. He set down his glass and walked toward me, step by deliberate step. He bent down, hands braced on the armrests of the couch, caging me in. “Break up?” He let out a low laugh. “Summer, get your head straight.” “Cameron’s case goes to trial next week.” “All I have to do is twitch a finger, and that crucial forensic report will conveniently go missing.” His tone was gentle, but his words were vicious. My pupils constricted sharply. Rage erupted inside me like a volcano. I shot to my feet and shoved him away. “Adrian! You’re disgusting!” Adrian grabbed my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. “Shh. Be good.” “You’ll still be Mrs. Bennett.” “I need an obedient wife to take care of the house and deal with my family.” “Men need a little excitement, you know.” I jerked my head away and dry-heaved. Adrian’s expression darkened instantly. He released me with disgust. “You’re killing the mood.” He grabbed the jacket that reeked of Ruby’s perfume and threw it over my head. “Wash this. I need it tomorrow.” “And remember to visit Cameron at the detention center tomorrow.” “Make sure you tell him his brother-in-law is working ‘day and night’ to clear his name.” “If you don’t behave, I might need to take a few days off.” With that, he turned and headed toward the bathroom. Just then, his phone on the table lit up. A message from Ruby flashed on the screen. [Adrian, you’re amazing. Does she enjoy it this much too? My legs are still shaking~] Adrian paused and glanced at the screen. Not only did he not hide it—he actually chuckled. “That girl. So naughty.” His tone was like a knife plunging into my chest. I grabbed the ashtray from the table. Adrian, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, said coolly: “Cameron’s case file is still on my desk in the study.” My hand froze mid-air. The ashtray felt impossibly heavy. Finally, I let my hand drop, and the ashtray rolled onto the carpet. Despair wrapped around my throat like vines, choking me.

Days of stress and humiliation finally broke my body. My acute gastritis flared up while I was in the kitchen preparing honey water for Cameron. A sharp pain hit me, and everything went black. When I woke up, I was on a gurney in a hospital hallway. People rushed past. The noise was deafening, like a marketplace. A nurse walked over with a cold expression and slapped a payment notice onto my blanket. “Summer Lincoln, right? Pay up now, or we’re cutting off your IV.” I pulled out my phone to transfer money, but it showed insufficient funds. Adrian had transferred all my money out of my account! With trembling hands, I dialed Adrian’s number. No answer. I called again. He hung up. My stomach throbbed with pain. I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand and shuffled toward the payment desk, clutching my abdomen. As I passed the VIP ward section, I heard a familiar voice. “Does it hurt? Let me blow on it. There, all better.” It was Adrian’s voice. So gentle it could melt sugar. I turned stiffly and looked through the half-open door at a scene that made my chest tighten. In the spacious, luxurious single room, Ruby sat on the bed wearing a pink hospital gown. Adrian sat beside her, peeling an apple. “Babe, I’m so clumsy. I burned myself making soup.” “No more kitchen for you. Just tell me what you want—I’ll make it.” Adrian sliced a piece of apple and fed it to her. “I already had the head of the hospital call in the best surgeon for a consultation. I promise you won’t have a scar.” I shoved the door open, clutching my cramping stomach, my face deathly pale. “Adrian, what gives you the right to freeze my account?” Adrian’s hand jerked. The apple slice fell to the floor. He turned around. The moment he saw me, the warmth in his eyes turned to ice. “Are you following me?” “Summer, have you no shame? Faking illness and chasing me to the hospital to make a scene?” Ruby shrank behind Adrian with a little gasp. “Oh my God! Your face is so scary, like a ghost…” Adrian patted her hand soothingly, then turned to glare at me. “Look what you did! You scared Ruby!” “She’s already timid—she can’t handle this kind of shock!” The cramping in my stomach intensified. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead. I was doubled over in pain, gripping the doorframe just to stay upright. “Adrian, what right do you have to take my money? That was for Cameron’s legal fees!” Adrian sneered. “You’ve been a little too defiant lately. Consider this a lesson.” He shoved me aside. Already weak, I crashed hard onto the floor. My stomach hit the ground. The pain made me curl up like a shrimp. I couldn’t even scream. My vision blurred. Adrian stepped over my body and scooped Ruby into his arms. “Did you hurt your wound just now? Let’s switch rooms and have the doctor check you again.” I lay alone on the cold floor, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. “That guy’s brutal.” “His wife’s in so much pain…” A family member from a nearby bed finally called for help. When I woke up again, I was in the emergency room. My phone held a message from Adrian. An invoice. [Ruby suffered psychological trauma from the scare. Her wound tore open again and she’s experiencing mental distress.] [VIP room fees plus emotional damages: $50,000 total.] [Deducting it from your brother’s legal fees.] Then Marcus called. He was Cameron’s gallery owner—and the only friend who knew what I was going through. “Summer, we have a problem.” Marcus’s voice was urgent. “Cameron’s forensic report came back, but… Adrian’s withholding it unilaterally.” “He says it needs re-examination and can’t be submitted to the court yet.” “If we don’t get the original by tomorrow morning, Cameron’s going to be taken into custody.” My phone slipped from my hand.

I yanked the IV from my arm. Blood backflowed, staining half my hand red. I took a cab through the pouring rain to Adrian’s private villa. Adrian was celebrating Ruby’s birthday there tonight. The forensic report was in the study. I was soaked to the bone, looking like a beggar as I burst into the villa. The main hall was ablaze with lights, music pounding loud enough to hurt. A crowd of well-dressed men and women were partying. At the center were Adrian and Ruby. Ruby wore a pristine white evening gown, nestled in Adrian’s arms. It was the dress I’d worn at our wedding reception. “Adrian and Ruby are such a perfect match!” “That Summer Lincoln is nothing.” Adrian stroked Ruby’s hair affectionately. I stood in the doorway, rainwater dripping from my hair onto the carpet. “Adrian. Give me the report.” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the brief pause between songs, it rang clearly through the hall. Everyone turned to look at me. Their eyes glittered with anticipation, eager for the drama. Adrian swirled his wine glass lazily, looking down at me. “Summer, you’re getting more and more out of line.” “This is Ruby’s birthday party. Why are you dressed like you’re attending a funeral?” Ruby lifted her skirt and walked over, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, don’t be mad! I just thought this wedding dress was so beautiful—I wanted to try it on.” “Adrian said I look way better in it than you do. Why don’t you just give it to me?” I stared hard at Adrian. “I just want the report. Keep the dress. Keep Adrian. I don’t want any of it.” Adrian’s expression darkened instantly. He slammed his glass down on the table and pointed at the broken glass scattered on the floor. Someone had knocked over a champagne tower earlier. “You want the report? Fine.” “Crawl over here on your knees. Hold up Ruby’s train so the dirty glass doesn’t stain her wedding dress.” “If you make her happy, I’ll give you the report.” The room fell silent. Then erupted in even louder laughter. “Crawl! For your brother, what’s a little crawling?” “Adrian really knows how to have fun!” I looked at the sea of broken glass, the sharp edges glinting coldly. Then I looked at Adrian’s emotionless face. For Cameron. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and dropped to my knees. The moment my knees touched the glass, searing pain shot through me. Blood instantly stained the white carpet. I bit down hard and crawled forward, one agonizing movement at a time. Every inch I crawled left a trail of blood behind me. The room filled with jeers and whistles. I crawled to Ruby’s feet and lifted her train with shaking hands. Adrian watched the scene, a flicker of something complicated crossing his eyes—but it was quickly replaced by satisfaction. He pulled an envelope from his jacket and tossed it in front of me. “Take it. That’s what you wanted.” I grabbed it like a lifeline, my hands trembling as I opened it. But the moment I saw what was inside, my blood ran cold. This wasn’t the forensic report. It was a confession letter! Written in a forgery of Cameron’s handwriting, admitting to all charges! “Adrian…” I looked up at him, rage blazing in my eyes. Adrian smiled lightly. “Cameron entered the same national competition that Ruby competed in. I think this confession suits him better.” “I’ll help him get a reduced sentence. He’ll only have to serve three to five years.” Ruby crouched in front of me innocently, her big eyes blinking. “Sorry, sis. I made a bet with my friends that I’d win that competition. Your brother’s just going to have to stay inside for a while.” Every shred of sanity I had left shattered in that moment. I grabbed a steak knife from the table and lunged at Ruby. Ruby stumbled backward in panic. “Help! She’s trying to kill me!” She flailed wildly, knocking over a massive candelabra on the table. The burning candles rolled off and ignited the flammable drapes. Flames shot up, racing along the carpet. “Fire! Run!” The crowd screamed and scattered. The fire spread with terrifying speed, thick smoke billowing everywhere. Adrian’s face changed. Without hesitation, he scooped Ruby into his arms. “Ruby, don’t be scared. I’ll get you out!” He charged toward the door. On his way, he kicked over a storage shelf that was blocking the path. The heavy wooden frame crashed down and pinned both my legs. Crack. The sound of bones snapping. I screamed. I was trapped. Through the flames, I watched Adrian carry Ruby out the front door. Smoke choked my lungs. My chest burned. The temperature around me climbed higher. My skin began to blister. I looked down at the fake confession in my hand, pulled out a lighter, and set it on fire. The flames reflected in my tear-filled eyes. If I’m going to die, I’ll die completely. A massive explosion shook the villa. Everything went dark.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371565”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #浪漫Romance

I had just submitted my wedding leave application when the new hire turned to me and said: “Chloe, Ruth just informed me that starting tomorrow, all your projects will be transferred to me.” “Your salary is being cut by eight thousand, and mine is going up to twenty thousand.” I fell silent. I’d been with the company for seven years and had been the top salesperson for six of them. The new hire had only been here three months, and I’d completed his first project for him. And they were demoting me and cutting my pay? I laughed bitterly, stood up from my desk, and walked straight to HR’s office to demand an explanation. HR manager John coughed twice and pulled out my wedding leave application. “According to company policy, wedding leave disrupts normal operations, so we must take disciplinary action. This is Paul’s decision.” I smiled coldly. Paul had no idea that my fiancé was none other than the company’s biggest partner. “Chloe, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. This is Paul’s decision.” In HR manager John’s office. When I explained why I’d come, John pointed to my recently approved wedding leave application on his desk, hinting. “You know how busy the company is at year-end. Requesting wedding leave at this time—aren’t you deliberately causing trouble?” I remained silent. From graduation until now, I’d been with the company for seven years, and I’d been the top salesperson for six of them. Even my lowest-level projects were worth at least a million dollars. A month ago, after I’d secured the partnership with SKY Group, boss Paul had specially thrown a celebration banquet to commend me: “Chloe, you’re amazing! I knew I was right about you. When the project officially launches, I’m definitely giving you a promotion and a raise!” “The Market Manager position is yours.” But now, just because I’d submitted a wedding leave application, I was being demoted and having my salary cut by eight thousand. Facing John’s accusatory gaze, I didn’t rush to argue back. Instead, I calmly pulled up my overtime records from the past three months. “I only requested seven days for wedding leave, and that includes three statutory holidays.” I pointed at my phone screen. “For these seven days, I worked three consecutive months without rest, arriving at eight a.m. and leaving at midnight every day.” “According to company policy, that totals eleven days of compensatory leave.” John’s smile stiffened. I continued scrolling through my phone, pulling up this month’s business list. “Of my projects, five are completed; three are in progress but already signed and finalized.” “There’s one waiting for a response from our partner, Pierce. I just spoke with him yesterday.” “Pierce is on vacation in Norway and won’t be available until after the New Year.” “I clearly communicated all of this when I submitted my wedding leave application.” I stated these facts calmly, staring at him without flinching. “So John, I’d like to ask—which part of the company’s operations did my wedding leave disrupt?” “And how did you and Paul determine that my requesting leave to get married was causing trouble?” Sweat began to bead on John’s forehead. “Chloe, that’s not exactly what I meant…” “I’m not finished.” I cut him off and pointed through the glass door toward a desk near the window—that was Paul’s assistant James’s workstation. He’d gotten married last month, and since his hometown was out of state, he’d taken half a month off. “James got married on the 8th of last month and took two weeks off. On his first day back, the company gave him a family establishment benefit and raised his salary by a thousand.” “John, if you say I’m incompetent and demote me with a pay cut, I’ll accept it.” “If you say I caused major losses to the company and demote me with a pay cut, I’ll accept that too.” “But demoting me and cutting my pay because I requested seven days of wedding leave, and letting a new hire who’s been here less than three months step on my head and completely replace me—” “I’m sorry, John, but that I cannot accept.” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear. John’s face turned from dark to pale, and finally he just threw in the towel: “It’s no use telling me all this. Who told you to be a woman?” “What?” I froze, thinking I’d misheard. John rolled his eyes at me and said coldly: “You only requested seven days of wedding leave, but won’t you have to have kids after marriage? And won’t having kids mean maternity leave and parental leave? Add all that up—who knows how much the company will lose in the future? Can you take responsibility for those losses?” “I just can’t stand you young women, thinking you can play tricks just because you’re getting married, always requesting time off at the drop of a hat. If everyone did that, the company might as well close.” “Alright, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear any of this today. Get back to work.” “Really think you’re someone special.” John muttered, looking at me like I was a piece of replaceable trash. I looked at him, feeling chilled to the bone. I’d worked hard for the company for seven years, and just because I’d applied for wedding leave once, seven years of effort became “causing trouble.” I’d been the top salesperson for six years, generating tens of millions in revenue for the company, and just because I was getting married, my position and salary could be easily replaced by a new hire. This was the company I’d worked for seven years. Efficient, and brutally cold. I stood up, gave John one last look, and turned to leave. Since that’s how it was, I didn’t need to tell the company. My fiancé was actually Stuart, the CEO of SKY Group—the company’s biggest current partner.

After leaving HR’s office, I went to the restroom to wash my face. In the mirror, I wore perfectly applied makeup, my shirt buttoned all the way to the top, every strand of hair carefully styled. For seven years, I hadn’t dared to relax for a moment in order to meet my performance targets. When I had colds or fevers, I didn’t dare take time off. When I had family matters, I found others to help. On the company’s perfect attendance chart, I’d been in first place for seven consecutive years. Just because of one wedding leave request, the company had demoted me and cut my pay, and seven years of effort had gone down the drain. I pulled out my lipstick, habitually preparing to touch up my makeup. From inside a bathroom stall, I suddenly heard the new hire on the phone. “Mom, I got promoted.” “You won’t believe this—my supervisor’s been the top salesperson for six years, but just because she requested wedding leave, my boss specifically called me into his office. Said something about how requesting leave to get married shows irresponsibility to the company, that they can’t tolerate employees like that, so they’re promoting me to teach my supervisor a lesson. It’s hilarious.” “Can you believe she’s stayed at this company for seven years? If it were me, I’d have left long ago. There’s bullying, and then there’s this.” Yes, even a new hire who’d only been at the company three months knew this was wrong. But my boss had done it anyway. I snorted, didn’t disturb the person inside, and walked toward my desk. Passing by Paul’s office, I heard John reporting to the boss inside. “Paul, I’ve handled things with Chloe. She won’t cause any trouble.” “Your method was brilliant. Taking advantage of her wedding leave request to directly strip her of her position. After all, she’s just a woman. She should be grateful the company gave her a job opportunity. How dare she request wedding leave? Long hair, short brain.” “Exactly,” from behind his desk, Paul leisurely lit a cigarette. “John, you did well with this. Seven days of wedding leave? She dares to even think it? Really thinks she’s some big shot.” “We can’t set this precedent. If everyone starts using marriage as an excuse to ask me for leave, how can I run this company?” “But…” John suddenly lowered his voice. “What if Chloe quits?” “She wouldn’t dare!” Paul slammed his hand on the desk. “If I hadn’t recruited her into the company and given her such a great platform, how could a woman have climbed to her current position?” “Besides, if she hadn’t gotten married, I might worry. But once she’s married, with car loans, mortgages, baby formula costs… she’ll only become more dependent on the company. Quit? Impossible.” “When she comes back from wedding leave, find an excuse to cut her salary again.” “I can handle her.” Paul blew a smoke ring, and I could feel his smugness even through the door crack. John gave a thumbs up and readily agreed: “Alright, when she comes back, I’ll have her do grunt work for the new hire.” These words, along with the new hire’s words, pierced my heart like knives. Seven years. I’d been at this company for seven years. I’d developed the first state-level market. I’d established the first complete production chain. In terms of performance and ability, I was second to none. I’d thought at least the boss would respect me. But the result… I laughed self-mockingly and returned to my desk. I pulled out my phone and found my fiancé’s Twitter: “Change of plans. Don’t send a wedding invitation to my boss this weekend.” “Yeah, I’m planning to just quit.”

After sending the message, I began packing up my things. The company’s 200-person group chat suddenly updated with an announcement. Paul was calling me out by name. [Former Sales Manager Chloe, due to requesting seven days of wedding leave for personal marriage, has severely disrupted the company’s daily operations. We have decided to revoke her Sales Manager position and reduce her salary by eight thousand. Let this be a warning to everyone.] The group went quiet for a moment, then came a long string of “Acknowledged” messages. Immediately after, my Twitter exploded with dozens of messages. [Sorry Chloe, something came up last minute this weekend. I won’t be able to attend the wedding. Wish you happiness.] This was from my desk neighbor, a workplace partner I’d worked with for five years. [Chloe, um, my elderly relative is sick and I can’t get away. I’ll send you the gift money. Happy wedding.] This came from a colleague—I’d covered his shifts when he was sick and took leave last month. And then there was Lisa, the first intern I’d trained, who was also my bridesmaid. [Chloe, John hinted in the group chat that we shouldn’t attend your wedding. Find someone else to be your bridesmaid…] I stared at the screen, my finger hovering over the keyboard, not replying. I knew this was part of Paul’s manipulation. Making sure no one came to my wedding, turning me into a joke on my wedding day. I closed my phone, forcing myself not to look anymore. Suddenly, a document was slammed down in front of me. “Chloe, SKY Group’s CEO is getting married this weekend. I’ll have to trouble you to come in on Saturday for some overtime.” John looked at me with a fake smile, deliberately emphasizing: “This is Paul’s decision.” I remained silent. On my wedding leave application form, I’d clearly written: Wedding date: January 31st, this Saturday. So demoting me, cutting my pay, and isolating me wasn’t enough for Paul. He actually wanted me to cancel my own wedding? “Are you and Paul sure about this?” I asked in a flat tone. “Of course. How could we joke about something like this?” John tilted his chin at me. “Chloe, don’t feel wronged. Marriage, well, good things come to those who wait. Changing the date is the same thing.” “Fine.” I stood up, picked up the box of items I’d just packed, and showed an unusually warm smile: “Then I’ll see you on Saturday.”

When I got home, my mood had been bad all day because of what happened at the company, and my expression showed it. Stuart was sitting on the couch looking at documents. He turned and saw my expression, frowned, and asked: “Chloe, what’s wrong? You look terrible.” I rarely complained to him about work issues. Whenever I encountered difficulties, I always solved them on my own. Today, I’d originally wanted to tell him it was nothing as usual, not to worry, But when I opened my mouth, I ultimately felt a bit powerless. So I told him exactly what had happened at the company today— How my boss deliberately made things difficult for me because of my wedding leave, trying to cut my pay, Letting a new hire step all over me and take my position, Having company colleagues isolate me so no one would come to my wedding, And making me postpone the wedding to come in for overtime on Saturday. I laid it all out, one thing after another. The more I spoke, the angrier I became. “He also said that weddings are just a formality anyway, and changing the date was no big deal—couldn’t interfere with company work.” My voice grew quieter: “He also said that when I come back from wedding leave, my salary will be cut again, and once I have a family and kids, I’ll be at his mercy and won’t dare to quit.” Stuart’s expression darkened with each word of my account. When I finished my last sentence, he stood up abruptly, his phone already out. “Paul, right?” His voice was cold as ice. “Your boss—I’ve had my eye on him for a while.” “Just wait. I’m calling him right now to tell him the partnership is cancelled.” “Wait!” I quickly grabbed his arm. But he’d already pulled up Paul’s number in his contacts. Over the years, most of the company’s business had been developed by me, But Paul didn’t know that the company’s most important partner, Stuart, CEO of SKY, was my fiancé. “Don’t call yet!” I grabbed his phone. Stuart looked at me, the fury still in his eyes, but he stopped what he was doing. He’d always been indulgent with me. We’d met three years ago at a project coordination meeting. At the time, I happened to be in charge of a collaboration between our company and SKY. Stuart, as SKY’s CEO, represented them at the meeting. The meeting ran from two in the afternoon until eight at night, with both sides deadlocked on several key terms. Everyone else was exhausted, but I was still going over data and revising proposals again and again. After the meeting, Stuart walked over and said to me: “Miss Chloe, you’re the most meticulous person I’ve ever met.” I didn’t know who he was then, assuming he was some SKY executive, So I replied politely: “It’s my job. This project is very important to our company.” Later he told me that it was that evening, Watching me repeatedly verify details and data with my team, my eyes shining, that he’d suddenly felt his heart move. He’d proactively asked for my contact information and started asking me to dinner. At first I thought it was work-related, but later I realized he was pursuing me. I asked him why he liked me, and he said: “I like the way you look when you’re working seriously.” So we secretly started dating, and now, it’s been almost three years. This renewal of the contract between SKY and my company had originally been shelved for two months due to terms issues. It was Stuart who, after learning that I was mainly responsible for this project, actively pushed the renewal process forward. Paul had even specially praised me for it, saying I “had connections.” But he didn’t know that these “connections” were my fiancé giving face on my behalf. All these years, I’d worked diligently and conscientiously for the company, But they treated me this way. It was time I got my revenge. I gripped his hand tightly: “Listen to me. Paul and the others sent out invitations they haven’t responded to, right? Call them now as my fiancé and personally invite them to our wedding.” Stuart paused for a moment, then understood what I meant. The fury in his eyes gradually transformed into a playful smile: “You want them to see you at the wedding?” I nodded, feeling the suffocating anger in my chest finally find an outlet: “I want to see what expression Paul and John have when they discover that the bride of their biggest business partner is the subordinate they docked bonuses from and workplace bullied.” Stuart laughed. He picked up his phone again, called Paul, and personally invited them to our wedding. He put it on speakerphone. I heard Paul on the other end, Nodding and bowing, saying he’d definitely be there on Saturday. A cold smile curved my lips. After hanging up, Stuart raised an eyebrow at me: “Alright, now we just wait for Saturday’s show.” I looked up at him: “Aren’t you afraid they’ll hold a grudge and it’ll affect future cooperation?” “Cooperation is important, but more important is the character of the partner,” Stuart said lightly. “If they can’t even respect their company’s veteran employees, how can I trust them to be responsible for our cooperation?” I smiled and said nothing more. Night deepened outside the window, but my heart felt bright. I suddenly felt even more anticipation for Saturday’s wedding.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371564”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #浪漫Romance

At the highway toll station, I stared nervously at my phone. The heart in the box would fail if not transplanted into the patient within half an hour. Driver Bob leaned close to the toll collector’s ear and whispered something. Instantly, the toll collector’s expression changed. “Get out. Open the box. Inspection.” She pointed at the box containing the donated heart, and my own heart skipped a beat. “Sir, I can’t open it. This contains—” Bob cut me off. “That’s a heart. Evidence of her murder.” “No, this was donated by a patient. I’m a doctor.” The toll collector pressed 911, and I was forced to the ground. They seized the box. At this moment, only 29 minutes remained before this heart would fail. The boy in bed 18 had been waiting for this heart for half a year. Today, he’d finally received good news. The director sent me to the neighboring city to retrieve the heart. This heart was originally donated to a patient in the neighboring city. But the previous patient temporarily didn’t meet surgical requirements. The heart was urgently reassigned to our hospital. “Remember, be quick. Otherwise the heart will fail.” I memorized that instruction and followed the ambulance driver to retrieve the heart. Before we even got on the highway, the ambulance suddenly had a blowout. Bob took me onto a tightly sealed minibus. Getting off the highway, I kept my eyes glued to my phone. Fifteen minutes’ drive remained to reach the hospital. That boy would be saved. But Bob leaned close to the toll collector’s ear, saying something in a low voice. The toll collector’s expression changed instantly. She quickly walked to the back window and barked an order at me. “Get out. Open the box. Inspection.” She pointed at the box containing the donated heart, and my heart skipped a beat. I clutched the box tightly, my face showing difficulty. “I can’t open it. This contains—” Bob interrupted me. “See? I told you. She definitely won’t let you open it. That’s a heart. Evidence of her murder.” I stared at him in shock, not understanding why he would say something so absurd. “No, this was donated by a patient. I’m a doctor.” The toll collector heard me admit the box contained a heart. Instantly, she forced me to the ground and seized the box from my arms. “Don’t open it! Once you open it, this heart will be ruined.” The toll collector’s hand paused. I pulled out my always-carried ID. “Doctor from City Central Hospital. Wesker.” Bob snatched the ID. “Fake. How hard is it to get a fake ID? Don’t let her fool you.” “If this murderer escapes with stolen goods from your station, you’ll all be held responsible.” I stared at him intently. “Bob, what are you talking about? You know someone at the hospital is waiting to be saved.” He pointed at the temporarily switched minibus and opened a news link. “See? This type of vehicle is perfect for murder. If you don’t believe me, have the police come investigate.” Only then did I realize why Bob had suddenly insisted on switching vehicles. He’d planned this all along. But right now, saving a life was urgent. I quickly explained. “I really am a doctor from City Hospital. This heart was donated by a patient. It’s about to fail. Can you let me deliver the heart to the hospital, then investigate?” “You believe her? Let her go, and you think she’ll come back?” “She says it was donated? Make her show proof.” The toll collector extended her hand. “Where’s the proof? Show it. If you can prove it’s real, we’ll let you go immediately.” Because it was a temporary reassignment, none of the paperwork was ready yet. “I don’t have the paperwork. The hospital is processing it.” “Once it’s ready, I’ll definitely bring it to you.” Bob looked at the toll collector. “She doesn’t even have proof. Do you believe she’s a doctor, or believe me that she’s a murderer?” I stared at Bob angrily. “Bob, that’s a human life. You’ve seen that boy. When you drove the ambulance, he always greeted you. How dare you falsely accuse me?” His eyes reddened. “Precisely because I’ve seen that boy, I can’t bear to let him die without understanding why. He’s only in his teens. You killed him.” “Bullshit! This is false accusation. It’s illegal. You’ll go to prison.” “Explain quickly. That child can’t wait.” Time passed second by second. I was frantic with anxiety. “I’m not afraid of your threats. For that child’s sake, I can’t let you go.” “Since you refuse to repent, I’ll have to present evidence.”

In the dim footage, it was inside this very vehicle. I looked like a demon, pulling out that heart and placing it in the box. “I secretly filmed this to report her.” The toll collector’s face went deathly pale, her lips trembling. “It’s fake. This video is AI-generated.” “If you’re a doctor, why didn’t you come out in an ambulance?” The toll collector seemed to think of something key, asking me hoarsely. “When we left the hospital, it was an ambulance. He was the driver. But midway the tire blew out, so we temporarily switched vehicles.” “If you don’t believe me, you can call the donation center to ask.” I dialed the donation center’s number. “Hello! May I ask if a patient donated a heart today?” After receiving an affirmative answer, I breathed a sigh of relief. This phone number clearly showed the donation center’s name. Bob couldn’t claim I was faking it. “Which hospital received it?” Bob raised his voice to ask. “City Second People’s Hospital. It was delivered early this morning.” After the brief female voice fell silent, the toll collector compared my ID. “You’re lying. This is a fake ID.” I quickly explained. “Because the paperwork is being processed, the donation center doesn’t know the heart was temporarily reassigned to First People’s Hospital.” I suddenly remembered the box had a serial number. “Ask them the serial number on the box.” One digit at a time was read out. When the last digit was read, the toll collector looked at that blurry number. “The last digit isn’t clear. Is this an 8?” “No, this box didn’t come from us.” After the cold female voice disappeared, I saw the triumphant smile on Bob’s face. When I was receiving the box, I was signing the transfer form. The box was in his hands. He probably tampered with it then. “See? That heart was delivered to Second People’s Hospital. This box is fake. She’s a murderer.” The toll collector’s expression grew worse. “Officer, where are you now? A heart was found in the vehicle. The vehicle is suspected to be a murder scene.” “The person is detained. Please come investigate quickly.” Twenty minutes remained. After twenty minutes passed… That heart capable of saving a life would stop beating. My brain raced, thinking of solutions. At that moment, the phone rang. Seeing the notification “Department Director,” my heart leaped with excitement. Now, there was hope.

“Wesker, where are you? Don’t you know the hospital urgently needs that heart? What’s going on?” Hearing the department director’s questioning voice felt like hearing heavenly music. “Director, I’ve been detained at the highway toll station.” “What? Who dares detain an ambulance?” “There was an accident. When we got on the highway, we weren’t in an ambulance.” “Bob. He’s accusing me of being a murderer.” I quickly explained everything that had happened. The department director raised his voice. “Put the toll station staff on the phone.” “Hello! I’m the director of the transplant department at First People’s Hospital. That heart is urgently needed. We’re processing the paperwork.” “Can you be flexible and let her deliver the heart first? In 18 minutes, the heart will fail.” The toll collector remained silent. “Don’t believe her. It’s a scam. She’s in on it.” Bob roared. “She can’t provide any proof. She can’t prove where this heart came from at all.” The department director recognized Bob’s voice. “Bob, why exactly are you reporting Wesker?” “How about this—you detain Wesker, and you find someone to accompany Bob to deliver the heart to the hospital first.” Only 16 minutes remained. I nodded quickly. “No problem. I’m willing to wait here.” As long as the heart could be delivered to the hospital in time, I was willing to wait here for investigation. “No way. The heart is evidence.” “They murdered for this heart. Don’t fall for it.” Bob desperately blocked them, making the toll collector, who had been wavering, stop in her tracks. “The police are coming soon. As soon as we investigate clearly, I’ll let her go.” “Snap.” The phone was hung up. “This is a human life—two human lives. If it’s delayed, no one can bear that responsibility.” Not wanting this heart to fail, I pleaded desperately. “Or detain both of us, and you find someone to deliver it.” The toll collector stopped paying attention to me, clutching that box tightly. I prayed. I prayed for the police to arrive quickly. When I heard the siren, I glanced at my phone. Thirteen minutes remained. My phone flashed twice. It was a Twitter message from the department director. “Please look. This must be the processed paperwork sent by the hospital.” The toll collector impatiently opened her phone. I snatched it. “This is all the paperwork. Everything’s complete.” “This is the patient’s donation consent form. This is the declaration signed when the Second Hospital patient gave up transplantation. This is our hospital’s heart transfer consent form.” The toll collector carefully examined each document. “Looks correct to me. Maybe we should let her go.” Hearing this, I quickly straightened up, ready to depart at any moment. Though time was tight, with a police car escort we could still make it. “No. All these documents can be forged. Don’t fall for it.” To convince the toll collector, Bob opened ChatGPT and entered commands. Soon, documents identical to those on the phone appeared. “AI is so powerful. It can generate anything instantly. Don’t let her fool you.” Looking at the identical documents, the toll collector grew troubled. “The police are coming anyway. Wait a bit longer. Once the investigation’s done, you can leave.” I watched the approaching police with a heart like dead ashes. These dozen-plus minutes—I could wait, but the heart in that box couldn’t. The boy who’d spent five years in a hospital bed sustained by machines couldn’t wait. “Who made the report?” Bob stepped forward. “Me. I’m reporting her for murder. The box contains a heart. It’s evidence.” “This vehicle is the crime scene.” I stepped forward quickly, explaining at the fastest speed. “Ma’am, after we inspect the vehicle, if we can rule out suspicion, we’ll take you to the hospital.” “Fine! Please hurry. That’s a human life.” Even though Bob had switched vehicles, I’d only been sitting in the car for an hour holding the box. How could it be connected to a murder scene? “Captain, come look at this.” The team leader took one look and kicked me down. “Cuff her. Take her away.”

“Why are you arresting me? Have you made a mistake?” The team leader looked at me. “Made a mistake? See for yourself. The car is full of blood traces.” Looking at the glowing luminol, I was shocked. I stood there stunned. “Impossible. I only sat in the car for a while. How could I have murdered anyone?” “I’m begging you, contact the hospital again.” “Even if you arrest me, can you please deliver the heart to the hospital first?” His brow furrowed tightly. “That child has been waiting for this heart for years. In just over ten minutes, the heart will fail.” I took the opportunity to call the director. “Wesker, I sent you the paperwork. Why haven’t you arrived yet?” “Director, this is Police Captain Brown. Talk to him.” The director’s tone was anxious as he explained to Captain Brown. “Captain Brown, we’ve already sent someone to the toll station. Can you give the heart to our staff first, and have Wesker cooperate with your investigation?” Bob shouted. “The crime scene has been discovered. You want to let her go?” “I told you, she murdered for this heart.” “If you let her go and this heart disappears, you’ll all pay for it.” Bob’s categorical words frightened the police. “I’m sorry. This heart is the most important evidence in this case.” “Until we confirm where the blood in the car came from, this heart cannot leave police supervision.” The director was about to plead when a nurse’s shout came through the background noise. “Director, bed 18’s heart has stopped. Resuscitation needed.” The call ended abruptly. I glanced at the time. Only five minutes remained. No way to reach the hospital now. This heart was wasted. I hoped bed 18 could be resuscitated. In the police car, Bob sat next to me. As the informant, he endlessly fabricated facts that didn’t exist. Ding. Twitter popped up a message. “Wesker, the patient in bed 18 has died. That heart failed. The hospital wrote it off.” My chest felt like it had taken a hammer blow. I struggled to breathe deeply. “Wait at the police station to cooperate with the investigation. The hospital has already sent someone.” Bed 18 was young. He had such a good chance of survival. But because of Bob’s baseless false accusation, he lost his chance at rebirth. I stared at Bob furiously. “Why did you lie? Why did you falsely accuse me?” “Lie? False accusation? The police found massive blood traces in the car.” “You’re the murderer.” “You know best whether I killed anyone. Bed 18 is gone.” Hearing this, his eyes moved rapidly. “He deserved it. That heart didn’t belong to him in the first place.” I didn’t understand. Usually he was kind. He treated bed 18 well. Every day he brought bed 18 fresh things from outside. Today, he’d also volunteered to come with me to retrieve the heart. How could he suddenly report me? How did those inexplicable blood traces appear in the car?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “371563”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #浪漫Romance