For seven years, I was married to arms dealer Marcus Thorne. My artist’s hands learned to assemble guns and follow him through hell. In our seventh year, he became obsessed with a woman given to him as a business gift—pure, innocent, unlike anything in his bloody world. He built her a sanctuary away from his darkness. It all shattered when I found my status listed as “divorced” in public records. When I confronted him, Marcus calmly cleaned his gun. “Serena is choosing me. Name your price.” Enraged, I slapped Serena at their wedding. That night, my sick mother was strapped to an armored vehicle. “You shouldn’t have touched her,” Marcus said coldly. “This is your lesson.” I begged on the wet pavement, but the engine roared. My mother’s blood sprayed my face. Pain seized me—then blackness. I awoke back to the day I discovered the divorce. This time, I didn’t confront him. I booked a flight immediately. My only thought: take my mother and disappear where Marcus could never find us. … “Ma’am, the system shows your current marital status as divorced.” The clerk’s robotic voice yanked me back to the present. My eyes were wide with terror, the phantom scent of my mother’s blood still clinging to the inside of my nose. “When?” I asked, my voice a raw whisper. “August 29th.” The date hit me like a sledgehammer. August 29th. Our seventh wedding anniversary. That day, I’d filled our home with flowers and candles, cooked his favorite meal. I waited until the candles melted into puddles of wax and the roses drooped, but Marcus never came home. He’d been busy divorcing me. I clutched my papers and turned to leave, but a familiar black Bentley was parked at the entrance. In my previous life, I had charged at that car, screaming questions at him. To keep Serena from discovering our relationship, Marcus had smashed the butt of his gun into my jaw, fracturing it. The memory sent a jolt of fear through me. I ducked into the shadows of a nearby alcove. A moment later, the car door opened. Marcus Thorne, the imperious king of his own dark world, opened the passenger door like a chauffeur. He took off his trench coat and draped it gently over the woman’s shoulders, his movements impossibly tender. Serena, dressed in a simple white dress, looked serene and pure, like a jade statue of a goddess standing in the morning light. Marcus took her hand. “Are you sure you want to marry me, Mr. Thorne?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain. “Of course. I’ve been dreaming of this day. I’m the one who made you break your vows. It’s my responsibility to take care of you.” Serena’s delicate fingers drifted to her slightly rounded belly. “But I was just an ordinary woman from a cloister. I’m not worthy of someone like you. I’m not worthy of carrying your child. Maybe I should…” A possessive kiss cut her off. It was a long time before he pulled away. He cupped her face, his eyes overflowing with adoration. “Serena, no one in this world is more worthy of me than you. And only you are worthy to bear my children.” A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my own abdomen. I pressed my hand against it, tears blurring my vision. I waited until they had disappeared into the building before I stumbled away, my mind set. I took a cab to the hospital and scheduled an abortion. Lying on the examination table, the doctor looked at my ultrasound with a sigh. “Miss Hayes, your uterine wall is naturally thin. This might be the only child you’ll ever be able to have.” I stared at the ceiling, my voice as still and dead as a stagnant pond. “I’m divorced. This child shouldn’t exist.” The cold liquid of the anesthesia entered my veins, and my consciousness began to fade. In the haze, I saw Marcus, his ear pressed against my belly, listening for the baby’s kicks, laughing as he promised to teach our child how to customize a firearm. I saw him poring over books, searching for the perfect, auspicious name. I saw him holding me, promising to leave the blood and violence behind, to be a good father, to live a quiet life with me… And then, the final image burned itself into my mind: his face as he told Serena, “Only you are worthy to bear my children.” Two hours later, pale and drained, I walked into my mother’s hospital room. She was still in a coma, on a ventilator, but she was alive. Whole. Last time, I had gotten her killed. This time, I wouldn’t be so foolish. I used a private channel to arrange for her transfer to a secure facility. I went to the immigration office and filed the paperwork. In three days, when everything was finalized, I would be gone from Marcus’s world forever. As I stood in the rain, a sense of relief, lighter than any I’d felt in years, washed over me. I took a step forward, and three men in masks and hats lunged out of the downpour. Before I could react, the iron pipes in their hands whistled through the air. Pain exploded across my back, and I collapsed to my knees, the rain instantly turning red around me. I didn’t have to guess. They were Marcus’s enemies. I reached for my phone to call for help, but a pipe shattered it in my hand. Then the blows rained down, a merciless storm of metal on bone. Just then, the familiar Bentley glided past the end of the alley. It was Marcus’s car. “Marcus!” I screamed, using every last bit of my strength, struggling to get his attention. The car slowed. My heart hammered against my ribs. He saw me! But a second later, the Bentley accelerated, pulling away without a moment’s hesitation. Through the rain-streaked window, I saw Marcus raise a hand to cover Serena’s eyes. Of course. He couldn’t let his pure, innocent snow-white dove see such a bloody scene. The strength to call out again vanished. Agony ripped through me. Black spots danced in my vision, and the world faded into the coppery smell of my own blood. … When I opened my eyes, it was to the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. The door was ajar. I heard the voice of Marcus’s right-hand man. “Boss, what if she finds out about Miss Serena? If she starts digging, I don’t think we can keep it hidden.” Marcus stubbed out his cigar. His voice was cold. “That’s not your concern. Your only job is to protect Serena.” “She’s too… clean. She’s not like us.” “Amelia knows every dirty trick in the book. Serena is too simple; she wouldn’t stand a chance against her.” “If you have to, use her mother. That old woman is her only weakness. She’ll do anything to protect her.” My fingers clenched the bedsheet. I bit down on my lip, hard, the taste of blood flooding my mouth. Years ago, when he had proposed, he had knelt on one knee and promised, “Amelia, from now on, I’m here. No one will ever hurt you again.” The same protective instinct, the same promise. Just a different woman. The woman he once shielded was now the dangerous, dirty-tricks-playing villain of his story. Footsteps approached. I squeezed my eyes shut, and when I opened them again, they were a mask of indifference. “You’re awake.” Marcus walked to my bedside and tossed a file onto the sheets. “I had my men look into it. It was the Southeast Asian syndicate.” “This is a truce agreement. Sign it, and they’ve agreed to give up their share of the South American arms market.” Our eyes met. I couldn’t speak. I had nearly been beaten to death by his enemies, and he had turned it into a business negotiation. “Marcus,” I finally managed, my voice a raw croak, “when did you decide to make this deal?” Was it the moment he saw me being attacked? Or had he known they were coming for me all along? He frowned, irritated by my question. I knew better than to press. The answer didn’t matter anymore. As if to appease me, he stayed in my room for the next two days, working from a laptop. But his phone never left his hand. Occasionally, he would smile at the screen, a soft, gentle smile that was once reserved only for me. I suddenly remembered the day we first met, seven years ago. He had been hunted by his rivals, bleeding out on the doorstep of my art studio. He was like a dying wolf, his eyes fierce but hiding a deep vulnerability. I should have called the police. But when our eyes met, some strange impulse made me drag him inside. I hadn’t known then that I was dragging myself into hell. Later, after my family went bankrupt, my father sold me to the largest black market in Southeast Asia. The man who bought me was a sadist. He tortured me until I was barely recognizable. It was Marcus who found me, who saved me. That was the second time we met. And it was then I understood that in this world, kindness was the most useless currency. From that day on, I went from a promising young artist to the infamous “Gun Doll” of the underworld. I assembled his guns, dismantled his bombs, my hands stained with blood that would never wash away. I thought we were partners, standing shoulder to shoulder. But he saw me as tainted, swallowed by the darkness, no longer as pure as the innocent woman he now craved. I looked at my hands. They were meant to hold brushes, to capture mountains and rivers. Now all they knew was the cold, hard steel of a gun. I thought of Serena’s clear, innocent eyes, and a bitter irony washed over me. All my love, all my devotion, had become a joke. After I was discharged, Marcus used his business as an excuse and disappeared. The day before I was scheduled to leave the country, I went to a local temple. I wanted to pray for the child I had lost. At the entrance, I saw Serena. She was tending to an injured stray cat, her simple white dress making her seem even more ethereal. She was clumsy with the antiseptic, and the cat struggled, smearing the medicine everywhere. I walked over and took the cotton swab from her hand. “There are still tiny bits of gravel in the wound. The medicine will only make it hurt more if you don’t clean it out first.” This was the first time we had been alone together since I learned of her existence. She didn’t know who I was. She put her palms together in a gesture of thanks. “Thank you.” I managed a tight smile, my heart surprisingly calm. When I told her I was there for a lost child, her eyes immediately filled with tears. She knelt before the altar, her hands pressed together in prayer. “May the Buddha guide the soul of that unborn child to a peaceful rebirth, and may he grant this mother health and peace.” I stood there, a strange sense of pity welling up inside me. I wanted to warn her that Marcus’s tenderness was a poison, that getting close to him meant being dragged into the abyss. But looking at her devout profile, the words died in my throat. If she knew who I was, she would surely break things off with him. And then, all of Marcus’s rage would be directed at me. The image of my mother’s brutal death flashed in my mind, and a cold dread washed over me. I made an excuse and slipped away. From a secluded corner, I checked the live feed from my mother’s new facility. Seeing a nurse pushing her wheelchair through a garden, I breathed a small sigh of relief. My mother was my only weakness. This time, I would not let her get caught in the crossfire. When I stepped back out, the cold barrel of a gun was pressed against the back of my head. I froze. Across the courtyard, Serena was slumped over, unconscious. I cursed my luck. A second later, the butt of the gun slammed into my neck. …

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394165”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Bad news: I got hit by a car. Good news: It was a luxury car. I was just pulling out my phone to Google how much I could squeeze out of this when a text bubble popped into my vision, distracting me from my impending windfall. [The heroine and the hero have finally met! The hero will definitely be captivated by her noble spirit when she refuses to take his money.] Refuse his money? In his dreams. I was thinking a hundred grand, maybe two.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394164”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my wedding day, my bride, Tessa, hid the rings for “fun,” refusing to come out until I found them. My groomsmen and I searched frantically, sweating and nearly dismantling furniture—but nothing. As panic set in, her best friend Ryan stepped forward, smugly revealing the ring on his finger. “Here it is! Don’t worry, I’ll take it off for you.” I laughed bitterly. “You expect me to wear your ring at my own wedding?” Tessa defended him: “It’s just a ring, Leo. Stop making a scene.” Her impatience was the final blow. “The wedding’s off,” I said firmly. She stared in disbelief. “You’re canceling over this?” I nodded. “I am.” 1 “Come on, ladies, don’t make this hard on us! Just tell us where the rings are! I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to!” one of my groomsmen pleaded with the bridesmaids. “Yeah! We’ll pay! Name your price!” My heart warmed seeing my friends go to such lengths, practically begging to get the ceremony back on track. Tessa finally relented from inside the room. “Alright, alright, we’re running out of time. Give them the rings.” Every eye in the hallway turned to the three bridesmaids. But they just stood there, unmoving. A beat later, they all spoke at once. “I didn’t hide it.” “I don’t know where it is.” The atmosphere shifted. A strange tension filled the air. Tessa’s voice sharpened from behind the door. “Check again. Don’t tell me you lost it.” But even after scouring every inch of the room, the rings were nowhere to be found. Someone whispered, “Maybe someone’s playing a prank and hid them somewhere else?” That was all it took. Without another word, everyone fanned out, searching the entire house. We turned the place upside down, but there was no sign of the rings. We were officially going to be late. One of Tessa’s friends suggested, “Tessa, the guests are waiting. Why don’t we just head to the venue? I can have a new set of rings delivered. We can just get through the ceremony for now.” Tessa didn’t answer. Her gaze, through the crack in the door, was on me, waiting for my decision. I frowned, a knot of irritation tightening in my stomach. But this was an accident. No one could have predicted it. After a moment’s hesitation, I gave a curt nod. “I guess that’s our only option.” But just as I said it, Ryan stepped out from the corner he’d been lurking in. He theatrically pulled up his sleeve, a mocking, playful glint in his eye. “The ring’s right here! Told you you wouldn’t find it.” He was oblivious to the fact that his words had just sucked all the air out of the room. Everyone stared at his hand, their faces a mask of shock. One of the bridesmaids finally pieced it together. “Oh, I remember now! I was about to hide it in the wardrobe, but Ryan said he had a better spot. Then someone knocked on the door, and I got distracted. I didn’t see where he put it.” “I’m so sorry, Tessa,” she added, glaring at him. “I never thought he would mess around with something this important.” She then turned on him, her voice sharp. “Ryan! Why would you wear the groom’s wedding ring?” Ryan gave her an innocent look, as if he couldn’t detect the accusation in her tone. He turned to me. “Bro, I was just trying to help Tessa test you. I’ll take it off for you right now. I promise you won’t be late.” Looking at his face, I didn’t need to guess. I knew this was deliberate. It all made sense now. Ryan was usually an attention-seeking pest, but today he had been unnervingly quiet, practically invisible. He had been waiting for this moment. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “So, you’re suggesting that at my own wedding, I should wear a ring that you’ve been wearing?” My words left him speechless. He looked at Tessa, his expression twisting into one of a wounded puppy. “Tessa, I was just trying to help. I wanted to see if Leo was really worthy of you. I thought you’d be happy that I found such a good hiding spot.” He added, with a shrug, “Besides, I’ve never been married. How was I supposed to know you can’t wear someone else’s wedding ring?” Even if it wasn’t a wedding ring, you don’t just wear someone else’s jewelry, I thought, a feeling of disgust washing over me. “You may not have experience with marriage,” I said cuttingly, “but do you have any sense of boundaries?” Then again, if he had any boundaries, he wouldn’t be constantly inserting himself into my life. But what truly shocked me was that Tessa, in that moment, took his side. “It’s just a ring,” she said, her tone defensive. “Do you have to be so harsh?” I looked at her, at the frown on her face, at the complicated, unreadable emotion in her eyes. And just like that, the fire in my chest was extinguished. It wasn’t that I wasn’t angry anymore. It was that, suddenly, it didn’t seem worth it. Tessa, oblivious to the shift inside me, said impatiently, “I’ll have a new ring sent over right now. Are you happy?” The way she said it made it sound like I was the one being unreasonable. I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “Forget it,” I said quietly. “The wedding’s off.” 2 The room fell silent. Everyone stared at me, stunned by my sudden declaration. Tessa let out a sharp laugh. “Are you kidding me, Leo?” “It’s just a ring. It’s not dirty, it’s not broken. Someone else just wore it for a few minutes. And you’re going to cancel our wedding over that? Are you seriously making such a big deal out of nothing?” The person who had sabotaged our wedding was Ryan. But in her eyes, I was the one being petty and irrational. Tessa and I had been together for a year. But before that, she had spent three years chasing me. She had been clumsy but determined, always showing up exactly when I needed her, doing everything she could to win me over. Even a man with a heart of stone would have been moved. The day we finally got together, she was as happy as a child with a new toy. She had held me, crying and laughing, and sworn, “I, Tessa, will only ever love Leo!” And she had meant it. For a while, her world had revolved around me. My feelings were her priority. So, even though we hadn’t been together long, when she proposed, I said yes. But then, during the wedding planning, this “male best friend” had appeared. And Tessa had changed. Dates, dinners—it didn’t matter. One phone call from Ryan, and she would drop everything and run to him. When I got angry, she would brush it off. “Ryan doesn’t know anyone else here. I’m just looking out for him. It’ll get better.” The change was so drastic it threw me off balance. We started fighting constantly. More than once, I wondered if we should even get married. I couldn’t make up my mind, right up until the night before the wedding. But in that moment, standing there, the answer was suddenly crystal clear. I was not going to marry Tessa. Seeing my silence, she must have thought I was having second thoughts. “Alright, stop this nonsense,” she said, her tone condescending. “If you keep this up, we’ll really miss the ceremony. It’s just a ring, once…” I cut her off, my patience gone. I answered her earlier question. “I am.” Tessa froze, finally realizing I wasn’t joking. It was Ryan who broke the silence, his voice thick with fake tears. “Leo, if you’re angry, blame me. Don’t take it out on Tessa. She didn’t do anything wrong.” Then, he actually dropped to his knees in front of me. “Bro, you can do whatever you want to me, but you can’t just cancel the wedding. Tessa has put so much into this. Have you even thought about her feelings? And what about the guests? It’s not right…” He was pretending to plead with me, but every word was an accusation. But I’m stubborn. Once I’ve made a decision, I don’t back down. I was about to speak when Tessa pulled Ryan to his feet. Her face was a cold mask. “Leo, I’m giving you one last chance. If you don’t want to be utterly humiliated, you will walk down that aisle with me right now. Otherwise, you can figure out how to explain this to our parents and all our guests.” A threat. But I’m not the kind of person who responds to threats. I smiled. “Fine by me.” Tessa’s face contorted in anger. “Fine,” she hissed. “Fine. Fine.” She turned to her friends. “Let’s go.” Seeing that we were serious, they tried to intervene, but Tessa cut them off. “He’s the one who wanted to cancel. If he comes crawling back, I might not even take him!” Her words were for them, but they were aimed at me. I just smirked and said nothing. After they had gone, my best man asked, “Bro, what now? She’s right. The guests are all waiting. She just left you to clean up this mess.” I laughed. If Tessa thought this would make me regret my decision, she was sorely mistaken. “So what if I don’t have a bride? I’ll just get a new one.” I pulled out my phone and made a call. 3 She picked up right away, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, well. You have time to call me on your wedding day? Don’t tell me the bride ran off.” I swear, my friend Chloe has a sixth sense for disaster. She’s always right. I cleared my throat. “So… you want to come to my wedding?” A dry laugh. “Leo, have you forgotten what I said?” Of course, I hadn’t. Chloe had sworn that if I married Tessa, she wouldn’t show up even if I begged her. And true to her word, she was nowhere to be seen today. “Okay, I’m begging,” I said. “I’m short one bride. Can you help me out?” The line went silent. For a second, I thought she had hung up. Then, she said one word: “Wait.” After she hung up, I called the jeweler to have a new set of rings delivered, then turned to my groomsmen. “Let’s go.” But when we got downstairs, one of them said, “Bro, they’re gone! They took all the wedding cars. What do we do now?” Just then, my phone buzzed. A text from Tessa. “If you want to cancel the wedding, then don’t bother showing up at all!” I had to laugh. So that was her game. Well, I was definitely going to that wedding now. Cars? I had a garage full of them. But I hadn’t anticipated just how low Tessa would go. The moment I got into my car, my phone exploded with messages from both our parents. “Son, Tessa said you want to cancel the wedding. What’s going on?” “Leo, I don’t normally get involved in your arguments with Tessa, but on a day like this, you can’t be serious.” “Listen to me. Go get Tessa, patch things up, and get married. You can deal with the rest later.” Then there were the texts from friends, gossiping and asking for details. I glanced at them briefly, then replied to my mom. “The wedding is still on. If Tessa won’t come, I’ll marry someone else.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394162”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wedding was just around the corner. I was scrolling through Pinterest, looking for wedding planning ideas, when a post caught my eye. It was a photo of a couple at the altar, their backs to the camera. The caption beneath it read: “The man I love has already pretended to marry me.” “So, no matter who he marries in the future, I’ll wish him well.” The moment I saw the groom’s familiar silhouette, my nine-year relationship shattered into a million pieces, lost in the digital ether. 1 When I found the post, I was supposed to be looking at venue decorations. My chat with my fiancé, Liam, was still open, our last exchange just five minutes old. I’d excitedly sent him a link to a wedding photographer’s portfolio. He’d replied: “Whatever you like, babe. I’m happy if you’re happy.” The smile was still on my lips when the photo filled my screen. The man in the tuxedo was tall and broad-shouldered. I knew that back better than my own. I didn’t need to see his face. It was Liam. My gaze shifted to the woman beside him. She was breathtaking in a mermaid-style gown that hugged her curves perfectly. She had her arm looped through his. They stood before the priest, a perfect couple, exchanging vows in a solemn, sacred ceremony. There were no guests, but the sanctity of the moment was palpable. The comment section was flooded with people gushing about how perfect they looked together. The top comment was a rallying cry: “You two are meant to be! Girl, why are you letting him marry someone else? Go get your man!” The blogger’s profile picture was a cat. I clicked on her page. It was completely blank, except for that one post. Using my burner account, “Momo,” I left a comment, my fingers moving as if guided by some unseen force. “Dying to hear the story behind this.” 2 Liam called a little later, asking to take me out for dinner. I pretended nothing was wrong. When I got in his car, he took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for mine. His brows furrowed when he felt my icy skin. “Your hands are freezing,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “Are you on your period? Are your cramps bad?” I gently pulled my hand from his grasp. “No,” I said, my voice flat. He turned up the heat and redirected the vents on my side away from me. A few moments later, his hand was back on mine. This time, a satisfied smile touched his lips. “There. That’s better.” My nails dug into my palms. We had been together for nine years. For nine years, he had treated me like I was the most precious thing in the world. The slightest frown from me and he’d be fussing, trying to figure out what was wrong. He even tracked my cycle more accurately than I did. His friends always joked that I had him completely wrapped around my finger. Liam, whose world supposedly revolved around me. And yet, right before our wedding, he had walked into a church with another woman and made the sacred vows that were meant for us. Who was she? And who was it that he truly wanted to marry? 3 We were in a private room at a Japanese restaurant. The image of him with that other woman was burned into my mind. While we waited for our food, I tried to sound casual. “What do you think about getting married at that old chapel on the West Side in Charleston? It’s supposed to be beautiful. I saw a lot of pictures of it online.” It was beautiful. A century-old church, grand and majestic, with stained-glass windows that stretched to a vaulted ceiling. To stand there would be like stepping into a dream. That’s why the photo, paired with her caption, had gone viral overnight. His hand, which had been pouring me tea, paused. “Charleston’s a bit far, don’t you think? If you want a church wedding, we can find a nice one here.” It was the first time since we started planning the wedding that he had ever said no to one of my ideas. Beneath the table, I twisted the hem of my shirt in my hands. Before we had even finished our meal, my Pinterest notifications had hit 99+. My comment had over five hundred likes and had been pushed to the top. The blogger had finally replied. “Okay, I’ll post our story tonight.” 4 I closed the app and looked up at him. He was staring at his phone, a soft, happy smile on his face. My heart seized. On pure instinct, I lunged across the table and snatched the phone from his hand. He was watching the video from his proposal a year ago. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by an amused grin. “What’s this? We’re about to get married, and you’re already doing surprise inspections?” His passcode was my birthday. My fingerprint was saved in his phone. He left it lying around when he showered. He was so open, so transparent, that I’d never had a reason to doubt him. He was calm now because he was certain there was nothing incriminating on that phone for me to find. I forced a laugh. “I just wanted to watch the video again.” “Silly,” he said gently. “You have a copy on your phone, remember? You said you wanted to show it to our kids when we’re old.” The promise of growing old together still echoed in my ears, but a chasm had just opened up in our relationship. 5 I watched the video anyway. The one he’d personally edited for the proposal. It was a montage of our nine years together. Our high school graduation photo, where he’d switched places with a classmate to stand behind me. I remembered that day perfectly. He had leaned down, his voice uncharacteristically nervous for someone so confident, and asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend. “Don’t turn around,” he’d said. “I’m afraid you’ll say no.” The summer wind had brushed against our young faces. The photographer had counted down, “Three, two, one, say cheese!” And at the exact moment the shutter clicked, with my back still to him, I had said yes. We both went to college in the same state, but our campuses were two hours apart. He made the four-hour round trip constantly, just to see me for a few minutes. After we finished our master’s degrees, he proposed. In front of all our friends and family, he had kissed me and said he’d been waiting for that day for eight years. I tried to watch with a cold heart, but by the end, my eyes were wet. Nine years was a long time. We had both loved so fiercely, so completely. All this time, I thought his journey had been as single-minded as mine. But now, standing at the threshold of marriage, I realized his path had taken a detour. The thought was a dull, throbbing ache in my chest. In the tapestry of our shared memories, when had he found the space to weave in someone else? Seeing my tears, he wrapped his hand around mine. “You’re such a crybaby. You cry every time you watch this.” “I’m not letting you watch it anymore.” My hand trembled in his. I was afraid. Afraid of the truth that was about to be revealed. Afraid that nine years of my life were about to go up in flames. 6 When we got home, he went to his study to work. I sat in the living room, my hands shaking as I opened the Pinterest app. She had kept her promise. A new post had appeared. “A seventeen-year-old’s crush, finally fulfilled at twenty-nine.” I read her long, rambling story, word by word. The pieces started to fall into place. It was Sienna Vance. A girl from the class next to ours in high school who’d had a massive crush on Liam. During our freshman year of college, Sienna, who was going to school in Charleston, had come all the way to our campus to confess her feelings to Liam. He had been completely blindsided. He’d gently turned her down, telling her he had a girlfriend. He had told me about it at the time. What I never knew was that the story didn’t end there. Her crush hadn’t just lingered. It had blossomed. 7 The turning point came last year, when Liam did a year-long fellowship at a prestigious hospital in Charleston. By some cruel twist of fate, Sienna worked at that same hospital. They were colleagues in the same department. He had never mentioned this to me. One day, after being berated by a patient’s family, she was crying in her office. Liam saw her, pulled up a chair, and started telling her jokes to cheer her up. Through her tears, Sienna had leaned in and kissed him. In her post, she wrote: “He closed his eyes. He opened his mouth. And in that moment, my long-dormant crush bloomed in the dust.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I dug my nails into my palms and forced myself to keep reading. They had laid out the ground rules from the start. He had a girlfriend. They were serious. He was going to marry me when he came back. She didn’t ask for anything more. All she wanted was one year with him. “We made a pact,” she wrote. “A one-year love affair. When the year was up, I would walk away without a fight.” 8 And so, their affair began. This is how she described their life together: “I never thought I would one day be living with the man I had crushed on for so long. We cooked together, watched movies together. We hugged, we kissed, we did everything a couple does.” “He seems so refined and composed, but when he lets go, he covers every inch of me with his touch, in every room of our apartment.” “I finally felt like he wasn’t just a distant dream anymore. He was right there, beside me, tangible.” “Whenever he called her, I would quietly leave the room so I wouldn’t disturb them. Hearing him say sweet things to her always hurt. But later, in the heat of the moment, he would whisper the same words in my ear, and then nothing else mattered.” When the year was up, he ended it. She had only one request. She wanted a fake wedding in that beautiful old church, a perfect, final chapter to their story. She promised she would cherish that year in her heart and never bother him again. He agreed. She wrote that after the ceremony, they had made love all night. Her words were a physical weight, crushing me. “That night, it was our last. We knew there was no tomorrow for us, so we loved each other until the sun came up.” “For the first time ever, he didn’t answer her call. He just wanted me one more time.” “That was my real wedding night.” 9 I sat on the sofa, my entire body trembling. I couldn’t stop replaying that year in my head. Every text he sent, every call he made from their love nest. The same mouth that kissed her day and night telling me he missed me, that he loved me. Every day that I thought our relationship was solid, he was living a double life. No wonder. No wonder he never wanted me to visit. He always said he didn’t want me to tire myself out with the travel. Instead, he would surprise me with sudden visits. All that thoughtful consideration was just a cover. And she, shameless and selfish, had reveled in their secret, sordid affair. They were disgusting. Both of them. I grabbed the pair of matching mugs from the coffee table, raised them high, and smashed them onto the floor. Shards of ceramic scattered everywhere. A perfect metaphor for my nine years. A bloody, mangled corpse. The noise startled Liam. The study door flew open, and he rushed over, his face etched with concern. He grabbed my hands, inspecting them carefully. “What happened? Are you hurt?” I snatched my hand back and slapped him across the face, hard. “Liam, we’re done.” “I don’t want a second-hand, cheating bastard.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394161”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife, obsessed with Botox and Bergdorf’s, suddenly took up fishing last month. She bombarded me with questions about gear and techniques, claiming she wanted to join my trips—yet always declined when I suggested going. Then I spotted a million-dollar custom fishing rod order on her phone, engraved “JC.” I assumed it was for me. But my birthday passed. Our anniversary came and went. The rod was delivered—yet never appeared. Today, my fishing group shared a screenshot: “Cameron Young scored a rich sugar mama! Check out this $4M rod!” There was my wife in a cocktail dress, laughing with a stranger, holding matching rods. Her comment: “Happy to share your passions.” So “JC” didn’t stand for Jason Chen. It was for Jason Cameron. I called our family conglomerate: “Withdraw all investments from the Pei Group. Bankrupt them.” 1 I hung up, but the messages in the group chat kept flooding in. “Four million dollars for a rod! And his sugar mama is that beautiful? The guy’s living the dream!” Every compliment was a poisoned needle, making my eyes burn. I forwarded the screenshot to Clara, followed by a simple text: “Explain this.” Silence. My brow furrowed. Just as I was about to call her directly, a link appeared in the chat. “Check it out! Cameron’s live-streaming! And the sugar mama is with him!” Some dark impulse made me tap the link. The live feed instantly filled my screen. At the center was Cameron, decked out in brand-new, professional fishing gear, grinning like a fool. Beside him was Clara. She was wearing that same sexy, curve-hugging dress, her head tilted as she gazed at him. Her eyes were filled with a focused, tender adoration—the way one looks at a priceless treasure. “Hey everyone! Thanks for tuning in!” Cameron waved at the camera, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Today, I’m showing my girl here the joys of deep-sea fishing!” The casual intimacy, the blatant flirtation, hit me like a physical blow. A dull roar filled my ears. The comment section exploded. “OMG! I ship them so hard!” Then, a single question floated past: “Are you two a couple?” Cameron’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. He paused, then turned his intense gaze on Clara. His voice was low, but the microphone picked it up clearly. “She’s the most important person in my life.” Hearing this, Clara lowered her head, a shy blush creeping up her neck. The live chat went into a frenzy. I watched the spectacle, my fingers flying across the keyboard. “Honey, I thought you were shopping with your friends today? Why are you fishing?” “What kind of relationship is worth a four-million-dollar fishing rod? Is he your new boyfriend?” My username, my real name, scrolled across the screen, a stark and jarring intrusion amidst the flurry of gushing comments. The live stream fell silent for a beat. Then, all hell broke loose. “WTF?? HONEY? That’s a lot to unpack!” “HOLY SHIT! Major drama! The sugar mama is married and cheating???” “Is this for real?!” Cameron clearly saw the comments. Panic flashed across his face before he forced a stiff smile. “Guys, let’s not joke around like that. You’ll upset her.” He tried to play it off, but the terror in his eyes was unmistakable. Clara’s expression had turned to stone. She struggled to control her composure, her voice tight with panic. “It’s… it’s fine. I’m honored to have so many admirers.” She forced one last, brittle smile for the camera. “Alright, that’s all for today’s stream! See you all next time!” The screen went black. I tossed the phone onto the desk. Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes, pressing my knuckles into my throbbing temples. A moment later, my phone rang. The name “Clara” flashed on the screen. “Julian…” The second I answered, her panicked, frantic voice spilled out. “You… you have to let me explain… It’s not what you think… I swear it’s not… I can explain everything…” My voice was ice. “You have thirty minutes. Come home and explain.” I paused. “And bring your little friend Cameron with you.” Before she could respond, I ended the call. 2 Thirty minutes later, the smart lock chimed. The door opened. Clara stood there, alone. My eyes swept past her to the empty entryway. “Where is he?” She froze, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress. Her voice was laced with a carefully crafted vulnerability. “Julian… this is between us. Cameron… he’s just a kid, he just graduated.” “This has nothing to do with him! Please, don’t drag him into this. Please?” I walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Fine.” I looked up, catching the flicker of guilt in her eyes. “You have five minutes. Explain.” “I want to hear why you spent the last month begging me to teach you how to fish, if not to entertain your new boy toy.” Clara sat across from me, her words a desperate scramble. “Last month, I was in a fender bender in the parking garage. Some guy was trying to scam me. Cameron was just walking by, and he helped me out.” “The gift was just a thank you. That’s all it was. I swear.” The lie was so pathetic, I almost laughed. “A thank you? Clara, if you’re going to lie, at least put some effort into it.” She quickly rolled up her sleeve, revealing a faint scratch on her forearm. “I’m not lying! Look! I was even hurt!” “The guy scraped my car, and while I was arguing with him, Cameron called the police and got the security footage for me.” A cold, humorless smile touched my lips. “Look at what you’re wearing today. You were practically draped all over him. And the initials on the rod? Both of your initials.” “What, he helps you with a minor car issue and you decide to offer him your body in return?” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t mean for it to look like that.” “I was in a rush when I left the house, I just threw something on.” “And the initials on the rod… it was just a token of my gratitude, nothing more.” “The fishing… you taught me everything, and in the moment, I just…” “I was wrong… I’ll never do it again.” She wept, her face a mask of profound, theatrical sorrow, as if she were the one who had been wronged. I clenched my jaw, fighting back a wave of disgust. My voice was glacial. “You have two choices.” “One: you cut off all contact with this Cameron kid. Completely and forever.” “Two,” I said, pointing to the divorce papers I had already prepared, “we get a divorce.” “Divorce?!” The word seemed to scald her. She shrieked and lunged at me, grabbing my arm with a desperate strength. “No! I won’t sign it! I’ll die before I sign it!” “Julian, I know I was wrong! I’ll never speak to him again, I swear!” Fumbling, she pulled out her phone and, without a moment’s hesitation, deleted every trace of him—his number, his social media, everything. When she was done, she looked at me, her eyes wide with fear. “It’s done. He’s gone.” I stood up and walked over to her. “Clara,” I said, my voice low and heavy with a weariness I didn’t recognize in myself. “You know I love you.” Her body tensed in my arms, then she clung to me tighter. “But you also know,” my fingers tightened unconsciously, “that when it comes to my marriage, my tolerance for this kind of betrayal is zero. That is my bottom line.” “You can be dramatic. You can throw tantrums. You can have your moods. I can handle all of that.” “But I expect you to know the difference between right and wrong. I expect you to remember where the line is.” “I know… Julian, I know…” she sobbed into my chest, her tear-streaked face turned up to mine. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen… Please, just forgive me this one time…” 3 For a full week after our confrontation, she was the model of a perfect wife. She canceled all her social engagements and even insisted on joining me for a night of fishing by the river. To mark the occasion, she presented me with a brand-new fishing rod. It was a handcrafted masterpiece from a world-renowned artisan, its price tag even higher than Cameron’s. She linked her arm through mine, her smile bright. “Julian, I’ve been so foolish. From now on, I’ll be right here with you.” Holding the heavy, expensive rod, watching her act so docile and dependent, I felt the storm clouds in my mind begin to part. That afternoon, while I was reviewing some documents, my phone rang. It was Ryan, my executive assistant at Chen Conglomerate. “Mr. Chen,” Ryan’s voice was as calm and professional as ever. “As per your instructions, all procedures to sever ties with the Pei Group are… ready to go.” “Shall I execute the final withdrawal command now?” His words hung in the air. I thought about the changes in Clara over the past week. A flicker of doubt entered my mind. After a long silence, I spoke. “Wait.” One last chance. I would give her one last chance. I thought she might actually pass the test. I overestimated her. Two weeks later, Clara called to tell me she was going out of town for a few days to work on a deal. She was informing me, not asking. But I was swamped with a major project of my own, so I simply told her to be safe. Three days passed without a single call from her. After wrapping up my work, I called her. No answer. I tried her assistant, Lena. “Lena, how are the negotiations going with OmniCorp?” Lena sounded confused. “Mr. Chen, Ms. Pei went on the trip alone. I didn’t accompany her.” “I see. Thank you.” I hung up and found the private number for the CEO of OmniCorp in my contacts. He answered quickly. I didn’t waste any time. “Mr. Davies, is my wife, Clara Pei, there meeting with you?” There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. “Clara? No. Julian, I think you have the wrong information,” he said, puzzled. “I’m in Bali right now, sunbathing. Why would I be in a meeting with her?” My heart stopped. My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles were white. “I understand. My apologies for disturbing you, Mr. Davies.” My throat was dry as I ended the call. Just then, a notification popped up from my angler’s group chat. “Another great day of sea fishing with my sugar mama.” The photo was taken on a private island. Clara, in a revealing swimsuit, was pressed tightly against Cameron. They were sharing a single fishing rod. Blood rushed to my head. With trembling hands, I pulled up the security feed from my private island. A familiar face appeared on the screen. For the past three days, Clara hadn’t been on a business trip. She had been on vacation with Cameron. On my island. I clutched the phone, my knuckles white, and sent a friend request to Cameron’s profile from the group chat. I sent it twice. He didn’t accept. Suddenly, a video call request appeared at the top of my screen. It was Clara. I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage, and answered. Her face filled the screen. The background was a bathroom. She was perfectly made-up, her expression a practiced blend of exhaustion and apology. “Julian! I’m so sorry, honey. I just got out of a meeting, my phone was on silent!” “There are some technical issues with the deal here. It looks like I’ll be stuck for another two days. The day after tomorrow, I promise! I’ll fly right back!” Just as she finished speaking, I heard a sound from her end. It was faint, but unmistakable: a low, masculine groan, thick with a certain… intimacy. “What was that noise?” A flash of panic crossed her face, but she quickly masked it. “Oh! Nothing! I just… I bumped into the vanity. Hit my back…” As the words left her mouth, my security feed showed a crystal-clear image of Cameron standing behind her, massaging her shoulders. I stared at the two screens, the inferno inside me barely contained. “Is that so? Well, be careful. You should put some ointment on it.” She nodded. I looked her directly in the eye. “Clara. You haven’t had any contact with that Cameron kid, have you?” On the screen, her eyes darted away for a second. Her smile became brittle. “Of… of course not! Julian, why are you bringing him up again? I deleted everything! I promise!” “Good.” A humorless smile stretched my lips. “Then… you close that deal. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394160”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband didn’t give me flowers or jewelry. He gave me divorce papers. “My mom’s sick,” he’d said, his face etched with exhaustion. “She’s dying, Zoe. And her last wish is to see me divorce you.” He swore it was just a sham. “I promise, it’s just for show. As soon as she’s gone, we’ll get remarried.” Looking at the haggard man I loved, my heart broke for him. I agreed. But the moment the ink was dry, he posted a wedding photo on his social media feed. With his first love. And there, beaming in the picture right beside them, was his supposedly dying mother. 1 “Zoe, when the hell did you and Ethan get divorced?” My best friend Maya’s brow was furrowed, her eyes clouded with worry. “Something this huge happens, and you don’t even tell me?” I was baffled, the question itself feeling absurd. Ethan and I had agreed our “divorce” was a secret, a performance for his mother. How could Maya possibly know? “Where did you hear that?” I asked, my voice laced with confusion. Maya’s eyes widened, her voice climbing in disbelief. “Where did I hear it? Ethan posted his new marriage certificate on his feed for the whole world to see! How could you not know?” She kept talking, but her words dissolved into a dull roar in my ears. The only phrase that cut through the noise was Ethan posted his marriage certificate. Everything else was static. Impossible. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. “You’re kidding, right?” My voice trembled, a fragile, hopeful question in the face of a looming disaster. My relationship with Ethan had always been solid. Or so I thought. When he’d asked me for the fake divorce, the grief on his face had been so real. I remembered every pained expression, every tremor in his voice. How could he have been getting married to someone else? But Maya’s next words were a hammer blow, shattering the last of my denial. “I’m not joking, Zoe. It’s real.” Panic seized me. My hands fumbled for my phone, fingers shaking as I frantically dialed Ethan’s number. The line connected, but only to a cold, robotic voice: “The person you are calling is currently on another line.” I switched to our message history, a new wave of nausea hitting me as I scrolled. I hadn’t noticed before, but he hadn’t replied in days. The screen was a one-sided conversation—just me, sharing little moments from my day, whispering words of love into a void. Each message was now a monument to my own foolishness. Still clinging to a shred of hope, I tried to check his social media, only to find he’d blocked me. Maya sent me the picture. My hand trembled so violently it took several tries to tap it open. The woman in the photo was Serena. Ethan’s college girlfriend. I’d met her once, at my own wedding. She’d shown up in a designer gown, standing so close to Ethan she looked more like the bride than I did. I’d asked him about it later, if there was still something between them. He had denied it instantly, his voice firm and reassuring. But now, here they were, their smiles radiant, their bodies pressed together against a festive, celebratory backdrop. That brilliant red background felt like a blade twisting in my heart. Tears blurred my vision, hot and unstoppable. “Ethan, answer me!” I typed, my fingers flying across the screen. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? This is all fake, right?” “You didn’t marry someone else. Tell me you didn’t.” My messages sank into the digital abyss, unanswered. I broke. A hollowed-out, disoriented version of myself drove to the hospital, only to be told by the front desk that Ethan’s mother had never been a patient there. When Ethan told me his mother was sick, his voice had cracked with emotion. He’d barely been able to get the words out. In just a few days, he had lost so much weight he looked like a ghost. My heart had ached for him. Was it all an act? A meticulously crafted lie? If he wanted out, why couldn’t he just tell me? I wasn’t the kind of woman to cling to a man who didn’t want me. I desperately needed to find him, to hear the truth from his own lips. It was only then that I realized something chilling: aside from the brief period his mother had stayed with us, I didn’t even know where he lived. His family home was a mystery to me. My only option was his office. But when I got there, his colleagues told me he’d taken a leave of absence. For his wedding. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. When Ethan and I were planning our own wedding, I’d handled everything alone—from buying and renovating our apartment to choosing my dress and decorating the venue. He was always “too busy with work” to take time off. Now I understood. It wasn’t that he couldn’t take leave. It was that I wasn’t important enough to be worth his time. Sometimes, the less you know, the more obsessed you become with finding the answer. I took a leave from my own job and began a frantic search. I went to every place I could think of—our old haunts, his favorite bars, the parks we used to walk in. He was nowhere. It was like he had vanished from the earth. In the end, it was Maya who told me when the wedding was. And so, for the first time since our “divorce,” I finally saw Ethan again. At his wedding to another woman. I stood among the guests, a ghost at the feast, and watched as he slid a diamond ring onto Serena’s finger. The smile on his face was brighter than the sun, a dazzling, blinding light that seared my eyes. His mother, the woman who was supposed to be on her deathbed, stood beside him, beaming with pride and vitality. Gone was the woman who looked at me with nothing but contempt. “Ethan!” My voice was a raw, ragged thing, torn by anger and grief. He flinched, his body going rigid. Slowly, he turned. The brilliant smile on his face evaporated the instant he saw me, replaced by a flash of panic. His mother reacted instantly, rushing towards me and shoving me hard. “Keep the ceremony moving!” she barked at the officiant, trying to push me away. “Don’t let this ruin the happy occasion.” I sidestepped her, my eyes locked on Ethan. They were burning, and I could feel the tears welling up again. “What is going on?” I demanded, my voice rising with every step I took towards the altar. “You said it was a fake divorce! You said your mother was dying and you just wanted her to find peace!” With each step, the pain in my chest intensified. By the time I reached him, the tears were streaming down my face. He stood there in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, as handsome as the day I first met him. But looking at him now, he was a complete stranger. Time had flown by, but the most painful truth was that he was no longer the man who had once loved me with all his heart. Maya was right beside me, a protective barrier against the curious, whispering crowd, clearing a path until I stood directly in front of him. “Zoe,” he said, his voice strained, his eyes darting around nervously. “Can we please talk about this after the wedding? It’s not what you think. I can explain.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Explain? Or are you just trying to trick me again so I don’t ruin your perfect day, Ethan?” We stood in a tense standoff, the air crackling around us. Then, Serena stepped forward, looping her arm through Ethan’s. She looked at me with the smug condescension of a victor. “Before you blame Ethan,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “maybe you should take a look at yourself, Zoe. You were married for five years and couldn’t even give him a child. My son—our son—is already five years old.” “What?” The world tilted on its axis. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, frozen in place, my mind a hollow cavern of white noise. But Maya, never one to hold back, exploded. “You absolute scumbags!” she screamed, her voice echoing through the silent hall. “You were cheating on her five years ago? You had a kid with another woman and then you married Zoe? What kind of monster are you, Ethan? You goddamn bastard!” Ethan and I had been together since college. After graduation, I had left everything behind—my family, my hometown—to build a life with him in his city. In the beginning, he was wonderful. He did all the chores, treated me with tenderness and care. But over time, he grew distant. He’d told me that passionate love naturally cools into the comfortable quiet of family life, that it didn’t need constant effort. And like a fool, I believed him. Now I knew the truth. His love hadn’t cooled. It had simply been given to someone else. All I’d ever gotten were the lukewarm leftovers. “Ethan,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. A deep, penetrating chill was spreading through my veins, extinguishing the fire of my anger. “Is it true?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He just stared at the floor and mumbled a faint, “Yes.” “Okay,” I said, the single word feeling like a final exhalation. “I understand.” My heart had turned to ice. I turned to Maya. “Let’s go.” I had to salvage what little dignity I had left. But as we turned to leave, Ethan lunged forward, leaving Serena at the altar. He grabbed my arm, his voice desperate. “Zoe, wait. There’s a reason for all this. I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry.” “I’ll come find you after the ceremony,” he pleaded. “I’ll explain everything.” “Explain what?” Maya snapped, shoving his hand off me and pulling me towards the exit. She cursed him the entire way back, a furious, protective tirade. I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I was numb. When she pulled up to her apartment building, I finally broke the silence. “You can go on up, Maya,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I’m going to go pack my things. I’ll come over when I’m done.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” she asked, her face a mask of concern. I managed a weak smile. “I’ll be fine. I promise.” We could at least part with some grace. I, Zoe, could handle losing. Besides, what was once a fake divorce was now very, very real. And there were things I would not let go of. The apartment we lived in was mine, bought and paid for in full before we ever got married. It was my property, and it was time to cash out. I was going to sell it, take the money, and go home to my parents. The day a potential buyer came to see the place, Ethan showed up. The moment he saw another man in my living room, he didn’t even ask. He just exploded. “Zoe! We agreed it was a fake divorce! Are you already so desperate you’re bringing other men into our home?” I ignored him, calmly rescheduling with the buyer and politely showing him to the door. But Ethan blocked the doorway, his face a thundercloud. “Nobody is leaving until we get this straight.” Back when we were dating, I had seen his flaws as charming quirks. Now, without the filter of love, I saw him for what he was: utterly obnoxious. “We are divorced, Ethan,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “You have no right to tell me what to do.” I pushed past him, apologized again to the buyer, and closed the door behind him. When I turned back, Ethan was still standing in the entryway, his face contorted in a mask of righteous anger. “Zoe, we agreed! It was supposed to be a temporary divorce!” I stared at him like he was insane. “Did you forget you just got married again?” “I had no choice! And my marriage to Serena is fake, too! The kid was an accident, I swear, I didn’t know how it happened. My mom found out about him somehow, and she used her ‘dying wish’ to see her grandchild have a proper family.” He spewed his excuses, a torrent of self-serving nonsense, as if I was the one being unreasonable for not understanding. But none of it mattered anymore. I didn’t want to hear it. Besides, his mother had looked perfectly healthy at the wedding. “Ethan, since this is a real divorce now, we need to divide our assets. I’ve already contacted a lawyer.” I took a deep breath. “As for this apartment, it’s mine. I’m selling it. Don’t come back here again.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394159”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When Joshua married me, everyone congratulated him. He had finally married the girl of his dreams. Only I knew the truth. This wasn’t a dream fulfilled. It was revenge. Three years ago, on the day Joshua proposed, his father met with me. An hour later, he jumped from the roof of a skyscraper. In an instant, Joshua’s adoration for me curdled into a bottomless hatred. After we were married, he used every method imaginable to torture the truth out of me, but I kept my silence. It wasn’t until he personally destroyed the child growing inside me that my heart finally broke. Only then did I tell him everything. When he learned the truth, regret shattered him. He fell to his knees, crying, begging me for forgiveness. But a dead heart, and a dead child… they can’t be brought back to life. 1. I had two hours left. Two hours before the kidnappers’ deadline expired. By the time I reached Joshua’s office, it was the dead of night. Only his executive assistant was there, tidying his desk. I threw open the door, all pretense of politeness gone. “Where is he?” She paused, glanced up at me, then went back to arranging papers. “This is Mr. Green’s personal time. I’m not at liberty to disclose his location.” I stalked forward and slammed my hand down on the files, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “Where. Is. Joshua?” The assistant, Dina, slid her hand out from under mine and smiled sweetly. “If you really want to know, why don’t you get on your knees and beg me?” “Fine.” I dropped to my knees without a second thought. “I’m begging you. Please, tell me where he is.” Her smile widened, triumphant. “Mrs. Green, if you don’t know where your husband is, how would I?” The dam of my control finally broke. I bit back a sob, wiping furiously at my eyes as I grabbed her hands. “Please, I’m begging you, there’s no time! My son has been kidnapped! Please, just tell me where Joshua is, please!” She wrenched her hands away. “Leo isn’t Joshua’s son. What does his life or death have to do with Mr. Green?” Her tone shifted, becoming sharp and calculating. “Unless… you agree to divorce him. After all, that position was never meant for you.” “Yes, okay, anything. I’ll sign whatever you want, just tell me where he is.” Her eyes lit up. “Really?” The address she gave me was for a private club. It was one in the morning by the time I arrived. One hour left. I burst through the door and found Joshua, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked up, startled to see me. “Leo’s been taken,” I gasped, grabbing his arm. “They want two hundred thousand dollars. There’s less than an hour. Please, Joshua, you have to help me.” He glanced down at my hand on his arm, then let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “Are you confused, Thea? That little bastard isn’t my son. What does he have to do with me? Why should I help you?” My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor. “I know you hate me. You can do whatever you want to me, but please… please, save Leo.” Joshua’s body tensed. He gestured casually to a bottle of red wine on the table. “Down that in one go. Maybe then I’ll be feeling merciful.” I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the bottle and tilted it back, chugging the entire thing as the men around him cheered and catcalled. “Damn, Green, you’ve really got her trained.” Their crude jokes were a dull buzz in my ears. All I could think about was Leo. When the bottle was empty, a fiery heat bloomed in my cheeks. I looked up at him. “Is that enough?” Before he could answer, my phone rang. My hand trembled as I answered. “You fucking called the cops?!” a gravelly voice roared. “You’ll never see your son again!” The line went dead. I tried to call back, but the phone was off. My body started to shake uncontrollably, my mind a terrifying blank. Leo, my baby, please be okay. But it was just a desperate wish. My phone rang again. I was too weak, too numb, to even answer it. Joshua took it from my shaking hand. “Is this Leo Sterling’s mother?” a grim voice said on the other end. “We’re very sorry. By the time we arrived, the suspect was cornered. He threw the child from the roof. You need to get to the hospital.” The rest of the words blurred into a meaningless drone. The world tilted, spinning violently. Joshua reached out to steady me. I shoved him away with all my strength. “Are you happy now, Joshua?!” I screamed, my voice raw with agony. “Is this what you wanted?” “What are you talking about, Thea? I didn’t call the police. Why are you blaming me for this?” “Ninety-eight,” I choked out, a hysterical laugh bubbling in my throat. “I called you ninety-eight times. With every single call, I prayed you would pick up. But I forgot… how could I forget?” “You’re Joshua Green. The man who hates my guts.” 2. At the hospital, they told me Leo had survived. The relief was so profound it felt like I was the one who had been pulled back from the brink of death. He had been thrown from the roof of an unfinished building. On the way down, his fall was broken by a construction safety net. He was just a child, his small body light enough that the net had held. Any heavier, and it would have been a different story. Still, even with the net, the impact had been brutal. His leg, arm, and neck were fractured. But he was alive. He lay in the hospital bed, his small body encased in plaster casts, looking up at me with wide, worried eyes. “Mommy, why are your eyes so red?” “You scared me, sweetie. I thought I was going to lose you.” “Never, Mommy. I’ll always be with you.” His little brow furrowed. “Did Uncle Joshua hurt you again? Is that why you’re crying?” I shook my head, but the tears came anyway. He reached up with his good hand and awkwardly tried to wipe them away. “Uncle Joshua is mean. We don’t need him. I want a daddy who makes you smile. If no one can make you smile, then I just want you, Mommy. Just us.” “How touching. A real testament to motherly love.” Joshua’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, cut through the quiet room. He stood in the doorway, his eyes cold. Leo’s small body went rigid, his eyes immediately wary. I wiped my tears and stood, pulling Joshua out into the hallway. Once I saw through the window that Leo had settled back down, I lowered my voice. “What do you want?” He held up a crumpled piece of paper—the divorce agreement I’d had Dina draw up. “Did I or did I not tell you that you don’t have the right to divorce me?” He ripped it into pieces and threw them on the floor. “You were the one who begged me to marry you. Now you’re the one who wants a divorce. Thea, do you really think you’re in any position to make demands?” I stared at the shredded paper. When Leo needed a kidney transplant, I had just returned to the country with no money and no connections. That’s when Joshua had appeared. He’d told me that if I married him, he would find the best specialists, get Leo to the top of the donor list, and cover every penny of the astronomical medical bills. I was desperate. I knew it could be a trap, but for Leo, I would have walked into anything. The years of our marriage were a blur of his calculated cruelty. I told myself it was a debt I was repaying. People whispered that I was his pet, that I came running whenever he crooked his finger. For years, I had let him trample all over my dignity. But I was so, so tired. “I don’t owe you anything, Joshua.” He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He grabbed the front of my shirt. “How dare you say that? Have you forgotten that if my father hadn’t taken you and your sister in, you’d be rotting in some orphanage? You ungrateful viper. He never should have brought you into our home.” My hand trembled as I shoved him away, my own control fraying. “Don’t you talk about my sister! You have no right!” My voice was a raw whisper, but my eyes met his without flinching. “I don’t owe your family anything. And I don’t owe you.” Joshua’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. He reached up and patted my cheek, his touch a mockery of affection. “Don’t owe us? My father’s death is on your hands. Do you think just because the police couldn’t find any evidence, you’re innocent? You’re wrong. This marriage is your prison, Thea. A chain that will hold you until the truth comes out. You are never leaving.” His hatred was a physical force in the sterile hospital corridor, a hand that reached out and dragged me back into the past. 3. Three years ago, on the day of our college graduation, Joshua had planned a surprise proposal. He had spent weeks meticulously planning every detail, his heart full of hope and excitement. That same day, his father, Marcus, jumped from the tallest building in Ashton City. I was there. The security footage showed me standing more than thirty feet away from him. The audio was useless, but the video was clear. Marcus Green had closed his eyes and stepped off the ledge. The ruling was suicide. Overnight, the Green empire crumbled. Business partners vanished. Creditors came knocking, splashing red paint on the doors and windows of the family mansion. Joshua found me in my room, my suitcase packed. “Aren’t you going to say anything to me?” he asked, his voice hollow. I looked at the chaos around us. “What do you want to hear?” “Why did he jump?” My grip on my suitcase tightened. “The police already told you.” “What did you say to him?!” He lunged forward, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “Thea, tell me. Please, I’m begging you.” I looked up into his eyes, swimming with a despair so deep it threatened to drown us both. “Joshua,” I whispered, my own voice shaking. “Let’s break up.” He staggered back as if I’d struck him. “Why? Thea, what happened? Why did my dad kill himself? Why are you leaving me? Why now?” I pried his fingers from my shoulders, one by one, forcing a cold mask onto my face. “I don’t love you anymore.” “No. No, that’s not true. Tell me what’s really going on. I’ll believe you, whatever it is. Just… please, don’t leave me now. I don’t know what to do. Don’t abandon me…” Outside, the wind howled. “Your father is dead,” I said, my voice as brittle as glass. “Look at this house. It’s a garbage dump. What is there for me to stay for? Did you expect me to stick around and be poor with you?” “That’s not you, Thea. You’re not like that.” “People change, Joshua.” I turned and walked toward the door. He threw a small, red box. It hit me squarely in the back, the sharp corner digging into my spine. The pain was so intense it felt like my heart was seizing. A tiny, metallic clink sounded on the floor. A diamond ring rolled to a stop at my feet. “Thea! I’m giving you one last chance. What did my father say to you that day? Just tell me the truth. I’ll believe you.” I stopped, my eyes fixed on the glittering diamond. Then I looked away. “Your father killed himself,” I said, each word a separate stone. “It had nothing to do with me. And as for us…” “I just got bored.” The wind was screaming that day. I walked for a long, long time, my legs aching, my heart shattered. The sand kicked up by the wind stung my eyes. For years after, I was trapped in a recurring nightmare. In the dream, Joshua would be on the rooftop, watching his father fall, and then he would turn to me and ask, “Why?” And Marcus, covered in blood, would ask, “Are you happy now?” I would always wake up drenched in a cold sweat. 4. Over the years, Joshua never stopped investigating. He watched the surveillance footage hundreds of times. He even hired a lip-reading expert. The expert determined that the last words Marcus Green ever said were: I promise you. Because my back was to the camera, no one knew what I had said. No one knew what Marcus had promised me just moments before his death. The fact that I broke up with Joshua on the same day was, in his mind, irrefutable proof of my guilt. I thought I would never see him again. But then Leo got sick, and our lives became entangled once more. I knew this marriage was his revenge. It was my penance. But even the deepest debts are eventually paid. I handed him a newly printed divorce agreement. He just laughed. “How many times do I have to tell you? You don’t get to leave. Unless… you tell me the truth about that day. Then, consider this my wedding gift to you.” “You already know the truth,” I said. He lunged, his hands closing around my neck. The world went dark at the edges as the pressure mounted. “Thea, I never realized just how cruel you are. You disgust me.” He released me. I collapsed, coughing, gasping for air. “You’re never getting away,” he snarled. “You will stay by my side and pay for what you did to my family for the rest of your life.” He ripped at my clothes, his touch brutal, suffocating. Our intimacy was never about love. It was always just a release for his rage. I closed my eyes, tears leaking from the corners. “Joshua, please,” I begged. “Let me go.” His teeth sank into my shoulder. “This is what you owe me,” he hissed against my skin. “Unless you tell me why my father died.” I squeezed my eyes shut. The truth… the truth would only bring more pain.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394158”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The fourth year of my marriage to Amelia was the year the company started to die. To save the firm from bankruptcy, she recruited a top-tier project manager from overseas, a man who’d landed nine-figure deals. The day he came in to sign his contract, I saw the butterfly tattoo on his wrist. The color drained from my face. I vetoed his hiring on the spot. When Amelia found out, she exploded. We had the worst fight of our marriage. Seeing she was determined to hire him anyway, I told her I was resigning. And I wanted a divorce. She stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief. “Because of a tattoo? Julian, we don’t have a policy against tattoos!” The project manager himself, Adrian, stepped forward. “If the tattoo bothers you, I can have it removed.” “See?” Amelia pleaded. “He’s being more than reasonable. Stop making a scene.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Fine. As long as you sign the divorce papers, you can give him the whole damn company for all I care.” … My words hit Amelia like a physical blow. “Julian, I know you’re upset that I’m putting him in your position, but you’re the one who said you’d do anything to save this company!” she shot back, her voice shaking with frustration. “You were on board with this yesterday. What is your problem now?!” She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. I didn’t offer an explanation. I just repeated my ultimatum, my voice cold and flat. “If you hire him, we get a divorce.” I watched her, my eyes fixed on her face, searching for any flicker of the woman I’d married. Before today, Amelia and I were the couple everyone envied—the model of a perfect partnership. We always chose each other, even when business and personal interests collided. But today, she wasn’t budging. Not an inch. After a long, tense silence, she tried to reason with me again, her tone softening. “Julian, please. Adrian is incredibly talented. With him, we can pull the company out of this crisis. It’s not about the tattoo. We don’t have rules against things like that, you know that.” I nodded slowly as a flicker of relief crossed her face. Then I pulled out my phone. I made a call. “I need a divorce agreement drawn up,” I said into the receiver. “Have it messengered to my office. Now.” Amelia’s face froze. The air in the room turned to ice. Finally, Adrian broke the silence. “Mr. Hayes,” he said, his voice smooth and conciliatory. “To be honest, this tattoo has special meaning to me. I got it with my first love.” He paused, then added with a sigh, as if making a great sacrifice, “But if you’re this opposed to it, I’ll have it removed. However…” He let the word hang in the air. “If I’m not welcome here, I’m not so desperate for a job that I have to stay.” That was all it took. Amelia snapped. “That’s enough, Julian!” she cried, her voice cracking. “This company isn’t just yours to throw away! I won’t let you! Adrian turned down every other offer to come back here and work for us. How can you be so cruel?” Her voice rose, taking on a righteous edge. “Think about our employees! They have families to feed! Even if you want to fight with me, can’t you at least consider them?” At her words, the employees who had been trying to fade into the background suddenly found their voices. “Amelia’s right. The company’s in trouble. Why won’t Mr. Hayes agree?” “I’ve been here three years. I’ve seen enough of their PDA to last a lifetime, but I’ve never seen them fight like this.” “You think he’s just afraid of being replaced? Is that why he’s being so dramatic?” I heard that and felt a muscle in my jaw twitch. Of course, not everyone was against me. “I don’t think Director Hayes is like that,” someone countered. “He’s always been good to us, never pulled rank. Maybe there’s something else going on.” “That doesn’t matter!” another shot back. “Whatever his personal issue is, the company has to come first. Amelia is working herself to the bone, and he’s throwing a tantrum. Men…” They didn’t bother to lower their voices, making sure Amelia heard every word. It was obvious who they thought held the power, who they needed to please. But they had no idea. Without me, Amelia’s company would have crashed and burned years ago. And I hadn’t forgotten the flicker of guilt on Amelia’s face the first time I mentioned the tattoo. She had made her choice. Now, I would stick to mine. Just then, Amelia’s voice cut through the gossip. “Quiet!” she snapped. “Have you all forgotten? You will show Julian the same respect you show me. Always.” She turned back to me, her expression softening. “Okay, stop this,” she said, her voice gentle, almost cooing. “Julian, I promise you, no one is going to threaten your position here. Let’s just get Adrian onboarded, and we can talk about the rest at home.” I looked at her, but the man who loved her was gone. All that was left was ice. “No need. Once the lawyer gets here with the papers, we’ll be done.” I turned to go back to my office and pack my things. Behind me, there was a loud crash as something hit the floor. “Julian! Don’t push me!” Amelia’s voice was dangerously low. “If you can’t see what’s important right now, then you can go home and think about it. When you’ve come to your senses, you can come back.” I heard the threat, the raw power play in her words, but I didn’t turn around. She still thought I was bluffing. She even had security escort me out so I wouldn’t interfere with Adrian’s paperwork. A humorless smile touched my lips. I left, just as she wanted. Back home, I went straight to our photo albums and found Amelia’s college pictures. There it was. A butterfly tattoo on her wrist, a perfect match to the one on Adrian’s. A couple’s tattoo. I remembered asking her about it once. I’d seen a similar design at the construction site where my father had his accident. She’d brushed it off, saying she’d just thought it looked cool and had slapped on a temporary one for fun. I’d had my doubts, but when I checked her wrist, there was no trace of ink, so I’d let it go. Now, I flipped to her graduation photo. And there he was, standing a few feet away from her in the class picture. Adrian. My blood ran cold. I picked up the phone. “I need you to look into something for me.” Shortly after I hung up, the lawyer arrived with the divorce agreement. He also brought the share transfer documents I’d requested. If we were divorcing, we were settling everything. I had no intention of staying with the firm; selling my shares was the cleanest break. I was on the phone with a couple of the older board members when Amelia came home. Trailing right behind her, carrying a suitcase, was Adrian. She saw me looking and offered a bright, brittle smile. “Adrian just got back to the country and hasn’t found a place yet. I told him he could stay with us for a few days. You don’t mind, do you?” The sheer audacity of it was almost funny. She brings him into our home and then asks for my opinion? Did she think I had amnesia? We had just had a marriage-ending fight at the office a few hours ago, and here she was, acting as if nothing had happened. When I didn’t answer, she walked over to me. “Are you still mad about what happened at the office?” she asked softly. “Come on, honey. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do anything to make this right. Okay?” Her voice was a velvet purr, her eyes full of promises. A year ago, a week ago, that would have been enough to melt my anger away. Not today. “Sign the divorce papers,” I said, my voice flat. “Then you can hire him, move him in, do whatever you want. It will have nothing to do with me.” Amelia fell silent, at a loss for words. Adrian, ever the helpful observer, stepped in. “Amelia, I hate to interfere in your personal life, but I can’t just stand by and watch this. You’re humbling yourself for him, and he’s being completely unreasonable. He’s just being petty.” He shot a pointed look at me. “You’re doing what’s best for the company. He doesn’t see it now, but he will once things turn around.” He was trying to poison her against me right to my face, a smug, challenging look in his eyes. Amelia just frowned, not responding to him. She looked at me. “Julian, that’s enough. I have a mountain of problems to deal with at the office. I don’t have time for these games.” “Fine,” I nodded. “Let me know when you’re ready to be serious.” I picked up the suitcase I had already packed. Her face hardened, her patience completely gone. “Julian, if you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.” I glanced at her one last time, a detached smile on my face. That was the plan. I left our house and drove to the small apartment I grew up in. My father had bought it when I was in school. It was modest, but it was warm, filled with memories I cherished. After he died, I could never bring myself to sell it, but I hadn’t been able to face coming back here, either. A thick layer of dust covered everything. It took me hours to clean the place. Just as I finished, I got a text from Amelia. [You want a divorce? Fine. My office. Tomorrow. 2 PM.] I frowned. It felt wrong. She’d changed her mind too quickly. Was it a trap? There was only one way to find out. The next day, when I arrived at the office, Amelia’s secretary blocked my path. “Amelia is in a meeting with Director Adrian about work. She said she’s not to be disturbed unless it’s urgent.” I used to walk into her office without ever knocking. It was true what they said. When the first love returns, everyone else has to get out of the way. But for me, this wasn’t about love anymore. It was about finding the truth behind my father’s death. “Okay,” I said, turning to leave. Just then, a ripple of laughter came from inside the office. It didn’t sound like they were talking business. It sounded like they were flirting. The door swung open, and Adrian stepped out. “Ah, Julian. You’re here. Amelia has been waiting for you.” I gave him a cold look and started to walk past him. As I did, he leaned in and whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “You must be dying to know how your father really died, aren’t you?” I whipped my head around to see the taunting smirk on his face. My fists had been clenched since the moment I saw his tattoo. I had planned to wait, to gather all my evidence before I made a move. But he had just crossed a line. I didn’t hesitate. I swung, my fist connecting with his jaw. The secretary screamed. I hit him again. As I drew my arm back for a third punch, Amelia rushed out and shoved me away. She helped Adrian to his feet, her face dark with fury. “What is going on?” Adrian, looking the very picture of innocence, stammered, “I was just trying to ask him to speak with you calmly, and he just… he just started hitting me.” The words were barely out of his mouth before Amelia’s hand cracked across my face. “Have you lost your mind?” she hissed. “Apologize. Now. This is a place of business, not your personal playground.” Apologize to him? Not in this lifetime. I wasn’t just going to make him apologize. I was going to send him to prison. But I couldn’t say that yet. It would tip my hand, give him a chance to run. Adrian, ever the bigger man, said, “It’s okay, Amelia. It’s understandable that Mr. Hayes wouldn’t accept me. I’ll just get back to work. You two should talk.” The more reasonable he acted, the more unhinged I appeared. Once he was gone, Amelia glared at me. “In my office.” I walked in and dropped the divorce papers on her desk. “Sign it.” She ignored them. “So, after a night to cool off, this is still what you want? To throw our marriage away?” It was clear then. She hadn’t called me here to sign anything. A cold laugh escaped me. “What do you really want, Amelia?” “Julian, everything I’m doing is for the company. I don’t want to fight with you. Just move back home, and we can pretend none of this ever happened.” Without a word, I picked up the papers and turned to leave. “Wait!” She finally relented. “Fine. You want me to sign? Then you need to be at the new product launch tomorrow.” A product launch? This was the first I’d heard of it. It had to be something she and Adrian had cooked up. And if they wanted me there, it wasn’t for a good reason. Whatever they were planning, I’d find out tomorrow. The next day, the venue was swarming with reporters. Amelia’s company had done well over the years, and its recent troubles had made it a hot topic. Rumors were flying that the place was cursed. We hadn’t made any public statements. Until today. Amelia took the stage and addressed the crowd, a series of photos flashing on the screen behind her—pictures of me, looking stressed, meeting with various people over the last few weeks. “The reason our company is facing a crisis,” she announced, her voice filled with practiced sorrow, “is because my husband, Julian Hayes, leaked confidential company secrets.” I had braced myself for something, but even so, the bald-faced lie was stunning. For a moment, I just felt a strange urge to laugh. Our eyes met across the room. Her look was clear: This is your punishment for being difficult. A cold fire burned in my chest. She had no idea what was coming. She looked away, her expression turning to one of deep sadness. “I don’t know why he would do this, but we have terminated his position and brought on a new, brilliant project manager. We are very excited for the future!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394157”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My stepsister, Grace, took her entire class on a wilderness expedition in Africa, only to be ambushed by a remote, uncontacted tribe. She was in mortal danger. And me? I’m the only internationally certified wilderness expert of my caliber. Ten years of experience under my belt, with deep ties to chieftains across the continent. My father got Grace’s last desperate SOS and called me immediately. “Your sister ran into hostiles in the jungle. I need you on a plane, now. You’re leading the rescue.” I hung up without a word. When my stepmother couldn’t reach me, panicked for her daughter’s life, she rallied the other parents and stormed my apartment, kicking the door clean off its hinges. She froze, finding herself face-to-face with two uniformed police officers. I gave her a little wave, rattling the silver cuffs on my wrists. “Sorry,” I said with a thin smile. “My hands are tied.” 1. “Skylar, pack your things! Your father has a helicopter on standby. We can leave this instant!” my stepmother, Catherine, shrieked as she burst into my living room. “Grace was attacked by a native tribe in Africa! They’re saying there are cannibals out there, and all communication is down. We don’t know if she’s dead or alive!” Her frantic tirade stopped dead when she saw the gleaming steel locked around my wrists. She stared, dumbfounded. One of the officers beside me frowned, clearly annoyed by the intrusion. “Ma’am, please don’t interfere with police business.” “Wh-what?” “We received a complaint that this woman,” the officer gestured to me, “defrauded someone of five hundred dollars in an online romance scam. We have enough to bring her in for questioning. She’s coming with us.” I offered a placating smile and prepared to leave with them, but Catherine snapped out of her stupor. “No!” she screamed, grabbing my arm. “You can’t go! Grace is waiting for you to save her!” Tears streamed down her face. “What will happen to my daughter? She’s only eighteen! What if those… those savages get their hands on her?” I looked at her, my expression blank, completely devoid of the panic she expected. “Why are you coming to me? This is a job for the authorities. Call the police.” “Liam is a cop,” I added pointedly. “You should be calling him, not me.” Liam was Grace’s boyfriend. It was only fitting that he be the one to ride to her rescue. Besides, his skills in a fight far surpassed my own. The moment I said his name, Catherine’s fingers dug into my arm like talons. “Of course I know Liam’s a cop! But he’s never set foot in Africa! He doesn’t speak a word of the local dialects. How can I trust him to save Grace?” she hissed. “You’re the only one who can bring her back safely.” Her voice softened into a desperate, wheedling tone. “She’s your sister, Skylar. You grew up with her. How can you not be worried? She’s out there, hungry, cold, with nowhere to sleep…” I wrenched my arm free, my brow furrowed in annoyance. “I have to go with the officers. Don’t hold them up.” Seeing that I was ignoring her, she frantically dialed my father. The second the call connected, his furious roar filled the room. “Skylar, you ungrateful brat! Your sister could be dead or alive out there, and you’re just sitting at home, doing nothing?” “I’ve booked you a flight for tonight. You get your ass over there and assist the rescue, or I swear to God, you’re no longer my daughter. The Rhodes family will not have a disgrace like you!” I let out a cold laugh and shook my wrists, the handcuffs clinking musically. “Sorry, Dad. Can’t. I’ve got a date with a detective downtown. Got a statement to give.” Silence. I snorted and turned to leave with the officers. Just as I stepped over the threshold, Catherine’s voice, sharp and calculating, cut through the air behind me. “Skylar, it’s not just Grace who’s trapped. It’s her entire class—over forty students. Nearly half the group is missing with her.” She gestured to the crowd of anxious parents who had followed her here. “Look at them. These are the mothers and fathers of the missing. All these lives hanging in the balance, waiting for a savior. Can you really just stand there and do nothing?” 2. “Not my problem,” I said flatly, and walked away. Catherine’s shriek of pure rage echoed behind me, but she could only watch as the police led me away. I knew she wouldn’t give up, but the first person to visit me at the precinct wasn’t her. It was Liam. He set a cup of warm water in front of me. I didn’t touch it. He sat down, his face a mask of grim professionalism. “Grace’s situation is critical, Skylar. All their communications are dead. For all we know, she’s…” He trailed off, unable to finish. “The tribe in their last known location is notoriously hostile. There are old rumors of cannibalism—even the local government can’t control them. If they’ve captured her, it’s a death sentence.” He spoke with an urgent, breathless intensity. I just found it boring. “I see,” I said. My lack of reaction clearly stunned him. “What’s wrong with you, Skylar? That’s your sister out there! How can you be so cold?” I almost laughed. “A stepsister, Liam. And what happens to her has nothing to do with me.” “You—!” “Skylar, you are the best professional explorer in the country. I’ve read your files. You have extensive experience in high-risk extractions, and I know for a fact you’re on friendly terms with several African chieftains.” He started scribbling on a whiteboard, trying to map out a strategy, trying to convince me. “If you go, you can save them. I know you can.” When he saw my indifferent expression, his tone shifted from persuasion to command. “As a citizen, it is your duty to cooperate with this operation. I can officially compel you to assist.” How pathetic. I wasn’t some rookie he could intimidate. His posturing had zero effect on me. “Seriously? You, a cop, are going to lecture me about civic duty? Don’t try to pull rank on me, Liam,” I scoffed. “You can talk until you’re blue in the face, but I’m not going. If she dies, she dies. Sounds like bad luck, but again, not my problem.” My callousness finally broke him. His hands clenched into tight fists. He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as a new thought seemed to occur to him. “Is this about what happened?” he asked, his voice low. “Are you still angry that I called off our engagement?” Years ago, Liam and I were engaged. Then he met Grace and fell for her, breaking off our engagement and making me the laughingstock of the city. He actually thought this was my petty revenge. Such an ego. I was about to tear him apart when the door was kicked open. My father stood there, holding a sobbing Catherine in his arms. She was clutching something. The moment she saw me, she lunged, her hand flying out and cracking against my cheek. Then she threw the object onto the table. “Give me back my Grace!” she wailed. “This is all your fault! Give her back!” My eyes widened as I saw what it was. How could this be? It was impossible. 3. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this… not in this life. On the table lay a piece of bloody fabric—a shirt. The pattern, the colors… it was the exact one Grace had been wearing the day she left for Africa. Catherine was convinced her daughter was dead, and she was channeling all her grief and rage directly at me. “You heartless, ungrateful snake! You have no soul! That was your sister, and you wouldn’t even lift a finger to save her!” she shrieked. “I bet you’re happy now, aren’t you? You can finally inherit all of your father’s money! My poor, darling girl!” She collapsed into a pitiable, trembling heap. My father held her, his gaze burning with fury as he looked at me. “Skylar, even with Grace gone, don’t think you’ll see a single dime from me,” he growled. “I’d rather donate every cent to charity, give it to the stray dogs on the street, than leave it to an emotionless bastard like you.” I frowned, a seed of doubt planting itself in my mind. In my past life, this never… Suddenly, I caught a flicker of cunning in Catherine’s eye. And in that instant, I understood. The panic in my chest vanished. Faced with their accusations, I just smiled serenely. “So? What does that have to do with me?” I asked. “She’s the one who was stupid enough to go playing explorer in Africa. If she got herself killed, she has no one to blame but herself.” Liam, who had been lost in his own grief, snapped his head up. My words ignited the fury in his heart. He lunged forward and slapped me, hard. The sharp crack echoed in the room. My left cheek immediately began to swell and throb. “Is that something a human being would say?” he roared, his voice thick with outrage. “Grace is gone! And you’re standing there spouting that garbage? How dare you! She was your sister! Maybe not by blood, but she was your family, the person you saw every single day!” “Skylar, I was so wrong about you,” he seethed, breathing heavily. “You’re nothing but a cold, soulless monster.” He finished, so choked with anger he could barely speak. The crowd of parents gathered at the door stared at me, their expressions a mixture of disgust and horror. “Can you believe her? A world-renowned explorer with years of rescue experience, and she just lets them die out there.” “And Grace was her own sister! While her sister was facing God knows what, she was here sleeping soundly. Some big sister.” “Those poor parents outside are crying their eyes out, practically begging her on their knees to help, and she won’t budge. She’s made of ice.” Liam glared at me with pure hatred, clutching the bloody shirt as if it were a sacred relic. His bloodshot eyes screamed that he wished I had died in Grace’s place. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife when another officer suddenly entered the room. “Call from the rescue team in Africa.” Liam snatched the phone and put it on speaker. An excited voice crackled through. “Good news! We’ve made contact with the missing students! They’re alive!” “Miss Grace Rhodes is with them!” Catherine’s face lit up with overwhelming joy. “When can you bring her home?” she asked, her voice trembling. “When will she be safe?” The voice on the other end hesitated. “The situation is still extremely volatile. We need Ms. Skylar Rhodes’s assistance. Her experience and her local contacts are the only things that can guarantee Miss Rhodes’s safe return.” Every single person in the room heard those words. Catherine’s tear-swollen eyes locked onto me. “Skylar, I’m begging you. Name your price. Anything you want. If you bring Grace back, you can have my life!” My father roared, his patience gone. “Your mother is begging you, your sister is out there waiting! If you have any Rhodes blood in you at all, you will get on that plane to Africa right now!” Just then, an elderly woman stepped out from the crowd of parents. She shuffled forward and, without a word, dropped to her knees before me. “My granddaughter… she’s all I have left in this world,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. “She’s trapped out there. I’m on my knees, begging you… please, bring my little girl back to me.” I glanced around at the sea of desperate faces. Liam stepped forward, his voice laced with contempt. “Skylar, can you still stand there and do nothing? Do you truly have no heart?” A cold smile touched my lips. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll help.” “But I have one condition.” 4. Hearing me agree, a wave of relief washed over Catherine’s face. But when I mentioned a condition, her expression hardened. “I want seventy percent of Rhodes Corp.” The room fell silent. Then, Catherine’s voice exploded in outrage, her finger jabbing at me. “Seventy percent? Why don’t you just ask your father to step down and make you CEO?” I gave a helpless shrug. “Your choice. I’m not forcing you. But if you refuse, you can just sit here and watch your precious daughter die.” “You… you monster!” Catherine trembled with rage. My father, looking defeated, finally made a decision. “Done,” he said through gritted teeth. “But the contract is only signed after Grace is back, safe and sound.” Catherine, fuming, had no choice but to agree. I drew up a detailed rescue plan, complete with topographical maps I sketched from memory. I designated Liam to lead the ground team. He looked at me, confused, but I just gave him an unreadable smile. My father had the share transfer agreement drafted. Everyone waited. Following my plan, Liam’s team quickly located a breach in the tribe’s perimeter. They moved in, and soon found Grace and the other students held captive. The video feed came online. Grace, however, didn’t look like a traumatized hostage. Her cheeks were rosy, her skin glowing. Liam, playing the hero, grinned triumphantly into the camera. “Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes, I have her! Grace’s safe!” he shouted. “It was all thanks to Skylar’s plan! Everything went off without a hitch, just like she said it would. We’ve got everyone!” At that moment, I took the share transfer agreement from the lawyer’s hands. I stared at the legal jargon and the astronomical numbers, feeling nothing. I signed the first letter of my name—S. And then, just as I knew she would, Catherine lunged forward and ripped the document to shreds. “Did you really think I’d let you win, Skylar?” she sneered, her face twisted in triumph. “Who do you think you are, trying to steal my daughter’s inheritance? You’re dreaming!” I watched her, my expression calm, my heart a frozen stone. She snorted. “You’re nothing but a motherless stray we took in. Letting you rescue Grace was a chance for you to prove your worth, not a negotiation.” She tore the last piece of the contract, her demeanor that of a common street thug. The other parents, seeing their own children were safe, dropped their desperate pretenses. The masks of civility fell away. “You’re a wilderness expert. It’s your duty to save our children when they’re in danger. You should have been the first one on that plane.” “That worthless trash. Making us beg and plead before she’d lift a finger. She really thinks she’s someone important.” I watched their ugly, ungrateful faces, a perfect mirror of what had happened in my last life. A wave of nausea rolled through me. Some of them looked like they wanted to hit me, to vent their frustrations on my body. They backed me into a corner, and I couldn’t stop the cold, bitter laugh building in my chest. Fine. If this is how you want to play it… then I don’t have to hold back anymore. The next second, the image on the large screen behind them flickered to life. What appeared there made their blood run cold and their faces turn ashen with terror. In moments, they would be the ones on their knees, begging for mercy.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394156”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When my wife was in labor with our second child, the doctor called for the husband to come in for the delivery. I stood up, ready to go to her side, but the nurse called a different name. “Johnny? The husband? She’s ready for you.” I froze. Later, my wife, Chloe, explained she was just worried I’d be scared by the process, so she didn’t call for me. Thinking of the child she had just endured so much to give me, I let it go. But yesterday was our daughter Melissa’s one-month milestone. I suggested we take her for a professional photoshoot, but Chloe refused, saying she didn’t want to bother me while I was so busy with work. Then, at the office, I opened my phone and saw a new post from Johnny. It was a picture of him, Chloe, our son Leo, and our new daughter, Melissa. In the picture, they looked like a perfect family of four. And I… I felt like a stranger, a voyeur spying on a life that should have been mine. That night, I came home and asked for a divorce. She didn’t even take me seriously. “It’s just a few pictures, Ethan. Are you really going to throw our marriage away over this?” “Yes. I am.” 1. Chloe didn’t even look up from her phone. “So, Johnny was in the one-month photos. Is it really that big of a deal? He posted it to his story by accident, and I already made him take it down.” She scrolled, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’re a grown man, Ethan. Are you always going to pick fights over every little thing? If you’re not tired of it, I certainly am.” An accident. If Johnny hadn’t “accidentally” posted that picture, I wonder how much longer I would have been kept in the dark. So, her refusing my offer wasn’t about sparing me from work; it was because she wanted to take the photos with him. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Chloe’s eyes remained glued to the screen, her smile widening at something she saw. On a sudden, reckless impulse, I snatched the phone from her hand. In all our years of marriage, built on what I thought was absolute trust, I had never once looked through her phone. The shock of it left her momentarily stunned. The screen was still on her social media page. I tapped her profile picture, and the first post I saw made my blood run cold. It was a gallery of Melissa’s one-month photos. Nine pictures. Johnny was in eight of them. The comments below were a sea of cheerful congratulations that burned my eyes. “Such a beautiful couple! And the baby is adorable.” “Wow, my daughter finally came to her senses and started looking at other people!” Chloe hadn’t corrected any of them. Her silence was an endorsement. Before I could scroll further, she lunged for the phone. “What the hell is wrong with you? Give it back!” I held it higher, a cold sneer on my face. “You said Johnny posted it by accident. What about you? This carefully curated nine-picture layout, with me specifically hidden from the post… was that an accident, too?” A flash of guilt crossed her face. She opened her mouth to argue, but a knock at the door cut her off. It was Johnny, standing there with a respectful smile. “Chloe, it’s about time we head out. Everything’s ready at the restaurant for the party. Your mom sent me to hurry you guys along.” Chloe instantly turned off the phone’s screen. “We’ll talk about this when we get back. You wouldn’t want to ruin our daughter’s party over something so small, would you?” she said, her voice low and threatening. “Go get Leo. He should be upstairs watching TV.” She then turned to Johnny, her expression softening instantly. “Thanks for coming to get us.” With her silent permission, Johnny expertly scooped our daughter into his arms. I just stood there, my legs feeling like they were cast in lead. Seeing my inaction, a flicker of annoyance crossed Chloe’s face. “Well? Are you going to get Leo, or do you want to make everyone wait?” I gritted my teeth, swallowing the words that were trying to claw their way up my throat. Hearing the commotion, our son, Leo, appeared at the railing on the second floor. He peeked his head over, saw Johnny, and his face lit up. He came bounding down the stairs. “Uncle Johnny!” I reached out to ruffle his hair, but he dodged my hand and darted behind Johnny, shooting me a look of pure disgust. My hand fell limply to my side. I had steeled myself for this, but the rejection still felt like a knife twisting in my gut. I tried to take Melissa from Johnny’s arms, but Leo shoved me away. “You’re a bad guy! Don’t touch my sister! You’re not allowed!” Chloe looked embarrassed. “Just let Johnny hold her, Ethan. He’s more careful, and she’s always calmer with him.” The casual words were the final straw. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, my voice flat. “Sign the papers before you go.” Surprise flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced by irritation. “Are you serious? Over a few photos? I was trying to be considerate of your work schedule, that’s why I didn’t ask you to come.” “Johnny was there, so he was in the pictures. If you want some, we can take more later. Why do you have to make such a big deal out of everything?” “And the delivery? I didn’t let you in because I was worried you’d be traumatized by it! Johnny and I grew up together, and he’s a doctor. He’s seen it all before, so I asked him to be there for me.” Her voice rose with every word. “Besides, I already explained all of this to you! What more do you want? Is it fun for you to keep bringing up the past? Can you stop being so unreasonable?!” Her shouting startled Melissa, who began to wail. Johnny rocked her gently, looking at me with a pained expression. “Ethan, I apologize for the photos. I really shouldn’t have been in them,” he said, his tone placating. “It’s all my fault, it has nothing to do with Chloe. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Please don’t let this come between you two.” Chloe stepped in front of him protectively. “This isn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize.” Leo chimed in, “That’s right! Uncle Johnny, you don’t have to say sorry to the bad guy! When Mommy divorces him, we can all come live at your house!” Chloe, who had been so self-righteous a moment ago, quickly clamped a hand over Leo’s mouth. “Leo, don’t say things like that.” Johnny freed a hand and pulled Leo to his side. “Hey, buddy, let’s not get involved in grown-up stuff, okay? If you’re good, I’ll buy you that new Transformers toy you wanted.” Leo started jumping with excitement. “You’re the best, Uncle Johnny! Not like the bad guy. All he does is bully Mommy and fight with her.” Chloe shot me a look of strained apology, then took Leo’s hand and pushed past me. “If you’re not coming, then you can just stay home and rest. We’re leaving.” I grabbed her arm. “Sign the papers first.” She rolled her eyes, her patience clearly gone. Just as she was about to explode, her phone rang. After a moment, her voice was sharp and annoyed. “You should talk to Ethan. He’s trying to divorce me because Johnny was in Melissa’s photos, and now he won’t let me leave for the party.” She listened for another moment, then put the phone on speaker and shoved it in my face. Her mother’s shrill voice filled the room. “Ethan, what is wrong with you now? Are you not happy until you’ve completely humiliated my daughter? Look at the time! Stop this nonsense!” “Chloe and Johnny are childhood friends! If anything was going to happen between them, it would have happened long before you came along! Frankly, I wish it had.” “Johnny is successful, he’s caring—he’s ten times the man you are! Instead of throwing tantrums, maybe you should try learning something from him!” Her mother’s tirade left me speechless. It was pointless. Their complete lack of concern, their casual dismissal of my feelings, it made me feel like I was the one going crazy. And maybe I was. They had driven me to it. I met Chloe in college. We were young, clumsy, and fell into a relationship that somehow lasted for five years. When it was time to talk about marriage, her parents were dead set against it. They thought I was poor, that I wasn’t good enough. They threatened to break her legs if she married me. After we got married, I threw myself into my work, determined to prove them wrong. I worked until I was sick, literally. I once landed in the ER after drinking so much at a client dinner that I ended up with a bleeding stomach. When her parents came to visit, their words were laced with venom. “I told you she shouldn’t have married you. You’re useless. You land yourself in the hospital trying to close one deal.” “Why didn’t he just drink himself to death? Then you could find someone better while you’re still young.” I buried their words and worked even harder, building my company from the ground up. But it was never enough. Nothing I did would ever be enough for them. I thought Chloe, at least, would understand. But she complained that I was neglecting her. Our son grew distant. I tried to pull back from work, to make it up to them, but she pushed me away. When Melissa was born, she had Johnny in the delivery room. She took him to Melissa’s one-month photoshoot. And her parents, who despised me, encouraged it all. I’ve had enough. I finally see things clearly. All I want now is for it to be over. “Just sign the divorce papers, and you can go to your party,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “After this, we can go our separate ways. I’ll give you half of everything.” “As for custody,” I added, “Melissa stays with me. I will give her the best life, the best education.” Chloe’s patience snapped. “The best education? Ethan, are you trying to raise her to be a paranoid maniac like you? Did you beg and plead to marry me just so you could torture me to death?” She grabbed the divorce agreement from the table and, in a fit of rage, ripped it to shreds, throwing the pieces at my chest. “Is that what you want? For me to admit I was wrong? Fine! I was wrong! I’m sorry! Okay? Can we go now?” Her words were an accusation, not an apology. She was trying to force me to back down. Leo tried to shield her with his small body. “You’re a bad guy! Don’t you bully my mom! And you’re not taking my sister!” After a moment, Chloe took a deep breath and patted his shoulder. “Leo, apologize to your father.” “Daddy is angry because Uncle Johnny was in the photos with us,” she explained, her voice deceptively calm. “If you don’t apologize, he’s going to leave our family.” Leo pouted. “Let him leave! I hope I never see the bad guy again!” he shouted. “I’m not saying sorry! Get out of our house! I want Uncle Johnny to be my dad!” Looking at his defiant little face, I could barely hold back my tears. He used to adore me. He used to wait by the door for me to come home from work so we could play. Chloe sighed heavily. “Leo, don’t talk to your father like that. Apologize to him, or he might really leave.” Leo’s little fists were clenched at his sides. “I won’t! I won’t say sorry to the bad guy!” With that, his face crumpled, and he burst into tears. Johnny knelt down and gently wiped his cheeks. “Hey, no crying. Big boys don’t cry, remember?” he murmured. “Just say you’re sorry to your dad. If you do, I promise I’ll take you to my secret hideout, okay?” Leo rubbed his eyes. “Really?” After Johnny nodded, Leo turned to me and mumbled a reluctant, “Sorry.” Chloe looked at her son, her eyes filled with pity. “There. Are you happy now? He apologized. Can you stop this nonsense?” Just then, Leo started pounding on my leg with his small fists. “You big bad guy! Let go of my mom!” “Mommy, just divorce the bad guy! I want Uncle Johnny to be my daddy! Grandma said the bad guy is a jinx and that Mommy will only be happy with Uncle Johnny!” Something inside me snapped. My grip on Chloe’s arm tightened without me realizing it. “Who taught him to say these things?” I roared, my voice shaking with a rage I hadn’t known I possessed. “He’s a child! Why would he say that? Tell me! All these years, I have worked myself to the bone, day and night, to give you a better life! And you… what have you done to me? Do you even have a heart, Chloe? Why would you turn our son against me like this?” Chloe shrank back, trying desperately to pull her arm free. “Bad guys die!” Leo screamed. He grabbed the heavy ceramic vase from the entryway table and, without a moment’s hesitation, swung it with all his might into the small of my back. A sharp, shattering pain exploded across my spine. The shards of the vase sliced through my shirt, followed by the warm trickle of blood. I sucked in a sharp breath, frozen in place. In that instant, all the strength, all the fight, drained out of me. I clutched at the bleeding wound and slowly turned my head. Leo’s expression, though frightened, held no regret. At that moment, the dam broke. Tears I had held back for years streamed down my face. Chloe was clearly shocked. “Leo! What have you done? How could you hit your father with a vase?” Summoning his courage, our son stammered, “Mommy, I just… I just didn’t want the bad guy to hurt you.” Chloe stared at him for a few seconds, then rushed forward and wrapped him in a tight embrace. I wiped the tears from my eyes. From the drawer under the table, I pulled out another copy of the divorce agreement. “Sign it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394155”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel