Benjamin Cohen, the billionaire scion, posts a late-night pic from a private jet tarmac. Caption: [Operation Win-Her-Back is a go.] Half an hour later, the newly-crowned heiress, Melody Nolan, posts a pic of a matching rose and a massive diamond ring. Caption: [He found me!] The internet exploded. As fans went into a frenzy, Benjamin himself crashed a live stream and went on the attack: “Win who back? You? Are you allergic to shame or something?” “It’s bad enough I can’t get her back, but now you’re trying to ruin my reputation!” “Do you have any idea how important a man’s reputation is?!” He finished his rant, then whipped his head around, his voice dropping to a pathetic whimper as he looked at me. “Babe, you gotta say something!!!” 1 The day the real heiress returned was the day I was kicked out of the Nolan family home. While the entire internet was laughing at me, a reality TV show offered me a contract. They wanted me to be Melody’s on-air punching bag, her ‘control group.’ To utterly humiliate me, during the ‘borrow money’ challenge, Melody conspired with the producers. We were both forced to call the same person: the infamous Benjamin Cohen. “Let’s just see, sis,” Melody whispered to me, covering her mic when the cameras weren’t looking, her smile dripping with venom. “Will Mr. Cohen lend money to a disgraced fake like you, or to the real, beloved heiress?” “We’ll see,” I said, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure Benjamin would lend me the money, but I was damn sure he wouldn’t lend it to her. For dramatic effect, the host had me call first. As the phone rang, a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. What if he didn’t pick up? The last time we spoke, when we broke up, he swore that if he ever spoke to me again, he was a dog. Thirty seconds ticked by. Nothing. Melody could barely contain her smug grin, though she feigned concern. “Oh no, it looks like Mr. Cohen isn’t picking up for my sister…” Her comment sent the live chat into a frenzy of mockery. LMAO, who does this fake think she is, calling a Cohen for a million bucks?! She couldn’t even borrow a hundred! If she gets a single cent, I will eat my own shoe on a live stream! Careful what you wish for, buddy. You never know. ^^^ Is that a Thea fan? People actually stan the fake heiress? LOL. Yeah, I said what I said! The chat was a warzone, and the tension on set was thick enough to cut with a knife. Melody’s triumphant smile grew wider. Just as everyone expected the call to go to voicemail, it connected. Melody’s smile froze on her face. For a split second, she looked stunned, before schooling her features back into a mask of disdainful confidence. She was certain he wouldn’t lend me the money. The line was dead silent. Benjamin didn’t say a word. I had to be the one to speak first. “It’s me, Thea.” Still nothing. The silence stretched. “Look, um… can I borrow a million dollars?” I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. It was a sound of pure disbelief, quickly morphing into fury. “Thea,” Benjamin’s voice, usually a deep, magnetic rumble, was now tight with rage. “You call me for the first time in months just to ask for money?!” “Mhm,” I mumbled, steeling myself. “No money! But you can have me!” he snarled, and then—click. He hung up. He’d spat the words out with such fury that the last part was garbled. Everyone on set, including Melody, only heard one thing clearly: “No money!” “Oh, what a shame. It seems Mr. Cohen isn’t willing to help you out, sis,” Melody said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy while her eyes danced with glee. The moment she finished, Vivian, an influencer who’d been kissing Melody’s ass since the show began, rolled her eyes at me. “Some people need to learn their place. She’s lucky a man like Mr. Cohen even answered her call.” Then, her face morphed into a fawning smile as she turned to Melody. “Melody, you should call him! He wouldn’t just lend you a million, he’d give you fifty!” Melody preened under the praise, but then she noticed I was staring down at my phone, completely silent. She subtly motioned for a cameraman to zoom in on my screen. The live feed was suddenly filled with the contents of my phone: [NOTICE: A wire transfer of $50,000,000.00 from an account belonging to BENJAMIN COHEN has been initiated to your account ending in 0553 on 07-29-2025. Please verify…] “Fifty million?!” Vivian shrieked, sucking in a sharp breath. 2 Her scream snapped me out of my shock. Before I could even process it, a text from Benjamin came through. [Is that enough? If not I can send more… actually just give me your address, I’ll have a black card sent over. Don’t get the wrong idea, it’s just less hassle. You know how busy I am, I don’t have time to keep sending you transfers…] The text was broadcast live, and a fresh wave of gasps rippled through the studio. I stared at the message, clearly sent before he’d finished typing. I knew Benjamin. That dog was about to say something utterly filthy. Without a second thought, I blocked his number. I’d deal with returning the money after the show. After blocking him, I calmly slid my phone into my pocket and looked straight at the camera. “It’s a scam text. Phishing for my address.” But the live chat had already detonated. FIFTY MILLION?! I wouldn’t even burn that much fake money for my ancestors! Is this what life is like for the 1%? Just casually wiring fifty mil?! Hey, where’s that guy who promised to eat his shoe? Don’t be a coward! Who’s a coward? That text is obviously fake! I’ll double down. If Princess Melody gets a single dollar from him, you’re the one eating a shoe! Deal. And if your princess gets nothing, you eat two? …Fine! The entire internet is our witness! The back-to-back bombshells had wiped the smile off Melody’s face. Vivian, ever the loyal lackey, tried to salvage the situation. “Melody, it’s your turn! I bet that text was fake. After all, Mr. Cohen hung up on her.” She shot me a contemptuous look. “If I got rejected like that on national television, I’d quit showbiz forever. The humiliation!” Vivian’s words seemed to soothe Melody’s frayed nerves. She pasted on her signature sweet, innocent smile. “Okay, here I go!” She dialed Benjamin’s number with an air of absolute certainty. The call was immediately rejected. A look of disbelief and mortification flashed across Melody’s face. “He probably just got spammed and rejected the call without looking,” Vivian said quickly, shooting me a pointed glare. “Try again, Melody.” Melody’s expression softened. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and dialed again with a bright, sugary smile. Rejected again. Now she was starting to look desperate. The other guests were watching her with a new, speculative glint in their eyes. She ignored them and tried again. Rejected. She tried one more time, her thumb jabbing at the screen. This time, it connected. A visible wave of relief washed over Melody. She shot me a look of pure triumph. But before she could even say hello, Benjamin’s impatient voice barked through the speaker. [I told you, I’m not buying insurance! Stop calling me, are you crazy?] Click. He hung up. The entire studio fell silent. For a moment, even the live chat froze. All the color drained from Melody’s face. Her eyes were wide with shock as her trembling fingers dialed one last time. A cold, robotic voice answered: [The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…] 3 He’d blocked her. Somewhere in the studio, someone let out an audible snort of laughter. The chat was a waterfall of LMAO MELODY GOT REKT and Where’s shoe-eating guy? Show yourself! But a flood of PRINCESS MELODY IS THE PRETTIEST bots quickly washed them away. Melody’s face was thunderous. Vivian rushed to comfort her. “It’s okay, Mel! So he blocked you? You can just ask him to unblock you later! And you didn’t borrow any money, but neither did Thea, so…” The more Vivian talked, the more flustered she became, each word a clumsy step on a minefield of Melody’s insecurities. Melody’s face turned stony. She shot a dark look toward the production crew, and her manager, standing off-camera, gave a slight nod. Three seconds later, Melody’s body began to sway. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed. The set was thrown into chaos. Paramedics rushed in and, after a brief examination, announced that Melody had fainted from exhaustion due to her “frail constitution.” Predictably, the chat filled with a new narrative: Melody’s health was poor because she’d spent her childhood suffering in poverty. The live broadcast was abruptly cut short. It was rescheduled for ten o’clock the next morning. 4 Because it was an emergency, the production hadn’t arranged for our accommodations. I found a hotel nearby. After a quick shower, I collapsed into bed. I’d been up all night writing music, and my eyelids felt like they were lined with lead. I slept like the dead, completely oblivious to the drama that had unfolded online overnight. When I finally woke up and checked my phone, I saw that Benjamin and Melody were trending. [BREAKING] #BenjaminCohenAndMelodyNolanSpotted [VIRAL] #OperationWinHerBack MelodyNolan SaysYes [HOT] #CohenNolanMerger WeddingBells The trending page was a wall of their names. Just as I was about to click on a link, the topics vanished. Moments later, Cohen Industries’ official corporate account released a statement. It clarified that the rumors of a relationship between Benjamin Cohen and Melody Nolan were entirely false, and any talk of a merger or marriage was pure fabrication. The statement concluded with a promise to pursue legal action against anyone spreading misinformation. The gossip sites immediately fell in line, deleting their posts and issuing apologies. But Melody’s fans only got louder. They flooded the corporate account’s comments, insisting Benjamin was just playing hard to get and that this was no way to win a girl’s heart. They created a fan page for the “couple,” deepfaking Benjamin’s business interviews and Melody’s reality show clips into romantic montages. As the fans were shipping them to death, they got served. Cohen Industries sued them. Every single fan who had participated in spreading the rumor was named in the lawsuit. Unsurprisingly, this also went viral. The sheer scale of it—suing thousands of people at once—was a jaw-dropping display of wealth and power. The scandal was so huge that even when it was time for the show to resume, Melody was still sulking in her trailer, refusing to come out. The director was pacing frantically. I, on the other hand, was leisurely scrolling through my phone, enjoying the drama. I was watching one of the AI-generated videos of Benjamin and Melody, marveling at how insane fan edits could be, when the director announced we were live in fifteen minutes. I nodded and was about to put my phone away when I realized my thumb had slipped. I’d just liked the video. I LIKED THE VIDEO!!! I frantically unliked it, breathing a sigh of relief at my quick reflexes. But it was too late. A flood of DMs from a “special contact” poured in. Benjamin Cohen: [? You have time to watch garbage edits of me with someone else, but you don’t have time to answer my texts?!] [Thea, you have no heart! I hate you! You seductress who stole my body and my feelings, you evil woman…] [Damn it, why won’t these stupid videos delete?!] [Cry emoji…] [You’re filming a show? Fine. I’m coming to find you.] My eyes widened in horror at the last message. What the hell was that lunatic coming here for?! My fingers flew across the screen. [Respectfully declined.] [Don’t forget what you said when we broke up. If you ever spoke to me again, you were a dog!!] [You don’t want to be a dog, do you?] I hit send, shut down my phone, and prepared to go live. 5 Just then, Melody emerged from her trailer. Her manager must have said something to her, because she looked much calmer. When she saw me, a smug, triumphant look crossed her face. She mouthed two words at me: You’re finished. I just stared back, bewildered. What was her problem? The show resumed. The topic shifted to our love lives. This time, the host started with Melody. “So, Melody, are you seeing someone?” “Mhm!” She nodded shyly, casually tucking her hair behind her ear to flash the enormous diamond ring on her finger. Her cheeks were flushed. “We were, but we broke up. But… we got back together yesterday.” “Wow!” The host’s eyes widened, zeroing in on the ring. “Isn’t that the same ring Mr. Cohen posted on his socials late last night?! So the rumors were true! Are we going to be hearing wedding bells soon?” Melody didn’t answer directly, but she adopted the bashful, glowing expression of a woman deeply in love, which was an answer in itself. The other guests immediately started congratulating her. Vivian, in particular, shot me a look before gushing in an outrageously loud voice. “Oh my god, Mr. Cohen must be so in love with you! A ring that big must have cost hundreds of millions! It’s true what they say, diamonds and flowers for a true beauty!” She then looked at me, adding pointedly, “Unlike some people, who just make things up.” The live chat was now a stream of Congratulations Benjamin & Melody Being Together Forever! Melody basked in the flattery, her smugness growing by the second. She glanced at me and, as if to show off, waved her hand right in front of my face. I couldn’t help it. “You can stop waving it. The diamond is fake.” It was probably a lab-grown diamond. To the naked eye, it looked real enough, but under the studio lights, the fire was just… off. If you looked closely, you could tell. My words were a bomb. The live chat instantly exploded. FAKE?! How dare that bitch Thea slander our princess!! Sour grapes! Melody would never wear a fake! That was a gift from Benjamin Cohen! Exactly! As if a Cohen would give someone a fake ring! She’s just jealous and trashy! You Melody fans are still at it? Benjamin’s company literally issued a statement and is suing people for this. Wake up. Not a fan of either, but as a professional jeweler, I can tell you that ring is 100% fake. ^^^ You’re just a hater! Get lost! Talk trash again and I’ll dig up your ancestors’ graves, I swear! It wasn’t just the chat. The entire studio fell silent. Everyone’s eyes swiveled to Melody’s ring. She instinctively covered her hand, a flicker of panic in her eyes. But Vivian didn’t see it. She leaped to Melody’s defense. “Thea! What are you talking about?! Just because you don’t have one, you’re making up lies! Why would a gift from Mr. Cohen be fake?!” “And you’re so sure it was a gift from Benjamin Cohen?” I shot back. Vivian was momentarily stunned, then puffed up her chest. “Well, who else would it be from? You think Melody would buy a fake ring herself and pretend it was from him? How pathetic would that be!” At that, Melody’s face turned a sickly shade of green. Seeing her reaction, I figured I’d hit the nail on the head. I just shrugged and said nothing more. A strange, awkward silence descended on the set. The host, sensing disaster, quickly tried to change the subject. “So, Melody, can you tell us how Mr. Cohen pursued you?” Melody’s expression relaxed slightly. But just as she was about to speak, the screech of tires from a sports car pulling up outside cut her off. Everyone instinctively turned to look. Stepping out of the car was none other than Benjamin Cohen himself. The set buzzed with excitement. Everyone was thrilled, except for me and Melody. She looked terrified. I was completely dumbfounded. He actually came?! Benjamin strode towards us, his impossibly handsome face a thunderous mask of suppressed rage. Despite the unscheduled arrival, the host was a pro. He hurried forward to greet Benjamin with a warm, respectful welcome before turning the chaos into content. “Mr. Cohen, you really are so devoted to Melody! Following her all the way to the set! We were just asking her how you won her over, but now we can ask the man himself…” The live chat started shipping them again. But at the host’s words, Benjamin, who was usually the picture of cool composure, finally snapped. He whipped his head around to face the terrified Melody and let loose. “Are you insane? Who said I was chasing you? Do I even know you? Who the hell are you? Spreading lies about me all over the internet, is there something wrong with your brain?” “It’s bad enough I can’t win my wife back, but now you have to go and ruin my reputation!” “Do you have any idea how important a man’s reputation is?!” His words hung in the stunned silence. Everyone was now looking at Melody in a completely different light. After eviscerating Melody, Benjamin spun around, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. He looked at me, his expression crumpled and pathetic. “Babe, you gotta say something!!!” Me: ??? The entire on-set audience, mid-gossip: !!! The live chat: ?!?!?! “Mr… Mr. Cohen,” the host stammered. “When you said ‘Operation Win-Her-Back,’ you didn’t mean… you meant Thea?” “Who else?!” Benjamin snapped. He then pulled a small jewelry box from his pocket, opened it to reveal a dazzling diamond ring, and slid it onto my finger as I stood there, completely frozen. While he did it, he threw one last verbal jab at Melody. “Mine’s real, by the way, babe. Not like some people who wear fakes and go around looking for attention. Honestly, she might as well have worn a sugar cube. It would’ve saved her the money, and she could lick it when she gets hungry.” I’d always admired Benjamin’s vicious tongue. After that last comment, Melody let out a choked gasp, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted for real this time. The set descended into chaos, and for the second time, the live broadcast was cut short.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394399”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the eve of our wedding, my fiancée’s childhood sweetheart—a mercenary who’d been off the grid for five years—was brought to her doorstep, clinging to life, the victim of a volatile bio-toxin administered during a mission. He was covered in blood, barely breathing. My fiancée, Seraphina, who was always the picture of calm composure, saw him and her eyes went red. Ignoring my protests, she locked herself in the bedroom with him. She was in there all night. And I stood outside that door all night, listening. The next morning, when I confronted her, my voice raw with a sleepless fury, she stood protectively in front of her mercenary. Her walls came down, and the defiance was ugly. “I wasn’t going to just watch Rhys die,” she spat. “So what if it was my first time? What’s the big deal about one wild night before the wedding?” In that single, chilling moment, every ounce of love I ever had for her vanished. 1 The sounds of their night-long entanglement finally faded. Seraphina emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in a tattered nightgown. Her legs trembled, forcing her to brace herself against the wall as she walked. The angry purple bruises blooming across her exposed skin were a brutal, glaring testament to what had happened. She walked straight past me, poured herself a glass of water at the dining table, and then spoke, her voice laced with irritation. “Brad, your little tantrum has gone on long enough. I’m exhausted, and I don’t have time to deal with your moods.” “It was just my virginity. It saved Rhys’s life, so at least it was good for something. Can you stop being so damn old-fashioned?” “Old-fashioned?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You were the one so enlightened, throwing yourself at him!” Sera slammed the glass down on the floor, shattering it. “Shut up!” she hissed. “Rhys isn’t stable. Don’t you dare say a word of this in front of him, or you can forget about this wedding!” As if on cue, a private medical team I had on standby entered the bedroom to begin emergency treatment. Sera rushed to their side, not even sparing me a glance. Rhys was lying on our marriage bed. He weakly grasped Sera’s hand. “Sera, I’m so sorry to be a burden… I just wanted to see you one last time before I died…” The air was thick with the cloying, musky scent of their night together. The overflowing trash can beside the bed told its own story. “To have you before I die… I can die happy,” he whispered dramatically. “At the wedding… can I be the one to give you away?” “Don’t be ridiculous!” Sera choked back a sob, clinging to his hand. She turned and screamed at the doctors. “Save him! Do something!” Then she looked back at Rhys, tears streaming down her face. “You’re going to be fine, Rhys. I’m still waiting for you to unbutton my wedding dress, remember?” They kissed, a desperate, feverish embrace, like two lovers in a disaster movie savoring their final moments. I watched this saccharine, melodramatic scene unfold in my own home and felt a wave of nausea roll through my stomach. Everyone knew Seraphina Ross was my one weakness. For her, I, Brad Rinker—a man who’d never had to lift a finger in his life—had clumsily learned to cook. I gave her everything she ever asked for. I had even knelt outside my family’s estate for three days and three nights, enduring a broken leg at my grandfather’s hand, just for the right to marry her. I had given her my entire heart. And this was my reward. “Brad, are you blind? Standing there like a statue.” Sera’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts. Her eyes were filled with impatience. “Get the Rinker family’s top medical unit over here now! Do you want his death on your conscience?” When I didn’t move, her face darkened. It was the first time I had ever defied her in front of others. “The wedding is tomorrow, Brad! Are you really going to start a fight with me now?” “You still remember you’re getting married tomorrow?” I sneered, my eyes fixed on her barely-there nightgown. “Funny, that must have slipped your mind while you were rolling around in our bed with Rhys.” “I was saving his life!” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Right. Saving his life. You had the antidote, but you chose to offer yourself instead. How noble!” Her face paled, then flushed with anger. Before she could retort, the wedding planners and her bridesmaids bustled into the apartment. Her maid of honor, Maya, saw the scene and her brow furrowed. She quickly wrapped a robe around Sera, then shot me a disapproving look. “Brad, I know it’s the big day, but could you have toned it down a bit? She can’t be seen like this…” “This has nothing to do with him!” Sera snapped, pulling the robe tighter and glaring at me. “Rhys was poisoned last night. I was just helping him out, and a certain someone is being incredibly petty about it.” 2 The air in the room froze. Maya’s teasing smile stiffened on her face, but she tried to smooth things over. “Don’t joke like that! We’re all so happy for you two. Come on, let’s get you dressed.” “Who’s joking?” Sera’s voice rose, sharp and defiant. She walked to the bed, took Rhys’s hand, and announced proudly, “Rhys is right here. I saved him. Last night, we…” “Sera, stop!” Maya hissed, digging her nails into Sera’s arm. “I did nothing wrong! Maya, you know I’ve loved Rhys since we were kids! And saving a life is a good deed!” “Enough.” The fight drained out of me. I turned to leave, the exhaustion hitting me like a physical weight. “Brad, have you not caused enough trouble?” Sera blocked my path. “The bridesmaids are here! You can’t leave!” Her friends stood by the door, trying to reason with me. “Mr. Rinker, please, don’t do this. You’re about to get married! Five years together, that’s not easy to throw away.” “She did it to save someone, it’s not like she was just cheating for fun! You can’t hold it against her.” “Exactly! Rhys and Sera are childhood sweethearts, they’ll be like family. Be the bigger person, don’t let people look down on you.” I laughed coldly. “The only thing people will look down on is the man wearing horns this big.” Just as I was about to say more, Rhys’s condition suddenly worsened. The medical team rushed him out to the hospital. Sera’s eyes were glued to his retreating form, filled with a raw panic. Only when he was gone did she turn back to me, her voice a venomous snarl. “Are you happy now, Brad? All your accusations, and you’ve undone everything I did last night! If anything happens to Rhys, you’re a murderer!” She had the audacity to talk about her “efforts.” I looked at the hatred in her eyes, and a bitter ache settled in my chest. Five years of my unwavering devotion, erased by one appearance from him. Sera, not even bothering to put on shoes, started to run after the ambulance. “Postpone the wedding,” she threw over her shoulder. “Rhys can’t be left alone.” “What are you doing?” Her bridesmaids blocked her way. “Sera, you’re getting married! Don’t ruin everything over a moment of panic!” “They have nurses for that, Sera! You need to stay here and get ready!” She didn’t listen, struggling against them. I watched the pathetic drama unfold, my voice like ice when I spoke. “Let her go. The engagement is off.” Sera froze, her face a mask of disbelief. “Brad… are you threatening me?” Threatening her? No. I was just tired. Five years ago, Seraphina had claimed it was love at first sight, launching a relentless pursuit. For three months, I remained unmoved. Then, during a hurricane on a business trip, she drove through the storm, risking her own life, just to see for herself that I was safe. She had stood there, drenched and disheveled, but her eyes were shining. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she’d said with a radiant smile. In that moment, my heart had betrayed me, and I fell headfirst into love. After we got together, I leveraged my family’s connections to land her family a multi-billion dollar project. I funded their overseas expansion, clearing every obstacle in their path. In just a few years, the Ross family business went from a small, local company to an international brand, all thanks to the resources of the Rinker family. I gave her everything. Sometimes I felt it still wasn’t enough. And with one appearance, Rhys Morgan had made me the loser in a game I never even knew I was playing. “Fine! Call it off!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “Rhys is back now anyway! I can finally have the happiness I deserve! You did this to yourself, Brad!” 3 The threat in her eyes was almost laughable. Did she really think, after all this, that I would still be her obedient lapdog? Just as she turned to leave, her phone rang. “Yes, this is his partner. What’s his condition?” Whatever the person on the other end said made the color drain from her face. She stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth. “Treat him. Use the best medicine you have! I’ll authorize it!” After hanging up, she looked at me, a flicker of guilt in her eyes before it was replaced by determination. “Rhys’s condition is critical. He needs an immuno-activator serum. The one you’ve been waiting on just arrived. Give it to him.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Does. He. Deserve it?” That serum was worth millions, a custom bio-engineered treatment that money alone couldn’t buy. I had commissioned it for my grandfather five years ago, calling in favors I could never repay. And she thought she could just demand it? The audacity was breathtaking. Sera’s face went white. Then a cold smile touched her lips. “Brad, all of this is just a game to force me to marry you, isn’t it?” “Fine. You win. I’ll marry you after Rhys recovers. Now give up the serum.” Her tone was impatient, as if she were granting me some great favor. When I didn’t respond, she added venomously, “Or you can stand at the altar alone tomorrow. When the bride is a no-show, the Rinker family will be a laughingstock!” The desperate madness in her eyes was pathetic. Make the Rinker family a laughingstock? She wasn’t nearly important enough for that. I turned to leave, but a text from my assistant stopped me. Seraphina Ross has requisitioned the serum for Rhys Morgan under your name. It’s in transit. Requires your final authorization signature. Sera rushed over, grabbing my arm. “Sign it, Brad! Rhys doesn’t have time! Please, I’m begging you!” Her voice dropped to a hateful whisper. “Besides, the serum is already on its way. Rhys will be grateful. Your grandfather is an old fossil anyway, he’s lived long enough. The serum would be wasted on him…” CRACK! The sound of my hand connecting with her cheek echoed in the room. She crumpled to the floor, staring up at me in stunned disbelief. “You hit me!” she shrieked. “BRAD!” I ignored her curses, got in my car, and sped toward the hospital. My phone was ringing off the hook. I was about to turn it off when a new call came in. A name I hadn’t expected. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to be calm. Sloane Ricci’s amused voice came through the speaker. “Mr. Rinker. About this wedding tomorrow. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” I sighed. “I don’t make a habit of backing out of commitments of this magnitude.” “Really?” I could practically hear her smirk. “You’ve backed out of quite a few things for that woman over the years.” I pinched the bridge of my nose at a red light. “Never when it truly mattered. My family needs your family’s medical technology division, and Ricci Industries needs access to our markets. This alliance is mutually beneficial.” There was a pause. When she spoke again, her voice was serious. “I have no interest in being your wife. The moment that woman cries, you’ll go running back to her, and untangling our two corporations will be a nightmare.” I glanced at the GPS. Ten minutes to the hospital. “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice cold and final. “As of this moment, I’m single.” “See you at the altar tomorrow.” I hung up, a sense of calm settling over me for the first time all day. As I made a turn, a familiar car slammed into me from behind. The impact was violent, sending my car flipping onto its side. A searing pain shot through my legs, and my vision swam with red. Through the shattered windshield, I saw Seraphina get out of her car. Her expression was pure poison. “You forced my hand, Brad,” she said, her voice devoid of any emotion. “Rhys can’t die.” She ignored my broken, bleeding body and pulled my phone from the wreckage. I tried to move, to stop her, but I didn’t even have the strength to crawl out of the car. “Stop…” I croaked. “Stop?” She didn’t even look up from the screen. “I can’t believe you’d let him die. I’m doing you a favor, Brad. Helping you earn some good karma.” I glared at her, my teeth grinding. “That serum… was for my grandfather. He’s been waiting five years.” Sera rolled her eyes. “It’s just a stupid serum, you can order another one. Don’t be so stingy. Besides, your grandfather has lived long enough. He should be dead already! All that money you waste on him… you think it’s going to increase our inheritance?” I started to laugh, a broken, pained sound. My love, my grandfather’s life… none of it mattered more than Rhys Morgan. She had forgotten that the only reason she had any power at all was because of me. “‘Wedding to proceed as planned’?” She saw the message I’d sent my assistant and scoffed, tossing the phone onto my chest. “So you really do want to marry me. Fine. Now that I have the serum, I suppose marrying you isn’t the worst thing in the world.” Before I could speak, she started listing her terms. “First, when Rhys is discharged, he’s living with us. I need to be there to take care of him.” “Second, transfer all your personal assets to his name. He needs financial security. You can keep the company.” “Third, I’m having his child first, to carry on the Morgan name. Then we can talk about having one for you.” She looked at me, utterly confident, as if my agreement was a foregone conclusion. “They’re just small things, right? I can’t give Rhys marriage, so I have to compensate him in other ways.” She turned and ran toward the hospital, leaving me for dead. I struggled to call for help, my world going black as I heard the distant wail of sirens.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394398”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I collapsed on the sidewalk from low blood sugar. A man with a stroller saved me. But when I got home, he was there—in my apartment—calling me his wife. I stared, bewildered, as my mother handed me a baby. “The accident was six months ago, Cobie. Don’t you remember your son… and your husband?” I went to the hospital and pulled my records: detailed charts of a pregnancy I didn’t recall. Even the doctor shook his head, saying such memory loss wasn’t unheard of. So I accepted it. I became a wife to a stranger and a mother to a child I didn’t know, working tirelessly to support them. The stress and overwork broke me. Before forty, I was diagnosed with late-stage breast cancer. Then the son I raised emptied my accounts, leaving a venomous note: “If you weren’t rich, I never would’ve called you Mom.” I died alone on a cold street, coughing blood. When I opened my eyes—I was back on that sidewalk. And the man with the stroller was walking toward me. … A wave of dizziness washed over me. I knew what was coming—the telltale crash of low blood sugar. I glanced across the street and saw him. Leo. Pushing that same baby stroller, just as before. Our eyes met, and for a terrifying second, my past life flooded back in a nauseating rush. I saw the ghost of his dirty socks and shoes, scattered across the floor of my home, never once making it into the hamper. I saw myself, working from eight in the morning to past ten at night just to provide for him and that child, while he lay passed out on the designer sofa I’d picked out, reeking of stale beer. He’d vomit, and the mess would sit there, waiting for me to come home and clean it up. I remembered the endless fights, my desperate pleas for a divorce. And my mother, always there, covering the child’s ears, chiding me. “That’s just how men are, Cobie. Can’t you be a little more forgiving?” Until the day I died, freezing on a city street, I never understood how I could have married a man like him. More importantly, I never knew if my amnesia was real or a lie. The world was spinning. I grabbed a lamppost and slid to the ground. Across the street, Leo let go of the stroller. How had I missed it the first time? That one detail was so glaringly wrong. There were at least four or five people between us, blocking his view. How could he possibly know, with such certainty, that I was about to collapse? And what kind of parent, out with an infant, would be paying such close attention to a random woman on the street? You watch your child. You don’t just abandon a stroller to rush to the aid of a stranger unless… Unless you were waiting for it. Waiting for me to fall so you could be the one to pick me up, to make that first, critical point of contact. The realization hit me like a physical blow. I dug my nails into my thigh, the sharp pain jolting me back to my feet. A woman next to me, her brow furrowed with concern, leaned in. “Honey, are you alright? You look awfully pale.” I couldn’t let him touch me. Not this time. The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. I grabbed the woman’s arm, my voice trembling. “I… I skipped breakfast. I’m just a little faint. Ma’am, could you help me? Just… help me cross the street.” My eyes were locked on Leo. He was already striding toward me, his pace quick and purposeful. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the sudden silence of my mind. In a horrifying flash, I saw the face of that boy, now a man, his eyes filled with contempt. “You can’t even come up with a hundred grand? What have you been doing for the last twenty years?” “Give us the money, or you can forget about us ever taking care of you.” My knees buckled. The woman’s voice grew louder, more urgent. “That’s it, dear, I’m calling an ambulance. You don’t look good at all!” She fumbled for her phone, but a hand suddenly covered it, stopping her. Leo’s voice, smooth and practiced, sounded right beside me. “Ma’am, there’s no need for an ambulance. It’s just her blood sugar. She’ll be fine with a little something to eat.” He gently guided her away. “The light’s green. You go on ahead. I’ll help her sit down for a minute.” His voice was a bucket of ice water, snapping me back to reality. I took a shaky breath and slapped myself. Hard. Twice. The sharp crack of the slaps echoed in the street noise, turning heads. Everyone stared. Leo’s eyes widened in surprise, positioning himself between me and the older woman. “Hey, silly girl, what are you doing? It’s just low blood sugar, nothing to be scared of. I’m here.” His words had their intended effect. The woman relaxed, assuming we knew each other. “Oh, well, I suppose an old woman like me wouldn’t be much help anyway.” Another man chimed in. “Look how thoughtful he is, he even brought you something to eat. You young people need to take care of yourselves, no matter how busy you are. Go on, sit down and have a bite.” A smug look flickered in Leo’s eyes. His hand started moving toward my shoulder. Warning bells shrieked in my head. The ugly memory of him coaxing my bank passwords out of me in my past life flashed before my eyes. I will not let him touch me. I lurched backward, trying to put space between us. But Leo anticipated the move, closing the distance instantly, his voice dripping with faux concern. “The man’s right. Work can wait a few minutes.” The crosswalk light changed, and the small crowd around us melted away, leaving just the two of us on the sidewalk. My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw ached. I sank to the pavement and let out a blood-curdling scream. “HELP! HE’S TRYING TO KIDNAP ME! SOMEBODY HELP!” The people halfway across the street stopped dead in their tracks. Two young men sprinted back, shoving Leo away and shielding me. “We saw you, creep! You kept trying to get closer to her! What the hell do you want?” “There are cameras everywhere, man. I’m calling the cops right now!” Leo held up his hands, his mouth agape, ready to spin another lie. But the mention of the police made him change his mind. He bolted for the stroller. “Fine! No good deed goes unpunished! I’m out of here!” The second he was gone, I scrambled up and ran straight for my office. On the way, I pulled up my hospital’s patient portal on my phone. I scrolled through a year’s worth of appointments. Not a single entry for prenatal care. Avoiding his touch… it had worked. A sliver of relief pierced through the panic. But then I remembered the boy’s last words. If you weren’t rich… Money was the key. My apartment was fully paid off. It was time to cut the anchor. I found a real estate agent’s number and called, giving him the code to my apartment. He went over immediately, sending me a video walkthrough. It was exactly as I’d left it that morning. Clean, quiet, and mine alone. I sighed in relief and signed the listing agreement electronically, urging him to sell it within three days. The only strange thing was my mother. I called her seven or eight times, but she never picked up. It wasn’t until I was standing outside my apartment that night, key in hand, that my phone finally rang. “Cobie, your son misses you. You need to come home right after work.” At that exact moment, my front door swung open from the inside. Leo stood there, wearing my apron and holding a spatula. “Honey, you’re home. Go wash up, dinner’s almost ready.” The words were identical to my past life. A chilling cold spread from my toes all the way up my spine. I clutched my bag and sprinted for the elevator, just as its doors opened and my mother stepped out. “Cobie, where are you running?” “The accident was six months ago. Don’t you remember your son… and your husband?” The nightmare was real. My legs gave out from under me. I had avoided his touch. I had changed the script. Why was this still happening? When I refused to take the baby, my mother physically pushed me back into the apartment. Three hours. The real estate agent had been here just three hours ago. But in that short time, the space had been transformed, littered with the traces of a man and a child who didn’t belong. With trembling hands, I opened the hospital app again and searched my records. And there they were. A full history of prenatal appointments, appearing out of thin air. Leo took off the apron and grabbed my hand, his face a mask of sincerity. “Honey, don’t be scared. We’ll get through this memory loss together. I’m here for you, okay? Don’t be afraid.” My mother, expertly changing the baby’s diaper, spoke without looking at me. “Look how happy you are now. A loving husband who stays home to take care of you, a beautiful son. And to think you used to argue with me, going on about being a ‘career woman’ who’d never get married. In the end, you settled down just like everyone else.” Her words triggered a memory. A year ago, she had been relentless, setting me up on what felt like a hundred different dates. I had no interest in marriage and turned them all down. Then, she went on a long vacation, and when she came back, she never mentioned it again. I thought she’d given up. Now, looking at the man and child in my home, I realized she hadn’t given up. She’d just found a different way. A way that didn’t require my consent. No wonder the paternity test I’d secretly done in my past life had come back positive. Even if she wanted me married, how could she resort to this? The realization that this was her doing sent a surge of fury through me. I shot to my feet. “Even if you were desperate for me to get married, you can’t do it like this!” I screamed at her. “I don’t love him! I don’t want this child! You’ve ruined my life!” I ran to my bedroom, slammed the door, and dialed 911. My mother pounded on the door. “Cobie, what are you talking about? You’re the one who found him! You brought him home to meet me before you agreed to marry him!” “Don’t lie to me!” I shoved my desk against the door. “I’ve already called the police! We’ll let them sort it out! I’m not giving in this time!” When the police arrived, I explained everything through the crack in the door. The officer listened, then scrolled through something on his phone. After a moment, he showed me the screen. “Ms. Evans? According to our records, we’ve responded to this exact situation five times already.” “He is, in fact, your husband, and the child is yours. I even have the results of a paternity test you requested during a previous incident.” I stared in disbelief. This was the first time I had ever called them. How could this be possible? In the living room, Leo was apologizing to the other officer, his head bowed to hide the triumphant glint in his eyes. “She has amnesia. She often forgets us. I’m so sorry to have troubled you.” The officer clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically. “She’s ill. Please, be patient with her.” They were about to leave. I burst out of the room and grabbed one of the officer’s sleeves. “I don’t have amnesia! This is a video my real estate agent took this afternoon! My apartment didn’t look like this!” My hands were slick with sweat. I fumbled with my phone, finally pulling up the chat history. The agent had sent the video with a timestamp and location stamp, just as I’d asked. The officer watched the video, his brow furrowed. He turned to Leo. “What’s going on here?” Leo’s lips thinned, but before he could speak, my mother pushed him aside. “I shouldn’t be the one to say this, but if I don’t, my son-in-law will be wrongly accused.” She squeezed out two dramatic tears. “It’s all my fault. After she became an adult, I pushed her to go on dates, and she started to rebel. The accident and the memory loss made it worse. She’s blocked out the entire memory of her marriage. It’s my fault! I didn’t take good care of her!” She raised a hand to slap herself, but the officer stopped her. “What does that have to do with the video?” he asked. “For her condition,” my mother continued, her voice choked with fake emotion, “I’ve spoken to many psychologists. They all say we have to respect her reality. When the agent showed up this afternoon, I knew my daughter was having another episode. So, my son-in-law and I quickly put everything back the way it was before she was married. We thought we could humor her, ease her back into it… but we never imagined she would become so convinced she was single.” “Here, I recorded my conversation with the agent, just in case.” She played an audio file. Her voice, clear as day. “My daughter has amnesia. Thank you for recording the video as she requested… Yes, I’ll take full responsibility for any consequences. Thank you.” Faced with this irrefutable proof, the two officers exchanged a look. One of them pulled me aside. “Ms. Evans, we understand the situation now. Our recommendation is that you see a doctor…” “Impossible!” I shrieked. “They’re lying! This is a conspiracy!” My voice cracked. “Please, I’m begging you. Talk to my colleagues. My friends. Please, just investigate a little further! I am not married! I did not have that child! I don’t even like Leo!” My desperate sobs seemed to move the officer. He nodded. “Okay. We’ll look into it. But for now, all of you need to come down to the station to give detailed statements.” I clung to his sleeve like a lifeline, refusing to stay in that house with them for another second.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394397”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband, Neil Williams, was a no-show for the bell-ringing of our company’s IPO. Instead, that night, he was spotted at a private party hosted by Chloe Preston, the so-called “Goddess of Venture Capital.” Shortly after, a photo of them locked in an intimate embrace sent shockwaves through the tech world. “Aria, the tech headlines, the investment forums… they’re all blowing up!” my assistant’s voice trembled on the other end of the line. I swirled the crimson liquid in my wine glass, unperturbed. “What’s the panic?” “Leak the high-res original of that photo to the city’s top three media outlets. Anonymously.” “And listen carefully,” I added, my voice cold. “Blur their faces.” “But the IPO commemorative bracelet on Neil’s wrist, the one engraved with ‘001’… make sure it’s crystal clear.” That bracelet was supposed to be a symbol of our shared success. Now, it was a testament to his betrayal. … I was still in my gown from the IPO celebration when the office door burst open. Neil stormed in, reeking of another woman’s perfume, a scent mingling with the palpable heat of his anger. He had skipped our moment of shared glory for another woman’s party. And now, a photo of them clinging to each other in a quiet corner had been meticulously sent to every major player in our circle. His eyes were bloodshot. He slammed his phone down on my desk, the screen shattering on impact. “Aria! Are you fucking insane? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His voice was distorted with rage. “Why would you do this? Chloe is innocent!” “She was just stressed, feeling down! I went to comfort her, that’s all! Nothing happened!” I slowly lifted my gaze, my eyes pinning him in place. “Nothing happened? Does ‘nothing’ usually involve her practically draped all over you?” “And what kind of power does she have over you, Neil, that you’d completely forget the most important moment of our lives? That you’d miss ringing the bell for the company we built from nothing?” His chest heaved, but he was speechless. He never in a million years imagined that a high-definition photo of their embrace would be on my phone within five minutes of it happening. He squared his jaw, forcing out a defense. “For something this petty, you’re willing to ruin the company? Ruin me? Ruin Chloe? Are you serious?” “I never knew you could be so vicious!” “Vicious?” I stood up, closing the distance between us until only a foot of air separated us. The cloying mix of perfume, liquor, and his own guilt churned in my stomach. “Neil, you destroyed my trust. You destroyed yourself. And you dragged your ‘innocent’ Miss Preston down with you.” “It’s just one photo. Think of it as me taking out the trash.” That last line sent him over the edge. Neil’s face turned a shade of mottled purple. He raised his hand, the motion sharp and sudden, aimed straight for my face. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even blink. I just stared at him, my gaze like ice. “Go on. Hit me.” “The second that slap lands, tomorrow’s headline won’t be about the Blue Ocean Tech CEO’s little scandal. It’ll be ‘Neil Williams Assaults Co-Founder Wife.’” “And I imagine that story will do about ten times more damage than your sordid affair with Chloe Preston, don’t you think?” His hand froze mid-air, trembling, before he finally let it fall, defeated. Ten minutes later… The media outlets were shockingly fast. The phone lines at Blue Ocean’s PR department lit up like a Christmas tree. 【Blue Ocean CEO Skips IPO Celebration for Private Tryst with VC Goddess. Where Does His Tech Genius Wife Stand?】 【Blockbuster Scoop! Neil Williams and Chloe Preston: A Capital Alliance or a Rekindled Flame?】 … The headlines were a garish stain across the internet. My assistant rushed in, her face pale. “Aria, the Chairman is on the line, and several of our Series A investors… They’re all demanding you issue a statement immediately! They want you to say it was a standard business meeting, a trick of the camera angle.” A sardonic smile touched my lips. “A clarification? Why on earth would I clarify anything for them?” “I’m Aria Durant. I’m not just his wife. I’m the partner who built Blue Ocean with him from a ten-by-ten garage all the way to NASDAQ.” “He threw away seven years of our blood, sweat, and tears for another woman. And I, the wronged wife, am supposed to play nice and protect the Williams family fortune?” I shot a look at my assistant, then let my gaze drift back to Neil, my voice low and deliberate. “You’ve all worked with me for years. When have you ever known me to be some saint who swallows her pain and pretends everything is fine?” The intercom on my desk buzzed, a shrill, insistent sound. It was Neil’s father, Walter Williams, the Chairman of Blue Ocean Tech. His arrogant voice boomed through the office. “Aria, I’m ordering you to delete everything and hold a press conference. Apologize. Say it was all a misunderstanding!” “The reputation of Blue Ocean, our stock price—they will not be destroyed by your feminine jealousy!” I laughed. “Mr. Chairman, you seem to have one thing wrong. The person destroying your stock price is your own clueless, darling son.” “He’s the one who broadcast to the world that he’s a CEO led by his libido.” The line went silent for a few seconds. He clearly hadn’t expected me to talk back. Then, his voice returned, laced with fury as he laid his cards on the table. “What do you want? Equity? A payout? Name your price, Aria. Just shut your mouth, and we can make this go away.” Trying to buy my silence now? Too late. “I don’t want a thing.” “Except for one… justice.” “Justice?” Walter’s voice on the other end was a harsh, grating laugh. “In the world of capital, justice belongs to whoever has the most shares, the most money!” “Don’t you forget, Aria, everything you have, you have because of the Williams family! Without Blue Ocean, you’re worthless!” “Enough talk. You have thirty minutes. If I don’t see your apology statement in thirty minutes, you’ll face the consequences.” Click. He hung up. “Aria, the Chairman… he’s serious. The Williams have a controlling stake on the board,” my assistant whispered, her face etched with worry. My expression was a placid lake. “It’s fine. I’m not afraid of bugs. When you write code for long enough, you learn to spot the malicious ones. And you crush them.” The next day, a new storm broke online. During a keynote speech at a major industry summit, Chloe Preston suddenly clutched her chest, her body swaying before collapsing to the ground amidst a chorus of gasps. Her PR team was lightning-fast. Less than five minutes later, a photo of her on a stretcher was everywhere. The accompanying caption was a masterpiece of manipulation: 【Overwhelmed by days of baseless accusations, Chloe’s body has finally given out under the immense pressure. Thank you all for your concern. Please, don’t blame anyone. It’s all my fault!】 In the photo, her eyes were shut, her lips pale. She looked like she was at death’s door, and the internet’s protective instincts flared. The narrative flipped on a dime. The hashtag #ChloePrestonCollapses became the number one trending topic on every platform. My name became synonymous with “vengeful bitch” and “psycho ex.” The comments section on my social media was flooded with hundreds of thousands of hateful messages. 【Holy shit! Is she trying to kill her? This Aria woman is pure poison!】 【Neil needs to divorce her ASAP! A wife like that will sink the company!】 【My heart breaks for Chloe! She’s a breath of fresh air in the capital world, why does she have to be bullied like this!?】 Then, Neil’s call came through, his voice blazing with accusation. “Aria, Chloe collapsed! She’s being rushed to the hospital! If anything happens to her, I swear to God, I will destroy you!” “Are you happy now? Does seeing her fall apart bring you joy?” I listened silently as he roared down the phone line. When he finally ran out of steam, I spoke, my tone unhurried and precise. “Tell me, Neil, in your world, is everyone supposed to just step aside for you two tragic lovers?” “She faints, and it’s my fault. What about me? The wife and partner you both conspired to betray. Am I just supposed to take it?” “You should get to the hospital. And while you’re there, give her a tip. Next time she stages a drama, she should pick a better venue.” “Maybe not one with a 360-degree high-definition livestream. Her pained expression was a little too fake. The internet’s armchair detectives will see right through it.” My counterattack ignited the full fury of the Williams family. The next day, an emergency board meeting was called. I didn’t attend. I claimed I was feeling unwell. After the meeting, an all-staff memo was sent out from the executive office: 【Effective immediately, Aria Durant has been suspended from all duties for ‘personal misconduct causing severe damage to the company’s reputation and shareholder interests.’】 Overnight, I went from the company’s Chief Technology Officer to a disgraced pariah under investigation. Neil sent me a text, each word dripping with vengeful satisfaction. 【This is what you wanted? I gave you a chance, Aria.】 【Now get out of my company. The lawyers will be in touch about the equity transfer and the divorce papers.】 I looked at the message and smiled. We’ll see who’s getting out. A few days later, Neil, a freshly “discharged” Chloe Preston, and two security guards barged into my office. “Don’t push your luck, Aria! This is Blue Ocean Tech. You’re suspended. You have no right to be here!” he snarled, pointing a finger at me, his face a mask of triumph. I swiveled slowly in my chair, looking up at him. “Why don’t you take a closer look, Neil? At the name on the deed for the ‘Blue Ocean Tech Headquarters’ building?” I paused, savoring the way his expression froze. “Oh, did I forget to tell you? This is my prenuptial property. A gift from my father for my eighteenth birthday.” “If anyone’s getting out, it’s the Williams.” Neil was completely stunned; he clearly had no idea. Behind him, Chloe’s face shifted through shades of white and green. She tugged awkwardly at his sleeve. “Neil, let’s just go! It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have come if she didn’t want to see me!” Her damsel-in-distress act was truly something to behold. Neil looked at her, his eyes softening with an almost tangible pity. He turned back to me, his glare venomous. “You’ll pay for this, Aria. You just wait.” “I’ll make sure you can never work in this industry again!” I rose from my chair, meeting his hostile gaze without fear. “I’ll be right here… waiting.” My eyes shifted past Neil, landing on Chloe. “Miss Preston, you have a talent for theatrics, but you didn’t do your homework. Next time you play the fainting game, try looking up some medical terms.” “Otherwise, your laughably fake fainting spells won’t just fool the internet—they’ll make your investors question your credibility.” Chloe’s body went rigid, her eyes darting away as her face grew even paler. Neil threw an arm around her, shielding her. “Shut up, Aria! Stop hurting her!” Looking at his pathetic display, I could only laugh. “Hurting her?” I scoffed. “The person truly hurting her is you. You gave her false hope, made her believe she could climb over me to get to the top.” Neil was a fool, the true architect of this entire mess. But the Williams family’s retribution was faster and more brutal than I’d anticipated. My internal access at the company was revoked instantly. The team I had personally built was forcibly disbanded. Only my assistant remained, secretly feeding me information. Soon, whispers started circulating through the industry, painting me as a “tech zealot,” a “tyrant who stole credit from her team.” Meanwhile, Neil and Chloe bounced back, more visible than ever. At a high-profile financial forum, Neil stood under the spotlight, his words carefully chosen. “A truly robust company cannot be held hostage by one person or one technology. I will be handling our internal issues swiftly to provide clarity for all our stakeholders.” He stopped just short of saying my name, but everyone knew who the “internal issue” was. Walter Williams called again, his tone dripping with condescension. “Regretting it now, Aria? I told you, you’re no match for me.” “But if you get on your knees and beg, then issue a public statement admitting you slandered them out of jealousy for Chloe, I might consider giving you a meaningless position at the company. Just to save you from complete humiliation.” I listened to his delusional rant, finding it absurd. “Mr. Chairman, did you forget? My last name isn’t Williams. It’s Durant.” My father, Victor Durant. Though he’d been retired for years, he was still a titan in the national tech scene, a legend. I had deliberately avoided using my family’s influence, not wanting to turn what I thought was our company into an ugly family feud. I had naively believed this was my venture with Neil, something we should resolve ourselves. It was clear now they didn’t deserve that decency. Walter’s voice turned to ice. “So you’ve chosen the hard way. Don’t blame me for being ruthless. I’m going to show you, Aria, that without Blue Ocean, you are absolutely nothing.” The line went dead. Moments later, my phone rang again. It was my brother. His voice was calm and steady. “Hey, sis. I saw the news. I’m sorry you’re going through this.” He didn’t ask why. He didn’t scold me for being rash. “Dad says to do whatever you need to do. He wants you to know that the family will support you unconditionally, just like always. You have nothing to fear.” A lump formed in my throat. The weeks of betrayal and anger almost broke through the dam I’d built. “I’m okay, brother,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. After hanging up, I wiped a single tear from my eye. My gaze sharpened, my resolve hardening into steel. I was going to leave Neil Williams with no way out. Then, I dialed a number I had saved long ago but had never called. When the call connected, I got straight to the point. “Mr. Ryder, I have a very interesting game I’d like to play, and I’m looking for a partner. I guarantee it’ll be worth your while.” There was a brief pause, followed by a low chuckle. “Ms. Durant, if you’re in the mood for a game, I’d be delighted to join.” “You name the place. I’m on my way.” The man on the other end was Neil’s biggest rival in business: Jax Ryder, the founder of the nation’s AI behemoth, Torchlight Tech. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, I watched the city lights blur as my expression turned to ice. “I want at least half of Blue Ocean’s market share.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394396”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was a full-blown hostage situation at the hospital, and I was deliberately provoking the patient’s family member. Enraged, he pressed a knife to my neck and dragged me onto the rooftop. On the brink of death, a strange calm washed over me. Because in my past life, at this exact moment, I became the perfect scapegoat for a murderer. She brutally killed my fiancé, Joey, in his studio. The security cameras captured “me” committing the entire act. And since I had no alibi, I was the killer. Condemned by Joey’s parents in a live-streamed press conference, I was quickly sentenced to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn, two hours before Joey was murdered. 1 The first thing I did after being reborn was grab my phone and call my fiancé. “Joey?” A muffled “mm-hmm” came from the other end. Hearing his voice, I almost broke down in tears. I forced myself to stay calm. “Listen to me,” I said, my voice tight. “Leave your studio right now. Go somewhere with a lot of people and stay there.” He was confused, asking why. I didn’t know how to explain that I had been reborn. Or how to tell him that in two hours, he would be murdered in that very studio. After a moment’s thought, I said, “I was just looking at your horoscope, and it’s a really, really bad day for you. A day of misfortune and danger. You can’t stay indoors.” He chuckled, calling me superstitious. The irony was, he was far more superstitious than I was. He’d ignore any other excuse, but this one, he’d take seriously. “Better safe than sorry, right?” After a long time coaxing him, he finally agreed. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Even though I wanted to break off our engagement, I didn’t want him dead. And I certainly couldn’t let him die by “my” hands. I just hoped that this time, I could change my fate. After hanging up, I immediately called a cab back to the hospital. In my last life, what I lacked most was evidence. This time, I was going to create an ironclad alibi. When I arrived at the hospital, I walked right into a chaotic scene. A grieving family member was screaming, brandishing a knife. No one dared to get close. In the distance, I saw someone had already started a live stream. I glanced at the time. 2:30 PM. Perfect. With all eyes on the scene, I took a deep breath and walked toward him. Every time the negotiators were about to calm him down, I would say something to deliberately provoke him again. Just a few carefully chosen, inflammatory words. As I’d hoped, after a few rounds of this, his eyes burned with a furious rage directed solely at me. He lunged. He grabbed me, pressed the cold steel of the knife to my neck, and dragged me up to the hospital rooftop. The clock on a nearby building read 3:00 PM. The courtyard below was swarming with onlookers, all staring up with anxious faces. Seeing the security cameras everywhere, I finally felt a sense of relief. The police arrived quickly, positioning themselves next to the hospital administrator, trying to de-escalate the situation. More and more people joined the live streams, their phones pointed toward the sky. A chorus of voices rose from the crowd, all begging the man to let me go. But the more they pleaded, the tighter his arm wrapped around me. The blade of the knife nicked my cheek, and a thin trickle of blood ran down my skin. Poised on the edge of life and death, my mind was perfectly, unnaturally calm. 2 Because in my past life, at this very moment, I was the perfect scapegoat. She murdered my fiancé, Joey, in his studio. The security cameras captured “me” doing it. All I remembered was being asleep. But faced with the crystal-clear video evidence, my denials were useless. I had no proof. According to the text messages, “I” had started an argument with him, confronting him about another woman and demanding an explanation. “I” had furiously called a cab to his studio. The video showed us in a heated fight. It showed me, in a fit of rage, grabbing a knife from his desk and killing him. The face in the video was unmistakably mine. The movements, the expressions—they were all mine. The dress “I” was wearing was a custom piece, the only one of its kind in the world. All the evidence proved it was a crime of passion, that I had killed him out of jealous rage. And while the things he’d done probably meant he deserved to die, he shouldn’t have died by my hand. But this time was different. I had warned him to leave the studio. I was on a hospital rooftop, a hostage in a live-streamed crisis. The entire hospital, the entire city, was my alibi. I wanted to see how she could frame me now. How could “I” send those texts? How could “I” kill him? As the police negotiators drew the man’s attention, his grip on me tightened unconsciously. This was my chance. I timed my move, striking his wrist and sending the knife clattering to the rooftop floor. The police swarmed him instantly, tackling him to the ground. But in his final, desperate struggle, he shoved me hard. I stumbled backward, over the edge of the roof. Luckily, a second-floor awning broke my fall. I survived, escaping with nothing more than a broken arm. As they loaded me onto a stretcher, the influencers who had been live-streaming the event gave me thumbs-ups. “What a heroic doctor,” one of them marveled. A flood of praise and concern washed over me, and I had to stop myself from laughing. In my last life, I had worked a full night shift, then stayed to help with a morning surgery. I was exhausted when I got home. I fell asleep at 2:00 PM and didn’t wake up until 5:00. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the police, there to arrest me. No matter how many awards I had won, no matter how much the hospital vouched for me, it couldn’t stop the tide of public outrage. In the face of that damning video, my entire life’s work meant nothing. 3 I couldn’t explain what I was doing between 3:00 and 5:00 PM. I had no proof I was asleep in my apartment. Worse, the elevator camera in my building showed “me” leaving at 3:00 PM. But this time, surrounded by witnesses, I was wheeled into the operating room. All these people were my alibi. I refused to believe things could end the same way. The surgery finished at 5:20 PM. As they wheeled me out, my arm in a cast, the heavy weight in my chest finally lifted. I grabbed my phone and called Joey, needing to know if he was okay. Once, twice, it went straight to voicemail. A terrible feeling crept into my heart. In my past life, “I” killed him. This time, I had warned him. I had an airtight alibi. Had I failed to change his fate after all? On the tenth try, someone finally answered. I was trembling, my voice shaking as I spoke. “Joey?” A sigh came from the other end of the line. “Is this Ms. Cassandra Willis? I’m afraid Mr. Collins has been in an accident…” The phone slipped from my numb fingers and crashed to the floor. My best friend, Maya, who had just walked in, saw the whole thing. She quickly picked up the phone and rushed to my side, trying to comfort me. I couldn’t believe it. Joey was still dead. My mind instantly flashed to the security footage. Was it possible… was “I” still the killer? As I reeled in shock, Maya started yelling at me. “Cassandra, are you insane? You could have gotten yourself killed! Do you have a death wish?” she raged. “Everyone else stayed back, but you had to play the hero?” Her voice snapped me back to the present. I managed a smile that was more like a grimace. I needed to be there. I needed that alibi. But I couldn’t tell her that I had been reborn. All I could do was smile apologetically and promise I’d never do it again. Hearing her scold me was strangely comforting. She was the first person to come see me. My own parents, who spent their days glued to their phones, were nowhere to be found. Even though the hospital administration had tried to suppress the news about the hostage situation, it had definitely gone viral. There was no way they hadn’t seen it. 4 I thought back to my last life. When my parents found out “I” had killed Joey, they never stopped berating me. They seemed completely convinced of my guilt. No matter how much I explained, they refused to believe me. “Even her own parents think she’s the killer. What else is there to investigate?” “It was definitely premeditated.” Their public condemnation, combined with Joey’s parents’ live-streamed accusations, threw me to the wolves. Their testimony was a big reason my death sentence was carried out so quickly. Only Maya never gave up on me. She fought to uncover the truth. But she died in a car accident while searching for evidence. After she finished yelling, her anger melted into concern. “Seriously, Cassie, what’s gotten into you?” A chilling possibility began to form in my mind, one I didn’t want to believe was true. I grabbed Maya’s hand, my expression deadly serious. “I need you to go to this address. Check on someone for me.” Her playful demeanor vanished. “Tell me. You can count on me.” Using the memories from my past life, I gave Maya an address. She had just left when there was a knock on my door. It was Detective Miller. The moment I saw him, my body went rigid. He was the one who arrested me in my last life. He had given me a chance, asked me to provide any evidence that I was at home sleeping. But I had none. He had wanted to believe me, but the public pressure, fueled by Joey’s parents, was immense. He managed to delay things for three months, but in the end, I couldn’t give him what he needed. His face was etched with fatigue, but his demeanor was as sharp as ever. His voice was cold, professional. “Ms. Cassandra Willis?” I nodded, looking at him with a sense of dread. “You’re under arrest for suspicion of the murder of Mr. Joey Collins. You need to come with us.” My mind was reeling, but I didn’t let it show. I forced myself to speak calmly. “Officer, you see my…” I lifted my casted arm. “With my arm like this, how could I have killed anyone? There must be a mistake.” His brow furrowed. He took out a tablet and played a video for me. “The security footage shows you at Mr. Collins’ studio, engaging in a violent confrontation, and then killing him. The evidence is conclusive.” 5 My mind went blank. Why was he still at the studio? And why was the person in that video still me? The expressions, the movements—they were all my habits. For a terrifying moment, my conviction wavered. “Is this… is this a deepfake?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I was at the hospital the whole time. Hundreds of people can verify that!” My heart was hammering in my chest, and I struggled to breathe. He showed me a series of stills. “This footage was taken directly from the security system’s hard drive. There’s no trace of digital manipulation. We also have footage of you getting out of a cab, entering the building, and knocking on his door.” “And we found your fingerprints at the scene.” Panic seized me again. The memories of the trial, the public shaming, the death sentence—it all came rushing back. Was it possible I couldn’t escape my fate? “You need to come with us,” the detective repeated, his eyes watching me warily. “Trust the process. If you’re innocent, I promise you, we will clear your name.” My heart felt like lead. I knew I had no choice but to go with him. I couldn’t understand it. How was I still the killer? What was the person behind this trying to achieve? My only hope was that Maya would find something. As I was escorted out of my hospital room, a crowd gathered. “Officer, are you sure you have the right person?” “Dr. Willis is a wonderful person. She would never kill anyone!” Seeing the supportive crowd, I remembered the scene from my previous life. A crowd had surrounded me then, too. But they were screaming, calling me a murderer, demanding justice, demanding my death. Even my parents had publicly stated that I’d always had a bad temper and had been trying to break up with Joey, conveniently leaving out any mention of his own faults. He was controlling, selfish, and possessive. He had suffocated me. Worse, he was involved in illegal activities. When I found out and tried to end the engagement, my parents were furious. They insisted his flaws didn’t matter, that marrying him was a blessing. They said I was almost thirty and unmarried, a source of immense pressure for them. Now that Joey was willing to marry me, they wouldn’t let me back out. They told me I would marry him, even if it killed me. 6 When I couldn’t take it anymore, I had screamed at them, asking who their real child was, me or Joey? Their answer was to beat me. They told me if I broke the engagement, they would disown me. So it was no surprise that when they saw the footage of “me” killing Joey, they immediately branded me a monster. They cried on camera about how heartless I was, how I had no love for my family. Then they produced a medical document diagnosing me with a sleepwalking disorder and publicly disowned me. The revelation had nearly broken my mind. But this time, as the police led me away, the crowd was on my side. I smiled and thanked them, telling them to trust the police to find the truth. The moment I sat down in the interrogation room, Detective Miller asked the question I had dreaded in my past life. “Where were you today between 3:00 PM and 5:00 PM?” Last time, I couldn’t prove I was asleep. This time, my answer was simple. “At the hospital.” “If you don’t believe me, you can check the hospital’s security footage or talk to anyone who was there. They can all vouch for me.” He valued evidence above all else and immediately had someone verify my claim. Just then, my parents started shouting outside, demanding to see me. The second they entered the interrogation room and saw the gash on my face and the cast on my arm, their expressions changed. I looked at them with a flicker of hope and whispered, “Mom, Dad.” My mother’s response was to slap me across the face. “How could you be so cruel? You’d actually kill someone just to break off an engagement?” “I don’t have a vicious daughter like you,” my father added. The police hadn’t even charged me, but my own parents had already delivered their verdict. Was it so certain in their minds that I was a murderer? A female officer quickly stepped in, explaining that nothing was confirmed, that I might not be the killer. But my mother lunged at me, grabbing my injured shoulder. “Then why is it you in the video and not someone else? There’s nothing to explain! What will people say when they find out I have a murderer for a daughter? How can I show my face in public?” Ha. My parents. How much could they possibly despise me? From a young age, they had dumped me at my grandmother’s house without so much as a penny for my care. My grandmother, who spent her days playing mahjong, never wanted me. She kicked me and cursed me, and I grew up sickly and frail. But I craved their love, so I endured everything. Now I finally understood. I had never mattered to them at all. No wonder it took me until the moment of my death in my past life to see a hint of the truth. Now, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “Mom, Dad, I didn’t kill him. I don’t have an alibi for that time; I was at the hospital.” I corrected myself. “I mean, I do have an alibi.” Hearing this, they didn’t ask for details. They exploded with rage. “The video is so clear, and you’re still trying to lie? You’ve been a compulsive liar since you were a child! Do you think the police will coddle you like we have?” His words felt like a physical blow. A compulsive liar? Since they took me back home, my sister had blamed me for everything. Every time I tried to explain, they refused to listen, accusing me of lying. But it was always my sister who was lying. “If only it was your sister engaged to Joey,” my mother sighed. “She’s so gentle and kind. She would have made him happy. It’s a shame she’s been on a business trip abroad for months.” My sister again. The first time Joey came to our house, my mother pulled me aside and asked me to let my sister have him. But you can’t just “give” someone you’re dating to someone else. After I refused, they tried talking to Joey, but he refused as well. After that, they treated me with cold contempt, blaming me for my sister’s “heartbreak,” which they claimed was the reason for her long trip. Detective Miller, sensing the toxic family dynamic, interrupted them. “The investigation is ongoing. Ms. Willis is only a suspect at this point. Rest assured, we will not let a criminal go free, but we will not frame an innocent person either.” My mother’s eyes darted nervously, and she fidgeted with her hair. But my parents seemed not to hear him. My father stomped his foot and pointed at me. “Have you seen his parents? They’re devastated! They’re on a live stream right now calling you a heartless monster, and I can’t even watch it!” Then he pulled out a piece of paper. A medical diagnosis. “Officer, it’s not that I don’t believe my own daughter. But the thing is… she’s a sleepwalker.” Just like last time. If I didn’t have my own evidence, I would be condemned all over again. After all, if your own parents don’t believe you, who will? Detective Miller looked surprised. “A sleepwalker?” He took the document and examined it closely. Seeing them nod in confirmation, I let out a bitter laugh.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394395”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The year I turned thirty, all my single friends married. Even my mother, who’d always opposed my dating, finally relented. “When are you getting married?” she’d ask pointedly each time I visited. “You’re almost thirty…” Before I could answer, my boyfriend Jackson would cut in sincerely, “Auntie, it’s my fault. Phoebe and I are engaged—we’ll set a date after New Year.” His earnestness and her smile made me believe our rocky relationship was finally heading toward a happy ending. But before the wedding, I dropped by his office. On the company photo wall was a collage from a recent team trip—Jackson in every shot with another girl: hiking, boating, cycling. She leaned against him, smiling brightly as if staking her claim. That night, we had our worst fight. I accused; he called me paranoid. “She’s just a kid who sees me as a brother,” he argued. Later, I unlocked his phone. My chat was muted. His only pinned chat was with a cute cat avatar—the girl sharing daily details, him replying patiently to every message. A bitter smile touched my lips. All those times he’d ignored me, his care had gone to her. Fine. He could have her. I didn’t want him anymore. 1 It was three in the morning when the bedroom door creaked open. Jackson sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, lost in thought. After a long silence, he placed a small box on my nightstand. The sound of the shower running startled me. I opened my eyes and looked at his phone on the pillow beside me. A new message notification glowed on the screen. As if possessed, I swiped it open. As I scrolled through his chat history, my suspicions were confirmed. My conversation was muted. While he had nothing to say to me, he had endless words for another girl. Over the past six months, his replies to her had evolved from cold and perfunctory to patient and engaged, culminating in a daily exchange of life’s trivialities. [Are you asleep? Thanks for driving me home.] [Let me buy you dinner to say thank you! (cute cat emoji)] [Goodnight, sweet dreams~] The bed dipped beside me as he lay down. The phone’s light flickered. He was silent for a long moment before he turned and wrapped his arms around me. “You’re awake?” “I’m sorry,” he murmured into my hair. “Something came up today. I couldn’t make it to your wedding dress fitting.” “My business partner had an emergency. He asked me to drive his sister to the next city for a dance troupe audition. He said it was crucial for her future…” “I thought I could make it back in time.” His excuses felt hollow, flimsy. My hand, clenched into a fist, felt strangely weak, as if all the strength had been drained from my fingertips. It was like trying to hold onto sand, watching it slip through the cracks. It was a bitter, helpless feeling. A familiar sting pricked my eyes, and a tear escaped, landing on the back of his hand. He flinched as if burned. He sighed, pulling me closer, burying his face in my neck. “I’ll be more careful from now on,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.” “We’ll reschedule the fitting.” “Once this project is done, we’ll go abroad for our wedding photos, okay?” His warm breath ghosted across my skin, followed by a trail of soft kisses. The temperature in the room began to rise, but a single, stark question cut through the haze of intimacy. “Jackson, do you still want to marry me?” 2 I met Jackson when I was eighteen. After graduation, it seemed I had finally earned a sliver of my mother’s approval by outperforming the child of her ex-husband—a constant, invisible competitor in my life. It felt like the only way to divert her attention, even for a moment, was to be better, to be more successful. But I always seemed to disappoint her. In my junior year, a story I wrote was adapted for the school play. Watching my words come to life on stage planted a seed in my heart. As I continued to trudge through the endless, joyless calligraphy and violin lessons she forced on me, that seed began to sprout. I wanted to make my own choice, just once. I didn’t choose the practical, stable career path she had laid out for me. For the first time in my life, I defied her. The price was being thrown out of the house. I had less than twenty dollars to my name. She was trying to break me, certain I would come crawling back, ready to fall in line. If it hadn’t been for my best friend, I probably would have ended up on the streets, just as she’d predicted. To pay for tuition and living expenses, I slept four hours a night and worked every other waking moment. I was a waitress at a diner at dawn, a barista in the afternoon, and a clerk at an internet café late into the night. It was exhausting, but I had never felt so free. Then, on an ordinary afternoon, filled with the drone of summer cicadas and the tinkle of a wind chime, he appeared. A boy who carried the heat of the summer in his bright, intense gaze. He burst into my life and changed everything. 3 The next morning, he was gone. Staring out at the sunlight, my mind drifted back to the night before. My question had been met with a long, heavy silence. His passionate kisses had stifled any further words, and the unresolved topic had been buried. I rubbed my temples. A glint of light caught my eye. Sometime during the night, he had taken the ring from the box and slipped it onto my finger. The diamond sparkled, so bright it made my eyes water. … To reassure me, it seemed, Jackson started coming home for dinner every night, no matter how busy he was. We would curl up on the sofa and watch cheesy soap operas. On weekends, he would take me to plays and late-night movie premieres. We would walk home under the stars, just like we used to. For a while, it felt like we had gone back in time. My mother once told me I couldn’t even bake a decent cake, unlike my stepsister, who excelled at everything. Our tenth anniversary was coming up. I decided I wanted to bake Jackson a cake. Late one night, after he’d fallen asleep, I tiptoed into the kitchen. Following a video tutorial, I carefully measured and mixed. Slowly, a cake took shape under my hands. It turned out I wasn’t completely useless after all. 4 The next morning, as I reminded Jackson to take the wedding invitations with him, I caught a glimpse of a restaurant reservation on his phone. My heart skipped a beat. A flicker of hope. The sun was shining. I hummed as I pruned the wilting roses on the windowsill. After getting dressed up, I picked up the cake and headed to his office. I hadn’t been there in a long time. Perhaps too long. The receptionist stopped me at the door. “Hi, I’m here to see Jackson.” “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Thorne?” I shook my head. She was new. Her expression soured when I said his name, her tone shifting. She glanced at the cake in my hand. “No appointment, no entry.” I was taken aback by her hostility. I tried calling Jackson, but he didn’t answer. She rolled her eyes and started texting someone. “Please leave,” she said, her voice sharp with impatience. Just then, Liam, Jackson’s best friend and business partner, stepped out of the elevator. The receptionist’s face lit up. “Liam! You’re here!” Liam smiled back, then his eyes fell on me. He looked surprised. “Phoebe? What are you doing here?” “Am I not allowed?” I asked, a smile playing on my lips. He quickly backtracked. “Of course, you are! I just haven’t seen you here in a while. Why are you waiting out here?” He glanced between me and the receptionist. “Come on in.” “Liam!” the receptionist protested. “She doesn’t have an appointment…” Liam’s expression darkened. “This is Mr. Thorne’s fiancée. She doesn’t need an appointment.” The girl’s eyes widened. I shot her a questioning look before following Liam inside. Behind me, I could hear her urgently speaking into her phone. In the hallway, I asked casually, “When did that receptionist start? Is she a relative of someone?” “A friend asked me to give her a job,” he said, rubbing his nose. “She’s new. Don’t mind her.” 5 As we entered the main office area, a sweet aroma hung in the air. There was a small, elegant dessert on every desk. “This is amazing! Did Mr. Cheng’s sister make this?” one woman whispered. “Yeah, this is the second time this month, right?” “Don’t forget the cookies from last week!” I walked into Jackson’s office. It was empty. On his desk was a half-eaten slice of cake and a bag of almond cookies. My fingers tightened on the ribbon of the cake box. “You’re here.” Jackson looked surprised to see me, a flicker of something strange in his eyes. “Why didn’t you call?” “I did. You didn’t answer,” I said flatly. He patted his pockets, then came over and took my hand. “Sorry, I was in Nick’s office. My phone wasn’t with me.” His gaze fell on the cake box. Just as he was about to speak, a cheerful voice came from the doorway. “Jackson! Time for lunch! When are we leaving?” A young woman with a bright, sunny smile walked in. She froze when she saw me. I looked her over. She was pretty, with fair skin and a youthful energy that was impossible to ignore. “And you are?” I asked, turning to Jackson, though I already knew the answer. He squeezed my hand. “This is Nick’s sister, Tessa,” he said, his voice low. I stared at him for a long moment, then let out a cold laugh. The girl looked at me nervously. “You must be Phoebe. It’s nice to meet you. Jackson talks about you all the—” “Where are you two going?” I cut her off. Tessa looked at Jackson, flustered. Jackson stood up, pulling me with him. “Just to grab some lunch. You haven’t eaten, have you? Join us.” She looked like she wanted to protest, but seeing our joined hands, she just lowered her eyes and forced a smile. 6 In the parking garage, as Jackson opened the passenger door for me, his eyes instinctively darted towards Tessa. My heart, which had been tentatively warming up, was instantly doused in ice water. A lump formed in my throat. The car ride was tense. We were each lost in our own thoughts. A sad, melancholic song played on the radio. Who, I wondered, was the real third wheel in this relationship? … The restaurant was a new, trendy spot that was impossible to get into without a reservation. We knew each other so well; a single glance could speak volumes. As he held the door for me, he didn’t even spare Tessa a look. “Welcome. Do you have a reservation?” Jackson showed them the text from that morning. It felt like a cruel joke. The waiter led us to a private room. Almost every dish on the table contained almonds. Jackson and I both hated almonds. It was painfully obvious who this meal was for. My heart sank. I leaned forward, my hands clasped under my chin. “Do you two have lunch together every day?” I asked Tessa directly. She stammered, “I… I just graduated and I haven’t found a job yet. My brother’s been busy at lunch, so…” Jackson cut in, his brow furrowed. “Her brother just got a girlfriend. He asked me to look after his sister. I saw she was alone at the office, so we just grabbed lunch together.” “Phoebe, don’t misunderstand,” Tessa added quickly. “It’s just…” “Didn’t you know he has a fiancée?” I interrupted. “Do you think it’s appropriate to have lunch with an engaged man every day?” She was speechless. Jackson’s face darkened. “Can you stop being so paranoid? Now I can’t even have a meal with a friend?” “A friend?” My voice rose. “An engaged man, spending every day with another woman—you think that’s normal?! You promised me!” “Jackson was just being nice to me…” Tessa started to explain, but her phone rang, cutting her off. She quickly excused herself. A moment later, she rushed back in, her eyes red, her knuckles white as she gripped her phone. “Jackson! The dance troupe just called! There was a mistake in my application, and I have to resubmit it by five o’clock today! It’s the last day… Can you please, please drive me? I won’t make it in time!” Jackson shot up from his seat, completely forgetting about me. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you.” I grabbed his wrist. “You can’t go.” He turned, his eyes filled with disappointment and impatience. He yanked his arm away. “Can you stop being so unreasonable?!” I stared at his retreating back, my voice hoarse. “Jackson, have you forgotten what day it is?” He paused for a fraction of a second, then walked out without looking back. And just like that, the last thread holding me together snapped.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394393”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 In the eight years I was married to Andrea Chabrol, I never once laid eyes on our son. The moment he was born, Andrea whisked him away to the family estate. He’d sighed, his voice laced with a weary resignation. “Seraphina,” he’d said, “marrying you was already an exception. When it comes to the heir’s upbringing, my parents will not bend.” He’d looked at me then, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Besides, with your level of education and background… do you honestly think you can raise a worthy successor?” I swallowed the bitter pill of my inadequacy, telling myself this was just how these old-money families operated. Until last night. For the very first time, my son asked to see me. My heart was bursting, every fiber of my being humming with the joy of finally meeting him. But the first words out of my seven-year-old son’s mouth were: “So you’re the mistress my dad keeps on the side?” The world screeched to a halt. My head whipped around to face Andrea. … Panic flashed across Andrea’s face. He immediately tried to hustle our son out of the room. “Where did you learn such language? That’s disgraceful! Go home right now and copy your calligraphy exercises, ten times!” But the reprimand only fueled the boy’s anger. He dodged Andrea’s hand and ran towards me, shoving me hard. “You really are something else! You didn’t even have to say a word to get my dad to punish me!” he sneered. “Today, I’m going to teach you a lesson for my real mom! You filthy homewrecker!” I stared at the small, furious face before me, a face that was a near-perfect mirror of my own. A crumpled, sour dread began to churn in my stomach. “Don’t you know,” I started, my voice trembling, “I’m the one who…” “Seraphina! That’s enough!” Andrea’s roar cut me off. Confused, I opened my mouth to protest, but just then, a woman walked through the door. The scent of expensive perfume wafted from her sleek, dark hair. The tailored trench coat she wore fit her like a second skin. She had the unmistakable air of someone who had been coddled her entire life, untouched by hardship. Her eyes flickered over me, a subtle, dismissive glance that made me instinctively tuck a stray strand of my own coarse, dry hair behind my ear. Then, she walked right past me and ruffled my son’s hair. “There you are. You ran off again. Mommy’s really going to have to let Daddy punish you this time.” My son melted into her arms. “Mommy, I’m sorry! You have no idea how horrible this woman is!” My hand, still hovering near my ear, froze. A chill crept through my veins. So she was the “Mommy” he was talking about. Andrea’s childhood sweetheart—Isabelle Vance. She had always been the Chabrol family’s first choice for a daughter-in-law. Her family was their social equal, and she and Andrea had grown up together. I was just the poor scholarship kid who had managed, by sheer academic force, to walk the same university halls as him. So even when Andrea had chosen me, his parents had never stopped accusing me of being a gold digger. That was when I started working myself to the bone, desperate to prove I didn’t need their money. Andrea would secretly slip his credit cards into my purse, but I never touched them. I knew it was his way of respecting my pride while still worrying about me. Then, he’d taken our son to the estate, citing his “education.” Seven years had passed, and he had never once let me see him. “Do you have any idea how much a mother’s genetics influence a child?” he’d argued. “Don’t you want what’s best for our son? Just wait. Once his character is formed, my parents will let you see him.” I had always believed we loved and understood each other. I trusted him. I respected his decisions. But Isabelle—the woman my son was now calling “Mommy”—hadn’t even gotten into a real university. Her family had donated a building to get her a diploma. It finally hit me. It wasn’t that my education was insufficient. It wasn’t that this was some sacred, old-money tradition. It was simply that they could not bear for the world to know that the mother of the next Chabrol heir was an ordinary woman. It wasn’t just his parents. Even Andrea had never truly respected me. The realization was a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. By the time I came to my senses, Andrea was already leading our son out the door. I took a step forward, but Isabelle blocked my path. She smiled, a cold, sharp thing. “I wouldn’t waste your energy. Both Andrea and the boy… they belong to me.” I ignored her, my heart pounding with a desperate urgency. I tried to push past her. Isabelle let out a short, sharp laugh and grabbed my arm. “Are you deaf?” Her long, pointed nails dug into my flesh, leaving angry red marks. I tried to pull away, but her grip was like steel. After a moment of struggling, I finally looked up, my eyes burning. “I don’t want Andrea anymore,” I choked out. “I just want my son.” 2 The words felt raw and foreign in my mouth. The moment my son called her “Mommy,” my world had shattered. Ten months I had carried him. And even though I was never allowed to see him, the primal, unconditional love of a mother had always been there. I had swallowed seven years of longing, telling myself it was for his own good, so he could have the best education imaginable. Even my friends couldn’t understand. They’d urged me to adopt, to have a child by my side, something to hold onto. I had been horrified by the suggestion. Now, I saw how foolish I’d been. How could I have been so naive? How could I have trusted Andrea so blindly? The regret was so intense I wanted to die and start over. Isabelle’s lips curved into a smug smile. “What are you thinking? You didn’t know? I was the one who was afraid of the pain of childbirth, of ruining my figure. That’s why Andrea had you do it.” “Andrea will never be yours,” she continued, her voice a cruel whisper. “And the child will never be yours. Because from the moment he was in your womb, he was destined to call me Mother.” Her words were a physical blow, leaving me stunned and reeling. For a moment, I thought I must be hallucinating. “What are you talking about?” “Think about it,” she said, her tone dripping with contempt. “If I had been willing to give birth, do you really think someone like you would have ever been worthy of carrying a Chabrol heir? You, a low-life from the gutter, you reek of poverty. How could the mother of the next Chabrol be someone with no background, no name? Tell me, does that sound right to you?” She reached out and twirled a strand of my hair between her fingers, then burst out laughing. “You were just ashamed of yourself a moment ago, weren’t you? You know it, too. From head to toe, not a single hair on your head can compare to mine.” My private moment of self-doubt, laid bare and mocked. A hot flush of humiliation washed over me. I yanked her hand away. But as I pulled back, Isabelle suddenly crumpled to the floor in a graceful heap. I froze. Even though I knew she was faking, my first instinct was to help her. But Andrea, who had just put our son in the car, was already rushing back. He didn’t hesitate. He slapped me, hard, across the face. “If you have a problem, you take it up with me! I was the one who told him to call her ‘Mommy’! What do you get out of bullying her?” His eyes bored into me, cold and accusatory, like I was a criminal. The stinging pain on my cheek was a stark reminder of a time when his eyes had held nothing but tenderness for me. Even when we fought, I’d never seen such pure hatred in them. They say you can see love in a person’s eyes. I don’t know when it changed. But in that moment, as the force of his blow resonated through me, I realized I no longer cared. Andrea gently lifted Isabelle from the floor and settled her on the sofa. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” Isabelle’s eyes filled with tears, her lower lip trembling. “Everywhere,” she whimpered. “I think I twisted my ankle.” Andrea was beside himself with worry. He spun around and yelled at me, “What are you waiting for?! Get the first-aid kit! She was raised in comfort, you think she’s tough like you?!” Watching them, it all became painfully clear. Once, after I’d fallen during a track meet in college, he had been just as frantic, practically carrying the school nurse to my side. Now, his concern was just for a different person. I silently retrieved the first-aid kit and handed it to him. As he took it, I heard myself say, “Andrea, let’s get a divorce.” “The house, the cars, the money… I don’t want any of it. I just want my son.” His hand, which had been gently massaging Isabelle’s ankle, froze. 3 He slowly looked up. His eyes scanned my reddened cheek, but there was no flicker of remorse. “I was just upset,” he said flatly. He rummaged through the kit, pulled out a tube of anti-inflammatory gel, and tossed it to me, completely ignoring my previous statement. I didn’t catch it. I just watched it clatter onto the table. He hadn’t even offered a simple “sorry.” Andrea’s hand, still holding the gel, paused mid-air. When he saw I wasn’t going to take it, he dropped it on the table. “You were the one in the wrong. Being overly dramatic will just make you seem pathetic.” A chill went through me. It was in that moment I realized that in our relationship, Andrea had always seen himself as the one in power. That’s why he would never apologize, never consider my feelings, never listen to what I had to say. Even when I discovered that he had let my own son call another woman “Mother,” he felt no need to explain himself. I had thought we were equals, that we at least had mutual respect. Isabelle sighed dramatically. “Darling, it’s not a big deal. Please don’t be angry.” She then clamped a hand over her mouth, feigning a mistake, and looked at me apologetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m just so used to calling him that in front of the boy. You understand, don’t you? It’s important for a child’s development to have both a mother and a father figure.” I could only laugh coldly. “He has a real mother. I’ll be taking him back, so you won’t have to play pretend anymore.” Isabelle’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “I’ve been with him for seven years,” she cried. “He’s like my own son. You can’t just take him away! Do you know his favorite food? Do you know which classes he hates? Do you know which little girl in his class always wants to play house with him? You know nothing! Are you even fit to be a mother?” She paused, turning her head away to wipe a tear. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I lost control. I just don’t think you are a qualified mother.” Andrea wrapped an arm around her, comforting her. “You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s okay, don’t cry. No matter what anyone says, this family and our son will only ever recognize you as his mother.” I was shaking with rage. Her words were like daggers, carving into my heart. She had stolen my role, my life, and now she was calling me unqualified. Just as I was about to retort, I felt a force from behind. I stumbled forward, catching myself just before I fell. I turned around. It was my son, his little fists flailing at me. “You ugly homewrecker! You bullied my mommy! Go to hell! You’re shameless! You bitch!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394392”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Just before bed, a sponsored post popped up on my feed. The algorithm had flagged it as something my husband had “liked.” The title read: A Love That Marriage Cannot Contain: My Knight Will Always Ride for Me. The article was a travel blog, chronicling the author’s trip through the Sahara with her boyfriend. The blogger called herself “Wildcat.” But not a single photo in the post showed her boyfriend’s face. My husband, Caden, is a cop. He doesn’t read this kind of sentimental drivel. And a week ago, he missed the birth of our child because he was away on a “training exercise.” The location? Africa. A coincidence? To be sure, I called him. “Where are you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. His tone was clipped, impatient. “Still in the Sahara for drills. Can you stop being so paranoid? I’m hanging up.” I froze. Just before the line went dead, I heard it—a soft, distinctly female giggle in the background. … I forwarded Wildcat’s blog to my grandfather’s personal assistant and then dove into her archives, reading every post she’d ever written. There weren’t many, but they all chronicled her adventures with her boyfriend. And in every single one, his face was conspicuously absent. The titles were strange, too. They had nothing to do with travel. A Love That Marriage Cannot Contain. Only the Unloved Choose Marriage. What Drab Housewife Can Compete with a Wildcat in the Sun? My Knight Doesn’t Want a Pregnant Lady. A free-spirited couple, committed to love but not to marriage? My gut told me this was no coincidence. When I checked my social media feed again, the “liked by a friend” feature had been disabled for Caden’s account. I could no longer see his activity. The knot in my stomach tightened. Just then, a message came through from my grandfather’s assistant. “Ma’am, the blogger ‘Wildcat’ is a young woman from the mountains you once sponsored. Her birth name was Cassie Miller. She later changed it and became a travel blogger, spending most of her time abroad.” Suddenly, a memory surfaced. It was right after we got married. Caden, who was usually so reserved, came up behind me and started massaging my shoulders. He told me he’d been on assignment in a remote mountain region and had seen girls who couldn’t afford to go to school. He asked if I would sponsor their education. It was such a rare moment of tenderness from him. I was so touched, I agreed without a second thought. My fists clenched. A sickening suspicion began to form. Just then, Wildcat’s blog updated again. “Hey guys! Next stop is the ancient site of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon! My boyfriend is so worried about me, he’s insisting on coming along to protect his girl! Tee hee!” “Way better than giving birth alone in a loveless marriage, amirite? A real knight by my side is all I need!” A wave of relief washed over me. Caden had said the training exercise was only a week long. He should be home in a day or two. I felt a pang of guilt for doubting him. This was all just a series of bizarre coincidences. He was distant, yes, but that was just his nature. And he had, in his own quiet way, told me he loved me before. Feeling reassured, I sent him a few pictures of our newborn baby. He hadn’t even seen him yet. But hours passed, and there was no reply. I was just drifting off to sleep when the unique notification tone I’d set for his messages chimed. I snatched up my phone. It was a cold, terse update. [Not coming home tomorrow. The squad’s been deployed to the Middle East for a counter-terrorism drill.] The blood drained from my face. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon are in the Middle East. I stared at the screen for a long moment, then immediately tried to video call him. It didn’t even ring for a full second before he rejected it. [What are you doing?! You’re interrupting my training!] His text was sharp, accusatory. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He had time to type out a lecture, but not one second to answer my call? And what kind of training exercise lets you keep your phone on you? Was I interrupting his training? Or was I interrupting something else entirely? I called again. Rejected. And again. Rejected. Finally, another message came through, laced with fury. [Grace, did giving birth scramble your brain?!] [Do you have any idea how seriously you are compromising my mission right now?!] [So I’m coming back a few days late, what’s the big deal?! You’re getting more and more pathetic!] I was stunned. He was calling me, his wife who had just given birth to his child, “pathetic”? Still, a foolish part of me clung to hope. [Honey, I’m really not feeling well. Can you please just ask for leave and come home?] [Don’t you guys get paternity leave?] [My C-section incision is healing so slowly. The pain at night is so bad I have to take a handful of painkillers just to sleep.] [The baby is so fussy, and your mom won’t let me hire a nanny. I can’t handle this alone.] His response was another barrage of blame. [And you think I can handle it any better?!] [You’re a mother now, a woman in your thirties. Stop being so damn dramatic!] [Every woman goes through this! What makes you so special? So fragile? You’re not a teenager anymore!] His words struck me dumb. I couldn’t believe a husband, a new father, could be so callous. I was about to type a furious reply when I saw it: a red exclamation mark. He had blocked me. From the bassinet beside the bed, the baby, sensing my distress, began to wail. I forced myself up, ignoring the searing pain in my abdomen, and went to soothe him. Looking at his tiny, red, crumpled face, a cold realization dawned on me. Since the moment I went into labor, Caden had not once asked how I was, or how the baby was. Was it really just his “cold nature”? Or was it something else entirely? Utter, absolute indifference. After rocking the baby back to sleep, I opened Wildcat’s blog again, torturing myself by scrolling through her past posts. When I reached the very beginning, I covered my face with my hands as silent, hot tears streamed through my fingers. The dates of every single one of her trips, her “romantic getaways,” corresponded perfectly with every single one of Caden’s “business trips” and “training exercises.” It was true. He was cheating on me. When the tears finally ran dry, a cold, hard calm settled over me. I called my assistant and booked the first flight to the Middle East. Without a word to his mother, I dropped the baby off with the trusted nannies at my family’s estate. The next day, I was standing on the sun-scorched earth of an ancient land. I had to see it with my own eyes. Only then would I let my heart truly die. I used Wildcat’s latest post to find her location, staking out a spot near the ruins of the Hanging Gardens. I disguised myself, wrapped in scarves like a thief. My C-section scar throbbed violently, a pain that even the strongest painkillers couldn’t completely numb, a searing pain that crawled through me like thorny vines. Then I saw her. The blogger, Wildcat. My heart leaped into my throat. She was tan and tall, radiating a vibrant, youthful energy. She was undeniably beautiful. And the man beside her— He stood straight and proud, his handsome face softened by a gentle, adoring expression. An undeniable pair. Anyone would say they looked perfect together. If only the man hadn’t been my husband of ten years. Even the t-shirt he was wearing… I had picked it out for him myself. The world went dark at the edges. There, in front of the ruins of a wonder of the ancient world, my husband was kissing another woman. Wildcat’s post from the night before flashed in my mind: The Gods of Babylon will forever bless lovers who kiss before their temple. It was over. Maybe it was because I had prepared myself for the worst, but in that moment of shattering heartbreak, my first instinct was strangely clinical. I raised my phone and took a picture. Evidence. My heart was a gaping wound, but my mind was crystal clear. For the rest of the day, I shadowed them. I watched Wildcat leap onto Caden’s back like a playful child. Caden—the man who was so stoic with me he’d never once uttered a word of sweet-talk—was now carrying her with a tender smile I had never seen before. I remembered once, by the river at night, I’d asked him to take a picture of me with the city lights. He’d refused instantly. “My hands are for holding a gun, Grace. Not for doing useless things like that.” But now, this same man was patiently taking shot after shot as Wildcat handed him her camera, posing and preening. So, all those third-person photos on her blog… they were taken by my husband, whose hands were “only for holding a gun”? A desolate coldness seeped into my bones. It wasn’t that he couldn’t. It was that I wasn’t worthy of it. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. His phone rang. I watched him, my expression unreadable. Wildcat leaned over to see the screen, then pouted. I was close enough to hear every word. “Is it that old hag again?” she whined. “Hang up! Or I’ll get mad! Your time is my time! You are mine! She already has your marriage, your love can only be mine! Your eyes, your heart, your body—they all belong to me!” Faced with her tantrum, Caden immediately went to soothe her. My call, unsurprisingly, was rejected. The next time I tried, I’d been blocked. The sun was blindingly bright, but I felt a chill deep in my bones. And this woman, this vibrant, sunny creature, was a willing homewrecker. Just then, another message came from my grandfather’s assistant. As I read the contents, the full, sickening scope of the deception came into focus. Eight years ago, Caden had an accident during a mission in the mountains. He’d fallen into a ravine. His captain called me immediately. Frantic, I’d rushed to the airport, and on the way, I got into a car crash. While I was in the ICU, fighting for my life, my husband, Caden, was in a remote village, celebrating a makeshift wedding ceremony with Wildcat. She was the one who had found him in the ravine and “saved” him. After a few nights alone together, her parents had used her “ruined reputation” to force Caden to marry her, demanding a hefty sum to make things right. I suddenly remembered Caden asking me for thirty thousand dollars around that time. He’d said it was for the widow of a colleague who had died in the line of duty. I had personally funded his dowry to another woman. And shortly after that, he’d approached me with the idea of sponsoring her education. I was the fool. The clown in their twisted little play. If he was going to betray our marriage, then he could not blame me for being ruthless. I didn’t just want a divorce. I wanted to ruin him. I followed them all day, numbly documenting every kiss, every touch, every loving glance. That night, Wildcat’s blog updated again. As I suspected, the photos were all taken from Caden’s perspective. The title was another dagger to my heart: Marriage is Nothing. True Love is Everything! I finally understood. The nonsensical, unrelated titles were her justification. The pathetic mantra of a mistress trying to paint her affair as something noble. To my surprise, she added a little note at the end of the post. [Hey guys, my amazing boyfriend got me a job offer at a Fortune 500 company! Should I take it?] [Oh, and I mentioned I needed a new car today, and he said he’d buy me a luxury car when we get back home! I’m so spoiled!] The comments were a flood of fawning praise. [I’ve followed Wildcat forever! Their love is like a fairytale, and her boyfriend is crazy rich! He buys her designer everything!] [Marry him already, girl! Before someone else snatches him up!] Wildcat replied personally to that second comment. [When you have true love, who needs marriage? Marriage is just a safety net for people who aren’t really loved!] I laughed out loud, a harsh, grating sound. With Caden’s police salary, he couldn’t afford a single one of the designer bags she flaunted. But I, worried he might be short on cash, transferred him hundreds of thousands of dollars in “spending money” every month. He had been using my money to fund his “true love.” Suddenly, my phone buzzed with that special notification tone. Caden had unblocked me. [Cooled down yet? Had a night to think about it?] [If you pull a stunt like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.] [Oh, by the way, the widow of my fallen comrade needs a car. You have that Maybach in the garage, right? Give it to her. It’s the least I can do.] [And talk to your father. I have a friend who needs a senior management position at his company. Make sure you take care of her.] The audacity. The sheer, unmitigated gall. When I loved him, I would have given him the world. I extended that generosity to all his friends and family. That kindness had not only given him the courage to be arrogant but had also fed his greed and his nerve. And now, he was shamelessly asking me to provide for his mistress. This was the man I had loved for ten years. I took a few deep breaths, forcing the rage down, and typed out the compliant, agreeable response he wanted to hear. Pleased with my “reasonableness,” he chatted for a bit longer, even graciously informing me that he had a celebratory banquet with his squad next week and wouldn’t be coming home that night. I simply agreed. After all, the best dishes, and the best dramas, are worth waiting for. I had a very special gift planned for him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394391”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 After helping my husband, Anthony, build his company from the ground up, I settled into the quiet life of a stay-at-home mom. For our daughter Mia’s tenth birthday, I wanted to do something special. I booked a lavish party at the Hilton, with catering that cost $2,500 a table. But when I went to pay, the manager gave me a strange look. “Mrs. Cole,” he said, his voice laced with pity, “this card can’t even cover a fifty-dollar charge.” Mortified, I rushed home to confront Anthony. He had the grace to look apologetic. “The company’s in a bidding war right now,” he explained, running a hand through his hair. “The new commissioner is… demanding. I’ve had to spend a lot out of pocket to grease the wheels.” He pulled me into a hug. “Once the deal closes and the cash starts flowing again, I promise I’ll throw Mia the birthday party of the century.” I nodded, playing the part of the understanding wife. But as soon as he was gone, I started digging. You see, the new commissioner is my father. And his department hasn’t had a public bid in months. I needed to see exactly where our money was going. This was our joint household account; just last month, it had over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in it. The transaction history had been wiped clean, so I went straight to the bank and pulled the full statement. The largest charge was from the very same Hilton I’d just left. One hundred and twenty thousand dollars. The description read: Birthday Celebration Package. “Daddy must be planning a surprise for us, right, Mommy?” Mia’s eyes were wide with innocent excitement. “Let’s go! We can surprise him, too!” Looking at her hopeful face, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine the worst. Maybe he really had planned something. When we arrived at the grand ballroom, the first person I saw was Anthony. Dressed in a tailored suit, he stood at the entrance, laughing with guests. And clinging to his arm was a woman in a slinky red dress, the two of them looking like a portrait of success. I recognized her instantly. Vivian Shaw, his secretary. One of the company’s first employees. “Mrs. Cole, your son is the spitting image of his father,” a guest gushed to Vivian. “Such a handsome young man.” “Isn’t he?” another chimed in. “Honestly, Vivian, everyone at the company envies you and Anthony. Your son is getting so big, and you two are still like newlyweds.” My blood ran cold. Following their gaze, I saw a little boy standing between them. He had Anthony’s eyes, Anthony’s jawline. A five- or six-year-old echo of my husband. “Daddy, they spelled my name wrong!” Mia suddenly pulled her hand from mine and darted towards the entrance. “It’s M-I-A, not L-E-O!” My eyes snapped to the ornate display stand next to the door. In gleaming gold letters, it read: Happy 7th Birthday to our beloved son, Leo! Before the world could even tilt on its axis, I heard a sharp cry. Vivian had shoved Mia, sending her tumbling to the polished floor. “Where did this brat come from?” Vivian sneered. “No manners at all.” I lunged forward, scooping Mia into my arms. Beads of blood welled up on her scraped knee, and a white-hot rage blinded me. “Anthony!” My voice trembled, raw with fury. I held Mia tight as she began to sob. “You take our family’s money to play house with this woman, to raise your bastard son, and now you let her hurt our daughter?” Vivian muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “What family money? Every dime in this company was earned through my blood, sweat, and tears alongside Anthony. Some people get used to being a canary in a gilded cage and start thinking they own the place.” A wave of whispers rippled through the guests. Their eyes darted between us, hungry for drama. “Is that the mistress? Crashing the party with her kid?” “The nerve of some people. Showing up to flaunt herself in front of the real wife. Shameless.” “And look at the daughter. An apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know. Trash raises trash.” Their stares—a mixture of pity, contempt, and morbid curiosity—pricked at my skin like a thousand needles. “What the hell are you talking about?” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Vivian is the mistress! That boy is the one who shouldn’t exist!” A few snide chuckles broke out from the crowd. A man with a beer belly swirled his champagne flute. “Everyone knows Vivian has been with Anthony for years. She’s the power behind the throne.” Another woman added, “Anthony and his wife are solid. This woman is clearly just some gold digger trying to shake him down for money.” I locked eyes with Anthony, my voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Anthony. Tell them. Tell them who I am.” He finally spoke, a weary, patronizing smile on his face as he addressed the room. “My apologies, everyone. A little misunderstanding. This is Julia, our nanny. She’s been reading a few too many trashy romance novels, and I’m afraid she gets… confused sometimes.” He turned back to me, his eyes now cold steel, a clear warning. “Julia, why don’t you take your daughter home? You’re making a scene.” The words hit me like a physical blow. This man, my husband of twelve years, the man I shared a bed with, was erasing me in front of a room full of strangers, painting me as a delusional servant. Seeing Anthony side with her, Vivian’s confidence swelled. Her voice became shrill and commanding. “Julia, I know it must be hard raising a child on your own, but this is just pathetic. Tell you what. You go home now, and I’ll have the butler add three months’ severance to your final paycheck.” The guests erupted in derisive laughter. “The nanny trying to usurp the throne? That’s rich! What won’t people do for money?” “I almost feel sorry for the little girl, having a mother like that.” “She’s just a little con artist in the making, taught to play the victim by her grifter mom.” Vivian smirked, victorious. She crouched down to speak to her son, Leo. “See, sweetie? This is why you have to study hard. Otherwise, you’ll end up like some people—nothing but a pathetic clown.” Leo tilted his chin up, his eyes holding a cruel glint that didn’t belong on a seven-year-old’s face. “You stupid woman! How dare you yell at my mommy?” He lunged forward and shoved me hard. Caught off guard, I stumbled back, nearly taking Mia down with me. Leo puffed out his chest, the perfect little spoiled prince. “My daddy said this whole company will be mine one day! Who do you and your little brat think you are, trying to steal my dad? You’ll end up just like your mom—a maid, cleaning up after us!” The laughter from the guests grew louder, more vicious. Someone actually clapped. “That’s the spirit, young man! A future titan of industry!” Just then, a few hotel staff members walked by with trays. One of them was the manager who had dealt with me earlier. He saw me and, with theatrical volume, said to his colleague, “Hey, isn’t that the ‘Mrs. Cole’ who tried to book a $2,500-a-table party but didn’t even have fifty bucks on her card?” He snickered. “Some people love to pretend they’re rich. Play the part of the society wife right up until the bill comes, then they scurry away like rats.” Vivian heard him and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Can’t even scrape together fifty dollars? No wonder she’s causing a scene.” The man with the beer belly swaggered over, his greasy gaze crawling over me and Mia. “You know,” he said with a lecherous grin, “for a nanny, she’s not half bad. The little girl’s a cute piece, too.” He leaned in, his breath sour with alcohol. “Look, you’ve got no future with Anthony. How about you come with me? I’ll give you three grand a month, room and board for you and the kid. How’s that sound? You won’t have to worry about fifty-dollar problems anymore. I’m a generous guy, right?” The crowd roared. Someone yelled, “Hanson, you’re too generous! Is she really worth three grand a month?” Vivian, nestled securely in Anthony’s arm, laughed along with them. I stared at my husband. “Anthony,” I pleaded, my voice raw. “Are you just going to stand there and let them humiliate me and Mia like this?” He watched, his face a mask of indifference, as if I were a complete stranger. When the laughter finally died down, he spoke, his tone cold and impatient. “Julia, stop embarrassing yourself. It’s my son’s birthday. Take your daughter and leave, or I’m calling security.” Mia trembled in my arms, her little hands clutching my dress. She buried her face in my chest, trying to hide from the cruel, laughing faces. “Mommy,” she whispered, her voice choked with fear, “is it true? What they’re saying?” Her question felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Twelve years of marriage, of love and sacrifice, all culminating in this public crucifixion. “No, sweetie. No, it’s not…” I covered her ears, a bitter wave of memories washing over me. How could I even begin to explain? When Anthony was just starting out, we worked out of a cramped, hundred-square-foot office. We couldn’t afford employees, so I did everything—I was the receptionist, the bookkeeper, the sales rep. I swallowed my pride and begged for meetings with every distant relative and old family friend I had, all to help him land clients. I remember the day he signed his first major contract. He was so ecstatic he spun me around in circles, then used his first commission to buy me an expensive dress. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the client was one of my uncle’s oldest friends. As the company grew, and after Mia was born, Anthony insisted I stay home. He’d looked at me with such tenderness. “I’ll take care of you now,” he’d promised. “You’ve worked so hard for me. It’s time for you to rest and enjoy life.” But now… I glanced down at my own dress, a simple thing I’d owned for three years. Then I looked at them. Anthony in his bespoke suit, Vivian draped in designer labels. They were a perfect match, accepting the crowd’s adoration. And me? I was the nanny. No one even questioned it. “Ma’am,” Vivian said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “I know life is hard, but a child this age understands things. If you have no shame for yourself, at least have some for your daughter.” She pulled a slim, designer wallet from her clutch and fanned out a small stack of hundred-dollar bills. She held the money out to me, her chin high. “I don’t have much cash on me, but take this. Two thousand dollars.” As she leaned in, she whispered so only I could hear, “So what if you met him first, Julia? The one who isn’t loved is always the other woman.” Then, in front of everyone, she let out a theatrical “Oh!” and her fingers went limp. The cash slapped against my face before scattering across the floor around my feet. “Oops,” she said with a smug, unapologetic smile. “Silly me. My hand slipped.” The VP, Hanson, boomed, “Now that’s class! A true lady! See? Generous to a fault!” Anthony shot me a look of pure disgust. “Pick it up,” he commanded. “And get out.” I started to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound. “Two thousand dollars? Is that what you think I’m worth? Anthony, do you have any idea how a startup like yours landed those massive initial contracts?” My voice rose with every word. “Every single penny you’ve spent on her and that bastard son is our marital property. If I want it back, I will take every last cent!” Vivian scoffed. “Wow, you’ve really spun yourself a fantasy, haven’t you? What billionaire romance are you living in? The patriarchy is dead, honey. Time to stop playing the dutiful wife.” But I had hit a nerve with Anthony. His face darkened. “Julia, that’s enough—” SLAP! The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed through the silent room. “You say my name again,” I hissed, “you dare attach one more lie to it, and I will see you in court.” Stunned, Anthony touched his cheek, his eyes flaring with rage. In a flash, he lunged, his hand clamping around my throat. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed. “You think I won’t hit a woman?” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “Don’t push me.” The world began to tunnel. Air became a luxury I couldn’t afford. Black spots danced in my vision as I clawed uselessly at his wrist. Just as I thought I would pass out, Vivian stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Anthony, darling, she’s not worth it. Don’t let this trash upset you.” He released me. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face. In that moment, I saw it in his eyes. He had wanted to kill me. Vivian tenderly caressed the red mark on his cheek and, right there in front of everyone, stood on her toes and kissed him. “There, now. Don’t be angry. It’s Leo’s special day. Let’s not let her ruin it.” Anthony’s expression softened as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Suddenly, the ballroom lights dimmed. A projector flickered on, casting a large image onto a screen. A slideshow had begun. It was Leo. From his first moments in the hospital to his first day of school, a montage of a cherished life. And in every photo, there they were: a happy, smiling family. Anthony and Vivian. My own daughter, Mia, had so few photos with her father. He was always “too busy.” Mia’s and Leo’s birthdays were on the same day. That’s why, for the past seven years—since the year Leo was born—Mia had never seen her father on her birthday. Leo shot Mia a triumphant sneer. “He’s my daddy. Where are your pictures with him?” Mia’s face fell. She turned to me, her voice a tiny, wounded whisper. “Mommy… am I really… a bastard?” I shook my head, my heart shattering. But then the screen showed a series of family vacation photos, and the background of one of them stopped my breath. The deck of a cruise ship, the vast ocean behind them. Anthony and Vivian, their cheeks pressed together in a loving embrace. I knew that ship. It was the luxury cruise I had booked for our fifth wedding anniversary. He must have bought her a ticket, too. Another photo showed them at an amusement park—Bayview City. The date stamp in the corner was the exact same day Anthony had taken Mia and me there. It all clicked into place. The “urgent business meetings” that always seemed to pop up during our family trips. The “last-minute calls” he had to take. My perfect marriage was a lie, riddled with holes I had been too blind to see. While I was still reeling from the shock, Leo suddenly charged at Mia and slapped her hard across the face. “Your mommy hit my daddy!” he shrieked. “So I’m gonna hit you!” Mia’s head snapped to the side, a red handprint already blooming on her cheek. She was taller than Leo, and at that age of fierce pride, her first instinct was to fight back. But Vivian grabbed Mia’s arms, her nails digging into her fragile wrists. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed. “What a little savage! Utterly without breeding!” With Mia restrained, Leo saw his chance. He started kicking and punching her, a flurry of childish, uncontrolled blows. Scratches appeared on her arms. Mia’s eyes filled with tears, but she bit her lip, refusing to cry out. “Stop it!” I screamed, trying to pull Leo off her, but Anthony grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. “It’s just kids roughhousing, Julia. What are you getting so worked up about?” he said, his voice casual. “Leo’s a smart boy. He knows his limits.” “She’s your daughter!” I shrieked, my voice tearing from my throat. “Anthony, she is your flesh and blood! How can you stand there and watch this happen? How can you be so cruel?” He turned his head away, refusing to meet my eyes. His reply was quiet, but his words were daggers. “He’s my son.” Just then, Leo landed a vicious kick to Mia’s stomach. She doubled over, her face going pale with pain. “Mia!” I screamed, my heart seizing in my chest. Mia tried to shield her stomach, but Vivian still had her pinned, leaving her completely defenseless. Emboldened, Leo drew back his foot, aiming for Mia’s already bleeding knee. “ENOUGH!” I finally wrenched myself free from Anthony’s grasp, lunged forward, and shoved Leo away, pulling my daughter into my arms. Mia was trembling uncontrollably, her small hand gripping my dress. “Mommy,” she whimpered, “it hurts so much…” Leo, who had stumbled and hit a table, started wailing. Vivian rushed to his side, frantic. “My baby! My precious boy! Leo is going to inherit a multi-million-dollar corporation! If you’ve hurt him, you’ll never be able to pay for it!” Seeing them in a heap of tears, Anthony raised his hand, his face contorted with rage. “Julia, you vicious bitch!” The blow never landed. The ballroom doors swung open. A man in a sharp black jacket strode in, flanked by an assistant carrying a briefcase. He had an air of quiet authority, a powerful presence that instantly silenced the room. Hanson, the VP who had insulted me, immediately transformed into a fawning sycophant, scrambling to greet the newcomer. “Commissioner Dong! What an honor! Your presence truly graces us!” He turned to Anthony, beaming. “Anthony, this is the man I’m always telling you about! The new commissioner for the state!” Anthony stared, his face draining of all color. “Father… in-law?” I clutched my injured daughter, looked at that strong, familiar face, and the dam finally broke. “Dad…” I choked out.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394390”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My author girlfriend, Sonia, in another fit of writer’s block, swept the dinner I’d handmade for her off the table. Just then, text floated into my vision, shimmering like a heat haze: 【She regretted it the moment she did it. Look at the guilt in her eyes… my heart is breaking.】 【If he just goes and hugs her now, she’ll be so moved.】 Sonia… felt guilty? Moved by me? Mustering my courage, I gently brushed my fingers against hers. “It’s okay. Do you want me to make you something else?” Her eyes, when they met mine, were chips of ice. “What, are you addicted to playing maid for me, you useless trash? Can’t you see I’m pissed off right now? Get lost!” She shoved me away with her foot. Staring at the palm of my hand, now pierced by shards of broken porcelain, a profound sense of exhaustion washed over me. This one-man show… I was tired of it. … I said nothing, just quietly retrieved the first-aid kit and began bandaging my hand. 【You can see the pain in her eyes, she’s heartbroken for him…】 【Just give in already! She’ll definitely apologize and help you with that cut!】 【She’s a born loner, bad at communicating. Can’t this useless boyfriend at least open his mouth?】 I glanced at Sonia. She still wore that same cold expression, as if the world owed her a million dollars. There wasn’t a hint of concern in her face. It was laughable that I’d actually believed the floating comments. Just as my heart was turning to stone, Sonia pushed her laptop towards me. “It won’t turn on. Take a look.” This was her usual way of making peace—she never apologized directly. But this time, I wasn’t going to play along. I pushed the laptop back. “I’m your maid, not your IT guy. Find someone else.” 【This guy is such a jerk! She’s already extending an olive branch, what’s his problem?】 【A genius author is willing to humble herself for him, and he’s still not satisfied? I hope she dumps this loser!】 She bit her lip, then deliberately stepped barefoot into the broken porcelain on the floor. “There,” she said, her voice tight. “Can you forgive me now?” My breath hitched. I rushed forward, sweeping her up into my arms to clean the wound. “Sonia! Are you insane?” Seeing her hurt, I couldn’t help it. My heart still ached for her despite myself. Ignoring the stream of digital abuse floating in the air, I held her close. That night, her protégé, Cox, sent me a text. She was drunk, he said. I needed to come pick her up. I rushed to the private room at the bar, only to find Sonia perfectly sober, complaining to her friends about me, her “free live-in maid.” Her friends laughed, asking her to find them one, too. Sonia shook her head, her tone serious. “You couldn’t.” A wave of relief washed over me. “You could never find one that pathetic!” she crowed. “Honestly, whenever I’m mad, all I have to do is play the victim, and he comes crawling right back.” The comments exploded. 【She’s so good to him! She’s willing to let a loser like him be her personal assistant just to keep him by her side!】 【She’s just saying that! She was bragging about how great he was at first, then got scared her friends would try to steal him, so she started putting him down!】 I felt none of the love the comments were deciphering. I just felt like a joke. A chill ran through me, rooting me to the spot. It wasn’t until I met Cox’s mocking gaze that I snapped out of it and pushed the door open. Sonia tensed when she saw me. “You heard that?” I nodded, and she said, with a dismissive wave, “It was just a joke. Don’t take it seriously.” The last flicker of hope in my heart died. She was a genius author, clueless about everything outside of writing. To take care of her, I had given up everything. And in return, I was her free maid, the punchline to a joke for her friends’ amusement. A bitter laugh escaped me. “Was it really just a joke, Sonia? Or was it what you truly think?” She said nothing, her jaw tight as if holding something back. 【He’s being such an ass. She already explained, why is he still throwing a fit!】 【She’s about to cry… Can we get a new main character, someone more considerate?】 【Yeah, Cox seems pretty nice.】 Cox, as if summoned by the comments, stormed over and grabbed my collar. “You’re going too far, man! I told you she was out with us tonight. You didn’t have to come here and check up on her!” Rage flared in my chest. I swung my fist, connecting squarely with his jaw. “You’re the one who—” “Enough!” Before I could finish, Sonia threw her arms out, shielding Cox with her body. “This is between us! Don’t drag other people into it!” I stepped toward her instinctively. “He’s the one trying to cause trouble!” She thought I was going to hurt her precious protégé. She shoved me hard, sending me stumbling to the floor. Then she grabbed the thermos of soup I’d brought for her and hurled it at me. “Don’t you dare touch him!” Stars exploded behind my eyes. I took a deep, shuddering breath and asked her one last time, “Are you really choosing to attack me, for him?” Her hands were clenched into fists. She said nothing. 【She was clearly just trying to stop a fight from breaking out! How can he be mad about that?】 【I feel so bad for her… no good deed goes unpunished!】 Was that really it? Just then, Cox dropped to his knees in front of me. Facing away from the others, a sly grin spread across his face, but his voice was thick with tears. “I’m so sorry! This is all my fault for meddling!” Sonia gently helped him up. “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize.” Once he was on his feet, she pointed a finger at me, her voice ringing with fury. “He’s the one who should be apologizing!” The woman who had just spoken so softly to her protégé was now looking at me with absolute contempt. “Apologize!” she demanded. “If you don’t, we’re breaking up.” I was frozen. She was going to break up with me over another man. 【Don’t do it! She doesn’t mean it!】 【Just say you’re sorry! She’ll forgive you if you just apologize!】 There it was again. The comments, always using her supposed hidden love to emotionally blackmail me. I was always the one apologizing. This time, I was done. Looking at Sonia’s cold, expectant face, I gave a calm nod. “Fine. Let’s break up.” Her breath hitched. She shook her head slightly, as if in disbelief. I took the other container out of the insulated bag I’d brought. “Drinking on an empty stomach is bad for you,” I said, holding it out. “I made you a late-night snack.” A smug smile touched her lips, a look that said, I knew it. One of her friends whispered, “Jeez, I thought he was actually going to break up with her. He just came crawling back again.” “Who else would want a loser like him?” Sonia looked triumphant as she reached for the container. “Hmph. Fine, I forgive you this time. But next time, don’t you dare—” Just as her fingers were about to touch it, I pulled my hand back. Right in front of her, I tipped the contents directly into the trash can. “I figured you wouldn’t need food made by a useless maid.” She stomped her foot in fury. “Fine! Be a dog with some pride, then! Once you’re gone, don’t you dare come back!” As I walked away, I heard one of her friends ask, “Shit, you think he’s really not coming back this time?” Sonia’s voice was nonchalant. “Don’t worry. He’ll come crawling back within three days. A parasite like him… how could he ever leave me?” After I left, I called my father. “Well, well. Decided you can spare a moment for your old man? Wasn’t it you who cut off the family for that woman?” “Dad,” I said, my voice cracking despite myself as the weight of my wasted years hit me. “I was wrong.” I took a deep breath, the decision finally solidifying. “Dad, I’ll do it. I’ll agree to the alliance with the Langleys.” My father sighed on the other end of the line. “Good. It’s not too late for you to wake up. Isabelle is a good girl. Don’t you dare fail her.” After hanging up, I started packing my things. I was struck by how little I actually owned in this apartment. I used to buy little trinkets to decorate the place, telling myself it was to make it feel more like a home. In reality, it was a desperate attempt to assert my own existence here. In the eyes of her friends, I was just a roommate they could ignore. Gradually, my little decorations had filled every corner. Until the day Cox stayed over and casually remarked, “Sonia, your taste is terrible.” The next day, she threw all of my things out, telling me never to buy such useless junk again. Later, she asked me why all the gifts she’d given me had disappeared, wondering if I was so broke that I’d secretly sold them. I just nodded and took the blame, never telling her she was the one who had thrown them all away. As I was about to leave, the door opened, and I came face to face with Sonia. Cox was right behind her. A smirk played on her lips. “What’s this? Weren’t you breaking up with me? Why are you still here, clinging to my apartment like a stray?” I ignored them and tried to push my suitcase past. But Sonia grabbed the handle, blocking my way. “Stop. Open the suitcase. I need to check it.” I froze. This Sonia felt like a stranger. “What do you mean? You think I’m a thief?” 【He’s so dense! She obviously doesn’t want him to leave! This is her way of keeping him there!】 【She even brought Cox back to apologize, and this guy doesn’t appreciate it at all…】 Keeping me here? Apologizing? I shook my head, a bitter taste in my mouth. The scorn in her eyes said it all. They opened the suitcase and tore through my belongings, turning everything upside down. “Are you done?” I asked, my voice cold. Just then, Cox pulled out a dress shirt from the bottom of the case. “Sonia, look at this…” Sonia glanced at it, and then her hand cracked across my face. “I was wondering where this shirt went! So you’re the one who stole it!” I held my cheek, stunned and hurt. “What are you talking about? You gave that to me for my birthday!” Sonia let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Are you deaf? I just told you to try it on, not that it was yours!” A wave of sadness washed over me. “And I thought it was the first real gift you’d ever given me.” Meeting Cox’s mocking gaze, I answered calmly, “If it’s yours, then you can have it back.” Just like I’m giving you back, I thought. But my answer didn’t satisfy her. She threw the shirt in my face. “Have it back? It’s already filthy. How can I take it back?” “Filthy?” I started to explain. “I’ve never even worn it—” Her eyes were filled with disgust. “Anything you touch is filthy, you useless waste of space.” 【This guy is so pathetic. He steals a gift and makes her clean up his mess.】 【Even I understood that. She just meant that Cox is a germaphobe.】 While I was still processing the floating comments, Cox suddenly lunged forward and dumped the entire contents of my suitcase onto the floor. “Sonia, let me help you check if he stole anything else!” And then he found it. His eyes lit up when he saw the small, velvet ring box. He presented it to Sonia like a prize. She stomped her foot. “So you really are addicted to stealing!” She snatched the box and ripped it open, only to freeze when she saw the 10-carat diamond ring inside. Then she scoffed. “A loser like you could afford a diamond ring? Where did you steal this from?” My hands trembled at my sides. But I managed to keep my voice steady. “I bought that with my own savings. It’s an engagement ring. I was planning to propose to you tomorrow night, at seven, at the International Grand Hotel.” She gave me a suspicious look. “Is it secondhand? Or fake?” I never imagined that her first reaction to an engagement ring would be that. I was shaking with rage. “Are we done here?” I bit out. She grunted, then nodded with a look of satisfaction, as if I had finally learned my place. She kicked my scattered belongings toward me. “Well, if you’re going to propose, then stop with this drama. Clean up the house like a good boy and wait for me to come home for dinner. I’m going with Cox to get you a proper gift.” 【She’s all talk! She’s obviously going to get him an engagement gift!】 【This loser is finally acting like a human being. It’s a good thing Sonia was willing to sleep at Cox’s last night just to give him some space to cool down.】 【She was crying on Cox’s shoulder all night… I’m so glad her suffering is finally over.】 Reading the scrolling text, I couldn’t help but laugh, a hollow, bitter sound. So she had been cheating on me all along. And I, like a fool, had been played by both her and these phantom words of love. I turned away, not wanting her to see the devastation on my face. She didn’t even glance at me. She just linked her arm through Cox’s and started to leave. Before she closed the door, she reminded me to buy extra groceries. “Cox is staying for dinner tonight. Consider it your apology to him.” As if I were truly her maid, and not the man who loved her. Using the last ounce of strength I had, I said, “Sonia, I’m done.” She didn’t even pause. The only reply was the slam of the door.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394389”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel