During my senior year, I intentionally failed my tests so I could pay the “school heartthrob” to tutor me, all to help him out of poverty. He hated me for it, claiming I was stealing time away from his childhood sweetheart. When he found out my actual SAT scores were 400 points higher than his, he cursed me—the “evil rich girl” with a fake heart—saying I’d never find true love. Later, he killed me. Even at my grave, he didn’t forget to warn me: “If there’s a next life, don’t bother with your fake pity. Don’t try to force a relationship that was never yours.” As he wished. In this life, I never asked for tutoring. He finally had all the time in the world to wash dishes and bus tables with his sweetheart at a greasy diner. 1 The school heartthrob, Jax Thorne, lost his father three years ago. His dad, a firefighter, died in the line of duty during a massive warehouse fire. My family owns the Sterling Dining Group, a massive chain of restaurants, one of which was saved by his father’s crew. To honor his sacrifice, my family donated $150,000 to his mother. Grief-stricken, his mother became chronically ill and was hospitalized. By the time Jax and I were seniors at the same elite public high school, his family had drained the life insurance and the donations. When my mom found out he was in my honors classes, she offered another $100,000. Jax rejected it with a cold glare: “Stop insulting me with your charity.” In my past life, I came up with a plan. I tanked my placement exams to rank at the bottom, then hired Jax as a high-priced tutor. I thought it would save his pride while giving him a way to stop working double shifts at diners so he could focus on his SATs and his sick mother. But he hated me for it. First, he believed the tutoring sessions took him away from his sweetheart, Lily Miller, causing her to fall for a “bad boy” at a rival school. Second, he felt my high SAT scores were a personal insult. He didn’t think a “failing student” like me should be smarter than him, and he accused me of using money to buy my way into his life. He told me he could never love me. He cursed me to never find happiness. Later, he reinvented himself. He got into a decent grad school and started a high-end medical aesthetics company. Being a former “heartthrob,” his face was his best marketing tool. He made ten million dollars quickly. He finally got the courage to find Lily, only to discover she was pregnant with twins by a billionaire twenty years her senior. His ten million was pocket change compared to that family’s estate. So, Jax turned all that resentment toward me. He invited me to his clinic for a “complimentary treatment,” then secretly injected a neurotoxin into my veins. He masked my death as a “rare aesthetic surgery complication.” My parents wanted justice. But knowing it happened at the company of a “hero’s son,” they were blinded by respect for his late father. They believed Jax’s lies. He even helped organize my funeral. After the burial, Jax swindled my parents out of a new investment. He stood at my grave, gloating. He warned me with pure malice: “If there’s a next life, don’t play the saint. I never needed your handouts. I wasn’t worth your ‘pity,’ and I certainly didn’t need your money. It was your arrogance that killed you. I have a clear conscience.” Maybe the universe saw the injustice. It gave me a second chance. This time, I won’t hide my light for a second. I won’t give a loser the chance to earn a single cent from my family. And I won’t let him hurt me again. 2 Holding my failing mid-term report card from junior year, I walked into my house. Seeing my parents looking years younger felt like a dream. My mom took the report card, fed me a slice of orange, and winked. “Our little genius is back. Take your vitamins and fish oil, Chloe. But don’t forget, you were the top student in the district. Don’t get too into character as a ‘struggling student.’” I swallowed the orange, fighting back tears. “Starting today, we’re not hiring Jax Thorne to tutor me anymore. And for the next exam, I’m not failing on purpose.” “Also, if he applies to work at any of our restaurants, please tell the managers to reject him.” My mom looked startled, exchanging a glance with my dad. In the previous life, they agreed to my “undercover” tutoring plan to help Jax, but they had endured a lot of gossip because of it. The daughter of the district’s top scholar was suddenly failing in an honors class. For two years, people whispered that my middle school grades were faked or bought. “Rich kids only know how to calculate money, not math,” they’d say. “She’s just trying to get close to the hot guy. She’s trying to ‘upgrade’ her family’s genes because, usually, it’s either a beauty with a beast or a plain girl with a hunk.” My parents had endured that shame just to help a hero’s son. And I had been so deep in the “role” that I actually developed feelings for Jax. I defended him constantly. I was a teenager; I was a sucker for a handsome face and a “brooding bad boy” trope. But the tears were gone now. I spoke firmly: “I’m not joking. I’m going to the study to catch up on my own.” Just then, the doorbell rang. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Miller, led a cold, arrogant-looking Jax into the foyer. Seeing his 18-year-old face made me want to gag. I suppressed the urge and let out a scoff: “I bet tutoring a ‘rich girl’ like me is beneath you, Jax. You can leave now.” “I’ll pay you for today, but if you don’t want ‘charity,’ feel free to decline the Venmo. From tomorrow on, don’t come back. My family’s house is big, but we’re done playing the Good Samaritan for someone who greets us with a sneer.” 3 The phantom pain of the toxin in my veins still haunts my nightmares. I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming. My mom rushed in to comfort me. “Chloe, what’s wrong?” She wiped the sweat from my forehead. “It’s just a dream. We’re here.” “Mom,” I whispered, hugging her tight. “Can we make sure none of our partner restaurants or suppliers hire Jax Thorne for part-time work? Don’t give him a single chance to earn money from our network. Not even as a dishwasher.” My mom was confused. “Chloe, what happened? Yesterday you were obsessed with helping him. Did he do something to you?” I couldn’t tell her about the rebirth; it would sound insane. I just explained that Jax had repeatedly shown contempt for our family’s “dirty money” and that he had rejected her $100k donation. My mom understood. She agreed. But she added that if he couldn’t work for us, he’d likely end up at our rival’s place—Vance’s Bistro. The place with terrible reviews, known for mistreating staff, but still somehow popular. I nodded. That was exactly the plan. I had a new goal: clearing the air and getting my revenge. First, make Jax realize exactly who he is without our support. Second, make him suffer. Third, watch him fall. 4 As expected, a week later, Jax was working part-time at Vance’s Bistro. Initially, he didn’t care about being rejected by other places because Lily Miller was also working there. To him, being with Lily was the only thing that mattered, even if the pay was $5 less an hour than what my family’s restaurants offered. Every day after school, Jax and Lily would meet at the crosswalk, share a cheap snack, and take the bus to go wash dishes. Jax’s mother’s hospital bills were astronomical. In the past, my family’s “tutoring fee”—which was five times the market rate—had kept them afloat. But without it, his $12-an-hour dishwasher job didn’t even cover the interest on the debt. He started begging the hospital for extensions. He started working graveyard shifts and skipping school to bus tables. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison, noticed. He called Jax to his office. Harrison didn’t want a top-ten student to waste his potential. He gave Jax $1,000 out of his own pocket and promised to organize a class-wide fundraiser. During study hall, the donation QR code was passed around. My desk mate, Sarah Jenkins, scanned it and sent $200. “That’s my whole coffee and breakfast budget for the month,” Sarah sighed. “Chloe, I know your family is loaded, so don’t laugh at my small donation.” I didn’t stop my pen. I didn’t even look up. “I’m not donating.” Sarah froze. “What?!” “Didn’t you used to pay him a fortune for tutoring? He’s basically your mentor. And your family is so charitable—like the movie Parasite says, the rich are nice because they can afford to be.” “Wait, that came out wrong. I’m not trying to judge you, I’m just curious…” I put my pen down. I passed the QR code to the person behind me. “You can’t be too nice, Sarah. Otherwise, you become a ‘Saint’ that everyone hates. Look up ‘malice of the beneficiary.’ If I donate, he’ll just feel insulted and probably try to pick a fight with me for ‘flaunting’ my wealth.” Sarah laughed. I whispered in her ear: “I’m just trying to stay safe. Seriously.” “Two years ago, my mom tried to give his family $100k, and he acted like we spat on his face. I’m done trying to force my ‘pity’ on someone who doesn’t want it. The Sterling bank is closed for Jax Thorne.” During the next class meeting, Mr. Harrison announced the total: $10,498. He coughed and looked directly at me. “Most of you are very kind students. However, some people who could afford to help chose to stay silent…” At the same time, an icy, hateful glare shot toward me from the front row. Oh, it was our charity case, Jax. 5 I stared right back at him, waiting for him to say something. He just turned away, silent. I packed my bags and went home. I needed my sleep. I had the finals tomorrow, and I intended to dominate the exam hall again. It had been a while since I allowed myself to be at the top. A week later, the results were posted. I jumped from the bottom to the top 30 in the grade, and top 5 in my class. Jax, who had been a top-10 student for years, plummeted to rank 100. The school went into a frenzy. “No way! Chloe Sterling is top 30? She improved by over 300 points? She had to have cheated!” “Wait, wasn’t she the district valedictorian in middle school? Maybe she’s just back in form?” “Everyone said she bought that title. And look at Jax! Why did his grades drop? Did they swap papers? He needs money for his mom…” Mr. Harrison called me into his office. “Did you cheat, Chloe?” “No.” “Prove it. Why is your score so much higher than Jax’s—the boy who was supposedly tutoring you? You didn’t donate to him; did you use that money to buy his answers instead?” I laughed. “Why should I prove anything? Burden of proof is on the accuser.” “Mr. Harrison, I used to respect you, but I see you’ve got a bias. My parents started with a food truck and worked 80-hour weeks for a decade. They focused on quality and service. If you’re so bothered by wealth, feel free to quit and start your own truck.” “You have to admit that wealth buys time. It buys the ability to focus on studying instead of survival. And my family pays a massive amount of taxes that fund this school’s ‘education grants’—which you’ve benefited from. Don’t bite the hand that feeds the district. If you’re confused about how the world works, read an economics book.” Harrison was speechless. “You… you have no respect for your elders!” I walked out. “Respect is earned, not given by a title. Stop trying to label people just because they don’t fit your narrative.” 6 I walked back to class, and Jax was waiting by my desk. He still had that look of pure condescension. “Can we talk outside?” I rolled my eyes. “Say whatever you have to say right here.” He stayed quiet for a moment, then spat out: “What did you say to my mom? She wants to see you. She’s asking for you at the hospital.” “Listen, she wants to see you, but that doesn’t mean I accept you. There’s nothing between us. Stop playing these mind games to get my attention.” I stood up and slapped him hard. “Stop talking like a narcissist. I’m not playing games. I stopped paying you because I realized I could get a better score than you without your ‘tutoring.’ Why would I waste my money on someone who looks like they’re smelling something bad every time they see me?” “And ‘us’? Jax, have I ever asked you out? Have I ever sent you a letter? No. You’re the one standing at my desk right now. Get some self-awareness and stop wasting the reputation your father built.” Jax’s face turned bright red. He looked shocked, then roared: “Whatever! I told you she wants to see you. I’m going back to work to earn my own way.” “Then go bus your tables and stop acting like a martyr, you hypocrite!” I shouted at his back. Sarah Jenkins stopped sipping her latte and grabbed my hand. “Chill, Chloe. Your cortisol levels are going to spike.” “I’m fine, Sarah. Getting that out of my system is better than any detox.” I offered to take her out for Korean BBQ to celebrate our scores. Sarah had moved into the top 30 too. We walked out of the school, ignoring the whispers of our classmates. At the restaurant, we stuffed ourselves with brisket and pork belly. Sarah pulled out two boba teas. “To the top 30! Next year, let’s aim for the Ivy League!” “To giving up on being a ‘Saint,’” I added. We clinked our cups. “To a bright future.” 7 A week later, I saw Jax at the hospital while I was there for a check-up. He was checking his mother out. Not because she was better, but because she was worse. She had suffered a massive stroke. She was partially paralyzed. They were broke. The crowdfunding only covered the initial debt. People lose their “generosity” when a case becomes a long-term burden. Jax’s mother saw me and my mom. She feebly waved and thanked us. She knew my family had helped them in the past and wanted to show her gratitude. “Jax doesn’t want to ask for more money,” she whispered. “He’s a proud boy. I’ll just do my physical therapy at home. He can help me after he finishes his shifts at the diner.” I looked at Jax. He was scowling, his hands covered in Band-Aids. He pushed his mother’s wheelchair into the cold wind to wait for a bus. He was taking out his frustration from Vance’s Bistro on us. I called my contact at the Bistro. I had a “vibe checker” working there. Jax was having a nightmare of a time. He hadn’t received his full paycheck because he broke a stack of “custom-made” plates, and the manager charged him triple for damages. He tried to go back to his old jobs, but every restaurant in the Sterling network and our partners had a “no-hire” note on his file. “Is this the Thorne kid? Sorry, Sterling Group is a major stakeholder here. We can’t hire him.” Jax finally realized that making money was hard. He had to work double shifts, skip more classes, and endure the abuse at Vance’s Bistro just to buy his mom’s meds. Meanwhile, Lily Miller was no longer washing dishes. The manager put her in a glass booth at the entrance to “perform” as a prep cook because she was pretty. She hated Jax’s constant complaining and started ignoring his texts.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418549”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the third year of our marriage, my husband’s college-student mistress was diagnosed with “cancer.” The man who had never believed in a higher power actually went to a historic cathedral, kneeling at every step to pray and light a candle for her. The incident went completely viral, making national headlines. He called me to explain: “It was her dying wish. I couldn’t refuse the kid.” I looked down, smiled, and hung up the phone. Then, I went back to tangling the sheets with the rebellious, untamable heir of the Vance empire. 1 That night, I was curled up on the sofa reading a script when my agent, Valerie, FaceTimed me. She looked furious. “Stella, your husband and his little pet canary are trending on X.” My finger paused on the script. I frowned in displeasure. Oliver cheating wasn’t exactly breaking news, but this was the first time it had trended so publicly. Valerie forwarded me a video, her face dark. “The girl he’s keeping on the side, Bella, apparently got diagnosed with cancer and only has a few months to live. Oliver somehow heard that St. Patrick’s Cathedral is miraculous, so he went there personally to pray for her. Now every media outlet is reporting on it. The PR team is having a hard time suppressing the trending tags.” I tapped on the video Valerie sent. It was filmed from a bystander’s perspective. In the video, the usually immaculate, suit-clad man was kneeling reverently, praying with absolute devotion before carefully placing a blessed silver pendant around the neck of the petite girl beside him. Watching this, I remembered the time I asked Oliver to come with me to church for a holiday service. He had exuded nothing but impatience. He didn’t even bother looking up from his stack of documents, his tone ice-cold: “I don’t believe in any of that nonsense. Find someone else to go with you.” I tossed the script aside and leaned back into the sofa. I thought about how Oliver and I had gotten to this point. We grew up together as childhood sweethearts. When I first entered the entertainment industry, a sleazy director got me drunk and tried to grope me. Oliver, who was negotiating a business deal in the VIP room next door, got a frantic call from Valerie and kicked the door down. I heard later that the director had to be carried out on a stretcher. When that story hit the internet, the romance between Oliver and me skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. #StellaSterlingHarassed,OliverGrantFliesIntoARage #StellaAndOliverPowerCouple #ChildhoodSweetheartsToSoulmates Back then, I never imagined Oliver would ever change. And I certainly never imagined he would bring another woman right in front of my face. That day, all my dignity and pride were shattered. I screamed hysterically, “Who is she?!” Bella was petite, looking soft and fragile. Hearing my voice, she hid behind Oliver in terror. The man gently patted her head, signaling her not to be afraid. “Stella, maybe we should both try seeing younger people.” I understood exactly what he meant. My heart plummeted to the absolute bottom. “So, you cheated? And you’re trying to make it sound noble?!” Oliver frowned, disliking my phrasing. “It’s an open marriage. We can both play the field. You’ll enjoy it.” Crying, I launched myself at him, hitting him with my fists. Oliver didn’t dodge or flinch. He just stared at me for a few seconds, frowning. “Take some time to calm down.” He grabbed Bella’s hand and walked toward the door. I grabbed the crystal vase next to me and hurled it at them. Oliver only glanced back at me once before leaving without a second of hesitation. From the beginning, when he first started seeing women on the side, he would at least remember to change his clothes before coming home. Later on, he didn’t even care if there were lipstick stains on his shirt collar. 2 “Sister, I’m done showering. Have you finished reading your script?” A gentle, incredibly attractive male voice drifted from the bedroom. I snapped back to reality, instinctively looking at my phone screen. Valerie had clearly heard it. I met her probing, shocked gaze. I took a deep breath and spoke slowly, “Oliver isn’t the only one who stepped out. I cheated too.” Valerie’s expression looked as if she had just been struck by lightning. She was petrified. A few seconds later, a barrage of questions hit me: “When did this happen?!” “Who is he?!” “Are you two seriously dating, or is it just a fling?!” I was struggling with how to explain it to her when Wesley Vance walked out of the bedroom, shirtless. Droplets of water clung to his sculpted torso, trailing slowly down his abs to his waistline. Valerie’s jaw dropped to the floor. “M-Mr. Vance?!” I quickly threw out a, “I’ll explain another day!” and hung up. 3 Wesley pinned me against the sofa, his burning skin pressing against mine. “Sister, when are you getting a divorce? That trashy couple is trending online, which proves he doesn’t care about you at all. Everything Oliver can give you, I can give you too. Divorce him, please?” “Be good. Let’s not talk about that right now. Kiss me.” Wesley flushed red from his ears to his neck. His lips crushed against mine, deepening the kiss relentlessly. Outside the window, a heavy rain suddenly began to pour, the raindrops drumming against the glass. Inside, shadows intertwined. A sudden, urgent ringtone interrupted us. Glancing at the caller ID, my tone was flat. “What do you want?” As soon as I spoke, I realized how husky my voice was. On the other end, Oliver paused. “Is it a convenient time to talk?” Wesley, hearing that it was him, lightly bit my earlobe, eliciting an ambiguous sound from my throat. Noticing his petty little move, I smiled. “Pour me a glass of water.” Wesley glared at my phone, huffed twice in annoyance, and deliberately made a loud clatter as he walked to the kitchen. I shook my head. His temper was getting bigger by the day. Hearing the noise on my end fade, Oliver stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking. “I won’t be coming home for a while. I’m staying at the hospital to keep Bella company.” I was annoyed. Was it really worth a phone call just to tell me this garbage? Too lazy to argue, I impatiently gave an “Mhm.” “Bella’s final wish is for me to get her a blessed pendant. You know I couldn’t refuse. She’s just a young girl looking for romance. She posted it online, and I know it caused some negative PR for you, but please don’t hold it against her. Two of the top luxury brands—Eastwood and Carberry—have agreed to make you their exclusive global ambassador for the next five years.” I felt like I was listening to a joke. “You’re trying to buy my silence with sponsorships?” “Aren’t you thinking a little too highly of yourself? Grant Corp has skyrocketed over the past two years. Do you honestly not know how much of that was due to my industry connections?” “Have you spent so much time with that naive little girl that you’ve become ‘naive’ too?” I heavily emphasized the word ‘naive’. Normally, the conversation would end right here. Oliver would get angry out of humiliation and hang up. But today, he clearly had more to say. “That guy just now… is he your new boyfriend? His voice sounded familiar. Do I know him?” “Oliver.” I cut him off. “You’re crossing a line. You set the rules—we don’t ask about each other’s private lives.” I hung up the phone. Wesley walked back in right on cue. With that ridiculously handsome face, he didn’t say a word, just quietly waited for me to finish the water before picking up right where we left off. 4 The next morning, I threw off the covers and stepped out of bed. The moment my feet hit the floor, my legs gave out, and I nearly fell to my knees. Thinking about Wesley calling me “Sister” over and over last night, my face flushed hot. After washing up, I saw a bowl of pork and century egg congee and a veggie-cheese omelet on the dining table. I took a spoonful. It tasted amazing. I picked up my phone and called Oliver first to confirm he was at the office. Then, I dialed my lawyer. “Attorney Hayes, remember that divorce case I asked you to look into? Prepare the paperwork. We’re heading to Grant Corp shortly.” “Understood, Miss Sterling.” He paused. “You mentioned before that this case wasn’t urgent. Did something change?” “You saw the trending news yesterday, right? When an opportunity delivers itself to your doorstep, you take it.” Grant Corp, 38th floor. “Stella, post a tweet saying you went to the cathedral with us yesterday, but you rested in the car. Say you and Bella are close friends and that the internet rumors are false.” “Do you speak without using your brain now?” I took a sip of the coffee in front of me. Anyone could hear the mockery dripping from my voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop being unreasonable. If Grant Corp’s stock drops, we both lose.” “Watch your phrasing. We don’t lose. I am the victim.” Oliver stretched his legs out. “I know you felt wronged by this. We agreed to an open marriage, but I went too far this time and didn’t consider your public image. You didn’t accept my compensation offer, so I’ll be more careful next time.” “Let’s get a divorce.” Oliver frowned, confusion in his eyes. “Divorce? Just because I got Bella a pendant?” He suddenly laughed, pulled an identical silver pendant from his pocket, and placed it in front of me. “I promise the trending drama won’t happen again. As for Bella, don’t hold a grudge against her. She’s just a kid, and you’re a grown woman.” I sneered and introduced the man beside me. “This is my attorney. My terms for the divorce are 20% of Grant Corp’s shares, plus a 70/30 split of all our joint assets. 70 for me, 30 for you.” The usually arrogant, composed Oliver completely dropped his smile after hearing my demands. “Bella only has two months left to live, and you’re forcing me to abandon her at a time like this?” “Don’t flatter yourself. If you don’t understand English, I can have Grant Corp’s legal team and translation department come in to explain it to you.” He didn’t speak. A minute passed. “Stella, are you serious?” “Out of all the women, why are you relentlessly targeting Bella?” “Don’t even think about the divorce. It’s impossible!” His refusal was exactly what I expected. I replied, “Right now, the entire internet is waiting for me to respond to your scandal with Bella. If you refuse the divorce and my terms, just sit back and watch Grant Corp’s stock hit rock bottom.” Oliver flew into a rage, but within seconds, he forced himself to calm down. “Mutual destruction does you no good. Don’t forget, you have a man on the side too.” “True. Unfortunately, you don’t have proof. But I do have high-def photos of you and Bella passionately kissing in underground parking lots, plus the receipts for every piece of real estate, jewelry, and luxury item you’ve bought her. Once those go public, your flawless CEO persona will crumble, and the stock will tank. Sure, it’ll impact me a bit, but I couldn’t care less.” I glanced at Attorney Hayes, who immediately produced a thick stack of photos. Every angle of Oliver and Bella you could imagine. The veins on Oliver’s forehead bulged. “Stella! You really are something. You’ve been preparing this for a long time.” I leaned lazily back in my chair, offering a faint smile. “So? Are we divorcing, or not?” “We’re divorcing!” 5 On the day of the divorce, the usually gloomy, rainy city suddenly cleared up. The paperwork was processed quickly. I slipped the official divorce decree into my designer bag. Walking out of the courthouse lobby, Oliver stared at me with ice-cold eyes. I knew he wasn’t going to swallow this loss easily. “Stella, how are you going to explain this divorce to your father?” I frowned. “A good ex-husband should act like he’s dead. Don’t worry about my business.” He laughed bitterly. “Fine. I just hope Richard doesn’t call me complaining.” He heavily emphasized my father’s name. “If you block him, you won’t get his calls.” “Sister, why are you talking like that? I grew up without a father. You have no idea how much I envy your family. Why don’t you cherish it?” Bella, who had been lingering near Oliver, eagerly ran over when she saw us walk out. I sneered. “You don’t need to envy me anymore. My family is yours now.” Bella bit her lower lip, unsure if it was out of embarrassment or anger. Oliver shielded her behind him. “She’s sick. Is it really necessary to talk to her like that? Forget it, let’s not argue. You need to post a public statement immediately saying we had an amicable split and that Bella was not the other woman.” “I can do that.” That was one of Oliver’s conditions for the divorce. In exchange, I had bumped the 20% of shares up to 23%. A very fair trade. After posting the tweet, Oliver turned to leave. Just before walking away, he offered some cynical advice: “Stella, don’t let some random guy on the outside sweet-talk you into losing your mind. Do they actually love you, or do they just want your money?” As soon as the words left his mouth, an imposing black Maybach pulled up aggressively right in front of us. I watched Wesley step out of the car. The black dress shirt made him look even more untamed and arrogant. He walked toward me carrying a massive bouquet of red roses. “Sister, did you really divorce him for me?” My eyebrow twitched. How did this become about him? But I didn’t deny it. He pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss, completely ignoring the people around us. Oliver recognized the familiar voice from the phone call the other night. “Stella! Since when have you been hooking up with Wesley Vance?!” Hearing his outburst, Wesley finally let me go. “Oliver, I really have to thank you. So, I brought a gift for you today too.” Oliver tried to refuse. Wesley didn’t give him the chance. He unlocked his phone. “The guy who filmed the video of you two at the cathedral? That was me.” Oliver’s face darkened, his jaw tight, his eyes like ice. “You two set me up?” I was shocked. I honestly had no idea Wesley filmed that video. “If I didn’t set you up, how could I get to be with Stella?” Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Very well! Stella, you better watch your back!” “What is wrong with you? Just because you tell me to watch my back, I have to? What, you think your face is more intimidating than anyone else’s?” I got into Wesley’s car. Under Oliver’s furious and Bella’s utterly confused gazes, we sped away. 6 On the drive back, my dad called and demanded I get my ass home immediately. As soon as I hung up, Valerie called. I answered, and before I could speak, she fired off like a machine gun: “You divorced Mr. Grant?! What do you mean ‘amicable split’?! What kind of deal did you make with him?! And what the hell is going on between you and Mr. Vance?! Explain everything right now! You disappear for days, you refuse to post on social media, and when you finally do, it’s a bombshell divorce statement! Do you know how many sponsors are blowing up my phone right now?! If we don’t handle this PR nightmare, you won’t get a single endorsement for the next six months!” “We’re divorced. It’s amicable enough. I got what I wanted, and Oliver paid a heavy price.” I deliberately skipped the question about Wesley. Valerie had been in the entertainment industry for years. She was sharper than anyone. “Then what is going on with you and Mr. Vance?” Seeing I couldn’t avoid it, I sighed. “It’s a long story. It’s complicated. Just don’t ask.” I hung up. The car had mysteriously parked outside my family’s house. Wesley stared at me with pure grievance in his eyes. “Sister, you’re divorced now. Do I still not deserve to be your official boyfriend?” I reached out and ruffled his perfectly styled hair. “Be good. Go home for now.” I got out of the car. As soon as I walked into the living room, a porcelain teacup was hurled directly at me. The atmosphere in the house was incredibly tense. The maids kept their heads down, pretending to work, but secretly glancing my way. “You ungrateful brat! Who gave you permission to get a divorce?!” I looked at my biological father, Richard Thorne, who had thrown the cup. He pointed a trembling finger at me, unleashing a barrage of scolding. Thinking about the massive portfolio of assets I now held, I offered a faint smile. “It’s my own marriage. Why the hell do I need your permission to end it?” Richard pointed at me in utter disbelief. “Y-You… what did you say?! Say that to my face again!” “I said, whether I divorce or not has absolutely nothing to do with you.” My voice dropped lower, turning icy. The living room fell into a heavy silence. The first to break it was Martha. Years ago, Richard and Martha had an affair while he was still married to my mom. After putting my mom in the hospital with rage, he even went to her hospital bed to demand a divorce. Just two weeks after my mother passed away, Richard moved Martha into our house, bringing along a younger sister, Mia, who was only two months younger than me. “Stella, what kind of way is that to speak? Your father is just looking out for you. Apologize to him immediately. Tearing the family apart like this is embarrassing.” I ignored her. Martha offered an awkward, strained smile. She paused, then cut to the chase. “Stella, you divorced Oliver. What kind of settlement did he give you?” “Ah. So that’s the real reason you demanded I come home so urgently, isn’t it?” Richard’s face was cold. “All you do is play around in Hollywood. Do you even know what’s happening to the family? The company is facing a severe cash flow crisis. Transfer the settlement money to the company immediately to tide us over. I’ll pay you back later.” Martha chimed in, playing the perfect supporting role. “Exactly. You’ve been so busy filming, we didn’t want to burden you with these annoying family issues. Your father has been working himself to the bone these past few years. It breaks my heart to see.” Watching her fake crocodile tears made me sick. “Since you feel so bad for him, why don’t you hand total control of the company over to me? I’ll give you a generous monthly stipend so you can comfortably enjoy your retirement.” Martha’s face changed. She replied stiffly, “Stella loves to joke. You’re doing so well in the entertainment industry, how could you just quit?” “I’m not joking. This time, I am officially retiring from the entertainment industry to take over my grandfather’s company.” My grandfather’s company. Those words clearly triggered Richard. Back in the day, he was a poor man who married into my mother’s wealthy family. He endured countless eye-rolls and insults. Over the years, he gradually seized complete control of the company and rebranded it as Thorne Group. He had probably convinced himself he built it from scratch. “You insolent brat! Get out of my house!” Richard pointed at the door, panting heavily in sheer rage. “Don’t get so worked up. You wouldn’t want to have a stroke and never wake up.” He tried to say something else, but Martha grabbed his arm. “The doctor said you can’t get angry! I’ll talk to Stella. I’ll handle her.” The two of them completely ignored my presence, exchanging meaningful looks. Martha turned to me, looking incredibly distressed. “Stella, you know how your father is. Bark is worse than his bite. He cares about you deeply. The company is truly facing a massive hurdle this time. You have spare cash. As his daughter, you should help him out. We heard Oliver also gave you shares in Grant Corp. You clearly don’t care about managing a business. Why don’t you transfer those shares to your father? After we pass away, all this money will go to you and your sister anyway.” I felt like I was listening to the funniest joke in the world. “My mother only had one daughter. Where the hell did I get a sister?” “Every cent the Thorne family currently holds was left to me by my grandfather and my mother. What does it have to do with you?” “You’ve lived in this house for so long, you’ve actually forgotten your place as a homewrecker, haven’t you?” The anger Richard had just suppressed flared up again. I cut him off before he could speak. “I’ll give you three days to move out of my house. Otherwise, I’m calling the police and reporting you for trespassing.” I checked the time on my watch, turned, and walked away. I completely ignored the furious curses and the sound of breaking porcelain crashing against the floor behind me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418548”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was seven months pregnant, I discovered that Caleb Sterling had a “soulmate.” They were perfectly in sync, sharing thoughts and secrets I was no longer privy to. Every day, Caleb would buy two bouquets of lilies—one for me, and one for her. He swore they never crossed the line. Until that woman sent him a text: [If you had met me first, would you have married me?] Caleb didn’t reply. Instead, he stood on the balcony and smoked until the sun came up. 01 Caleb was distracted all day today. Several times he looked like he wanted to say something, but the words seemed to die in his throat. Finally, I was the one who broke the silence. “Is something wrong?” Caleb let out a heavy sigh. “I have to go to Philly for a business trip. I’ll be back tomorrow. But you’re so close to your due date… Forget it, I’ll send someone else.” I watched him as he spoke. He sounded sincere, his eyes meeting mine without flinching. I shook my head. “It’s fine. You should go.” “But you’ll be alone.” “I’ll have my mom come over.” Since I got pregnant, Caleb had been the picture of the perfect husband. He was meticulous, overprotective, and had canceled almost all his social engagements just to stay by my side. “If anything happened and I wasn’t here, I’d never forgive myself,” he used to say. Even if he absolutely had to leave, he would wait until my mother arrived, giving her a thousand instructions on how to care for me until she laughed at his mothering. But today, he only hesitated for two seconds before nodding. “Okay. Take care of yourself. Call me if anything happens.” He was in a hurry. He packed a single change of clothes and rushed out. I sat on the sofa, unmoving. I even managed a smile and a wave as he looked back one last time. But the moment the door clicked shut, my posture collapsed. Caleb was acting strange. From start to finish, everything was off. But I didn’t ask a single extra question. Because I knew exactly where he was going. And who he was going to see. 02 At first, I didn’t even know her name. I only knew her as “The Cafe Owner.” Caleb called her Piper. I first saw her a year ago, before I was pregnant. I was waiting for Caleb at a new boutique coffee shop right below his office building. I hadn’t told him I was coming, planning to surprise him for lunch. Then he walked in. The woman behind the counter, who had been leaning lazily against the espresso machine, straightened up immediately. Caleb gave her a small nod. She smiled and flashed him an ‘OK’ sign. It was a silent, terrifying kind of chemistry. The kind that makes two people feel like they were written in the stars. But at the time, the feeling only flickered in my mind for a second before I dismissed it. Caleb saw me and was genuinely surprised. “Waiting for our lunch date,” I told him. “Why didn’t you call?” “I didn’t want to interrupt your flow,” I said, then tilted my head. “Why are you down here?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Work is a mess. I needed a walk and some caffeine. Their artisanal cookies are incredible—you have to try one.” He raised a hand. “Piper, one more order of the sea-salt chocolate chip!” Meeting her curious gaze, Caleb smiled. “This is my wife, Sloane.” That day, they were both so transparent. Caleb was open with the introduction. Piper was gracious, even waiving our bill. Caleb said the coffee was authentic and that he’d set up the company’s standing catering order with her. One visit became many. They became “familiar.” Back then, I thought they were just a shopkeeper and a regular. I didn’t know that those specific cookies weren’t actually for sale to the public. And I didn’t know that Piper would eventually text my husband: [If you had met me first, would you have married me?] 03 Caleb texted me at 10 PM. He said he’d just finished work and was checking into his hotel. He said he was too exhausted for a FaceTime call. He told me to take care of myself and to call if I needed anything. I replied normally, telling him not to worry. Then I called the cafe. A young barista answered. I used a familiar tone and asked for Piper. “Oh, she’s out!” the girl chirped. “She left early this afternoon. It’s her birthday today. I think she’s on a date—someone sent her a massive bouquet of red roses. So romantic!” I nodded to the empty room, hung up, and set my phone down. New York is a massive city, but finding two people isn’t that hard if you have the right tools. Before Caleb left, I had slipped a small GPS tracker into his laptop bag. It was actually part of a high-end health-monitoring watch he had bought for me in my fourth month. I had suffered from severe morning sickness and anemia; I’d even fainted in a mall once. Caleb had been terrified. He’d bought the most expensive tech to monitor my vitals and track my location for emergencies. The tracking was precise. And right now, it showed he had been on the 12th floor of a luxury hotel for exactly three hours. I didn’t rush over in the middle of the night. I was twenty-three days away from my due date. I had to choose myself. I poured out the cold coffee, drank a glass of warm milk, and lay down on the bed, listening to white noise. But I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the night a month ago when I first looked at his phone. He had been so agitated lately. He’d cut his finger peeling an apple for me. He’d smashed a glass while pouring water. He’d even kicked a chair across the room in a dark mood. He apologized, claiming it was just the stress of a new merger. But when I woke up in the middle of the night, his side of the bed was cold. I found him on the balcony, chain-smoking in the dark. I unlocked his phone with a heavy heart. He hadn’t closed the messaging app. The contact was saved only as ‘P.’ The message had arrived that afternoon. [If you had met me first, would you have married me?] Caleb hadn’t replied. Not a single word. But that night, my heart died inside his phone. 04 I arrived at the hotel at 6 AM with my ID and our marriage certificate. I placed them on the front desk. “Caleb Sterling is my husband. I need to know which room he’s in. If you can’t tell me, I’ll call the police and report a missing person.” I didn’t have the energy for a long debate. I was exhausted—physically, mentally, soul-deep. The receptionist stared at me for a long time. Her gaze shifted from shock to hesitation, and finally, to pity. “One moment, Mrs. Sterling. I’ll check that for you.” She gave me the room number and asked if I needed an escort. I smiled and shook my head. I stroked my swollen belly and took the elevator up. Caleb didn’t make me wait long. I had only been standing outside the door for forty minutes when it clicked open. Caleb stood there, hand on the knob. And behind him, a pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist. “Caleb, thank you for last night. I’ll remember it for the rest of my…” The rest of her what? She didn’t finish. Caleb shoved her away in a panic the moment he saw me. He stepped toward me. I looked past him. Piper was sitting on the floor, her silk slip barely covering her. She was staring at Caleb’s back with a look of pure heartbreak and grievance. “Sloane!” Caleb’s voice was trembling. So was mine. My hands, hidden behind my back, wouldn’t stop shaking. I thought I was prepared for this. I thought I could be calm. But standing there, I realized I could barely keep my balance. “Where’s the car?” I asked. “In the garage.” “Let’s go.” I leaned against the wall for support and turned toward the elevators. Caleb tried to reach for me. “Don’t touch me!” I hissed. His hand froze. He followed me like a ghost. Piper ran out into the hallway after us. “Mrs. Sterling, you don’t have to act like this! There’s nothing dirty between Caleb and me!” She sounded so righteous, so defiant. The moment the words left her mouth, I turned and slapped him. Hard. Crack. “Ah!” Piper screamed. “How could you hit him?” She reached out, wanting to touch the red mark on Caleb’s face. Caleb flinched away. He looked at me with pleading eyes. “Sloane, let’s just go home.” Piper clenched her fists, glaring at me. “If you have a problem, take it out on me! Why are you hitting Caleb?” “Shut up,” Caleb snapped. He didn’t even look at Piper. His eyes were fixed on me. “Sloane, please. Let’s go home.” 05 “Sloane, I can explain. “Yesterday was Piper’s birthday. She doesn’t have anyone in the city, and she begged me to stay. “I just stayed for her birthday. Nothing happened. “I lied to you, and I’m sorry. I was just afraid you’d be upset. “I was wrong. If it bothers you, I’ll never see her again. “She’s just a friend.” From the moment we got home, Caleb hadn’t stopped talking. Explaining. Apologizing. Self-flagellating. I wanted to speak. But my throat felt like it was stuffed with dry cotton. I couldn’t get a single word out. I didn’t know where to start. Finally, I managed one sentence. “Caleb, I want a divorce.” Caleb flinched as if I’d struck him again. He balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes tight. “Nothing happened between us, Sloane. We just drank and talked. Please, don’t do this. I know you’re angry, and I’ll take any punishment you want. But you have to believe me. I haven’t betrayed you.” “What does ‘betrayal’ mean to you?” I asked quietly. “You probably hugged. You probably kissed. You smell like her perfume. And right here…” I pointed to his lip. “A bite mark.” Caleb froze. His lips thinned into a hard line. I looked at him with pure despair. “What’s the next step? Getting caught in the act? You spent the entire night in a hotel room together. How am I supposed to trust you? Caleb, how?” Caleb’s head dropped. He sank to one knee in front of me, wanting to touch me but not daring to. “I was stupid. I had a moment of madness. But I swear, it went no further. Please, for the sake of all our years together… for the sake of the baby… give me one more chance.” It was pathetic. He knew exactly how long we had been together. He knew our child was about to be born. And yet he did it anyway. And now he wanted to use those very things as leverage for a pardon. The layers of grief, the memories of a decade, the crushing weight of the present—it all came crashing down. I looked around the room, then at my stomach. I started to sob. It wasn’t a pretty cry; it was the sound of a wounded animal. Caleb panicked, trying to shield me. “Sloane, Sloane, what is it? What are you looking for? Tell me? I’ll find it!” His voice was the match that lit the fuse. “I want a divorce!” I screamed. “I’m leaving you!” 06 This was the fourth year of our marriage. We had been so happy when we found out I was pregnant. But it had been a nightmare from the start. The morning sickness was so violent I couldn’t keep anything down. My body was failing. I cried every single day. It was so hard that there were moments I thought I’d rather die. We had even considered not keeping the baby. But when the first signs of a threatened miscarriage appeared, we both panicked. I spent a month in the hospital. Those early months were a blur of malnutrition, anemia, and that terrifying fainting spell. “Chaotic” didn’t even cover it. This little life seemed so fragile. And yet so stubborn. I was terrified that the stress of this would trigger a premature birth. I was already prepared to call 911 at any second. I didn’t dare throw things. I didn’t dare scream. I even tried to hold back my tears. Until I couldn’t anymore. The reaction was violent—I started vomiting. I knelt on the bathroom floor, clutching the toilet, feeling like my internal organs were being rearranged. Caleb pounded on the door. He begged me to open up. He roared at me, telling me not to gamble with my life or the baby’s. I held my stomach, looking pathetic. I had wanted to end this with dignity. But the moment Caleb started drifting, my dignity was already being trampled in the dirt. Caleb called my parents. I only opened the door when I heard my mother’s voice. My father, usually the most mild-mannered man, looked at Caleb with a face of ice. “Is this how you treat my daughter?” They took me away. Caleb couldn’t stop them. My father asked me, “What do you want to do?” “I want a divorce,” I whispered. He was silent for a long time. “Then get one.” That night, my mother slept beside me. She held me, patting my back gently, but she didn’t ask a single question. The silent support of my parents allowed me to finally go numb. The next morning, Caleb was at the door. He brought breakfast, forcing a smile for my parents. They just nodded and left the house. They gave us space. Caleb held out a bowl of the soup I liked, looking at me like a kicked puppy. “Sloane, please eat something.” I kept my face blank. “Caleb, we need to talk.” 07 Where to even begin? “I gave you chances,” I said. “I even tried to pretend it didn’t happen.” Caleb looked at me, confused. I let out a hollow laugh. “That day Piper asked you if you’d marry her if you’d met her first… you were so anxious, so angry. You couldn’t sleep. You spent the whole night smoking on the balcony. That’s when I looked at your phone.” I’ve always believed that checking a partner’s phone is the beginning of the end. Once you do it, the trust is gone. And if there’s no trust, why be together? But here I was. Caleb stiffened. He instinctively leaned back. The posture of someone wanting to run. He balled his fists and took a deep breath. “But I didn’t reply to her.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “I know. And that hurts more than if you had.” The suffocating silence returned. Caleb tried to speak several times. Finally, he said, “If you saw the messages, you know we never crossed the line before. I only ever saw her as a friend. The other night… we drank too much. We were reckless. But that was it. I never betrayed you, Sloane.” I didn’t look at him. I just stared at the wall. “April 3rd. The day of the anatomy scan. The first time we could really see what the baby looked like. I was so excited. You said you couldn’t make it because of a high-stakes board meeting. But you were hiking in the Catskills with Piper. “Every morning, you buy two bouquets of baby’s breath. One for her, one for me. Except for Valentine’s Day. That day, you bought her nineteen red roses. “The private elevator in your office requires a keycard. Piper complained about waiting for the public one, so you gave her your spare. “You told me your shoulder was aching from the gym, and she went to a specialist to get you custom medicated patches. I asked you about the smell of menthol, and you told me you bought them at a pharmacy. “On your birthday, after I fell asleep at midnight, you went downstairs. Piper gave you a pair of cufflinks. She asked if she was the first person to wish you a happy birthday. You said yes. “Your shorthand with her: She says [Go?], you say [Go!]. She says [Penthouse], you reply [1]. She says [Tired], you say [Coming now]. “The day you got the new car, you took her for the test drive. She told you people thought you were a couple, and you sent a ‘blushing’ emoji followed by a screen full of ‘Hahaha.’ “You spend twenty-seven minutes on the phone with her every day on your commute home. Except for when we were first dating, we’ve never talked that much. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?” The Caleb who talked to Piper was a stranger to me. No, that’s not right. He was the Caleb I remembered from college. Bright, talkative, even a little childish. But that version of him no longer belonged to me. The realization felt like a thousand ants crawling under my skin. Caleb’s head hung lower. “I just saw her as a friend,” he whispered, his voice devoid of conviction. “Sometimes I was just tired and needed someone to talk to. It was just talking. Sloane, what do I have to do to make you believe me?” “Caleb, do you know how much I wished you had just had a physical affair? Your ‘connection,’ your ‘understanding’… it’s a guillotine hanging over my head. I’ve been waiting for it to fall, living in terror. I tried to close my eyes. I debated if I could just live with it. “But I can’t. The moment you leave my sight, I wonder if you’re with her. I wonder what you’re saying. The suspicion is eating me alive. I’m going crazy, Caleb! You’re driving me insane!” I sobbed, my voice cracking. That last month and a half had been a living hell. I felt like I was losing my mind. Until he agreed to spend that night with her. She said: [Maybe this will help me move on. Caleb, please. Just one night.] Caleb replied: [Okay.] In that moment, the blade finally fell. “I want a divorce.” 08 Caleb wouldn’t agree. He said he’d do anything, make any sacrifice, except that. He started coming to my parents’ house every day. When they wouldn’t let him in, he sat in his car. He’d stay there all day. We were both bleeding out. It was only then that I realized how hard it is to get a divorce in this country. Without a mutual agreement, it’s a legal war. Mediation, filings, court dates. If it isn’t “at-fault,” it could take a year or more. But I was about to give birth. I couldn’t wait a month, let alone a year. I had to endure. It made me anxious, insomniac, and prone to fits of rage. One morning, when Caleb tried to hand me a bag of groceries at the door, I lost it. I grabbed the warm oatmeal he’d brought and threw it at him. It soaked his expensive suit. Caleb shook with anger. “What the hell do you want from me? I’ve admitted I was wrong. I’ve apologized. I’ve sworn it’ll never happen again. Why can’t you let it go? Am I really that unforgivable? After everything we’ve been through, you won’t give me a single chance? Sloane, stop being so dramatic!” My ears started ringing. My hand on the doorframe lost its strength, and I began to slide down. “Caleb, please… just stop disgusting me.” That was the last thing I said to him before I blacked out. My mother told me later I had a massive hemorrhage. Emergency C-section. It was a close call. But we both survived. Caleb’s mother flew in from London. She held my hand, her face full of pity. “You’ve been through so much. Why didn’t you call me? Caleb… well, he’s learned his lesson. He’s been crying in the stairwell for days.” I was too tired to speak. My mother was the one who pulled my hand away from hers. “Mrs. Sterling, if you really care about Sloane, tell your son to sign the papers. Stop the torture.” Caleb’s mother stiffened. “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Couples have friction. Caleb was wrong, and I’ll make him apologize. But marriage is a marathon. There are bumps in the road. And now that the baby is here, for her sake…” They went on and on. I stopped listening. I drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep. I had always respected Caleb’s mother. She had been good to me. But when the storm hits, a mother always protects her own. In her eyes—and in Caleb’s—I was the one blowing things out of proportion. Caleb wasn’t allowed in the room, so he stood in the hallway. My father wouldn’t let him in. He didn’t cause a scene. He just waited. Occasionally, he’d beg to see the baby. My mother caved a few times, taking the baby out while I was asleep. I knew. I just pretended I didn’t. I couldn’t erase the blood tie between them. Life is long. Could I really stop them from ever seeing each other? Caleb’s persistence was working. My parents were wavering. Looking at the baby, they’d sigh. “Maybe…” my mom whispered, “maybe you should reconsider?” 09 The isolation of being the only one who remembered the pain was agonizing. How could I explain it? If it were anyone else, maybe. But not Caleb. I had loved him so much. I had been so pure in my expectation of our family. And he stabbed me right when I was most vulnerable. The betrayal of a soulmate is a wound that never heals. I can’t spend the rest of my life with him. Why wait until the marriage is a rotted corpse to walk away?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418547”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the third year of our marriage, my husband’s mistress was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Logan, a man who had never stepped foot in a church or believed in anything higher than a stock ticker, personally went to the National Cathedral. He knelt at every altar, lighting candles and praying for a miracle. The story broke the internet. Everyone was talking about the “devoted” man and his “tragic” love. He called me to explain: “It’s her final wish, Jade. I couldn’t say no to a dying girl.” I smiled to myself and hung up. Then, I turned back to the sheets, tangling again with Silas Thorne—the rebellious, billionaire heir of the Thorne empire. 01 I was curled up on the sofa reading a script when Logan returned from his business trip. He looked rattled. His expression was loose, his eyes darting around the room. The atmosphere between us felt like ice. I kicked off my slippers and asked, “Why so late?” Logan walked past me without a word. As we brushed shoulders, I caught the faint, clinical scent of antiseptic. “Did you go to the hospital?” “Just visiting a friend,” he said, his voice flat. I frowned, but I didn’t push him. I figured he was just exhausted from the flight. Later that night, I showered and changed into a silk slip, spritzing a bit of perfume on my neck. We had been in a cold war since before his trip because of his sudden pressure to get pregnant. I wanted to end the silence. I walked into the bedroom and sat on his lap. For a second, his body went rigid. But we had been together for years; I knew exactly how to move. Within moments, we were breathless. Logan’s face was flushed, his breathing ragged against my ear. I thought this was our “makeup” night. But then, his phone on the nightstand chimed repeatedly. Before I could glance at the screen, Logan grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss that felt forced, designed to keep me from turning around. Suddenly, he pulled away entirely, his brow furrowed. “Something came up at the office. I have to handle it now. Go to sleep.” I looked at him, confused and annoyed. “It’s midnight, Logan. What could be so urgent?” He didn’t give me a chance to get angry. He grabbed his phone and locked himself in the study, leaving me cold and bewildered in the middle of the bed. Logan had never been like this. Eight years of dating, three years of marriage. He used to leave his phone on silent the moment he walked through the front door. He never prioritized work over me. Maybe it really is an emergency, I tried to tell myself. I tried to shake the feeling, pulling my robe back over my shoulders. As I stood up, I noticed Logan’s iPad was still active on the nightstand. Driven by a gut feeling, I leaned over. The screen was open to an Instagram “alt” account. I scrolled through the posts. It was a digital diary of our relationship, starting from our college days. Seeing the old photos made me smile. Until I reached the very top. The latest post. “I finally realized that the only person in the world who truly, selflessly loves me is Lily.” I froze. I tapped on the comments. A user named @Lily_Vance had left a single heart-eyes emoji. “Logan, you never change.” Logan had replied thirty minutes ago: “Rest up. I’m coming.” Lily replied: “I’m so happy. I missed you so much. I feel like I can’t live without you anymore. What am I going to do?” Lily Vance. The girl who had been stalking and chasing Logan for ten years. 02 Lily appeared in Logan’s life a year after I did. She was a freshman when we were seniors. She claimed she fell in love with Logan at first sight during orientation and asked for his number in front of everyone. Logan had politely turned her down. “Sorry, I have a girlfriend.” That night, I had teased him about it. He leaned down, cupping my face with his hands, his eyes soft. “I don’t have eyes for anyone but you, Jade.” But then, Lily started showing up everywhere. She was at every basketball game, cheering for him until her voice went hoarse. She would do full “clean girl” makeup looks that looked ridiculous under the stadium lights—thick white foundation that didn’t match her neck, and bright pink blush that made her look like a doll. She ignored the whispers of the crowd, shouting, “Go Logan! You’re the best!” My roommate nudged me, smirking. “Your boyfriend sure attracts the crazies.” “At least the competition isn’t very threatening,” I joked. After the game, Lily would be the first to run toward him with a Gatorade. It made me uncomfortable, but Logan always walked straight past her to me. He’d wipe the sweat from his hands before putting an arm around my shoulder. “Hey, Jade. Dinner with the team?” He never even looked at her. I’d look back at the girl. She’d be standing there, clutching her skirt, looking down at her feet. This happened for four years. Lily’s obsession made her a local legend—a joke, really. She was the “stalker girl” everyone used to mock over drinks. Logan blocked her number a hundred times. He never gave her an inch. One day, she sat directly across from us in the dining hall and smiled, asking if she could join the table. Logan’s face went dark. He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was lethal. “I’ve been polite because you’re a girl, but let me be clear: my girlfriend is sitting right here. You’re making a fool of yourself. Don’t you have any dignity?” “Even if Jade and I broke up tomorrow, I would never look at you.” “You are exactly the type of person I despise.” Lily’s eyes filled with tears instantly. “I’m just following my heart. What’s wrong with that?” The tears washed tracks through her foundation. It was pathetic. I told her, “Take the hint, Lily. Go back to your dorm, have a cry, and focus on your GPA. Or find a guy who’s actually single. This is embarrassing.” When she finally stumbled away, Logan exhaled a long breath. “God, she’s exhausting. I should have been meaner sooner.” I kissed him, thinking that was the end of the drama. I was wrong. Six months later, Lily managed to transfer into the same graduate research program as Logan. Logan still ignored her, but because they shared a mentor, he was forced to have her on his contact list. He would show me his phone every night to prove he never replied to her. Eventually, we graduated, got married, and stayed happy. Logan worked at a high-end research institute. Lily seemed to vanish. I thought she had finally given up. Until Logan’s colleague ran into her in the oncology ward. 03 In our three years of marriage, Logan had been the perfect husband. So when did it change? Lily had undergone surgery. Their mentor organized a small group to visit her. She had breast cancer. It was aggressive. Because of her depression and physical weakness, she had been refusing treatment. When Logan came home from the hospital visit, we had some colleagues over for dinner. A junior researcher laughed and said to me, “Jade, you should have seen it. Lily is literally on her deathbed and she’s still obsessed. The way she looked at Logan… it was like she saw a god.” “The girl is mentally ill,” another added. “Stalking a man for a decade? Crazy.” “She’s nothing compared to Jade,” a younger girl said, hugging my arm. “You and Logan are the blueprint.” They laughed and gossiped about Lily’s past antics. I just gave a tight smile. “Alright, let’s leave it. She’s sick.” I didn’t notice Logan’s face darkening. But when someone mentioned how Logan used to throw the lunches she made him into the trash, Logan slammed his fork down. “That’s enough!” The table went silent. Four or five people stared at him in shock. I stepped in. “Logan just thinks we should focus on the food. Try the roast, guys.” The mood recovered, but no one mentioned Lily again. At midnight, after the guests left, I went into the bedroom to finally talk to him. Logan was leaning against the headboard, staring at his phone. The light from the screen cast a soft, almost tender glow on his face. When he heard me enter, he snapped the phone shut. His face turned to stone. “I have more work. I’m sleeping in the study tonight.” Usually, after I’d been away on a trip, we were inseparable. Now, he was freezing me out for the third night in a row. “What is going on with you?” I demanded. He avoided my eyes. “Work is just heavy.” “Work wasn’t heavy for the others at dinner. Just you?” I reached for his phone. “Let me see.” Logan flinched, hiding the phone behind his back. “Stop being dramatic, Jade. I’m busy.” I didn’t listen. I lunged for it. In the struggle, the phone hit the floor and the screen lit up with a notification. “Are you not coming to stay with me tonight? I’m used to sleeping alone, but I’m scared.” “The doctor says if I stay stable, I can go home in a few days. But without you, I don’t think I can make it through the next surgery.” “Logan… if I get better, can I give you the son you’ve always wanted?” Logan shoved me back and snatched the phone. I stood there, my breath hitching. I didn’t think. I just slapped him. “How long has this been going on?” My voice was hoarse. “She has cancer, Logan. Do you have any common sense left? Or have you lost your mind?” Logan gritted his teeth. “We haven’t done anything!” “Nothing? She’s offering to have your children!” I suddenly realized why he had been pushing for a baby. We had agreed to be child-free when we got married. But lately, his mother had been pestering him for a grandson. Logan had started wavering, trying to convince me to quit my job and “prepare.” He knew my history. He knew I watched my own mother die in a hospital bed from a traumatic birth. Marriage and childbirth were my biggest fears. I only married Logan because he promised me a life without that pressure. He even promised to get a vasectomy. And now, I was up for a major promotion at the law firm. I couldn’t go back to being a housewife. We had fought about this for weeks. Was it really that simple? Because Lily was willing to die to give him a child? Logan turned his face away. “Enough, Jade. I don’t want to fight.” “She’s a terminal patient. She has nothing. I’m just looking after her. Why do you have to be so petty?” “I have work. I’m leaving.” I sat alone on the sofa. I found that alt account on Instagram again. He had updated. A photo of a girl’s head resting on his lap. “Get well soon.” Lily had commented with a laughing-crying emoji: “Why are you so eager? Are you ready to take my ‘first time’ finally?” 04 Logan didn’t come home for days. I slept alone. I dreamed of our wedding—Logan smiling, promising to always choose me. Then the dream would shift to him looking at me with pure irritation before walking away. I was tired of the cold war. I wanted a confrontation. But every time I called, his voice was like ice. “The lab is busy. We’ll talk when I’m back.” I couldn’t wait. I took a half-day off and went to the institute. His junior colleague looked at me with pity. “Logan? He took a week off. Said there was a family emergency.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I opened an app on my phone. When we first got married, Logan had installed a tracking app on both our phones. He said it was for my safety because we both worked late. I tracked his location. I got an address from a colleague. It was an apartment in a neighborhood slated for demolition. The walls were peeling, showing red brick and mold. Logan made a six-figure salary. Why was he here? I knocked. A raspy but cheerful voice answered. “Is that the food? Hurry up, I’m starving!” “I’ve got it, you little glutton.” The door opened. Logan and I locked eyes. He was wearing a bathrobe, his hair damp. I felt a sharp, stinging pain in my chest, but I forced a smile. “Sorry to interrupt the party.” I pushed past him into the room. Lily was lounging on the sofa in a slip dress. No bra. She was so thin her ribs were visible, but her neck was covered in faint pink hickeys. I looked at the bedroom. The bed was a disaster. And on the pale pink sheets, I saw a dark red stain. I felt like I was going to throw up. Lily looked surprised. “Jade? What are you doing here?” I didn’t answer her. I threw my designer bag straight at Logan’s face. “If you want a divorce, just say the word. I’ll give it to you.” “But this? This is fucking disgusting.” Logan stayed silent. The hardware on my bag had cut his cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood. Lily stumbled over, shielding him. She glared at me, her face full of defiance. I looked at her closely. She wasn’t pretty. The anemia made her skin look greyish-yellow. Her freckles were dark against her pale face. She looked like a corpse. I couldn’t understand how Logan could touch her. Lily started crying. “Jade, you’ve had him for ten years! Can’t you just give me a few days?” “I’m giving him my entire life. I just want him by my side as I die. Is that too much to ask?” “I love him. I…” She didn’t finish. She coughed up a spray of blood onto the floor. I looked at the blood on my coat. I felt nothing but a cold, heavy exhaustion. Logan pushed me aside and scooped Lily up. He roared at me, “She just had surgery! She can’t get worked up! What is wrong with you?!” He grabbed his keys to take her to the ER. Lily nestled into his chest like a frightened rabbit. “Logan,” I said, my voice hollow. “Are you really choosing to walk out on your wife right now?” Logan paused, his jaw tight. “Lily has no one. Her parents are gone. She’s dying. You… you have your career, your family. You’ll be fine without me.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “So it’s my fault for being healthy? My fault for being independent?” Logan didn’t answer. I raised my hand to stop him from speaking. “Fine. Divorce.” 05 I took a deep breath and laid it all out. “Our salaries have always been separate, so we don’t need to split that. You rarely use the car, so I’m taking it. We bought the house together, but it goes to me. You’re the one who cheated; I’m entitled to damages.” Logan blinked. “I’m just taking care of her for a while, Jade. We don’t have to do this.” “What? You want to wait until she gets better or dies, then come crawling back to me? You want to force me to ‘forgive’ you for the sake of our history while I rot away as a bitter, suspicious wife? No.” I walked forward and yanked his robe open. His chest was covered in marks. The thought of them together made my stomach turn. “I already have the evidence of your affair and your cohabitation. You know I’m a lawyer. I’m good at this. Don’t waste my time.” “You’re so cold-blooded,” Lily piped up from his arms. She looked at me with pure malice. “You treat Logan like a defendant in a courtroom. Do you even have feelings for him?” “No wonder he chose me. You never gave him real love.” I didn’t bother replying to her. I just tilted my chin up. “Expect the papers by morning.” I grabbed my bag to leave. Logan called out behind me. “Jade! Every time we fight, you have to win. You never back down.” “Do you know what it’s like at the lab? Other wives bring their husbands lunch and clothes. I have nothing. I come home to an empty house. I asked you to quit, I told you I could support you, but you always chose your job over me.” “In college, having a high-achieving, beautiful girlfriend was a flex. I was proud of you.” “But now that we’re married, I just wanted a wife who cooks and takes care of the family. Is that a crime?” “Lily is different. She’s willing to do those things for me.” He slid his wedding ring off and threw it at my feet. “Fine. Have it your way. Good luck with your ‘limitless’ career.” The ring clattered on the concrete. My heart died right then and there. “If you wanted to use a PUA tactic on me, Logan, you should have tried harder. I’m not looking back.” The next day, I drafted the papers and faxed them to his office. Ten minutes later, a former colleague called me. “Jade? Did you and Logan break up?” “He didn’t tell you?” I was reviewing a brief. “He’s with his ‘gentle and sweet’ Lily now.” I heard a gasp, then a disgusted “Tsk.” “What an idiot. Leaving a wife like you for… her? Men are trash.” “Actually, Jade, I heard a secret at the lab today.” The girl lowered her voice. “Lily is actually our mentor’s niece. That’s why Dr. Harrison always gave her a pass. Her grad school admission was basically rigged.” I went silent. Logan’s career hadn’t been going well lately. He was the most senior researcher but his results were thin, and he was being passed over for promotions. He was ambitious and proud. He had been depressed for months. Was that when he started wavering? I realized that the man I had slept next to for years was even more disgusting than I thought. I went home to pack the rest of my things. I opened a drawer and saw a box of condoms. I felt a chill. I picked one up and looked closer. Every single wrapper had been pricked with a tiny needle. I dropped the box, grabbed my keys, and drove straight to a clinic for a blood test. When the results came back negative for pregnancy, I finally breathed. As I was leaving the hospital, I heard a familiar voice. Lily was standing outside the OB-GYN clinic. “Doctor, if my condition stabilizes, can I start trying to get pregnant?” 06 Lily turned around and we locked eyes. She gave me a slow, poisonous smile. Even with her gaunt face and sunken eyes, she had applied a bold red lipstick. She looked like a caricature. “Logan said he’ll marry me as soon as the divorce is final.” I ignored her. I had no interest in a public scene. But she followed me, grabbing my arm like a lunatic. “I told you, Jade. What’s wrong with following your heart? If you love someone long enough, they come around.” “You were just the college sweetheart. I’m the one he chose in the end.” “I’m willing to do anything for him. I love him more than you ever did. I even wrote a will leaving everything to him. When he saw it, his eyes went red. He held me so tight it hurt.” I stopped and looked at her coldly. “I think you have brain cancer, not breast cancer.” Lily acted like she didn’t hear me. She began shouting to the crowd of onlookers about how she “won” Logan’s heart. “He stayed with me for seven days while you were away on business!” “The nurses all thought he was my husband! He’s so devoted! When you called him, he lied just to keep me from getting upset!” “You’re the one who’s alone now, Jade. No parents, no husband. You’re pathetic!” Whatever grief I had left for the marriage evaporated. If it weren’t for my professional ethics and my upbringing, I would have slapped her right there. I walked out to the parking lot and saw Logan waiting by the curb. When he saw me, guilt flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by tenderness when he looked at Lily. I watched expressionlessly as Lily threw herself into his arms. They kissed in the middle of the sidewalk—a tall, handsome man and a shriveled, sickly girl who looked like a skeleton. A few bypassers even took photos, thinking it was a touching “sick-girl-reunited-with-hero-boyfriend” moment. I got into a cab and didn’t look back. The cold wind blew through the window, but I didn’t feel it until my phone started buzzing. My college group chat was blowing up. Someone had posted a screenshot of Lily’s Instagram. She had posted a photo of her clinging to Logan, her legs wrapped around his waist. The caption: “True love knows no timeline.” I let out a cold laugh and called my old roommate. I told her everything. “What is Logan thinking?” she asked. “Does he really want her ‘inheritance’?” “I heard Lily is drowning in debt. Debt collectors were calling her classmates last month. She doesn’t have an inheritance.” I paused. “Wait. Don’t researchers at that level make good money?” “I don’t know about that. All I know is that in college, Lily was always on financial aid. And in this city? She’s only been working a few years. How much could she possibly have saved?” I exhaled. “Whatever. I got the house. I’m done.” But after I hung up, I hired a private investigator to look into Lily’s “background.” It turned out she came from a family in the rural Midwest that treated women like property. She had promised to send them $20,000 a year just so they’d let her go to grad school. Her relatives had been showing up at her apartment demanding extra cash for years. No wonder she lived in a dump despite her salary. Between her family of leeches and her medical bills, she was likely broke. I laughed silently. Logan had some savings. I wondered if it would be enough to feed those parasites. 07 A few days later, the signed divorce papers arrived at my office. Included in the envelope was a wedding invitation. Red and gold. I glanced at the names, tossed it in the trash, and headed to the courthouse. Outside the building, I saw them again. They looked like Siamese twins. Lily was draped over Logan, ignoring everyone’s stares. Logan is 6’2”. Lily is barely 5’2”. She looked like she was trying to drag him down to the earth. We didn’t speak. We went in and got the decree. When I held the paper in my hand, Logan looked at me. He mouthed the words: “I’m sorry.” I just wanted to laugh. “Sorry” is such a cheap word. Right then, Lily leaned over the counter and asked the clerk, “My husband just got his divorce. Can we apply for a marriage license right now?” Her voice was loud, completely ignoring the people around her. I could feel the judgmental stares from the other couples in the lobby. The clerk looked between the three of us, her expression strained. “You can apply today, yes.” Lily couldn’t wait. She dragged Logan toward the next window. Logan looked humiliated. “Can’t we do this another day?” “The clerk said we can do it today! What’s the problem?” she snapped. “You promised! You said you’d marry me as soon as I got better. I’m better now!” “Don’t make me upset. The doctor said stress is bad for my recovery!” Logan opened his mouth to argue, then saw her face and shut it. I grabbed my bag and walked out. Lily shouted after me, “Jade! You got the invite, right? We’re getting married next month! I’m inviting all our old classmates! Make sure you show up!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418546”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My connection to Silas was forbidden—a twisted, “Flowers in the Attic” kind of situation. At least, that’s what I thought. I had no idea that “brother” was just a title, not a blood bond. Until the real daughter showed up at our door with DNA results in hand. I packed my bags to leave. Before I walked out, I made one last call to Silas. “Your real sister is back. Can I finally stop pretending to be your girlfriend and actually be her?” “Maya, give it a rest.” Ten years of constant rejection. It finally broke me. Every ounce of self-respect was gone. Brokenhearted, I did something wild. I hit the clubs and ordered up the hottest guys the VIP section had to offer. Plying myself with expensive drinks, I made a fool of myself, loudmouth and reckless. Then, a shadowy figure showed up in the club, dragging me out and throwing me into a private jet that very night. That evening, he pinned me rough against the harsh sheets of the hotel bed. “Feel that, Maya? Tell me, do you still think those club boys compare to me?” 01 I knew my time as the heiress to the sterling fortune was up the moment I walked downstairs and saw my parents, weeping and holding a strange girl in their arms. Deep down, I always knew. Growing up, everyone whispered that I looked nothing like them. It wasn’t just physical; our personalities were night and day. The Sterlings were old money, distinguished, reserved, and fiercely adherent to high-society rules. Then there was me: loud, wild, and rebellious. Bungee jumping, skydiving, urban exploring, drag racing—if it gave an adrenaline rush, I was there. Initially, those whispers made me angry. But as they grew louder, doubt crept in. One day, I snuck into my father’s study, swiped some hair from his brush, and took it to a private clinic for a DNA test. Just to be sure, I, in a stroke of utter disrespect, did the same with my mother. The results were life-altering, yet entirely expected. I wasn’t theirs. My first instinct wasn’t to hide it. But the crushing guilt of living a lie, of occupying a spot that didn’t belong to me, made it impossible to stay silent. I dropped hints. Subtle ones at first, then more obvious. I begged them to do a family DNA test, framing it as a fun ancestry thing. They always laughed it off, brushing my hair out of my face with parental affection. “Sweetheart, no matter what gossips say, you will always be a Sterling.” But how could I be a Sterling when I was in love with my brother? 02 I stood at the top of the stairs, gripping the handle of my packed suitcase. The trio downstairs finally snapped out of their emotional huddle. “Maya? I thought you were at that charity event?” my mother asked, her voice cracking as she quickly stood up, looking flustered. “Cancelled,” I said curtly. My gaze involuntarily shifted to the stranger. She wore a plain sleeveless tank and olive cargo pants. She was tall, slim, with a clean-cut bob and healthy, sun-kissed skin. She was the polar opposite of the polished, pampered debutantes of our circle. She stood next to a tattered black duffel bag, looking weathered and exhausted, like an old oak tree that had survived too many storms. She was a warrior. I studied her features in silence, awestruck. So this is the power of bloodlines, I thought. Well, damn. No wonder they always said I didn’t belong. Perhaps my stare was too intense. My mother shifted, instinctively stepping in front of the girl, her eyes flashing with possessiveness. A cold chuckle bubbled in my chest. Did she really think I was going to hurt her precious, newfound daughter? “Maya, this is Chloe. She’s…” My father frowned, struggling to find the right words to explain the situation to the girl I used to call my sister. Her name was Chloe Sterling now. She got the last name on day one. And me? Twenty-odd years later, I still carried a different name: Maya Thorne. My “mother,” Eleanor Sterling, was originally a Thorne. So, I wasn’t even using her maiden name. Even in the extended family, there wasn’t a single relative named Thorne. Memories rushed back, sharp and painful. “I told you she was some stray the Sterlings picked up! I knew it!” “She’s just a pawn for an alliance marriage. She thinks she’s a real heiress? Just wait till the real one comes back; she’ll be kicked to the curb.” The voices of the high-society hens echoed in my mind, sharp and vicious. My head began to throb. My parents—the ones who raised me—were good people. I knew that even with Chloe back, they wouldn’t kick me out. But I couldn’t bear to make things difficult for them. As my father was about to say the word “sister,” my ears began to ring. Before he could utter it, I dropped to my knees. I bowed my head in a final gesture of respect, then stood up, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out the door without looking back. The winter wind howling outside drowned out my mother’s cries for me to stay. I pulled my wool coat tighter, quickening my pace. 03 I slid into the back of a taxi, the blast of the heater instantly enveloping me. I rubbed my frozen hands together and pulled out my phone. I counted to ten in my head before the call connected. “Silas,” I said. “Call me ‘brother’.” Even though he must have received the news about Chloe, Silas was still as stubborn as ever, correcting me. I let out a dry laugh, then blurted out, “I’m not your sister. I want to be your girlfriend.” “Maya, stop messing around.” Silas sighed after a long pause, sounding weary. I had heard this rejection a hundred times. From the moment I realized I wasn’t biologically a Sterling, I also realized I had developed a sickening, borderline obsessive possessiveness over Silas. I stopped calling him “brother” and started using his first name. I acted like a jealous girlfriend, pushing my way into his social circle, monitoring his texts, restricting who he could see. I even crawled into his bed in the middle of the night on multiple occasions, using a fear of thunder as an excuse, then quietly slipping out of my nightgown. When our naked skin touched, Silas bolted upright, looking at me in sheer disbelief under the covers. “Maya Thorne, are you insane!” he had said. “I love you, Silas.” “I’m your damn brother!” “Brother, I love you!” I smirked, changing my address seamlessly. He had choked on his words, unsure of how to respond. After a long silence, he took a deep breath, wrapped me tightly in the comforter like a cocoon, and silently carried me back to my own room. After that, Silas started avoiding me. He became a workaholic, practically living at the office. He was traveling five out of seven days a week. Even our mother started complaining about his grueling schedule. “We have enough money. Stop killing yourself.” Silas shot me a quick glance and coughed. “I’m not tired.” Then he’d head back to the airport before sunrise. My focus returned to the present. Outside the taxi window, the wind was still howling. I had heard the word “no” too many times. I thought I had built a shield against it. I took a sharp breath, forcing a casual tone. “Silas, this is the last time I’m ever going to tell you I love you. Are you sure you want to say no?” “Maya…” His voice was hesitant, as if he was struggling with something. My heart stopped. The thudding in my ears was so loud it was deafening. But the faint spark of hope was extinguished instantly. “I have someone I like.” What? My mind went completely blank. I sat frozen, clutching the phone, unable to process his words. He wasn’t done with the execution. “I’ve loved her for years and years.” It felt like someone had physically grabbed my heart and squeezed. Tears blurred my vision. My mind began to sift through every woman in Silas’s life. Who is it? His secretary? A business partner? Some model? Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. I heard my own voice, raw and raspy, barely managing to speak. “Is it… the other owner of that ring?” “Yes.” Silas’s voice actually carried a trace of a smile, as if he was remembering something beautiful. Silas wore a simple platinum band on his left pinky finger. He had worn it for years. Whenever I asked about it, he always casually dismissed it as just a trinket. Until one time, while he was showering, I sneaked in and stole it to play with. By some stroke of awful luck, the ring fell off the balcony and plunged into the swimming pool two floors below. That was the first time I had ever seen a look of utter terror on Silas’s face. His brows were tightly knit, his expression dark and ominous. His eyes, usually cool, were cold and menacing. For a moment, I honestly thought he might kill me right then and there. I stood frozen, waiting for the screaming. But he said nothing. He just silently stripped off his clothes and dove into the icy pool, over and over, until he found it. That was when I knew that “trinket” meant everything to him. I wanted to ask who she was, if she was beautiful. If she loved him as much as I did. A thousand accusatory questions burned on the tip of my tongue, but in the end, I only managed, “Brother, I hope you’re happy.” The snow and wind continued to batter the taxi. This winter felt colder than any other. 04 By the time Savannah called, I had been in a hotel room for three days, sleeping the days away. “You got dumped? Perfect! I have just the cure!” When I walked into the VIP section of the club, I stared at the lineup of men, all easily over six feet tall. I pinched Savannah’s arm. “You call this the cure?” Savannah smirked, looking pleased. “Impressive, right? For your broken heart, I went all out.” She waved her hand, and instantly two guys slid into the booth on either side of me. I could see their abs defined under their tight t shirts. I couldn’t help but look. They were hot. But compared to Silas… they were still lacking. Ugh, why am I thinking about him again? I felt a surge of pure annoyance, picked up the glass in front of me, and downed it. Then I quickly let them refill it. Drink after drink. The bass in the club was deafening. I was completely plastered. I glanced up; Savannah had abandoned me for the dance floor. The guy next to me kept pouring. I grabbed his hand, slurring my words. “Do you like me?” He looked startled, then flushed and nodded. “Then why doesn’t he! “I’m a model, I’m smart, I’m hot! Why doesn’t he like me!” I downed the rest of my drink, pulling out my phone. “I’m going to show him. I don’t need him.” I hit the video call button. It was picked up almost instantly, and a familiar face appeared on the screen before I was even ready. “Maya Thorne! Where are you?” He was roaring through the phone. I flinched, instantly sobering up a little. Am I seriously still scared of him? The realization fueled my drunken frustration. I yelled at the phone, “Why the hell is it your business where I am? You don’t control me!” To prove my point, I recklessly pulled the two guys next to me into the frame, planting a messy kiss on one of their cheeks, leaving a vivid red lipstick mark. “See? See! I don’t need you! He’s hotter and way more fun!” After that, I don’t remember what Silas said. I only hazily recall hearing something that sounded like, “Don’t move.” If I remember correctly, he’s currently out of the country, right? Wait? Yeah, right. By the time he gets here, I’ll be long gone. 05 I was leaning heavily on Savannah as we stumbled out of the club, when someone suddenly grabbed my arm, yanking me out of her grasp. I stumbled, shaking my head violently to clear my vision. I must be hallucinating. I was seeing Silas. He gripped my arm, his face terrifyingly calm as he instructed Savannah’s driver, “Take Miss Reynolds home.” I tried to follow her, but Silas swept me up in a fireman’s carry. I thrashed against him. “Let me go!” “So you can go find more boys?” Silas sneered. “It’s my business! They’re hot and they actually want me. Unlike you!” I slammed my fists into his shoulder, screaming at him. Silas’s face was dark as he quickened his pace. Presidential Suite. He tossed me onto the bed with brutal force. My head was spinning. I suppressed the urge to vomit and slowly opened my eyes, only to see him towering over me. “What are you doing?” I gasped. Silas stared down at me with cold, detached eyes. He spat out two words: “You.” He crushed his lips against mine. The alcohol was hitting me hard, and I was dizzy. I subconsciously began to respond. The kiss was brutal, punishing, an absolute claim of ownership. Silas was too good at this. It felt like something he had done a thousand times. I managed to find a burst of strength and shoved him back. “Silas, this is my first kiss.” I gasped for air, my eyes red as I stared at him. I desperately wanted him to say it was his too. But he didn’t. Silas froze for a split second, then lowered his gaze, refusing to meet my eyes as he silently buried his face in my neck. Tears burned and flowed down my face. I clutched his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. “It hurts,” I whispered. He gentled his movements, but I pulled him closer. “Don’t let me go.” 06 The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom. I could see the outline of his body through the frosted glass. I looked away, and my gaze fell on the simple band on the nightstand. He had worn it for so long, and I realized there was minor wear on the outside. But what about the inside? Driven by a crazy impulse, I reached out. Under the dim lamp light, I finally saw the inscription. 60 forever. I didn’t understand. Perhaps it was a secret code between him and that girl. I offered a self-deprecating smile. The water in the bathroom stopped. I scrambled to put the ring back, then picked up the remote and turned on the TV to cover my tracks. It was the morning news. The anchor’s voice, tinged with emotion, filled the room. “There has been a new development in the case of Ambassador Richard Thorne and his wife, the renowned academic Dr. Amelia Thorne, who were victims of a terrorist attack seven years ago in New York. We hope to finally bring our heroes home…” Before I could finish watching, the screen went black. Silas dropped the remote. “Not tired? Still have energy for the news?” I looked up at him and said nothing. His towering figure leaned down, and a gentle kiss covered my lips. Unlike the punishing, desperate mess from earlier, this time he was gentle, almost as if he was trying to soothe me. “Do you do this with the girl you like, too?” I asked suddenly. Silas paused. He was standing with the light behind him, his face hidden in shadow. I couldn’t read his expression. But I got the distinct feeling he was staring at me. The room was silent. It felt like an eternity passed, or maybe just a few seconds. “She’s gone,” Silas said, not answering the question directly. The answer threw me. Gone? Like, dead? I didn’t understand, but I didn’t press further. At 8:00 AM, Silas was dressed impeccably in his suit. His assistant, Sarah, had delivered a fresh outfit for me. “The Angel’s Cove condo,” Silas said. “If you don’t want to go home, stay there.” The front door clicked shut. I sat frozen on the bed, only realizing what he meant after a long moment. Was he offering to keep me as his mistress? 07 “Maya, are you sure you won’t stay with me?” Savannah pleaded over the phone. “I found a place. I’ll see you for your birthday next month, okay?” After turning down Savannah’s invitation, I took my suitcase and headed to Silas’s private condo in Angel’s Cove. The security guard at the gate smiled as he buzzed me in. “Miss Thorne, are you here to see your brother?” It wasn’t my first time here, but it was my first time as… well, whatever I was now. When I entered the condo, everything was exactly as I remembered. A strange, melancholy feeling washed over me. I don’t know if it was because we had crossed that line in the hotel room, but Silas seemed to have stopped pretending. He transformed from a workaholic to a homebody. He stopped going to the main Sterling estate and lived entirely at the Angel’s Cove condo with me. When I crawled into his bed at night, he didn’t push me away. He pulled me into his arms. His body heat was intense. I leaned into his ear. “Let me help you.” Silas looked down at me for a long moment, then brushed his fingers against my lips. “Stop.” I turned my head. He let out a low chuckle, planting a soothing kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Just sleep.” The whole thing felt like a dream. We were like a normal couple, going on dates, watching movies. When Silas held my hand as we walked along the waterfront, I always felt like he was reliving a path he had walked with someone else. “Silas,” I called his name. He stopped, lowering his gaze to look at me. His expression was glazed, as if he was lost in a memory. My heart constricted. I asked the bitter question: “Who are you seeing when you look at me?” Silas smiled. “You.” He was lying. I bit my lip, but I didn’t expose him. Like a fragile dream, someone had to pretend to be asleep for it to continue. 08 The day of Savannah’s mother’s birthday party arrived. I took my gift and headed to the Reynolds estate. “There are so many people here! My face is starting to cramp from smiling,” Savannah said, slumping onto the sofa in the corner. Looking at her, I laughed. For families like the Sterlings and the Reynolds, these parties were just a spectacle to introduce the new generation and build business connections. “That’s just how it is. Before, I also…” The comforting words caught in my throat. I suddenly realized that in a little over a month, it would be Eleanor Sterling’s birthday. This year, the person standing by her side would be her real daughter. Actually, after finding out I wasn’t a Sterling, I had privately looked into Chloe Thorne’s background. But every time I got close to finding something, the trail would go dead, as if someone was deliberately blocking me. My thoughts were leading nowhere. I shook my head, clearing the strange suspicion. I was probably just overthinking things. “Look at that! She got kicked out of the family and she still has the nerve to show up at a party like this!” A woman in a dramatic black gown sauntered over. It was the same face that had called me a “stray” years ago—Bianca. “Bianca, Maya is our friend. Show some respect,” Savannah snapped, standing up defensively. “Being friends with her? Aren’t you afraid she’s going to steal your parents from you too?” “You—!” Savannah was shaking with anger. I grabbed her arm. I shook my head at her. Today was Savannah’s mother’s big night. As the host, it would be bad form for Savannah to get into a fight with a guest. Bianca was targeting me. I couldn’t hide behind Savannah. I squeezed Savannah’s hand, pulled her behind me, and was about to speak when a gentle voice interrupted. “Bianca, what’s going on?” “Amelia!” Bianca beamed and looped her arm intimately through the newcomer’s. “I need to introduce you to my ‘friends’.” Amelia Sterling swept a cool glance over Savannah, then focused on me. Her gaze lingered for a moment. “The real heiress, Amelia Vance. She just got back from studying abroad.” Bianca announced arrogantly, emphasizing the last few words. She looked like a proud hen showing off a prize. I ignored Bianca’s ridiculous posturing. My gaze was locked on the girl she introduced as Amelia Sterling. A simple white dress, loose waves, and a perfect, practiced smile. She was the definition of old money. But what caught my attention was the simple band on her left pinky. It looked exactly like Silas’s. Recognizing my stare, Bianca smirked and proudly lifted Amelia’s hand. “Isn’t this the engagement ring the Sterling family gave you?” “Engagement?” I frowned. “You don’t know? He was practically betrothed to Amelia years ago. They had an agreement. “She’s basically your sister-in-law. “Well, actually, since you aren’t a Sterling anymore, you don’t even have the right to call her that.” “Bianca! Stop it!” Amelia frowned, but her tone carried no actual weight. Then she turned to me, her smile still perfect. “My welcome-back party is tomorrow night, Maya. You should come. It’s always good to meet new friends.” Her tone was gentle, but I felt a distinct current of hostility. I looked at her, then calmly declined. “Sorry, I don’t usually make friends that easily.” She seemed genuinely surprised that I had turned her down so flatly. “That’s fine.” Bianca wasn’t going to let it go. She opened her mouth to start screaming at me. I moved instantly, grabbing her by the jaw. My expression was icy. “You… what do you think you’re doing!” We were too close. Her voice was trembling. Just as the crowd thought I was going to slap her, I suddenly let go and took a step back with a look of pure disgust. “You have spinach in your teeth.” My voice wasn’t particularly loud, but it was just loud enough for everyone close to us to hear. Bianca’s face turned scarlet. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. The corner of my mouth quirked up. I grabbed the stunned Savannah and walked out. We were ten steps away when Bianca’s furious scream echoed behind us: “I DIDN’T EAT SPINACH TODAY!” “Haha, did you see the look on Bianca’s face? That was brilliant!” Savannah was doubled over laughing before she finally composed herself and apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t arrange things well. I knew you two hated each other and I still invited her. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” I knew the invites were handled by her parents for business networking, so it wasn’t Savannah’s fault. But I still agreed to her offer, knowing that otherwise she would be consumed by guilt all night.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418545”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before I met him, Carter Hayes had never dated a C-cup before. He thought my body wasn’t good enough, thought I was plain and boring. Relying on the fact that I wouldn’t dare break off our engagement, he openly paraded his flings around town. For the sake of fairness, I cheated too. The day after I slept with a handsome stranger, something huge happened at my fiancé’s estate. The antique statue his family had worshipped in their private chapel for generations disappeared. Over the phone, my fiancé told me: The guardian spirit’s name was Silas Thorne. Wait a minute. I looked at the handsome guy in front of me, his chest covered in hickeys. “What did you say your name was again?” “Silas Thorne. Didn’t he just tell you on the phone?” The handsome guy smiled at me. 1 The night before his birthday, Carter invited a bunch of friends over to his estate. We were playing a drinking game. The “King” dared a guy and a girl to kiss with a napkin pressed between their lips. Since Carter was the birthday boy, the King cut him some slack. He told Carter he could pick any girl in the room. Everyone started cheering and immediately looked at me. I was Carter’s fiancée. Everyone knew that. Carter wore an ambiguous smile as he scanned the room. Finally, his gaze landed right next to me. “Chloe Davis. I choose you.” My name isn’t Chloe Davis. Chloe was my college roommate. 2 Being singled out, Chloe looked thrilled. But she quickly forced the corners of her mouth down, playing coy. “Me? I don’t know…” Carter smirked. “I’m the birthday boy. What I say goes.” Chloe happily stood up, standing bashfully in front of Carter. It wasn’t until their bodies were practically pressed together that she turned her head to ask me: “Hazel, this is just a game. You don’t mind, right?” Before I could answer, Carter beat me to it: “She wouldn’t dare.” His cold, dismissive gaze swept over my face for a split second. It felt like a slap. I stood up calmly. “You guys have fun. I’m going to the bathroom.” After leaving the living room, I heard wave after wave of cheering and catcalls. They were definitely kissing. And for quite a while, too. I felt a little sick, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. Carter was right about one thing. I didn’t dare. My engagement to Carter was arranged by my family. Our family business had been tanking for years. We weren’t just bankrupt; we were drowning in debt. My parents were desperate, and they finally managed to hook the wealthy Hayes family. As long as I married Carter, they would inject capital and bail us out. At the time, my dad actually fell to his knees, crying. “The whole family’s survival rests on your shoulders.” I said fine, but only if you leave your assets to me in the future, instead of giving everything to my younger brother. My dad, who had favored his son his entire life, shockingly nodded. It was only after the engagement that I found out the truth. Carter hated me. Before me, he had dated countless girls. Every single one was a bombshell, curvy and gorgeous with long legs. Just like Chloe. In contrast, I had plain features and a slender, unassuming figure. I wasn’t his type at all. After washing my face, I was just about to head back to the living room. Then I heard Carter’s voice from the hallway. “Hazel? She’s boring as hell. Even if every other woman on earth died, I still wouldn’t like her.” Someone asked, “Then why agree to the engagement? Even if your parents pushed for it, if you said no, they couldn’t force you.” “Because she’s obedient.” Carter let out a scornful scoff. “Once I marry her and stick her in the house, she won’t dare keep tabs on me. I can play around outside all I want.” I stopped in my tracks, listening in silence. The mocking laughter continued. I raised my eyes and suddenly looked down the end of the grand hallway. A heavy mahogany shrine stood elevated in a private alcove. 3 The Hayes family was incredibly superstitious. They had worshipped a guardian spirit for generations, showing absolute devotion. Rumor had it that this spirit blessed them with endless prosperity. And it seemed to be true. Generation after generation, the Hayes family had been wildly successful. Back when they agreed to the marriage, aside from eyeing my dad’s remaining assets, they had also consulted a psychic about my astrological chart. They said it was a perfect match. I walked quietly toward the shrine. The smooth, antique wood glowed with a timeless aura in the dim light. A statue sat squarely in the center. Backlit by a stained-glass window, its face was obscured. Carter had mentioned that this wasn’t some mainstream deity. It was a colonial-era general, an ancestor who had sworn to protect their bloodline. I quietly put my hands together. Founder of the Hayes family. I hope one day, I can make Carter feel the exact same pain he’s causing me. After making the wish, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Wishful thinking, wasn’t it? This was the Hayes family’s personal patron spirit. Why on earth would it listen to me? But… did the shrine just flicker? It must have been my imagination. 4 By the time the party ended, it was late. Carter said he was going to drive Chloe back to campus. I didn’t go back. Since tomorrow I was expected to act as the dutiful fiancée and join his family in offering prayers at the shrine, I was staying the night at the estate. He said he was just dropping her off, but by 11 PM, Carter still wasn’t back. Instead, I got a text. Carter: [Buy a box of condoms and send it to Room 901 at the Grand Plaza Hotel.] Wasn’t he just dropping her off? Why were they at a hotel downtown? I opened Instagram. Sure enough, Chloe had just posted a selfie. [Had such a great time today. I feel like such a spoiled princess! ~] In the corner of the selfie, I could clearly see the hotel’s white bedsheets and Carter lying on the bed. Carter: [Hurry up. Just leave it at the front desk, the robot will bring it up.] It had started raining outside. I held an umbrella and walked to a nearby convenience store. It was my first time buying something like this, and I felt a little awkward. Cashier: “Just the one box?” “No.” Driven by some inexplicable impulse, I grabbed another. “Two.” I dropped one box off at the front desk. I kept the other box in my pocket. I didn’t even know why I bought it. What was I going to do, blow balloons with them? While my mind was wandering, something strange on the sidewalk caught my eye. A bizarre man was standing in the pouring rain. He was dressed in full historical colonial garb, his long, ink-black hair cascading down his back, holding an antique paper umbrella. People walking by were staring, casting all sorts of weird looks his way. But he acted as if he couldn’t see them, standing tall and straight like a lone pine tree. The moment I saw his face, I couldn’t look away. He was strikingly handsome, but there was a sharp, lethal aura about his brow that gave him a fierce, commanding presence. I walked up and struck up a conversation. “Cosplay?” He looked down at me, his eyes like cold silver moonlight. “That outfit looks expensive. Must have cost a lot to make. Is there a convention today?” He didn’t answer. I squeezed the little box in my pocket. I didn’t know where the courage came from, but I invited him. “Want to come upstairs and hang out for a bit?” 5 I got a room with the guy. Room 902. Right next door to Carter. Once the door closed, I realized his long hair was real. The texture was incredible. Like spilled ink. “Hazel.” He suddenly called my name. I jumped. “How do you know my name?” He didn’t answer. I figured he must have seen it when I was checking in at the front desk. “What exactly do you want me to do, Hazel?” His voice was deep. When he said my name, it sounded absurdly good, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my brain. “Do something adults do.” “Are you sure?” “Do you have a girlfriend?” “No.” “Then it’s fine. Wait here, I’m going to take a shower…” “Let’s shower together.” His words caught me completely off guard. Ten minutes later, we were standing together under the showerhead. I was incredibly awkward. I didn’t dare look at him, let alone face him head-on. I just prayed the steam would fill the room and blur everything… Suddenly, he hugged me from behind. My whole body stiffened, a tingling, desperate craving washing over me. “Are you afraid?” “Yeah…” “Don’t be. I’m very clean.” It all started with a kiss. A gentle, damp kiss. The bathroom tiles were freezing against my burning back. “My name is Silas. Remember that. My name is Silas Thorne.” He whispered into my ear. My rationality had already mostly fled the building. Because of that, I didn’t stop to think—where had I heard that name before? Just as things were getting intense, Silas tore open the packaging. I sobered up a little, suddenly unable to cross that final mental hurdle. I gritted my teeth and said, “Maybe we shouldn’t. Actually, let’s just forget it…” I didn’t even finish my sentence. A noise suddenly came through the wall. It was definitely coming from 901. It was an unmistakable rhythm, and it was getting louder by the second. “Do you still want to forget it?” Silas asked me. I stared blankly for a second. “No. Keep going.” 6 The next morning, I was woken up by Carter’s phone call. “Where are you?” He sounded frantic. From the looks of it, he must have gone back to the estate and realized I wasn’t there. Today was his birthday, and there was serious family business to attend to. My brain slowly booted up. “I’m outside—” “Don’t you want to sleep a little longer?” Silas suddenly spoke up. Carter heard it and instantly got suspicious. “Hazel, is there someone next to you?” “Ah, no one.” I frantically signaled Silas to be quiet. But he acted like he didn’t understand my frantic waving. He pulled me close, leaning right up to the phone. “Were you satisfied last night?” I highly suspected Silas did that on purpose. Even through the phone, I could feel Carter freeze completely. “I heard a man’s voice. Who is talking?!” “No one, I’m just out for a walk. You heard wrong.” I slapped my hand over Silas’s mouth. His eyes curved into a sly smile, his thin lips brushing against my palm as if tracing the lines of my hand. Carter couldn’t even focus on that anymore. He panicked, “A walk? Something massive just happened, and you’re in the mood for a walk?!” “What happened?” “The statue in the shrine is gone!!!” 7 I threw my clothes on, rushing to head back to the Hayes estate. Behind me, Silas spoke with complete nonchalance. “It’s just a missing statue.” “That’s an incredibly important artifact. How can you say ‘just’?” “Important?” Silas grew serious. “You don’t believe in it, and it has never protected you. Yet you think it’s important?” “Of course.” Silas didn’t say anything else, just watched quietly as I left. When I rushed back to the estate, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The entire family was kneeling in front of the shrine, no one daring to breathe. Carter was supposed to be the center of attention today. For the statue to vanish on his birthday was an unimaginably bad omen. I tiptoed over and knelt beside Carter, whispering, “What’s going on?” “The statue came back.” “What?” “I don’t even know what happened. It was gone this morning, everyone was losing their minds, but just now…” He sighed heavily. “Just now, it suddenly reappeared in the shrine.” No wonder he looked so pale. The whole thing was supernatural and terrifying. I looked up at the shrine. It wasn’t backlit right now, and I could finally see the details. Carved into the pedestal were the words: Silas Thorne. I stared in shock. “Your family’s guardian spirit… his name is Silas?” “Yeah. General Silas Thorne.” That’s way too much of a coincidence. As I marveled at it, I tilted my head up to look at the statue’s face. I froze instantly. Isn’t this… the gorgeous guy from last night?! 8 The statue looked down with lowered eyes, gazing at the crowd with a tragic sort of mercy. For a split second. I felt like it was making eye contact with me. The shiver that ran down my spine was the exact same feeling from when I first saw Silas yesterday in the rain. The same name. The same face. The coincidence gave me goosebumps all over. As soon as the prayers were over, I wanted nothing more than to sprint back to the hotel. If Silas hadn’t checked out yet, I needed to ask him what the hell was going on. But Carter stopped me. “Maria said you didn’t sleep here last night.” Maria was their housekeeper. “Oh, right. I stayed at a hotel last night.” Carter was shocked by my bluntness. “Why were you at a hotel?” “You get to book a room, but I can’t?” I had never spoken to him like this before. “That hotel is actually really nice. The showers are huge, the bed is soft. Right?” I was personally ripping off my own mask of the obedient fiancée. Carter stared at me blankly, looking at me like he was seeing me for the first time. It took him a long moment to process. “Hazel, you misunderstood. Nothing happened between me and Chloe.” I looked at him like he was an alien. “You literally had me drop off condoms. What is there to explain?” “Those weren’t for me!” Carter desperately tried to explain. “Yesterday Chloe said her roommates weren’t going back, she was scared to be alone, so she asked me to book her a room. “I wasn’t planning to stay, but I drank too much, saw the bed, and just passed out. Chloe took my phone and texted you. You know that when a guy is blackout drunk, he can’t possibly do that. “I didn’t even see the text until this morning. I yelled at Chloe, and she said she was just messing around to see if you’d get jealous.” I cut him off. “Well, that’s a shame.” “A shame?” A shame that the noises I heard last night didn’t come from Room 901 after all. A shame that Chloe’s little scheme completely backfired. But I definitely got mine. The corners of my mouth curled up. I didn’t hide my absolute delight. Carter stared at my smile, freezing again. “Hazel, did you get a room with a guy last night?” he demanded. I blinked twice, my smile growing wider. “Take a wild guess.” 9 Because Carter delayed me, Silas was already gone by the time I got back to the hotel. I hadn’t gotten his number. When I left this morning, I figured I’d never see him again. But now that I actually couldn’t find him, I felt an empty ache in my chest. It was May, graduation season. The design department was hosting our senior portfolio showcase. Major brands and top-tier firms would send scouts to pick the best graduating talent. This was a massive deal, and everyone was taking it seriously. The night before the showcase. Chloe suddenly asked me, “Carter is coming to see my design tomorrow. Hazel, you don’t mind, do you?” “Whatever.” “Don’t be mad. Carter just sees me as a good friend. You absolutely cannot misunderstand us.” I scoffed, too lazy to even entertain her. The other roommates chimed in curiously. “Chloe, how do you even know the Hayes family heir?” “Oh, you know, we met through mutual friends.” Liar. She had obviously stolen Carter’s number from my phone behind my back. Chloe really thought I didn’t know about that. I just didn’t care enough to expose her. “Omg, I can’t believe you invited him…” “I didn’t invite him! He insisted on coming to support me,” Chloe said bashfully. “I told him it wasn’t a huge deal and he didn’t have to come, but he insisted. I couldn’t say no.” “Does he have a crush on you?” The roommate who asked that immediately got glared at by the others. They glanced at me guiltily. Seeing me with my AirPods in, they sighed in relief. Honestly, they didn’t need to be so tense. I truly, genuinely did not give a damn about that trashy man. The next day, the showcase began. Carter made a grand entrance. Chloe rushed up to greet him immediately. She was wearing a cocktail dress today, treating an academic showcase like her own personal red carpet. No one found it strange. Word on the street was that Chloe’s family had pulled some strings and already locked down the job offer from the top firm today. The internship slot was practically hers. “Carter, you really came! And you brought flowers?” Chloe asked happily. “Did you buy these because you know I’m signing with the agency today?” But Carter didn’t answer her. His eyes landed squarely on me first. “Hazel, what’s your problem? Why haven’t you been answering my texts?” For the past few days, Carter had actually been initiating conversations. Texting me random nonsense, even asking me out to dinner. But I barely replied. I gave a brush-off answer: “I was busy. Didn’t see them.” “Next time you’re busy, you still need to reply to me.” “And if I don’t? Are you going to just sit there hugging your phone waiting?” “Of course not! Who cares if you reply!” Carter snapped, humiliated. “Hazel, don’t test my limits. I can cancel this engagement at any second and make you regret it.” He turned and shoved the bouquet into Chloe’s arms. “Chloe, you guessed right. These are for you. Why would I buy flowers for anyone else?” It was pathetic. What was he even trying to prove? I rolled my eyes and looked away, completely bored. And in the next second, I saw a familiar silhouette. Silas! He was standing by the entrance, smiling at me from afar. I instantly pushed through the crowd and chased after him. 10 I followed Silas to a quiet corner where no one was around. He had actually adapted to modern times today. He was wearing normal casual clothes, his hair was cut short, and he had a baseball cap on. He looked exactly like a modern-day heartthrob. “Silas, who exactly are you?” I asked frantically. “You already know, don’t you?” He looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you seriously… the spirit from the shrine???” “Yes.” No wonder when I first met him, I felt that aura of blood and violence on him. General Silas Thorne had been a brutal warlord before he died. “Then why did you come to find me?” “I am a spirit. Naturally, I heard your prayer.” He patted my head, his gaze incredibly tender. “For hundreds of years, I’ve listened to the Hayes family’s selfish, greedy wishes every single day. When someone completely different suddenly showed up, it was hard not to notice.” He paused, then added. “But it was my first time taking human form. I wasn’t used to it, and I didn’t dress quite right. This is better, isn’t it?” I latched onto the other key piece of information. “First time taking human form?” “Right.” “So for hundreds of years… you just sat inside that wooden box?” “Yes. Sitting there, listening to their boring, greedy demands. My ears were practically bleeding.” I fell silent. Silas noticed. “Scared? It’s normal to be afraid—” “I’m not scared,” I looked up, meeting his eyes seriously. “I’m just wondering… were you lonely? Were you happy?” Silas froze, then let out a soft laugh. “That’s a very strange question. No one cares if a spirit is lonely or happy.” “I care.” Silas’s smile vanished. He stared at me for a long time, as if trying to permanently carve my expression into his memory. “No one has ever asked me that. Not even when I was alive, when I was just a soldier…” “Whether you’re a soldier or a guardian spirit, you still have moments of vulnerability.” I got up on my tiptoes, mimicking his earlier gesture, and ruffled his short, choppy hair. “Silas, whoever you are, I just want you to be happy.” And then, something bizarre happened. All around us, the decorative flowers that hadn’t bloomed yet burst open in a single instant, like magic. I understood immediately. It was Silas’s subconscious divine power leaking out. His heart was currently beating out of his chest for me. As Silas leaned down to kiss me, I thought to myself: This pure, ancient spirit is actually pretty easy to charm.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418544”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am deaf. Whenever people gossiped about Declan Cross’s endless affairs, I would just turn off my hearing aids. As long as he told me nothing happened, I believed him. Until I brought him lunch at the office and saw his newly hired assistant straddling his lap. Her body was soft, her eyes seductive: “Declan, isn’t it bad if I eat all the food your wife made for you?” His familiar voice was low and hoarse: “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a meal.” Later, he spent twenty million dollars at a charity auction just for the chance to have dinner with me. But I didn’t want it anymore. 1 “I’m telling you guys, absolutely no one is allowed into Mr. Cross’s office this afternoon.” The executive secretary finished speaking and winked at the other assistants in the bullpen. “I don’t know what kind of background this new girl, Blair Kensington, has. She just got hired as his personal assistant, and now she’s getting really personal.” “You don’t know her? She’s the heiress to the Kensington Group! Their only daughter. She gets whatever she wants. If you ask me, the current Mrs. Cross is probably going to be…” She made a slashing motion across her neck. “The current Mrs. Cross has no money, no background, and she’s deaf. If it weren’t for their shared history, he would have divorced her ages ago, right?” The mocking voices drifted into my ears. This time, I hadn’t turned off my hearing aids. Declan and I had our honeymoon phase too. Back then, no one thought we would make it. Accurately speaking, no one thought I would make it. I had no prestigious family background, and I was deaf. Standing next to the golden boy, Declan Cross, I looked completely out of place. But whenever we walked together, Declan would hold me tight, refusing to let go. He wanted to bring me to work with him every single day. His rich friends teased him, his employees catered to me, and everyone respectfully called me Mrs. Cross. Unfortunately, good things never last. I don’t know exactly when he changed. Maybe it was the first time he worked late and didn’t come home. Maybe it was the first time he went clubbing with his boys and didn’t tell me. Or maybe it was the first time he forgot our anniversary. People often maliciously reminded me, dropping hints that Declan’s new mistresses looked a lot like me. Whenever that happened, I would just turn off my hearing aids. When we got married, Declan told me that everyone in his elite circle was driven by hidden agendas. He said I shouldn’t believe a word they say. I took that to heart. I smiled and asked him, “Then who can I believe?” He said, “Harper. You can always trust me.” So, I would ask him if the rumors were true. He would say, “No.” And I believed him. I would ask him, “Do you still love me?” He would say, “Yes.” He didn’t know there was one sentence I never said out loud: If you ever stop loving me, I will leave. I will never beg you to stay. Declan was a notorious playboy, famous for his wandering eye. I was the only one stupid enough to believe he would never do anything to betray me. But Declan remained exactly who he was. The people around him started treating me worse and worse. His friends joked that I was a desperate cling-on, and his employees stopped giving me any respect. Listening to the secretaries gossip, a dull ache throbbed in my chest. I thought I didn’t care anymore. “Ahem! Stop talking!” A sharp-eyed secretary spotted me. She plastered on a fake, corporate smile: “Mrs. Cross, you can just leave the lunchbox here. Mr. Cross is in a meeting right now. It’s not a good time.” I dodged her outstretched hand. “Is that so? Then I really need to see what kind of crisis is keeping him from eating his lunch.” 2 “You can’t!” The secretary who had just been trash-talking me blocked the hallway doors. “Mrs. Cross, without Mr. Cross’s explicit permission, I cannot let you in.” A fleeting look of mockery flashed in her eyes. I smiled, glanced at her name tag, and said firmly: “I am going in.” Normally, if a secretary said that, I would just turn around and leave. But today was different. Just as I was leaving the house with the lunchbox, I received a package from Blair Kensington. An envelope containing an ultrasound report that pushed me straight into the abyss. The secretary had no intention of moving. “I’ll say it one more time. I am going in.” She bit her lip and looked down, refusing to budge. I laughed. It seemed that because Declan no longer loved me, even a secretary felt she could walk all over me. “You’re fired.” Hearing that, she finally panicked. Her eyes went wide, and she stuttered: “Y-You! I work for Mr. Cross! What gives you the right to fire me?!” I didn’t waste my breath. I called the HR Director. The very first time Declan brought me to the company, he stood in front of all the senior executives and said: “My wife’s word is my word.” I just never used that privilege. Until now. The HR Director acted fast, coming up personally to escort her out. Before she left, the secretary glared at me furiously: “You can’t even keep your own husband in check, and you’re throwing your weight around with me?!” “Just wait until Miss Kensington becomes the new Mrs. Cross! I’ll be back!” The HR Director looked at my face awkwardly. “Mrs. Cross, please don’t be angry…” I wasn’t angry. I just felt pathetic. “Mrs. Cross” was just a title, and Declan had made it clear it was no longer exclusive to me. Since when had I become so worthless in the eyes of a secretary? I looked her dead in the eye: “She’s right. So, while I still have a little power left, get the hell out.” That was the first time I ever lost my temper in front of the staff. No one dared to breathe. No one dared to stop me. Declan’s office was massive. As I walked down the corridor, a wave of melancholy washed over me. I had designed and decorated this place with him. Declan had insisted on installing a hidden, private rest suite with a shower in the back. He had rested his chin on my shoulder, biting my earlobe: “Harper, I want to leave traces of our love in every single corner of this room…” He spoke shamelessly, and he delivered. To the point where every time I visited the office, he would drag me into that hidden room. Now, I stood in front of that very door, listening to the murmurs inside. “Ah~ Declan…” The girl’s voice was coquettish. “Declan, isn’t it bad if I eat all the food your wife made for you?” His familiar voice was low and hoarse: “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a meal.” Just a meal. I didn’t have many talents, but my one skill was cooking. Declan loved my food. He begged me to make him lunches. He knew I always dreamed of opening my own high-end restaurant. But he always told me to wait a little longer. My heart felt like it had been beaten with a baseball bat. My icy hand pressed the door handle. The door opened. Blair Kensington was straddling his lap. Hearing the sound, she shrieked and buried her face in Declan’s chest. A guilty, unnatural flush spread across Declan’s face. “Who told you to come in?!” The moment he saw it was me, the frown on his face froze. His eyes went wide. 3 In a split second, he grabbed his suit jacket and wrapped it tightly around the girl, covering her completely. It was a deeply protective gesture. A storm of uncontrollable emotions raged in his eyes. The heavy, sickeningly sweet scent of perfume solidified in the air. The atmosphere was suffocating. After a long silence, he gritted his teeth and spat out two words: “Get out!” I didn’t know how I managed to control my body, but I took a step forward. I walked over to the mahogany desk. I set the lunchbox down. “Do you have anything else you want to say, Declan?” The veins on his forehead bulged. He bit his lip. His beautiful eyes looked like they were covered in a layer of fog. Declan bit his lip until it bled, finally regaining a shred of clarity. The scene was incredibly ugly. When had Declan ever looked this pathetic in front of me? His voice was laced with fury. He enunciated every word: “Get. Out. Now.” I didn’t linger. “Okay. Whenever you’re free, Mr. Cross, we can have a proper talk.” I closed the door behind me. My crushed heart shattered into a million pieces on the floor. I could never pick it back up. From inside, I heard a loud CRASH. Declan had smashed a glass against the wall. Before I left, I caught Blair shooting me a triumphant, mocking look. But I didn’t care anymore. I was tired. I just wanted to leave this place. Fast. As far away as possible. Unable to wait for the elevator, I ran down the stairs like a madwoman. My heart was in agony, tears blinding my vision. I missed a step and tumbled forward. “Are you alright?” A deep voice came from above me. A strong, firm hand gripped my waist. “I’m fine. Thank you.” I quickly stood up, turning my head to wipe away my tears so I wouldn’t look completely humiliated. I took a deep breath to compose myself. I looked up to see a man in a bespoke black suit, bending down to pick up my purse. His long legs bent slightly, the fabric pulling taut over his lean, muscular waist. His proportions were perfect, incredibly striking. It was Asher Pierce, currently the biggest corporate partner of Cross Industries. “Declan… he’s a bit tied up right now. You might want to reschedule, Mr. Pierce.” He smirked, raising a slashed eyebrow: “Who said I was here to see him?” 4 Seeing my confusion, Asher leaned forward and handed me my purse. The ultrasound report Blair had sent me had spilled out onto the floor along with it. A family scandal is meant to be kept private, yet he had seen everything. I was so embarrassed I didn’t know what to say. “Miss Harper, it seems you’ve run into a bit of a problem. My firm just happens to have an excellent legal department. Would you do me the honor of letting me help?” I really did need a specialized divorce attorney, and Asher Pierce’s firm was one of the top in the country. I just hesitated because of his business partnership with Declan. And the sheer awkwardness of the moment. Seeing my hesitation, Asher let out a soft chuckle. It was short, but it contained no mockery or negativity. “My dad was hospitalized a few days ago. The doctors said his diet has been fantastic lately thanks to your meal plans. “When you have time, I was hoping you could customize a new menu for him based on his current condition. “You don’t need to worry about my relationship with Declan. In my eyes, my father’s health is worth a hell of a lot more than money. So, Miss Harper, treat it as a favor to me, okay?” When Declan and I first got married, his startup was struggling. Because I loved cooking and dreamed of opening a restaurant, I got certified as a professional chef and a licensed nutritionist. I won over many of his early clients meal by meal. Especially the wealthy ones, who value their health above all else. My connection with Asher Pierce started because I designed a specialized diet plan for his parents. Asher was impeccable. His eyes were sincere, and I had no reason to refuse. “Then, thank you.” When I returned to our penthouse, Declan wasn’t home. I started packing my things. The apartment was new, all the furniture was new. I was the only thing that was old. I hadn’t noticed before, but I actually owned very little here. Two suitcases were enough to pack my entire life. While cleaning out a drawer, I found the “Couples Journal” Declan and I used to keep. My half of the journal was much thicker than his. He had stopped writing in it shortly after we got married, while I had kept it going until recently. I remembered back in high school, I was always stuck on the final, hardest math problem. I would write the word “Solution” and then just stare blankly at the equation. Declan had smiled, his face radiant: “Let me guess whose little idiot doesn’t know how to solve this and is too stubborn to ask me?” I flipped to the very last page and picked up a pen: [Declan Cross is a math problem I can never solve. No matter how many times I write ‘Solution’, I will never get any points.] Declan didn’t come home that night. I sat on the floor, flipping through his old journal entries. The further back I read, the more he loved me. 5 Declan was angry. I didn’t return his calls or texts. I moved back to the old, small house my mother had left me. I asked his secretary and found out he had flown to Paris for a “business trip.” A notification popped up on my phone. It was an Instagram post from Blair. A picture of her and Declan feeding pigeons in front of the Eiffel Tower. Compared to explicit photos, this kind of sweet, domestic intimacy was a dull knife carving out my heart. I understood what she was trying to do, but she wasn’t a very smart player. Because in my relationship with Declan, she was too low-class to even register. She wanted to win, she wanted the prize, but I didn’t want to play anymore. So, I easily tapped the ‘Like’ button. I refreshed the page, and the post was gone. I don’t know if Declan saw my ‘Like’ and made her delete it. It didn’t matter anymore. Asher’s efficiency was terrifying. We finalized the divorce settlement terms that very day. The documents were delivered to me the next morning. Declan called me, his voice accusatory: “Where are you? Why aren’t you home?” “I moved out. I’m never going back. Let me know when you return to the States so we can meet up.” The line went quiet for a moment. Suddenly, Declan scoffed. “Harper, you’re making a massive deal out of nothing.” “Now, get your ass home immediately, or don’t bother coming back ever!” He hung up, just like he did every time we fought. Waiting for me to go coax him back. I didn’t go back that night. Declan blocked my number and my social media. Then, he posted a picture of himself at a club, with an arm around two different models. I saw it on my burner account. Declan was always like this. If he didn’t want to communicate, he would force me to go find him over and over again. To prevent completely losing track of him, I had added his friends on burner accounts. [Hahaha! Tonight’s tab is on Mr. Cross!] [Declan, fighting with the wife again?] [Place your bets! Let’s see how many days Harper can last before she comes crawling back to Declan!] [I give her one day!] The group chat was buzzing. Declan’s best friend even set up a literal betting pool. I clicked into it and placed my bet on: [Breakup/Divorce]. After all, they had made money off me for years with these bets. It was time I won some of it back. The VIP Club was owned by Declan’s best friend. Members only. Hearing I was there, he immediately alerted the VIP room. Before I even opened the door, I could hear the voices inside. “Hahahaha, I told you! She couldn’t even last a day!” “Knew she’d rush over the second she heard you were at the club.” “Pay up, pay up!” I pushed the door open, ignoring their mocking gazes. I walked straight up to Declan. He raised his whiskey glass, smiling smugly, and patted the empty seat next to him. “Finish this drink, and I’ll take you home.” “Ooooh~” The crowd jeered. “No need.” I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and handed them to him. “Read this over. Make sure there are no issues. Sign it, and I’ll leave.” Declan’s eyes swept over the words ‘Divorce Agreement’. His voice dripped with ice. He slammed the papers onto the table: “Harper, what the hell is this?” 6 Everyone in the room was a socialite shark. Seeing the tension, the guy singing put down the mic, and the loudmouths shut up. Even the thumping background music was muted. Everyone sat frozen, terrified to make a sound. Except for Asher Pierce, sitting in the shadowy corner, leisurely taking a sip of his red wine. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. I stared at the large, bold word “DIVORCE” on the document. I spoke calmly: “Exactly what it says.” “Declan, we’re getting a divorce.” You could hear a pin drop in the room. My voice was crystal clear. I heard someone gasp. In the past, Declan was always the one using breakups or divorce to manipulate me. Every single time, I was the one who bowed my head, apologized, and begged for reconciliation. This was the first time I had ever initiated a divorce. Declan’s face was terrifyingly dark, his jaw clenched, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. “Declan, it must be because I ate the food Harper made for you. She’s mad.” Blair Kensington leaned in close to him, her eyes downcast, looking incredibly pitiful: “Let me apologize to her for you, okay?” Blair was wearing a very loose, flowing dress, clearly to accommodate her pregnancy. She deflected the main issue, playing the victim perfectly. She calculated that because I was a dignified woman, I wouldn’t publicly air out her dirty laundry and humiliate everyone in the room. Declan’s best friend jumped in to smooth things over: “Come on, Harper. You two have been through hell and back for years. Are you really going to throw a fit over a lunchbox?” “Yeah, just take the papers back…” I laughed. It had been like this for years. They were all Declan’s friends. They always spoke up for him. They covered for him, and they told me that since I was Mrs. Cross, I needed to be “magnanimous” and “forgiving.” “Don’t try to talk her out of it.” Declan leaned back aggressively into the leather sofa. “I want to see what kind of stunt she thinks she’s pulling!” He glared at me intensely: “Harper, this trick doesn’t work on me.” “Take these papers and leave right now, and I can pretend none of this happened.” 7 I took a deep breath: “Declan, I’m not pulling a stunt.” “I’m completely serious. Let’s get a divorce.” Declan stared at me, his eyes burning into mine, but he didn’t move. Dark emotions swirled in his eyes. After a long pause, a low chuckle came from the corner of the room: “Mr. Cross really is just like the rumors say—deeply in love with his wife!” “You act like a playboy on the outside, but deep down, you’re terrified she’ll actually leave you, aren’t you?” Asher Pierce swirled the wine in his glass with his long, pale fingers. He stepped out of the shadows, looking like a noble, centuries-old vampire. “What a wonderful, devoted husband!” The moment the words left his mouth, Declan exploded: “Bullshit!” Declan yanked the cap off a pen, ready to sign. His best friend grabbed his arm. “Declan! Wake up! Don’t do something stupid!” Declan had a volatile temper. In moments like this, the more people tried to stop him, the more rebellious he became. With a swift stroke of the pen, his signature was on the paper. “Harper, don’t you dare come crying to me begging to get back together!” Seeing him sign, Blair couldn’t suppress the triumphant smirk on her face. Only after signing did Declan remember to actually read the terms. He fully expected me to be greedy and demand half his empire. When he saw that I only asked for the profits from the specific projects I had personally secured for him, he frowned. He felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t know why. Soon, that fleeting emotion was replaced by arrogance. He scoffed: “Harper, you’re really taking this act all the way, aren’t you?” “Trying to draw a clean line with me?” “If you walk away with this little money after being Mrs. Cross for years, people will say I’m cheap.” “Tell you what, I’ll throw in the villa we lived in.” Anyone could hear the heavy mockery in his voice. I curled my lips into a smile and gave him a slow clap: “Since Mr. Cross is feeling so generous, I have a big gift for you too.” 8 I pulled Blair’s ultrasound report from my bag and slapped it right onto his chest. “Fuck!” Caught completely off guard, Declan couldn’t react in time. The paper smacked against him with a sharp thwack. His immediate reflex was to stand up and strike back. But when he saw the contents of the ultrasound report, his raised hand froze in mid-air. His eyes bulged. His face was a mix of sheer disbelief and panic. He instinctively reached for the signed divorce papers on the table. But a pair of long, elegant hands snatched them away a fraction of a second faster. Asher Pierce handed the agreement to me: “Hold onto these.” Asher was a veteran of the corporate battlefield, famous for never showing emotion. Strangely, why did I get the feeling he was actually… happy right now? He looked at Declan with a distinct air of triumph: “Thank you, Mr. Cross, for contributing to my law firm’s win rate.” Declan was clearly still in shock from the revelation that he was about to be a father. Before leaving the VIP room, I shook my phone: “By the way, don’t forget to Venmo me your bets. I’ve already sent a group payment request.” “I let you guys treat me like a joke for years. Consider this my appearance fee for playing the clown.” Before walking out the door, I couldn’t resist a final piece of self-promotion: “If anyone has any healthy catering or diet needs, feel free to contact me.” After sending the payment request in the group, I saw Asher instantly send his portion. Wow. Truly a born businessman. He knew I was going to divorce, and he was the only other person in the chat who voted [Divorce]. He really never missed an opportunity to make a buck. “Congratulations.” Asher congratulated me. I wanted to smile, but my facial muscles refused to cooperate. It probably looked worse than crying. I turned around, letting the cool night breeze hit my face. I whispered, “What’s there to congratulate…” Using the excuse of “post-sale customer service,” Asher insisted on driving me home. We didn’t say a word the entire ride. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I’m going upstairs now.” I tried to pull the car handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Asher got out of the car and opened the door for me personally: “Miss Harper, it takes courage to walk away from a toxic relationship. You are very brave.” “And leaving the wrong person is absolutely something worth congratulating.” 9 Good news stays indoors; bad news travels a thousand miles. According to the high-society gossip mill, Declan lost his mind that night. He dragged Blair straight to a clinic to get an abortion. In the end, it was Arthur Kensington, Blair’s powerful father, who rushed to the scene to stop the madness. The rumor mill quickly connected the dots: my divorce request and Declan dragging Blair to an abortion clinic. The verdict was unanimous: Blair was the mistress, and Declan was the cheating bastard. Many high-society wives sympathized with me, outraged on my behalf. Blair called me several times, screaming and cursing. Her tone had lost all its soft, “green tea” sweetness. She sounded like a feral banshee. I listened for a while and then laughed out loud: “Wow. So even wealthy heiresses can’t curse without resorting to genitals and bodily fluids?” “I just forwarded a recording of this to Declan. I wonder what he’ll think of his sweet little angel now?” Blair instantly shut up. The Blair Kensington who didn’t know me in high school only knew the “Mrs. Cross” version of me. Elegant, poised, gentle, and understanding. But back in high school, I was notoriously untouchable. Even the school bullies called me “Boss.” Because I had no family to back me up, I had nothing to lose. If anyone bullied me, I fought back with everything I had. I didn’t care if I got hurt. By messing with me, she had kicked a steel plate. I cleaned out the villa, handed the keys to a realtor, and told him to sell it as fast as possible. That same day, I moved back into the old house. I never knew my father. My mom had me out of wedlock, and she never spoke a word about him. But that didn’t stop her from loving me. She was the best mom in the world. When I was little, surrounded by my mom and grandparents’ love, I thought I was the luckiest kid alive. Later, my grandparents passed away. Then, my mom left me too. While cleaning out my mom’s belongings, I found a stash of heavy anti-depressants. 10 That was when I realized she had been battling severe depression for years. The neighbors always whispered that I was an illegitimate child. They called my mom a shameless homewrecker who got knocked up by a rich old man and abandoned. When I was little, I didn’t understand what they meant. My mom would just cover my ears, take me home, and make me my favorite clam chowder. “Bastard” and “homewrecker” didn’t sound like good words. I asked my mom, “Am I a bad kid?” She gently wiped my face: “Our Harper is the best, best, best kid in the whole world!” When she was alive, she shielded me from every storm. Knowing how much pain she endured before she died, I actually felt a strange sense of relief at her passing. She was free, wasn’t she? Thankfully, I had a little savings. The house my grandparents left and my mom’s house were both under my name. They bought them early when prices were low, and they were in prime downtown locations, perfect for renting. That was how I ended up renting a unit to Declan and his mother, which started this whole story. I shook my head. Ever since the divorce, this was the first time I had actively thought about him. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Maybe when you accumulate enough disappointment, you just go numb. I cleaned up both properties. I didn’t hire a cleaner. I just wanted to do physical labor to empty my mind. I wanted to open a high-end restaurant, and there were a lot of places I needed to spend money. I planned to rent one of the units out. I checked online and saw that rent in this downtown area had gone up significantly. That was the first piece of good news I’d had in a while. When your body is exhausted, your brain doesn’t have the energy to dwell on unhappy things. I slept from 2:00 PM straight through to 8:00 AM the next day. When I checked my phone, I saw a text from Asher: [Do you have time tomorrow to come to the hospital and check on my dad?] I smacked my forehead. Crap. I promised him I’d help, and I completely forgot. I quickly replied: [I’m free.] I went online and ordered some premium beef ribs and wild rice. The old man loved my beef and wild rice soup. I decided to make him a batch. Once it was done, I texted Asher, asking which hospital his dad was in. He called me directly, saying two words: “Come downstairs.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418543”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At a friends’ gathering, my bestie forwarded me a post: [How do you get a girlfriend of ten years to initiate a breakup?] I cursed the scumbag in my head and clicked on it. The author of the post was my boyfriend. 1 Staring at the title, the author’s username, and the profile picture, my mind went completely blank. My first reaction: my best friend sent this to the wrong person. With trembling hands, I scrolled to the very top and started reading word by word. But the more I read, the more my heart sank. The post was incredibly detailed. So detailed that every little thing was described perfectly. Making it impossible for me not to believe it. The post started by talking about how hard he pursued me, the excitement and beauty of finally winning me over. Then it talked about when I bombed my SATs and didn’t get into my dream school. He stayed with me, secretly applying to a college near mine. When he was doing his senior thesis and working across two different cities, we accumulated over four hundred round-trip Greyhound and Amtrak ticket stubs. Back then, maybe because of love, he just wanted to hold me in his hands. He never felt it was a burden. Even my occasional bad moods were easily noticed by him. He’d lose his appetite and sleep, buy an overnight ticket, and ride 12 hours just to see me. It was like he had endless energy and love. But I don’t know when it started, he got bored. Yet, because I almost died saving him from a car accident, leaving one of my arms half-ruined and unable to lift heavy things… He was afraid of being called a monster. He didn’t want to be the one to bring up the breakup. But he truly couldn’t stand being with me anymore. He grew more and more repulsed by my touch, annoyed by anything related to me. Sometimes, just hearing my voice… …made him inexplicably irritated and angry. At his worst, he even wanted to scream at me, “Why don’t you just go die?” 2 I don’t know how I finished reading that post. Or how I scrolled down to the comments. Many commenters said that in these situations, the guy usually has someone else in his heart. So the current girlfriend becomes a stumbling block to his new romance, making everything she does annoying. He didn’t reply to them. But he “liked” one specific comment: [Bro, I feel you. I wanted to break up with my GF of three years, but she was a total idiot. Not only did she miss all my hints, she loved me so much she lost all her self-respect. It made me more and more disgusted. I couldn’t even stop myself from wanting to cheat.] I don’t know if he liked it to agree that I was an idiot making him disgusted, or to agree that he wanted to cheat. “Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Someone across from me asked. Caleb, who had been looking at his phone, looked up when he heard that. He frowned first, then pulled a tissue to wipe my tears, but his voice was impatient: “We’re just out for drinks, why are you crying?” A female friend at the table started teasing: “After all these years, Caleb and Maya’s relationship is still so solid. Honestly, every time I run into a jerk, just thinking about you two gives me the courage to believe in love again.” In the past, hearing this would make my heart feel as sweet as honey. But right now, I felt so suffocated I could barely breathe. My mind was filled with the contents of that post. I turned my head and looked at Caleb. He was always like this before. Around outsiders, he always spoke to me with a hint of impatience. But his actions never slacked off. So I never thought anything of it. Because compared to guys online who are all talk and no action… I thought Caleb was so much better. I even thought of it as a playful little dynamic between us. But I never expected that his impatience was real. It was so real he wanted me dead. Or, did he really fall for someone else and cheat? 3 On the drive back, I was unusually quiet. Normally, when we were together, I couldn’t help but share every little detail of my life, while he usually just grunted in response. Sometimes, if I talked too much, he’d pinch my lips shut: “Are you annoying or what? Yapping away. Can you shut up?” But I’d just bite his finger: “No.” Then I’d look at him with a bright smile. Even if his attitude was cold, because we had sacrificed so much for each other, I never overthought it. I don’t know where the problem started. Was he just purely bored of me? Or was there really a third person between us? Even after we got home, I remained exceptionally silent. If it were before, he would have definitely noticed something was wrong and asked me why. But today, he just looked relieved. He tossed out a casual, “I’m gonna play some games. Go to sleep first.” It was as if he didn’t want to spend another second with me. Staring at his closed study door, when I went to take a shower, I finally broke down and cried on the floor. Ten years of history. In those ten years, I imagined countless scenarios where he might break up with me. When I bombed my exams and he did amazingly, getting into a top-tier university. When we graduated and did long-distance, separated by over a thousand miles. But the only scenario I never imagined was this: when I loved him so much that I thought our relationship was unbreakable, that we could spend the rest of our lives together… he got bored. I don’t know if he was moving too fast, or if my footsteps were too slow to keep up with his rhythm. We had obviously made it through the hardest times. Just when I thought we were till death do us part, he was sick of me. 4 I don’t know how long I cried in the bathroom. When I came out, his study door wasn’t shut tight, and I heard his faint laughter. It sounded like he was coaxing someone. I pushed the door open, and he didn’t even notice. It made me think of the comment he liked. I stood at the door for a moment, then went out and sat on the couch, waiting for him. During that time, I thought a lot. I wondered if I had done anything wrong recently. I wondered when he started getting sick of me. I thought about his recent unusual behavior. But after thinking and thinking, I only had one question: If he really fell in love with someone else, what should I do? He gamed until midnight before coming out. When he walked out, he still had a smile on his face that he couldn’t hide. But when he saw me sitting on the couch, the smile vanished instantly. He frowned, almost out of habit: “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I looked at him. “Caleb, let’s talk.” “It’s so late. What is there to talk about? Haven’t you talked enough from morning till night? Can’t you let me sleep early?” After he said that, he headed for the bedroom. My eyes turned red. I didn’t even know how I convinced myself before that he just had a mean mouth, that we had been together so long we didn’t need a filter. And that deep down, he truly loved me. Just as he was about to step into the room, I couldn’t hold back the question I’d been dying to ask since reading that post. “Caleb, do you like someone else?” Caleb’s face changed immediately: “I didn’t spend time with you while I was gaming, so you suspect I like someone else? Does this mean next time I go on a business trip, in your eyes, I’m going to a hotel with another woman? Maya, do I not even deserve an ounce of personal space now? Do I have to guard you 24/7?” It was as if every extra word I said was me being unreasonable and trying to strip away his personal space. He aggressively blocked everything I was about to say next. Caleb went into the room, grabbed his pillow, and walked back out. “I’m sleeping in the study tonight.” He really didn’t care about my feelings at all anymore. Just two years ago, he was so distressed because we were doing long-distance. The night my health failed and I passed out, almost not making it to the ER in time, he cried his eyes out. When I woke up, he held me so tight, wishing he could merge me into his own body. He said, trembling, “Do you know you scared me to death just now?” Then he made a firm decision to give up his career promotion just to be with me. A Caleb who loved me that much. How could he suddenly stop loving me right when I finally dropped everything to run to him? I sat on the couch. I couldn’t help but open his post again, reading the contents over and over, along with the reply he liked. My eyes burned unbearably. Tears fell drop by drop, soaking the screen. I wanted to get up, go to the study, lay everything out, and ask him clearly if he liked someone else. But I was too afraid to hear his harsh words again. So I sat on the couch the entire night. 5 Early the next morning, afraid that my bloodshot eyes would make him even more impatient, I washed my face before he woke up. When Caleb woke up, my face was covered in water droplets. I looked visibly terrible. But he didn’t see it. After getting ready, he just left the house. Only then did I realize that we hadn’t eaten breakfast together in almost a month. When I went to work, a coworker noticed I looked terrible right away: “What’s wrong? Have you been crying? Why are your eyes so puffy?” Even a coworker would care enough to ask, but Caleb remained completely indifferent. I forced a smile, my voice hoarse: “I’m fine.” At noon, my manager told me I had to go on a business trip. I opened iMessage. Looking at Caleb’s profile picture, my heart felt like it was being brutally squeezed. It hurt. It took me a long time, deleting and retyping, to send him a text saying I was going out of town. He replied very late with just one word: [Oh.] Looking at that word, my feelings were incredibly complicated. I couldn’t help but scroll through our chat history from the past few weeks. That’s when I realized. Most of the time, I was the one sending him messages, and he would take forever to send a dismissive reply. But because over the years, he had always put me first at every major crossroads in life… I naturally assumed my place in his heart was unshakeable, subconsciously finding excuses for him. But during the times he wasn’t replying to me, wasn’t chatting with me… was he chatting with someone else? Was it the little girl he was coaxing last night? 6 During my three-day trip, I didn’t contact Caleb, and as expected, he didn’t contact me either. Even though I anticipated it, the cycle of expectation and disappointment washed over me like a tidal wave every single day. Late at night, unable to sleep, I scrolled through his social media over and over, looking for clues. Then, my gaze locked onto a photo and stopped abruptly. It was a photo from their company’s holiday party last year. In the photo, he was sitting very close to a girl. The way he looked at her… it carried an indescribable gentleness. The reason this photo caught my attention was because I knew the girl too. From the few times we met, I could tell she treated Caleb differently. Did Caleb fall for her? Or was I just overthinking? I was afraid of being crushed by this feeling. I didn’t want to live in endless speculation. Eventually, I caught an early flight and returned home ahead of schedule. I had been with Caleb for ten years. In those ten years, our emotions were tangled too deeply. It wasn’t just love anymore; it was compromises and sacrifices. Even if we truly couldn’t go on, as long as there wasn’t a third person involved… I hoped we could part ways decently, without regrets, after giving it our best try. But I never expected that the moment I pushed the door open, I would find a pair of women’s heels in the entryway. When I saw those heels, my heart hit rock bottom. The blood in my veins ran cold. The very first thought that popped into my head was: [Caleb really cheated.] These past few days, the problem I dreaded thinking about the most, the one I feared the most, smashed into me so abruptly. For a moment, I felt like the whole world went silent. I stared blankly at the shoes for a long time before my weak legs carried me inside. Before I even saw anyone, I heard a soft, feminine voice: “Caleb, which towel should I use?” “The light-colored one.” As soon as the words fell, I saw Caleb sitting on the couch. He had obviously just showered, his mind miles away as he stared at his phone. What exactly had just happened between them? Just the thought alone was enough to break me. Soon after, the girl walked out of the bathroom wearing my pajamas. She was about to run to Caleb but froze when she made eye contact with me. “Maya?” I recognized her. It was the girl from Caleb’s photo, Lily. Only then did Caleb notice me. He froze too, but his first instinct wasn’t to explain. It was to interrogate me. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me?” In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. He truly didn’t love me anymore. 7 I didn’t say a word. I went to the bedroom to pack my bags. It wasn’t until I reached the bedroom that I realized my entire body was shaking. I opened the closet and started pulling out my clothes. But my vision was so blurry I couldn’t see a thing. I tugged at the clothes several times without getting them off the hangers. When I finally pulled one out, I realized it was Caleb’s. I don’t know why, but even the clothes were working against me. Caleb followed me into the room. Seeing my actions, his annoyance seemed to peak: “What are you doing?” My tears fell immediately. But I didn’t want him to see me looking so pathetic, nor did I want to embarrass myself further. I controlled my emotions, turned to look at him, and even gave him a slight smile: “What does it look like? Should I stay here and watch you guys hook up?” “Maya, what the hell are you doing? Suspecting me of cheating? If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say it! You don’t have to constantly accuse me of cheating, and you definitely don’t have to ruin an innocent girl’s reputation!” It was as if, from the very beginning, I was the one who wanted to break up. The funny thing was, at a time like this, he was interrogating me, blaming me for everything, yet he still remembered to defend Lily’s reputation. Lily, standing to the side, looked terrified. She glanced at Caleb. Caleb looked furious. Lily looked timid, the perfect picture to trigger a man’s protective instincts: “Maya, my clothes just got soaked with coffee, and since I was in the area, Caleb brought me up to take a quick shower. We didn’t do anything.” I ignored her. My heart was broken beyond repair. I just packed my things mechanically. I don’t know when Lily left. When I finished packing, I looked at Caleb: “Let’s break up.” If I had any thoughts of salvaging this before, in this moment, they were completely gone. Caleb stared at me coldly: “Maya, you’ve been putting on this whole act just for this moment, haven’t you? If you have someone else, just say it. Why go through all this trouble? Let me make this clear: if you walk out that door today, we are truly over.” It was hilarious. He was clearly the one who wanted to break up, but he twisted it to make it look like I was the one cheating. He knew exactly how much I loved him. I don’t know what our ten years meant to him. And I don’t know why someone who used to love me so much could suddenly stop. 8 I couldn’t say a word. There was no way Caleb couldn’t tell Lily liked him. He brought Lily home while I wasn’t around. Whether anything happened between them or not didn’t matter anymore. In the end, I didn’t finish packing all my things. It had only been two years since we moved in together, treating this place as our home, and I had bought too much stuff. Packing for half an hour barely scratched the surface. But every minute I stayed in this place made my emotions crumble. I grabbed a few random things, wiped my tears, and walked right out the door. But the moment I stepped out, Caleb sent me a text: [Maya, since you’re so determined to break up, I’ll have someone pack your things and mail them to you. Also, once we break up, don’t even think about getting back together.] Looking at the text, my tears smashed against my phone screen. I reached out my finger, typing and deleting a few times, before finally typing out everything I wanted to say: [No need. Just burn them.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418542”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For our third wedding anniversary, my husband Dominic gave me an unforgettable gift: an admission letter to The Rosewood Institute. It was a place notorious among the city’s elite, a glorified black site where high society sent disobedient women to be broken and tamed. “You have deeply disappointed me, Vivienne,” Dominic said, pinching my chin, his eyes twisted with disgust. “For three years you’ve tried to copy Audrey, yet you still lack even a fraction of her grace.” Audrey was his soft, gentle ideal. I was the untamed one he was determined to break. He was sending me away to learn how to be a good girl. “Go and be rehabilitated. Once you learn to act like her, I might consider bringing you back.” Two large bodyguards dragged me away in the dark. The instructors were brutal, using electric shocks, ice water cages, and solitary confinement to grind down my pride and mold me into a docile substitute. Two weeks later, Dominic came to inspect my progress. I was covered in deep bruises, my eyes hollow. He looked thrilled. “Have you learned your mistakes? Are you a good girl now?” I looked at his handsome face and let out a dry, rasping laugh, tears streaming down my dirty cheeks. “Dominic, you really do look just like him.” He froze, his smug smile faltering. I tilted my head, locking eyes with him. “Who do you think you are? You’re nothing but a cheap stand-in I bought to replace Rowan.” 1 For our third wedding anniversary, my husband Dominic gave me an unforgettable gift. An admission letter to The Rosewood Institute. The place was notorious among the city’s elite. It was a glorified black site, a dumping ground used by high society to break and domesticate disobedient women. “You have profoundly disappointed me, Vivienne.” Dominic pinched my chin between two fingers, applying enough pressure to bruise the bone. His face, so strikingly familiar to the man I actually loved, was twisted with undisguised disgust. “You’ve been imitating Audrey for three years, and you haven’t managed to learn a single ounce of her gentle grace.” He sneered, his eyes raking over me. “Look at yourself. You don’t possess a shred of elegance. You act like an absolute lunatic.” His precious first love, Audrey, was currently tucked against his side. She was wearing a custom haute couture gown I had ordered just last month. Her face was a perfect mask of delicate concern and manufactured pity. “Dominic, please don’t be so harsh with Vivienne. She’s just going through a rough patch.” She turned her big, doe-like eyes to me, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Please don’t be mad at him, Vivienne. He’s doing this for your own good. The instructors at Rosewood are highly professional. Once they teach you proper etiquette, he’ll bring you right back home.” “Exactly,” Dominic agreed. The contempt in his voice felt like a serrated knife. “Go there and get thoroughly rehabilitated. Once you’ve learned to be as sweet and obedient as Audrey, I might consider letting you back into my house.” I watched the two of them perform their little duet. It felt like watching a terribly written soap opera. Sweet and obedient? When he pulled me out of the abyss three years ago, he was drawn to my wild, untamable nature. He liked me because my absolute refusal to bow to anyone reminded him of my dead fiancé. And now, he wanted to personally grind those sharp edges into dust. “I’m not going.” I spat the words out, syllable by syllable. A flash of triumphant glee sparked in Audrey’s eyes, but she instantly buried it under a watery, trembling pout. “Vivienne, how can you be so incredibly selfish? Dominic has poured so much time and energy into you. Can’t you just be considerate for once?” “Considerate?” I let out a dry, barking laugh. “You want me to be considerate of the fact that he turned our wedding anniversary into a farewell party for a concentration camp?” “Vivienne!” Dominic roared, his patience entirely exhausted. “It seems you really won’t shed a tear until you see the coffin.” He snapped his fingers. Two massive bodyguards dressed in black stepped out of the shadows, grabbing me roughly by both arms. “Dominic, no!” Audrey made a pathetic, half-hearted gesture to stop them. “She’s going to get hurt!” Dominic pulled her securely into his chest. His movements were sickeningly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence he was inflicting on me. “Audrey, you are simply too kindhearted. You can’t show mercy to a woman who doesn’t know her place.” He looked at me like I was a broken appliance waiting for the scrapyard. “Take her inside. Tell the Headmistress to use the strictest methods available. I want her completely stripped down and rebuilt.” I didn’t waste my energy struggling. Because I knew something he didn’t. The moment he made the decision to lock me in that hellhole, our three-year game of playing pretend was officially over. It was time for the hunter and the prey to switch places. 2 The heavy iron gates of The Rosewood Institute slammed shut behind me, completely cutting off the afternoon sun. Waiting for me in the dim corridor was a middle-aged woman with a face carved from stone. She was the senior disciplinarian. Everyone just called her The Matron. “Number 037. Welcome to your rebirth.” In this place, names did not exist. You were nothing but a barcode. My rehabilitation started the very second my boots touched the floor. Lesson one. Walking. A rigid wooden crossboard was strapped tightly against my spine. The side pressing into my skin was lined with sharp, rusted tacks. If I slouched even a fraction of an inch, the metal bit deep into my flesh. The Matron’s voice hovered right by my ear. “Rule number one. A lady’s spine is always perfectly straight.” My heel caught on the uneven floorboards and I stumbled. A sharp, agonizing sting ripped across my shoulder blades as the tacks dug in. Lesson two. Dining. A bowl of gray, unidentifiable sludge was tossed onto the concrete floor. Right next to it sat a rusted metal dog bowl. “Rule number two. A lady’s appetite is always under absolute control.” The Matron tapped the toe of her sensible leather shoe against the dog bowl. “Eat it from the floor. Or starve.” I hadn’t eaten a single thing in three days. My stomach was a twisting knot of pure acid, but I just knelt there, locking eyes with her in dead silence. My defiance seemed to flick a switch in her brain. “It appears you need a session in the Isolation Tank to reflect on your attitude.” The Isolation Tank was a pitch-black, freezing water cell barely the size of a closet. The filthy, ice-cold water reached right up to my collarbones. Unknown things brushed against my legs in the darkness, biting at my raw skin. I was locked in that freezing void for twelve straight hours. At first, the violent shivering tore my muscles apart. By the end, there was nothing but a cold, heavy numbness. They wanted to grind down my pride. They wanted to shatter my psychology until I was nothing but an empty, obedient puppet. Sensory deprivation, starvation, calculated humiliation. The kind of psychological torture you only ever read about in classified military dossiers became my daily routine. Fifteen days. I honestly don’t know how I survived it. When they finally dragged me out of solitary confinement to prepare for Dominic’s grand inspection, I caught a glimpse of myself in a cracked mirror. My skin was sallow, my cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and my body was painted in a tapestry of deep purple bruises. I barely recognized the ghost staring back at me. The Matron looked at my hollow eyes and nodded in deep satisfaction. “Number 037, remember your place in the world. You are nothing but a shadow of Miss Audrey. A cheap replacement. Your only value on this earth is to mirror her perfection.” She grabbed my chin. “When Mr. Dominic arrives, do you know exactly how to behave?” I forced the corners of my cracked lips upward into a stiff, dead smile. “I know.” I was going to give him exactly what he came to see. And then I was going to make him pay the most catastrophic price imaginable for his blinding arrogance. 3 When Dominic walked into the room, I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the filthy floorboards with a ragged piece of cloth. He stood directly in front of me, looking down from his ivory tower. He was wearing a bespoke charcoal suit, his Italian leather oxfords polished to a mirror shine. He looked utterly alien standing in this dungeon of filth and despair. I hadn’t seen him in two weeks. He looked a little thinner, a faint trace of exhaustion resting between his eyebrows. But the second he saw me kneeling at his feet like a broken dog, that exhaustion melted into a sickening wave of pure euphoria. “Have you finally realized your mistakes?” His voice was dripping with the fake mercy of a benevolent god. “Have you learned how to be a good girl?” I stopped scrubbing. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, I raised my head. I looked at his face. That perfectly structured face I had spent three years and millions of dollars polishing into the masterpiece it was today. And then, I smiled. I smiled until tears spilled over my eyelashes. I smiled until my bruised ribs shook. “Dominic.” My voice was a dry, rasping whisper, yet it rang through the silent room with terrifying clarity. “You really do look just like him.” Dominic’s eyebrows pulled together. He completely missed the context of my words. “What kind of lunatic nonsense are you talking about?” “Nonsense?” I pressed my raw palms against the wet floor and pushed myself up, swaying slightly before locking my knees. I took a slow, deliberate step toward him. I was dressed in filthy rags. I was covered in wounds. Yet the sheer, suffocating gravity rolling off my body forced him to take an involuntary step backward. I leaned in, my lips hovering mere inches from his ear, and whispered. “Who exactly do you think you are?” “Dominic, you are nothing but a prop. A fake, pathetic counterfeit I bought to stand in for Rowan.” Boom. I watched the blood drain from his face in a single, violent rush. His untouchable composure, his arrogant control, completely vaporized in the span of a heartbeat. “What… what did you just say?” I ignored his stuttering shock, letting my mind drift back to the beginning. Three years ago, I found him bleeding out in a filthy alleyway. He had been beaten half to death by loan sharks, curled up next to a dumpster like a stray mutt. And I chose him. Right there on the spot. Not because he had some hidden genius. Not because he was special. I chose him because when he turned his bruised face to drink from a dirty puddle, the stubborn line of his jaw looked exactly like my Rowan. I dragged him out of the gutter. I paid off his debts. I funneled endless resources and capital into his hands, bought him a company, and crowned him as the glittering CEO everyone worshiped today. I dressed him in Rowan’s favorite suits. I made him wear Rowan’s cologne. I bought him Rowan’s dream sports car. I practically held his hand in the boardroom, teaching him how to be as ruthless as Rowan, how to smile over a glass of whiskey with Rowan’s exact effortless charm. He was a fast learner. And a greedy one. He genuinely believed I was just a desperate, lovesick woman who worshipped the ground he walked on. He thought he was the shining sun of my universe. It was hilariously pathetic. He was just a tool I used to look at a dead man’s ghost. He was a low-budget knockoff. 4 “Impossible!” Dominic snapped out of his shock, letting out a raw, cornered roar. “Vivienne, you have lost your damn mind! You’re just spinning these psychotic lies to get back at me!” He reached out, trying to grab my collarbone, but I casually stepped out of his reach. “Lies?” I tilted my head, my smile turning sharp and vicious. “Then tell me, Dominic. Three years ago, who dragged your bleeding carcass away from the cartel’s debt collectors?” “Who handed you your first ten million in startup capital when your own family kicked you out onto the street with absolutely nothing?” “And who fed you every corporate playbook, destroyed your rivals, and physically placed you on that CEO throne?” With every question I fired at him, his face grew a shade paler. Those were the darkest, most humiliating secrets of his past. The dirty stains he could never wash off his tailored suits. He always convinced himself I did all of that because I was blinded by devotion. “You did it because you loved me!” he barked, desperately trying to glue his shattered ego back together. “Love?” The word tasted like ash in my mouth. “Dominic, do you honestly think you’re worthy of that word?” “I was just feeding a stray dog. A dog that happened to share a passing resemblance to someone I actually cared about.” “But now, the dog has forgotten its place and is trying to bite the hand that holds the leash.” My words were dipped in venom, slicing his fragile masculinity into ribbons. “Shut your mouth!” He completely lost his mind, raising his hand to strike me across the face. But his wrist was caught mid-air. Not by me. By Audrey, who had just hurried into the room. She was dressed immaculately, as always. The second she saw the tension, she threw herself against Dominic’s chest, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. “Dominic, stop! Please calm down! Can’t you see her mind is completely broken from the stress? Don’t sink to her level!” She turned to me, playing the heartbroken saint perfectly. “Vivienne, how could you say such vile things? Dominic has given you the world, and you repay him with these toxic delusions?” “Look at that. The dog got backed into a corner and called its little lapdog for backup.” I completely ignored Audrey’s theatrical performance. My eyes stayed dead locked on Dominic. I reached into the pocket of my ragged uniform and pulled out the crumpled admission letter to The Rosewood Institute. While Dominic and Audrey stared at me in absolute bewilderment, I slowly, methodically tore the heavy parchment into tiny, jagged pieces. “Dominic, let me make this official.” “Our little game of dress-up is over.” I reached into the hidden lining of my bra and pulled out a microscopic burner phone I had smuggled in on day one. Right in front of his face, I dialed a number. The line connected almost instantly. “Uncle Robert.” My voice shed the hoarse weakness of a victim and returned to its natural, commanding absolute zero. “It’s time to put the stray down.” “Freeze every single asset under Dominic’s name. Liquidate his accounts and forcefully recall all executive shares of Zenith Corporation.” “You have exactly thirty minutes.” “Drag him out of the clouds and throw him right back into the filthy sewer where I found him.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418541”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 It was past ten at night by the time I finally left the library and drove home. As I turned onto Oakwood Avenue, a narrow one-way street, headlights blinded me. A sleek black Porsche was barreling straight toward me, going the wrong way. I laid on the horn, hoping the driver would realize his mistake and back up. Instead of stopping, the Porsche’s engine roared. The driver hit the gas and aggressively aimed his grille right at my hood. Blinded by his high beams, I yanked the steering wheel hard, slamming on the brakes. My tires screeched, stopping barely two feet from his bumper. Before I could even catch my breath, the Porsche’s door flew open. A heavyset, bald man stepped out. He was gripping a heavy steel crowbar. “You blind, stupid bitch! Do you have eyes in your thick skull? Learn how to drive!” Panic spiked in my chest. He was completely unhinged. In my absolute terror, my foot slipped off the brake and hovered over the gas pedal. … “Honk at me again! I dare you! Do you not see the badge on this car?” He marched up to my beat-up Honda Civic and kicked the side panel violently. With one swift motion, he swung the crowbar and smashed my side mirror clean off. “A piece of trash Honda trying to block my road. I could total ten of these junkers and pay for them in cash!” His face, heavy with fat and flushed bright red, pressed against my driver-side window. He pounded his meaty fist against the glass. “Back the hell up! I swear to God, I absolutely hate entitled female drivers like you.” He kicked my door again. The deafening thud made my entire body violently shake. Tears of frustration and fear welled up in my eyes. “You’re the one who isn’t looking! Can’t you see the giant one-way sign?” I shouted through the glass. “You were driving on the wrong side! I honked to warn you, and you just flashed your brights and sped up!” “If I hadn’t slammed on the brakes, someone could have died!” “Die then! It’s what you deserve!” The bald guy hammered his fists against my window a few more times. Still unsatisfied, he reached into his car, grabbed a steaming cup of takeout coffee, and hurled it directly at my windshield. The sticky brown liquid smeared across the glass. I flicked on the wipers and fumbled for my phone to call 911. The second the dispatcher picked up, the glass shattered. The steel crowbar pierced straight through the driver’s side window, stabbing brutally into my stomach. Agony ripped through me. I curled inward, dropping my phone onto the floorboard. Choking back a sob, I threw my arms over my head and screamed my location at the fallen phone. “Oakwood Avenue! Third traffic light on the one-way strip. A Porsche driver is attacking me. His plates are…” The man kept swinging. The windshield spiderwebbed into a million jagged lines. The hood of my car was a landscape of deep, brutal dents. Shards of glass sliced into my palms. The sight of my own warm blood made my mind go completely blank. When I looked up and saw him raising the heavy steel bar for another swing at my face, pure survival instinct took over. I needed to reverse. I needed to get away. But my trembling foot missed. I slammed down on the gas. The Honda lurched forward with explosive force. The bald man, trapped right between the two bumpers, was crushed against his own Porsche. A blood-curdling shriek ripped from his throat. It sounded like an animal being slaughtered. “My legs! My fucking legs are broken!” He collapsed onto the asphalt, his previous arrogance entirely vaporized. A crowd had already gathered. An older gentleman standing on the sidewalk started clapping. “Good! You served him right. God, that felt good to watch.” A younger woman rushed over to my window. “Don’t be scared, honey. I’ll testify for you. He attacked you first.” She held up her smartphone. “I got the whole thing on video. He was going the wrong way, running his filthy mouth, and smashing up your car for no reason.” As the adrenaline began to fade, a repulsive stench hit my nose. I recoiled in disgust. “He reeks of liquor.” The woman with the phone pointed at the groaning man on the pavement. “You can smell him from a mile away. He’s completely wasted, throwing a drunken tantrum and treating you like an easy target.” When the cops arrived, the woman practically shoved her phone into the officer’s hands. With the video evidence, the situation was crystal clear. An ambulance hauled the drunk driver away, and the police arranged a ride for me to the nearest ER. On my second day in the hospital, the bald man’s wife called me. She introduced herself as Brenda. She sounded soft-spoken and reasonable, asking if she could visit. Assuming she wanted to apologize, I agreed. She walked into my room carrying a basket of expensive-looking apples. She immediately grabbed my hand, her face a picture of exaggerated sympathy. “Sweetheart, how are you feeling? Seeing you hurt just breaks my heart.” Her warm attitude made me drop my guard a little. I shook my head. “The doctors said the glass didn’t cut too deep. I’ll be discharged in a couple of days.” “Oh, thank God. Since you’re not badly hurt, let’s just get this settlement agreement signed right now.” Her tone shifted slightly, growing a bit more urgent. “My husband Boris is the sole provider for our family. He brings in about eight grand a month.” “Now that both of his legs are shattered, our rent, utilities, and the boys’ private school tuition are all depending on this settlement money.” “Settlement money?” I stared at her, thoroughly confused, and looked down at the document she pushed onto my lap. The very first clause was highlighted. Party A voluntarily agrees to compensate Party B with the sum of one million dollars, exclusive of hospital fees. Under Party B was the name Boris. 2 “A million dollars?” My eyes nearly popped out of my skull. Brenda just waved her hand dismissively. “Honestly, a million is cutting you a deal.” “You broke my husband’s legs. You owe us a decade’s worth of living expenses for my entire family.” She leaned closer. “Considering you’re just a college student, I’m taking pity on you and only asking for a million. Otherwise, the tuition for my kids alone would be way more than that.” As if worried I wouldn’t believe her, she whipped out a crumpled report card. “Both of my boys are Ivy League material. They’ll definitely be getting full rides to the best universities in the world.” “Ivy League? With a 2.0 GPA? Lady, are you drunk too?” I shoved the paper filled with red ink away, offering her a cold, empty smile. “Your husband drove drunk. He drove the wrong way. He publicly demolished my car while bragging that he was rich enough to smash ten of my Hondas and pay for them in cash.” “He was acting like he owned the universe when he was swinging that crowbar. And now you’re sitting here trying to play the sympathy card, expecting me to fund your entire family for the rest of your lives?” Wow. Birds of a feather really do flock together. I grabbed the basket of apples, ready to kick her out. As I picked it up, a vile, rotting stench hit me. Beneath the perfectly polished apples on the top layer, the rest of the fruit was entirely rotten. Some were literally crawling with maggots. “It’s just a trashy little Honda! Why are you being so vindictive?!” Brenda’s polite mask completely slipped. “My man just put a few dents in your car. You crippled him! You turned him into a useless cripple stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life!” Seeing that I wasn’t going to sign, she forcefully shoved a pen into my palm. She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, trying to physically force my hand down onto the signature line. Her violent pulling yanked the IV needle in the back of my hand. Blood immediately started backing up into the tube. I slammed my free hand down on the nurse call button. The pen dragged across the paper, leaving a jagged streak of ink. I grabbed the basket of rotting apples and slammed it directly into Brenda’s face. I ripped her precious settlement agreement in half right in front of her. “Take your garbage paper and get the hell out of my room.” “With the repulsive way you people act, I wouldn’t settle with you if you paid me a million dollars.” “You broke his legs! That million dollars is a debt you owe my family!” The bruised, mushy apples had completely ruined Brenda’s makeup. She frantically wiped her face, getting mashed fruit and wriggling maggots all over her hands. The nurses rushed in with hospital security. They grabbed Brenda, who was still trying to lunge at my bed, and practically dragged her out into the hallway. “Fine, you little bitch! You want to do this the hard way? I’ll show you the hard way!” My phone buzzed with a text from her number. I immediately blocked it and grit my teeth while the nurse reinserted my IV. After I was discharged, I went to the impound lot to take one last look at my totaled car. It was a gift from my dad for my eighteenth birthday. The day I got my license, this was the car I drove. I ran my fingers over the deep, brutal dents in the hood. I uploaded the dashcam footage to my cloud drive, untied the lucky charm hanging from the rearview mirror, and headed to the police precinct to give my official statement. I figured it would just be a formality. The evidence was rock solid. But the moment I walked into the precinct, I saw Brenda. Her frizzy hair was a mess. She slammed a USB drive onto the front desk, her nose pointed up in the air with unbearable arrogance. “Watch this. Ironclad proof. That little tramp provoked him first.” Her so-called ironclad proof was a deepfake video. On the monitor, “my” face was twisted in a grotesque sneer. “I” was violently pounding on the Porsche’s window, revealing a mouth full of rotting yellow teeth. “I can total ten of your junk cars and pay for them in cash,” the fake version of me spat. The AI rendering was terrible. The facial proportions were completely warped. Only someone as delusional as Brenda would think her amateur editing skills were flawless enough to fool law enforcement. “See?! My husband drives a Porsche! A custom paint job alone costs thousands! This psycho woman was trying to smash his windows in. My husband was simply defending himself with that crowbar.” She even pulled out her phone, showing the officer a chat log with some “expert” online lawyer, trying to pressure them. “The legal experts online already confirmed this is textbook self-defense. That bitch deserved to get her car smashed.” She shot me a venomous glare, covering her nose like I was a walking biohazard. The disgust on her face was theatrical. “She reeks of cheap perfume. Just look at the way she dresses. Does that look like a decent girl to you?” “She’s a cheap piece of trash turning tricks. She crippled my husband. If you cops don’t lock her up immediately, what, are you waiting to become her regular customers?” 3 “Ma’am, we deal in actual evidence here. Our tech department ran the video you submitted. It’s heavily altered. The original audio and actions belong to your husband, Boris.” The desk sergeant looked at her with pure exhaustion. “You submitted fabricated evidence, perjured yourself, and publicly slandered another citizen. We are officially placing you under arrest for criminal obstruction and defamation.” “Arrest me? On what grounds?!” The moment Brenda realized she was actually going to be detained, she lost her mind. She started sweeping everything off the precinct’s front desk, screaming at the top of her lungs. “That little whore definitely paid you off! You’re protecting a murderer! You’re bullying a helpless family! Does the law even exist in this country anymore?!” She grabbed a paper cup of water and threw it directly into an officer’s face. When two cops moved to restrain her, she threw herself onto the floor in a theatrical swoon. She threw herself down a little too hard, and the back of her head cracked against the tile floor, drawing a thin line of blood. The second she felt the blood, she started wailing, rolling around on the floor. “I demand to see the captain! I’m taking this to the supreme court!” Her tantrum was a well-oiled machine. It was obvious she had used this exact method to bully people into submission her entire life. Unfortunately for her, she was throwing her fit in the middle of a police precinct, directly under a 4K security camera. No amount of screaming was going to save her from the handcuffs. When two officers hauled her up by her armpits like a dead fish, Brenda actually looked confused. She genuinely seemed baffled that her foolproof strategy had finally landed her in jail. By the time reality set in, she was crying, begging them to believe that someone else gave her the video and she had no idea it was fake. The officer just twisted her arms behind her back. His voice was completely devoid of sympathy. “Too late for that. Enjoy your cell.” They hauled her off to the medical ward to check the cut on her head. I watched the chaotic mess left behind on the floor and sighed. “You might want to book her a psych evaluation while you’re at it.” “She seriously needs her head checked.” Brenda tried to play hardball and ended up deepfaking her way into a jail cell. Now, the son was paralyzed in a hospital bed, and the daughter-in-law was locked in county jail. Boris’s elderly parents panicked. They hired a legal proxy to meet with me, begging me to sign a letter of forgiveness so they could bail Brenda out. “They’re a hardworking family. Boris is in sales. He has to drink with clients to close deals. He just had a little too much that night.” “Brenda is busy with the kids, and Boris wanted to save a few bucks on an Uber. He thought the streets were empty and he knew the neighborhood well. It was just a momentary lapse in judgment.” The slick lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose, his tone deeply serious. “The family is willing to cover the damages to your vehicle. But they ask that you show some grace. Sign the settlement so Brenda can go home and care for her children. And please, drop the charges so Boris doesn’t get a permanent record. It could ruin the kids’ future college applications.” The lawyer was a smooth talker. He booked a table at a high-end steakhouse and ordered their signature dishes just to butter me up. But the moment he slid that exact same absurd settlement agreement across the table, I stood up from my chair. “They owe me for the car and my three days of medical bills regardless of any agreement.” “From start to finish, Boris is at fault. Why the hell should I pay the price for his stupidity?” “You saw the dashcam footage. He literally said I deserved to die. Losing his legs is karma. I am not paying a single cent.” “You’re being incredibly vicious for a young woman. You crushed his legs. Even just out of basic humanitarian decency…” The lawyer furrowed his brow, trying to shame me. I just laughed. “Humanitarian decency only applies to humans. Not rabid animals.” “Being this stubborn isn’t good for your health, kid.” The lawyer sighed heavily, slipping the paper back into his briefcase. He shook his head. “Boris is the golden boy of that family. You turned him into a cripple. Their resentment toward you is massive.” “You ruined their son’s life, and now you refuse to pay a dime. When the payback finally catches up to you, it’s going to cost you a lot more than a million dollars.” The payback arrived faster than I expected. After the incident, my dad called my college advisors to get me a temporary leave of absence. He wanted me to stay home until the legal drama officially concluded. “Boris’s family are the neighborhood bullies. Now that you’ve hurt him, they’re definitely going to come looking for trouble,” my dad warned me. “They already did. One of them is already in a cell.” My dad, Arthur, ran a very popular local deli. Weekends were packed, so I was helping out behind the counter. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the front door swing open. “Welcome! Menus are on the tables, or you can scan the QR code to order.” An elderly woman waddled in. Her face was heavy with loose flesh, a massive knock-off designer bag slung over her shoulder. Trailing behind her were two chubby boys waving plastic action figures around, violently smacking them together. They nearly knocked over a glass bottle of hot sauce on the nearest table. I quickly caught the bottle before it shattered. The old woman’s narrow, beady eyes locked onto me. She flipped aggressively through the menu before pointing a bony, wrinkled finger at my face. “Your sign outside says unlimited soup refills if we order a large bowl, right?” “Yes, ma’am. Free refills on the broth.” The old woman had a dark mole on the corner of her mouth. I remembered seeing the exact same mole on Boris’s face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418540”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel