1 I always lived life a little out of focus, like I was constantly nursing a mild buzz. So when Sebastian went full obsessive, treating me like his captive prize, I honestly thought he was just messing around. Every time a great escape ended with him dragging me back, I would just shoot him a thumbs up. “Your hide and seek game is leveling up. I only lasted thirty minutes this time.” Three years we played this cat and mouse game. Until today. I was throwing up, found out I was pregnant, and headed home with the sonogram. I couldn’t wait to tell Sebastian, especially since doctors had sworn he was completely sterile. But fate had a twisted sense of humor. He got into a car wreck and woke up with amnesia. His precious childhood friend, Monica, was sobbing by his bedside, blaming me for everything. “If he hadn’t been rushing back for your birthday, the crash never would have happened.” “He forgot you exist. I am begging you, stop clinging to him.” I walked out slowly. My stomach was cramping. I felt like I was forgetting something. I stood under a streetlamp for a minute, scratching my head. Oh, right. I turned back, pushed the hospital room door open, and held out my wrist. It showed a sleek, titanium GPS cuff. “I left in such a hurry I forgot about this. You guys should probably take it off.” Monica raised an eyebrow. “What is that?” I explained it calmly. “A tracker. It pairs with the one on Sebastian’s wrist. If you want me gone for good, you need to unlock this cuff first.” He insisted I wear it. I never really cared, since I never planned to run anywhere he couldn’t find me anyway. But things were different now. He forgot me. His parents exchanged a dark look. Monica tightened her grip and looked at the assistant. “Did you know about this?” The assistant looked incredibly awkward, stuttering through his words. “The boss ordered that the cuff was never to be removed. He didn’t even design a fail safe to unlock it. Forcing it off will break the mechanism.” Mr. Blackwood slammed his hand on the table. “This is absurd! A grown man playing these twisted games. What would the board think if this leaked?” He glared at the assistant. “Get someone to cut it off. Now.” A specialist arrived quickly, brutally cutting the titanium with heavy duty bolt cutters. Monica snatched the broken metal and tossed it into the trash. “Done. Now leave.” I had just reached the door when a hoarse whisper floated through the room. “Don’t… don’t go…” My feet stopped. I looked back. Sebastian’s eyes were squeezed shut, his brow heavily furrowed in pain. Monica rushed forward, grabbing his hand. “Sebastian, I am right here. Don’t be scared.” She shot me a venomous glare, mouthing the words to get out. His parents flanked me like bouncers, escorting me into the hallway. His father handed me a blank check. “The family will compensate you generously. But you and my son are from two different worlds. Monica is the only woman fit to be his wife.” “We are going to an orphanage to adopt a boy. Sebastian and Monica will raise him as the heir.” “Every trace of you will be scrubbed clean. Your chapter here is over.” It wasn’t until I reached the airport that the delayed wave of heartbreak finally hit me. Sebastian always called me slow. I wasn’t stupid, my brain just needed an extra second to process things. But now he was the one with the broken brain. I crouched by the boarding gate, dry heaving until my ribs ached. When I finally stood up and wiped my mouth, the realization slowly dawned on me. Oops. I completely forgot to tell them I was pregnant. Those doctors totally misdiagnosed him. Sebastian was perfectly capable of having kids. They didn’t need to adopt a fake heir at all. 2 I pulled out my phone to call them, but the line was dead. They really wanted nothing to do with me. Whatever. They gave me a ridiculous amount of money. I could raise a kid just fine on my own. I planted roots in a new city. My belly grew rounder, and when the day came, I called my own ambulance. I raised a beautifully healthy little boy. But Oliver looked way too much like his father. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, even the arrogant little way he pressed his lips together. He was a carbon copy of Sebastian. His personality was a match, too. When he fell, he didn’t cry. He just dusted off his knees with this serious, old soul expression that mirrored his dad perfectly. Soon, it was open house day at kindergarten. Every other kid had a mom and a dad squished into the tiny chairs. My side had an empty seat. A little boy ran over to him. “Oliver, why didn’t your daddy come?” I opened my mouth, but my slow brain short circuited. I had no idea what to say. Oliver just looked up, his face deadpan. “My mom being here is enough. I can take care of her all by myself. We don’t need him.” The surrounding parents chuckled. “What a sweet, mature kid.” But one dad squinted, staring at Oliver. “Huh.” “Why does this kid look so incredibly familiar?” He tilted his head, thinking hard, then slapped his thigh. “I got it. He looks exactly like my CEO. A literal mini version of the boss.” “But my boss and his wife are basically relationship goals. He didn’t want to put her through the pain of childbirth, so they adopted an orphan.” I froze. My sluggish brain was trying to decipher what he just said. The parents exchanged loaded glances, their eyes raking over me with sudden judgment. The little boy laughed, pointing a sticky finger at Oliver. “That means you are a bastard!” “Your mommy is dirty. She is just a secret mistress for some rich guy. That is why your dad isn’t here. You are a secret baby!” An adult weakly pulled the boy back, but a nasty, knowing smirk played on his lips. Oliver’s tiny shoulders shook. He balled up his fists and launched himself at the kid. “Do not talk about my mom!” By the time I snapped out of my daze, Oliver was already wrestling the boy to the carpet. The obnoxious dad grabbed Oliver by the collar, lifting him into the air. His kid took the chance to scratch Oliver, leaving a bloody red line down his cheek. The man saw I was a single mother and figured I was an easy target. He sneered, holding my son up like a ragdoll. “Since this brat does not have a father to teach him manners, I will gladly step in and do the job.” He raised his large hand, bringing it down hard on Oliver. Oliver’s eyes filled with tears, but he bit his lip so hard it almost bled, refusing to let a single drop fall. A loud ringing exploded in my ears. I went feral, snatching my boy out of his grip, burying him against my chest, and walking out without looking back. But by midnight, Oliver spiked a terrifying fever. His little face burned red, his breath coming out in hot, shallow pants. I carried him on my back, sprinting all the way to the emergency room. The hallways were packed. After getting our number, I curled up on a hard plastic chair, holding his burning body. Waves of pure helplessness kept crashing over me. A fragile, whimpering whisper came from my arms. “Daddy… Daddy…” I fell silent, tightening my arms and pressing my cheek against his sweaty hair. “Your dad forgot about us. He is busy playing daddy for someone else.” The intercom finally called our number. I jumped up, rushing toward the clinic door. Just as I reached the handle, a woman shoved her way past me, blocking the entrance. “My son scraped his hand. We are going first.” Our eyes met. We both completely froze. It was Monica. 3 Her eyes darted down to the little boy burning up in my arms. Her brow furrowed, her voice laced with sudden panic. “Why does this kid look exactly like…” “No, that is impossible. The doctors swore Sebastian was completely sterile.” I put on my most sincere face, opening my mouth to say it was just a misdiagnosis. Before I could, heavy, authoritative footsteps echoed behind me. Sebastian stepped up right next to Monica. “What is going on?” I looked up, colliding straight into Sebastian’s dark, bottomless eyes. A phantom chill washed over the back of my neck. A flash of pure malice sparked in Monica’s eyes. I didn’t even get a chance to speak before she switched to a soft, trembling voice. “Sebastian, you probably do not remember her. She is the girl who used to bully me ruthlessly.” “She was just threatening me, saying she was going to ruin my life.” She shrank against his chest, her manicured fingers tightly gripping his tailored shirt. “I am so scared. Teach her a lesson, please? Just deport her and make her disappear.” Sebastian gently peeled Monica off his chest. He looked down at her, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “She bullied you?” Then he let go of her hand and took slow, deliberate steps toward me. I instinctively backed up. His gaze was scorching, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register. “What is your name?” My heart skipped a beat under that suffocating stare. “Stella.” The feeling was incredibly nostalgic. Every time he used to hunt me down, he had that exact same feral, obsessive look in his eyes. After a long pause, he tilted his chin toward the triage nurse. “Let her go in first. The kid is burning up.” Behind us, Monica looked like she was about to snap her own teeth in half, glaring daggers at my back. Thank god Oliver was fine. After an IV drip, we were cleared to go home. Walking back, my slow brain finally processed the chaos of the day. We definitely had to pack up and move to a new city. Remaining here was a death wish. I was deep in thought, wondering where we should relocate. Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around me from behind, clamping a rag tightly over my nose and mouth. Everything went black in a split second. When my eyes fluttered open, I was trapped in a pitch black, suffocatingly small room. Sebastian’s crisp, cool voice brushed right against my ear. “Stella. Be a good girl and be mine.” “I can give you anything you could ever want. Just do not try to run away.” I shifted my wrists and ankles. A sharp, metallic clinking echoed in the dark. I looked down and saw the heavy metal cuffs locking me to the bed. The classic behavior. The classic dialogue. The classic Sebastian. People say you can never step into the same river twice. But Sebastian absolutely could. I felt a little delirious, wondering if I had somehow time traveled. “Why did it take you so incredibly long to find me this time?” I must have hit a nerve. His pupils constricted violently. He brought a hand to his temple, pressing hard as if his skull was splitting open. His entire body swayed. A second later, he collapsed, falling dead weight right on top of me. His heavy frame pinned me to the mattress just as the door was violently kicked open. Monica stood at the front of the pack, with Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood crowding behind her. Monica’s eyes swept over the room, landing on my chained wrists and ankles. She literally stumbled backward. His mother grabbed the doorframe, looking like she was about to pass out. “Stella? Why is it always you? How on earth did you two end up tangled together again?” 4 They swarmed into the room in a blind panic, screaming for a doctor and hauling Sebastian’s unconscious body off the bed. The private physician arrived in minutes. He checked his vitals and looked up with a relieved smile. “This is incredible news. The blood clot in Mr. Blackwood’s brain is dissolving rapidly. His memories should return very soon.” His mother forced a stiff, unnatural smile. His father frowned, sighing heavily before waving his hand. “Get him to a comfortable room to rest. Have the nurses monitor him around the clock.” Once they carried Sebastian out and the door clicked shut, three icy glares locked onto me. His father spoke, his tone dripping with exhaustion. “Miss Stella, we truly did not want to hurt you. But you have left us with absolutely no choice.” “You just had to let him find you again.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Barely twenty minutes later, the heavy thud of uniform boots echoed in the hallway. The door swung open, revealing several stern faced corporate security agents and local police officers. “Stella, is it? We received a report that you broke into private property and stole highly classified corporate secrets. The financial damages are astronomical. You need to come with us.” My breath hitched. I shook my head frantically against the pillows. “No, I didn’t do anything!” His mother stood off to the side, pulling a thick folder from her designer coat and handing it to the lead officer. “Here are the incident reports and the fabricated evidence logs. Thank you for handling this.” Monica took a slow step forward. She reached out, trailing a manicured nail down my cheek, her eyes practically vibrating with toxic jealousy. “Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood, wouldn’t it be better to tie up all the loose ends?” “Let me ruin that pretty face of hers before you lock her in a cell.” “Even if Sebastian gets his memories back, he will only feel disgust when he looks at a disfigured convict.” His mother was silent for a long moment. Then, she gave a slow, chilling nod. “Monica always thinks ahead.” I was securely chained to the heavy bed frame, cold metal biting into my skin. I could not move a single inch. “No, please don’t do this…” Monica was already gripping a sleek pocket knife. She tapped the cold flat edge of the blade against my cheek. “Relax. I will make it quick.” “He refused to legally marry me all these years. Once he wakes up and sees your ruined face, he will finally get over his little obsession.” I squeezed my eyes shut in pure despair. Right at that exact second, the door flew open. Oliver used every ounce of his tiny body weight to shove past the guards, sprinting blindly into the room. “Grandma! Please let my mommy go! Do not hurt her!” Crying hysterically, Oliver crashed straight into Sebastian’s mother. Caught entirely off guard, she stumbled backward. She looked down, annoyed words already forming on her lips. “Whose out of control brat is…” She saw his face. And completely froze. The eyes. The nose. The absolute mirror image of her son, Sebastian, as a little boy! At the exact same moment, his father looked down, entirely captivated. Staring at Oliver’s tear stained face, he bent down, his hands trembling as he scooped the boy up. His voice shook with raw emotion. “Little boy, whose child are you?” Oliver was terrified by the chaotic room. He wailed through his tears. “Grandpa, please let my mom go!” “I do not have a dad! She works so hard taking care of me all by herself. Please do not bully her!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458741”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Tedd was an absolute master at playing the perfect boyfriend. He remembered every anniversary, never hid me on social media, and introduced me to everyone as his future wife. Yet when it came to actually marrying me, he invented endless excuses to stall. His startup lacked stability, his mother’s health was failing, our dream venue was booked, or the stars were not aligned. I waited eight years, from twenty-four to thirty-two. At my best friend’s wedding reception, the DJ called out the couple who had been together the longest. The room erupted as everyone pushed us onto the dance floor. A groomsman handed Tedd the microphone. “Come on man, make her a real promise right here in front of everyone!” Tedd gazed at me, his eyes impossibly soft. “I promise I will spend the rest of my life taking care of her.” It was the same line again. Taking care of me. Providing for me. Never doing me wrong. He had repackaged that promise for eight years, expertly dodging the word marriage. Later, still laughing with his fraternity brothers, Tedd boasted, “Oh, I spoil the missus rotten. She has me wrapped around her finger.” I calmly picked up a glass of champagne, walked onto the stage, and tapped the microphone. “Just a quick heads up. I am getting married next month on the sixteenth. Every single one of you is invited, and I fully expect a gift.” Tedd froze, his glass hovering in midair. Red wine sloshed over the rim, soaking his crisp white dress shirt. From the crowd, someone shouted, asking who the lucky groom was. I stared directly into Tedd’s eyes, enunciating every syllable. “A man who only needed three days to ask me to be his wife.” 1 “Jenna, are you insane?” Tedd’s expensive leather shoes slammed against the concrete of the underground parking garage. The sharp echoes reached my ears before he did. I didn’t turn around. I pressed the button on my key fob twice. The taillights of my SUV flashed in the dim light. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight my bones ached. “My investors are upstairs right now. Do you have any idea what kind of stunt you just pulled in front of them?” I looked down at his hand. His nails were perfectly manicured. The custom silver cufflinks at his wrists were the ones I bought him for his birthday last year. The front of his tailored shirt was stained with a massive, dark map of spilled wine. The very first thing out of his mouth after chasing me down wasn’t to ask why I did it. It was to remind me his business partners were upstairs. “I know.” I slowly lifted my head. “I was just making sure everyone saved the date for my wedding.” “Who exactly are you marrying?” He let go of my wrist, taking a half step back. His voice carried this arrogant, absolute certainty, like he genuinely believed the entire concept was physically impossible. I didn’t answer him. “Some guy you met three days ago? Jenna, listen to yourself.” He let out a cold, sharp laugh. I knew that exact laugh. It was the condescending smirk he always used to shut down our arguments whenever I brought up a ring. “Did Brian put you up to this?” “This has absolutely nothing to do with Brian.” “She just eloped, and now she is dragging you down with her. Look at couples who rush into marriage. How many of them actually survive?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, tilting his chin up. His tone shifted into that familiar, patronizing lecture mode. “You need to calm down.” I pulled the car door open. He slammed his hand flat against the door, leaning in close. His voice suddenly dropped into that velvety, gentle tone I had listened to for eight long years. “What do you really want? Just tell me.” “Take a wild guess.” “You want to get married. Fine.” He let out a heavy sigh, acting as if he was making the ultimate, agonizing sacrifice. “Once we close this Series B funding round, we will do it. By the end of the year at the latest. You have already waited eight years. A few more months will not kill you.” Eight years. He actually said it out loud. His tone was totally flat, like he was reading the terms and conditions of a corporate lease. “Tedd. The first time you told me not to rush, I had just celebrated my twenty fifth birthday.” I reached up to the sun visor, pulled out the prepaid gas card clipped there, and held it out to him. “This is your card.” He didn’t take it. “The second time, you said we had to wait because your mom was sick. The third time, you said the country club did not have our dates available. I believed every single word. Then you claimed our astrological signs were clashing so we had to wait for the new year. I secretly booked a session with a psychic who read our charts. She said it was the perfect time to tie the knot. I just never told you.” “What exactly is your point?” “Do you want to know the funniest part of all this?” I shoved the plastic gas card directly into the wine soaked breast pocket of his shirt. “Every single time you rejected me, you bought me a designer bag. Or booked a surprise trip to Aspen. You called that compensation.” “When have I ever rejected you?” His voice spiked, defensive and sharp. “I said the timing was not right.” “Eight years of bad timing.” “Jenna!” His voice bounced off the concrete pillars, echoing loudly. “Do you honestly think backing me into a corner like this is going to work? I am in the most critical stage of my funding round, and you are throwing a tantrum just because you are desperate for a ring?” Desperate. The word hung in the damp air of the garage, sharp and incredibly cruel. He had never used a word that ugly before. In the past, he would just wrap his arms around me, kiss my forehead, and whisper ‘Baby, do not rush, I am not going anywhere.’ And I would slowly unclench my fists, telling myself to just hold on a little longer. But for some reason, hearing him call me desperate actually made me let out a breath of relief. “You are absolutely right.” I slid into the driver’s seat and buckled my seatbelt. “I am completely desperate to get married. That is exactly why I am marrying him.” The heavy car door slammed shut, cutting off the chill of the garage. He slapped the glass window twice, his knuckles rapping hard against the tint. His voice was muffled from the outside. “Cool off for a couple of days. Once you are thinking straight, we will sit down and talk.” I shifted into reverse. The SUV backed out smoothly. In the rearview mirror, Tedd stood dead center in the empty parking spot. His hands were planted firmly on his hips, his chin tilted up. It was the exact same posture he took after every single fight we ever had. He wasn’t angry. He was just waiting. Waiting for me to turn the car around. Waiting for my inevitable apology text, saying I was sorry for making a scene. As I drove up the ramp into the city lights, my phone buzzed in the cup holder. “Text me when you are ready to be reasonable.” I didn’t even open it. 2 “Hey Jenna, the buyer signed the paperwork. The condo title will be officially transferred next week.” Ben, my real estate agent, sounded perfectly crisp and professional over the phone. “Perfect. Wire the final funds directly to my Chase account.” “Are you absolutely sure you do not want to reconsider? The property value is great, and since the deed is under two names, the other owner…” “I do not need to reconsider.” I hung up the phone and stared at the calendar on my kitchen island. It had been exactly six days since Brian’s wedding reception. Six full days. Tedd had not called me once. He had not sent a single text. He thought he was teaching me a lesson. I thought the silence was a blessing. I canceled the memberships we shared. I transferred my assets. I sat at the bank on Wednesday to close our joint checking account. The teller asked if I needed to notify the secondary account holder. I smiled and said no. Brian helped me pack up the last of my things from the apartment, loading it all into a moving van in two trips. She squatted on the floor, taping up the final cardboard box, and looked up at me. “Do you feel even a little bit of regret?” “Brian, help me unscrew that coat rack.” She didn’t ask again. Day seven. Tedd’s investor contracts were still sitting on my desk. Three thick binders, stamped and ready for the final signatures he needed. His assistant texted Brian, asking if ‘Jenna could drop the files off at Mr. Rawlings’s bachelor pad.’ I could have just paid a courier to do it. But I wanted to walk this final mile myself. His luxury apartment was on the thirty second floor. The hallway was lined with plush grey carpeting that swallowed my footsteps completely. I didn’t hear the voices until I was standing right outside his heavy oak door. He wasn’t alone. Valerie’s voice slipped through the crack in the door. Her tone curled upward at the end, dripping with that perfectly calculated, flirty whine. “Tedd, everyone at the office is gossiping about those flowers you bought me. You really need to clear those rumors up for me.” A man laughed. It wasn’t Tedd. “Clear what up? Are you really complaining about getting roses, Val?” The room erupted into teasing laughter. “Shut up, you guys are the worst.” Valerie’s voice was practically drowning in the attention. Tedd didn’t say a single word to stop it. A few seconds later, another guy spoke up, his voice a bit raspy. “So what is the game plan with Jenna? I got her wedding invitation in the mail. White cardstock, gold foil. It looked pretty damn legitimate.” Tedd finally spoke. “Let her tire herself out.” Six words. His tone was completely flat, like he was casually predicting the weather. “I spoil her too much on a daily basis. This time, she needs to figure out on her own that throwing a tantrum is not going to magically get her what she wants.” Someone hesitated. “You do not think… this has anything to do with Valerie, right?” Valerie let out a soft, breathy giggle, light as air. “Oh, Tedd knows exactly what he is doing.” No one argued with her. And absolutely no one defended me. My mind flashed back to two years ago. A coworker had texted the company group chat saying, ‘The boss’s girlfriend is here,’ attached to a blurry candid photo of me waiting in the lobby. That exact same afternoon, Tedd sent a mass email: ‘Focus on your work. Gossip will not be tolerated.’ The tone was absolute ice. I had never stepped foot in his corporate office since that day. But Valerie? How long had she been orbiting around him, playing these little games? Had he ever once told her to act like a professional? Someone inside spoke up again. “What does Jenna even bring to the table besides drama? She is not like Val. Val is sharp. She actually steps up when the company needs her.” I placed the stack of investor contracts quietly on the welcome mat. My knees felt a little weak when I bent down. I used my index finger to nudge the thick manila envelope right against the crack of the door. The motion sensor lights in the hallway timed out, plunging the corridor into total darkness. “Tedd, I think someone dropped something outside.” 3 “Jenna, sweetheart, what on earth is going on with you two?” Tedd’s mother called me right as I was standing in the bridal boutique, trying on my second dress. Her voice sounded a little hoarse. “Tedd told me it was no big deal. When I pressed him, he claimed you two were just giving each other the silent treatment. But he moved back into his bachelor pad a week ago. Jenna, I am not taking sides, but please just tell me what happened.” “Mrs. Rawlings, it really is not a big deal. Please do not stress yourself out over it.” “If it is not a big deal, why did he move out? Did you have a massive blowout?” I stared at my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror. The delicate silk straps rested perfectly above my collarbones. The boutique’s warm, golden lighting made everything look flawless. “Mrs. Rawlings, the weather is getting cold. Please make sure you rest and stay warm. I will come visit you soon.” She fell silent for a few seconds. “Jenna, are you trying to force his hand?” My fingers froze against the silk fabric. “I have no idea what you mean.” “Tedd has always been like this since he was a little boy. The harder you push him, the harder he pulls away. Just soften up a little. Reach out to him first and talk it out. You know he acts tough but has a soft heart.” Acts tough but has a soft heart. For eight years, everyone used that exact phrase to excuse him. He remembered anniversaries, he showed me off online, he called me his wife, he threw elaborate birthday parties. Everyone always told me I had won the absolute lottery with him. But the girl who won the lottery had waited eight years and still couldn’t get a wedding ring. “I understand, Mrs. Rawlings.” I hung up the phone. Brian popped her head out from behind the velvet curtain. “Was that his mom?” I nodded. “What did she say? Let me guess. Told you to apologize first because he is just ‘stubborn but sweet’?” “How did you know.” “Because that is exactly what she told you after your last fight. And the fight before that. The man messes up, but the woman has to stroke his ego to fix it. Classic.” Brian stepped out and helped me smooth the long, sweeping train of the dress. “Ignore her. Dress number two is stunning. Do you want me to take a picture for the aesthetic?” Before I could answer, my phone buzzed again. Noah. Tedd’s oldest frat brother. “Hey, can we grab dinner tonight? Just me and you. I really want to talk.” I knew exactly why he was calling. I said yes. We met at an upscale sushi lounge. Noah sat across from me, ordering a carafe of hot sake, barely touching his spicy tuna roll. “Look, do not be too hard on Tedd. He is genuinely stressed out of his mind. Closing this funding round is killing him.” I picked up a piece of sashimi with my chopsticks. “Right.” “And about the marriage thing. It is not that he does not want to do it. You know his personality. He hates being backed into a corner. If you just give him a little more time…” “Noah, when you met your wife, how long did it take you to propose?” He blinked, caught completely off guard. “Three months, I guess. We signed the papers at six months.” “Did you feel like you needed more time?” “I… well, my situation was different.” “How was it different?” He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I picked up the sake carafe and refilled his tiny ceramic cup. “Do not stress yourself out trying to lie to me. Tedd sent you, didn’t he?” Noah rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to deny it. “What were his exact words?” Noah hesitated for two agonizing seconds. “He said… he told me to talk some sense into you. He said you have been acting completely irrational lately.” Irrational. I let out a soft laugh. “What else did he say?” “He said if push comes to shove, he will just marry you by the end of the year. He told me to tell you to stop making such a fuss.” Marry me by the end of the year. Stop making a fuss. That was Tedd’s grand compromise. He genuinely believed he was falling on his sword, making the ultimate sacrifice by throwing out a vague end of year timeline. But the way he said it. The way he used Noah as a messenger boy. The fact that he was too arrogant to even dial my number himself. It all pointed to the exact same truth. He didn’t want to marry me. He just wanted me to sit down and be quiet. “Noah, do me a favor. Tell him I said thank you.” “Wait, so does that mean you are…” “It means you need to drink that sake for me. I am cutting out alcohol.” He stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth. “Jenna, who the hell are you actually marrying?” “You will find out soon enough.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458740”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 In our social circle, everyone called me Matthew’s ultimate lapdog. He liked drinking, so I trained myself to have a legendary tolerance. He liked street racing, so I went to school to become a professional co-driver. When he lost his temper and caused scenes, I was always there to clean up his mess with a sweet, placid smile. Everyone thought I couldn’t live without him. Even Matthew believed it. Until his childhood sweetheart graduated and returned to the country. He immediately went public with her, flaunting their love everywhere they went. I actually laughed out loud when I heard the news. Finally, I was free. … After my parents died, I was taken in by Matthew’s family, the Kingsleys. We had an old family arrangement, a childhood betrothal. The first time Matthew saw me, he looked at me with cold disgust. “I could never love you,” he warned me. “The people who made that stupid arrangement are dead. It means nothing now.” I just smiled and nodded. And then, as expected, I proceeded to follow him around like a devoted shadow. Matthew was always the center of attention. When his cold, piercing eyes swept over a room, people fell in line. His friends mocked me, insulted me, and played cruel pranks on me. I never got angry. As long as I could stay by his side, I didn’t care what anyone said. Matthew treated me horribly, but he was incredibly generous with his money. I had no family, no backing. Only the rising digits in my bank account gave me a sense of security. Later, Matthew fell for a proud, penniless girl named Giselle. I helped him strategize, ran his errands, and bought expensive gifts for him to send to her door. But Giselle didn’t care for his wealth. “I could never love you, Matthew,” she told him. “Your money and status mean nothing to me.” The more she pushed him away, the more obsessed he became. I acted as their wingman for three months. Finally, Giselle relented, but on one condition: he had to sponsor her studies in Paris. Matthew personally saw her off at the airport, sitting alone in the terminal looking utterly devastated. That was when I stepped in. I knelt in front of him, my voice soft and tender. “Matthew, no matter what anyone else does, I will always love you. I’m willing to give you everything just to see you happy. When you hurt, my heart breaks.” He looked up through a haze of tears, staring at me blankly. That was the first time I saw a crack in his icy armor, a tiny flicker of genuine emotion directed at me. 2 The years that followed were the best of my life. Matthew stopped playing cruel pranks to drive me out of the Kingsley estate. He also banned his wealthy friends from bullying me. I followed him in and out of high-end clubs, and he showered me with luxury goods. I was quiet, obedient, and useful. I possessed a unique talent for managing his public relations, saving the Kingsley family from several massive scandals. When he got into a bar fight, I called the legal team instantly and smoothed things over with the victims, practically begging them on my knees. When his reckless driving caused an accident on a private track, I visited every media outlet personally, pleading with them to spike the story. His parents grew to trust me completely, assuming I would eventually become their daughter-in-law. They showered me with family heirlooms, antiques, and massive wire transfers. In the third year of Giselle’s stay in Paris, she suddenly announced a new boyfriend, a handsome young French artist. Matthew got completely drunk and drove his race car onto the track. He spun out of control, crashing straight into the VIP lounge, bleeding heavily from his head. I checked the security cameras, found the perfect angle, and smashed the car window with my bare fist. Shattered glass tore into my arm, but I ignored the agonizing pain. I dragged his heavy, unconscious body out of the wreckage myself. Thirty seconds later, the car exploded. I collapsed onto the asphalt beside him, completely spent. Amid the roaring flames, I pulled a large shard of glass from my arm, right next to a major vein, letting the blood pool around us. When the family and paramedics arrived, I whispered weakly: “Save Matthew first. I’m fine.” And just like that, I became a hero. I was hospitalized, needing two blood transfusions, and slept for a full day and night. The video of my rescue was placed online by a track employee. To show their gratitude, the Kingsleys held a press conference, returning all of my parents’ seized assets to me and publicly declaring that I was the only woman worthy of marrying Matthew. I smiled secretly, my fingers trembling with excitement as I held my parents’ deeds. The finish line was finally in sight. 3 When the family patriarch passed away, the Kingsley empire faced its worst crisis. His mistress and her three illegitimate sons returned from abroad to contest the will, dragging Matthew’s father into a public court battle. In a fit of rage, Matthew’s father froze the offshore family trusts, triggering a massive financial bottleneck. Matthew went completely quiet. He stopped drinking, stopped racing, and spent his nights staring at the river. When I found him, he was crying. “Matthew,” I whispered. “You must be so hurt. The grandfather you respected turned out to have such a dark secret.” He spun around, eyes wide with shock. Everyone else thought he was mourning the loss of his inheritance, terrified of his father losing the empire. I was the only one who addressed his emotional betrayal. He looked at me for a long time, then smiled. It was a pure, soft smile, free of his usual arrogance. “Gemma,” he said gently. “Let’s be together. Truly. Seeing how easily people betray love for greed makes me realize Giselle isn’t irreplaceable.” My hands clenched behind my back, but I forced a sweet smile and nodded. He pulled me into a tight, warm embrace. “I won’t ever betray you, Gemma. I swear.” I never believed in vows. Words are the cheapest currency in the world. He had simply found a temporary refuge in me during a chaotic storm. We were both using each other. From that day on, we were inseparable. Our friends envied me, whispering that my years of devotion had finally paid off. “Gemma, please don’t leave me,” Matthew would whisper, his dark eyes brimming with affection. He was actually trying to charm me. For a brief second, a dangerous thought crossed my mind. What if he stayed like this even after Giselle returned? But I immediately cleared my mind of those useless illusions, and crossed another day off my calendar. During a social gathering, his mother called me. “Gemma, I am so grateful to you. You stood by Matthew and pulled him out of his depression when our family was falling apart. We will always be indebted to you. What is it that you want?” What did I want? She was officially turning my relationship with Matthew into a business transaction. I didn’t hesitate. “You’re too kind, Mrs. Kingsley. You’re my family; it was my duty. But I would like to try running the tech company my father left behind. Would that be alright?” The silent negotiation was complete. After a brief pause, she smiled. “Of course. I will have the legal team transfer the ownership to you on Monday.” 4 The days became much simpler. I played the part of the perfect girlfriend, accompanying him everywhere. He remembered every anniversary, showering me with romantic gestures. I documented every detail on social media. I knew Giselle was watching. So, when she booked a flight back to the country the day after her graduation, I wasn’t surprised at all. She showed up right in front of Matthew holding two heavy suitcases, just as we were at a luxury jeweler, picking out engagement rings. The Kingsley family had refused to accept her, leading to explosive arguments between Matthew and his parents. His mother had pulled me aside several times, her gratitude turning into deep suspicion. “Gemma, surely you don’t actually expect to marry into our family? You know I love you like a daughter, but…” I hid my disgust behind a gentle smile. “Of course, Mrs. Kingsley. Don’t worry. Once Matthew’s excitement fades, he’ll forget all about this.” Now, Giselle stood before us, her eyes red, looking beautifully fragile. She had grown even more stunning over the last four years. Matthew’s grip on my hand tightened until it trembled. I looked up and saw his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Giselle spoke to me first. “Gemma, it’s been so long. How have you been? I missed you so much while I was away.” She stepped forward to hug me. But at that exact moment, a reckless teenager on an electric bike came speeding toward her. Without a second thought, Matthew let go of my hand, throwing me aside to pull Giselle into his arms, dragging her to safety. The force of his shove sent me sprawling onto the hard pavement right into the path of the bike. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through my hand as the wheel rolled over it. When I looked up, I saw a flash of guilt in Matthew’s eyes. I smiled slightly through the pain. It was time.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458739”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Right after graduating from college, I developed an anonymous social networking app. Aside from the usual venting and blind matching features, I recently coded a new module called the Whisper Wall. A few days after it went live, a lengthy review popped up on the backend. [Highly recommend this Whisper Wall feature.] [I wished for my boss to die. He ruined my life and couldn’t keep his hands off the female staff. I wished he would curl up and go right back into his mother’s womb to be reincarnated.] [I didn’t expect it, but my wish actually came true.] I chuckled at the screen, brushing it off as some user’s twisted sense of humor. A second later, a breaking news alert flashed at the top of my phone. [Middle-aged man found dead in local apartment under bizarre circumstances.] The accompanying photo was heavily blurred, but the description was enough to make my skin crawl. The victim was found completely naked, sealed inside a massive, heavy-duty industrial water bag. His body was unnaturally contorted into a tight ball. He looked exactly like a fetus in a womb. I sucked in a sharp breath. A chill crept up my spine as the review I had just read echoed in my head. Stop scaring yourself, I thought, taking a deep breath. Coincidences happen all the time. Just then, my bedroom door creaked open. Mom stood there holding a crumpled shopping receipt, looking thoroughly confused. “Riley, what on earth do you need an oversized, heavy-duty water bag for?” The air in the room seemed to freeze. “When did I ever buy something like that?” I stiffly took the receipt from her hand. The timestamp clearly read 2:10 AM yesterday. But at that exact time, I was sound asleep in my bed. I hadn’t even stepped out of my room. “I definitely didn’t buy this. I was dead to the world last night.” My voice pitched up defensively. As the words left my mouth, the news report struck me like a bolt of lightning. The body was found inside that exact type of heavy-duty water bag. My fingers began to tremble. I unlocked my phone and pulled up the article again. The preliminary police report stated the time of death was around 2:30 AM. Right after the water bag was purchased. Did the killer drop this receipt? But how did it end up in my coat pocket without me knowing? Mom didn’t notice my pale face. Her eyes drifted to a pair of my sneakers resting by the door, and she frowned. “Still lying about not going out? Look at the soles of your shoes. They are caked in mud. You didn’t even bother wiping them on the mat.” Grumbling under her breath, she picked up my sneakers with a look of disgust and headed for the laundry room. I was rooted to the spot, my heart hammering against my ribs. It had poured rain late last night. But I was absolutely certain I had been sitting at my desk optimizing the app’s backend code. I went straight to sleep after that. I hadn’t even walked down the hallway. So where did the thick mud on my shoes come from? I frantically opened my app. On the Whisper Wall, that obscure, bizarre murder wish had suddenly skyrocketed to the top of the trending list. The comment section was blowing up with hundreds of replies. [Did you guys watch the morning news? That wish actually came true. It sounds creepy as hell, but that scumbag really died looking like a fetus.] [Oh my god, I have goosebumps. You don’t think the app developer is some psycho who actually grants these wishes by killing people, do you?] [Get real. That’s a felony! Nobody is stupid enough to commit murder over a stranger’s post.] Reading the endless stream of text made my stomach churn. Panic threatened to pull me under. Was I sleepwalking? Was I committing murders in a trance just to satisfy my users? That was completely insane. Desperate to prove my own innocence, I forced myself to walk down to the apartment building’s management office and asked to see the security footage from last night. I fast-forwarded through the recordings from 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM. My front door remained firmly shut. I never appeared in the hallway or the elevator. Seeing that finally let me exhale. Maybe the receipt and the muddy shoes were just a really sick prank. A few days later, my best friend Sophie invited me out for dinner downtown. She was a brilliant forensic pathologist. Her daily routine involved spending hours in cold autopsy rooms, dealing with corpses and bizarre homicides. Because of her line of work, most people kept their distance, thinking she brought bad luck. But we had been inseparable since elementary school, and I never cared about those stupid superstitions. Halfway through our meal, Sophie poked at her salad and brought up the weird apartment murder with a heavy sigh. “Don’t even get me started. That massive storm washed away every single piece of useful trace evidence at the scene.” “The brass gave us a strict deadline. We have to close the case in a week. I’ve been pulling all-nighters for three days straight.” She lowered her voice and leaned in close. “But we actually locked onto a suspect. She’s just being incredibly uncooperative.” My chest tightened. “Uncooperative?” Sophie nodded. “The detectives dug into the victim’s social circle. Turns out he had a nasty habit of sexually harassing the women at his company.” “But when we brought one of the victims in for questioning, she was completely unhinged. She swore up and down that she just made a wish on some app called Whisper Wall, and karma took care of the rest.” All the blood drained from my face. My voice shook no matter how hard I tried to steady it. “Making a wish… can kill someone?” “Right? It’s completely absurd.” Sophie rolled her eyes, looking exhausted. “But she refuses to change her story. The biggest headache is that we checked her alibi. It’s rock solid. That lead is a dead end.” She put down her fork, sounding a bit angry. “Honestly though, the guy was a total piece of garbage. He used his position to prey on his subordinates for years. He ruined a lot of lives. He got exactly what he deserved.” “A guy like that probably had a line of enemies stretching around the block. It’s no wonder someone finally took him out.” Hearing that the police didn’t directly link the app to the murder made me feel a little better. “The only thing is…” Sophie added. “We found a footprint near the scene. We’re pretty sure it belongs to the killer. It’s a US women’s size six.” My breath hitched. I wore a size six. Just as I tried to act normal and ask for more details, my phone lit up on the table. A text message from an unknown number popped onto the screen. “I know you killed him for me. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I won’t rat you out.” The color vanished from my face. My hands shook so badly I could barely unlock the screen. “What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.” Sophie noticed my reaction instantly and leaned over with concern in her eyes. I panicked, hitting the lock button and forcing the most unnatural smile. “It’s… nothing. My stomach is just acting up. I think I need to go home and rest.” After hurriedly paying the bill and saying goodbye, I practically ran back to my apartment. The second I locked the door, I opened my messages and stared at that cursed text. [Who are you? What the hell are you talking about?] I typed the response with trembling thumbs and hit send. A reply came back almost immediately. [Stop playing dumb. You were the one who messaged me asking for his home address. You wanted to help me get revenge, right?] [Relax. The detectives already brought me in. I didn’t say a single word about you.] Those two messages felt like daggers in my back. I searched every corner of my memory. I never asked anyone for a home address. As if sensing my disbelief, the stranger sent a screenshot. It was a very brief direct message exchange. [I can help make your wish come true. Send me his exact address.] [Really? Thank you so much. 223 Ashburn Lane.] The sender’s number at the top of the screenshot was unmistakably mine. I tore through my phone’s message history and the app’s backend. There was no trace of this conversation ever taking place. What the hell was going on? Who was doing this to me? On the verge of a breakdown, I sent one final, harsh warning. [You have the wrong person! I have no idea what you’re talking about!] [I am just a normal software developer. I’ve never broken the law in my life. If you forge another screenshot to frame me, I am calling the cops!] I stared at the screen for minutes, but the stranger never replied. My mind was a complete mess. Ever since I launched that stupid Whisper Wall, everything had been twisted. Murderous wishes, a random receipt, muddy shoes, and a size six footprint at a crime scene. All these bizarre clues were weaving a net, trying to pin me as a killer. Instead of sitting here losing my mind, I needed to cut it off at the source. If I deleted the feature, this would all end. I rushed to my computer and logged into the server. I typed out the commands to take the module offline. Before I could hit enter, a red notification popped up on the screen. A new wish. My finger hovered over the mouse. Against my better judgment, I clicked on it. It sounded like a high school student pushed to the absolute edge. [That old hag lost her mind again. Just because I missed one page of homework, she threw an entire advanced calculus workbook at my face and told me to finish it by tomorrow morning.] [If I don’t, she’s going to make me read a public apology in front of the whole school at assembly.] [It’s 2 AM. I’m only a third of the way done. My brain is melting. I just want to die.] [No… I shouldn’t die. She should.] [I wish she could feel this kind of hell. I wish she would drop dead while doing math problems!] The pure venom in those words brought back terrible memories of my own high school days. We had a math teacher just like that, Mrs. Gable. She was a tyrannical, borderline sadistic woman. She loved using extreme humiliation to punish anyone who fell behind. Years ago, a girl actually had a mental breakdown from Mrs. Gable’s constant bullying and jumped off a building. It caused a massive uproar. But because Mrs. Gable had relatives on the school board, the whole thing got swept under the rug. I couldn’t believe toxic teachers like her were still ruining kids’ lives. I checked the stats. The likes on this wish were climbing at a terrifying speed. It broke a thousand in minutes. The comment section was full of furious agreements. [I totally support this! Teachers who use psychological abuse to stroke their own egos don’t deserve to be around kids.] [Let her try pulling an all-nighter doing a whole workbook! That’s not punishment. That’s abuse!] I sighed heavily. The internet could be a dark place, and letting this kind of mob mentality brew was dangerous. I immediately bypassed the frontend, went into the core code, and permanently deleted the Whisper Wall module. The next morning, the sun was shining. My phone was perfectly quiet. My racing heart finally began to settle. That weird apartment murder was just a coincidence. It had nothing to do with my app. I poured myself a cup of coffee, ready to enjoy the quiet morning. Then someone started pounding frantically on my front door. I opened it to find Sophie. She was pale, sweating, and panting heavily. “Riley, do you remember Mrs. Gable from Oakridge High?” Her eyes were wide with a terror I couldn’t understand. “She was found dead in her house last night.” “What did you say?” My coffee mug slipped, spilling hot liquid over my hand, but I couldn’t even feel the burn. Sophie pushed past me and collapsed onto the sofa. She grabbed a glass of ice water from the table and downed half of it. “We got the call before dawn. Mrs. Gable died in her study. You will never guess what the scene looked like.” The dread I had been trying to suppress clawed its way back up my throat. My voice trembled. “Was she… grading papers when she had a heart attack?” Sophie froze and stared at me like I was a stranger. “How did you guess that? But you’re only half right. She wasn’t grading papers. She was slumped over her desk, frantically filling out an advanced high school math workbook.” She lowered her voice, treating it like a ghost story. “Tell me that isn’t completely messed up. A senior teacher with decades of experience, staying up all night with bloodshot eyes, doing a student’s homework. And the worst part is…” Sophie paused, giving me a complicated look. “The initial autopsy showed she didn’t have any underlying conditions. She was literally scared to death. A massive adrenaline spike caused a fatal cardiac arrest.” The cause of death hit me like a physical blow. Last night’s hateful wish flashed before my eyes. But I deleted the module. How could this still happen? I ignored Sophie’s bewildered stare and sprinted to my computer. I woke up the screen and bypassed the login to access the main dashboard. My blood turned to ice. The Whisper Wall, the feature I had personally wiped from the servers, was sitting flawlessly on the front page of the app. Not only that, the death wish against the teacher now had over two thousand likes. Pinned to the very top was an update from the original poster. [I was just venting. I didn’t think it would actually work.] [That evil witch is actually dead.] The entire forum had lost its collective mind. [Are you kidding me? Does this thing actually work?] [It has to be fake. I wished to win the lottery, and I didn’t even win a dollar on a scratch-off.] [Yeah, I wished to pass calculus, and I still got an F.] [Wait… do you guys notice a pattern? Are lethal wishes the only ones that come true? This isn’t a Whisper Wall. This is a hit list!] [Agreed! The more I think about it, the more terrified I get. Who is running this app?] Those analysis threads were highlighted in red, trending at the very top. Sophie walked up behind me. Seeing my bloodless face, she placed a hand on my shoulder. “Riley, what is going on with you? You’ve been acting paranoid since last night. What are you so afraid of?” I opened my mouth, having no idea where to start. Then, a commotion started out in the hallway. Muffled voices and heavy footsteps. I walked stiffly to the front door and pulled it open. My legs almost gave out. On the clean white wall across from my apartment, someone had used dark red paint or maybe blood to write a single, massive word. MURDERER. Sophie gasped loudly and covered her mouth. “Oh my god… Riley, what the hell is happening?” I leaned against the doorframe, my voice cracking. “Sophie… if I told you this app can actually kill people, would you believe me?” Like a drowning person clutching a lifeline, I told her everything. I told her about the malicious wishes, the deaths that matched them perfectly, the receipt for the water bag, the muddy shoes. I even pulled out my phone and showed her the screenshot from the anonymous number. Sophie listened in stunned silence. She shook her head slowly. “That’s impossible. It defies all logic and science. How can someone commit a perfect murder just because of an anonymous online post?” I didn’t have the answers. I just felt a cold dread seeping into my bones. Right then, Sophie’s eyes darted toward the corner of my computer desk. She walked over, bent down, and picked up a vintage black fountain pen. She rubbed her thumb over the casing, her expression turning grim. “Riley, why is Mrs. Gable’s pen in your apartment?” I flinched violently and turned around. The pen looked ordinary, but it had Oakridge High School engraved on the side in faded gold lettering. It was a custom gift given only to tenured honor teachers. Mrs. Gable carried it everywhere. Before I could even process the shock, heavy footsteps stopped right outside my open door. Several detectives in suits, accompanied by uniformed officers, stood in the doorway. The lead detective flashed his badge, his eyes sharp and unforgiving. “Miss Riley, you are a prime suspect in two recent homicides. You need to come with us to the precinct right now.” The police tore through my apartment. They bagged the receipt, the size six sneakers with the matching tread pattern, and Mrs. Gable’s custom pen. Unsurprisingly, their cyber division pulled the backend data from my desktop. The specific wishes detailing the exact methods of murder became the most damning evidence of all. I was officially the prime suspect. In a cramped, suffocating interrogation room, I explained myself over and over. I told them I never left my apartment on the nights of the murders. The physical evidence had appeared out of thin air. I had no connection to the victims, and I certainly wouldn’t become a serial killer just to grant wishes for anonymous users. The detectives seemed to agree that killing people just to satisfy app reviews was a wildly absurd motive. More importantly, they had pulled the security footage from my floor, the lobby, and the street cameras. I was never captured leaving the building. They had physical evidence, but no timeline and no proof of me traveling to the crime scenes. It was a massive hole in their case. Because the chain of evidence was broken, they had no choice but to let me go, though I was strictly forbidden from leaving the city. The first thing I did when I got home was turn on my computer. I had poured five years of my life into this app. Countless sleepless nights and endless lines of code. It held all my hopes for the future. Now, it was a cursed Pandora’s box. I felt no attachment to it anymore. I pulled up the command terminal, wiped the server directories, and completely shut down the entire project. Done. Exhausted, I collapsed onto my bed, praying the nightmare was finally over. Just as I was drifting off, my phone screen lit up with a harsh notification sound. It was an automated push alert from the app. A new wish sat on my lock screen. [The woman who gave birth to me is a parasite. She gives everything to my loser brother.] [Now, she wants to sell me to the creepy old bachelor next door just to get enough money for my brother’s down payment.] [I wish that selfish, evil woman would die right in front of everyone!] Ice water flooded my veins. I had wiped the servers. How was the system still sending push notifications? I opened my browser and tried to access the backend. It returned a lifeless 404 error page. The app really was gone. Was it just a cached bug? I rubbed my temples. I couldn’t deal with this madness anymore. I powered off my phone completely, wrapped myself in blankets, and let exhaustion drag me into a dark sleep. I don’t know how much time passed before a blinding light and the harsh crackle of static woke me. I forced my eyes open, and my blood ran completely cold. I was sitting on a rotting sofa inside an abandoned warehouse. My fingers were wrapped tightly around the handle of a hunting knife. Less than ten feet away, a middle-aged woman was strapped to a metal chair. Her mouth was taped shut. She stared at me with pure, unadulterated terror. Next to her stood a set of professional studio lights and a high-definition camera. A red light was blinking. It was a live stream. My mind went entirely blank. What happened? Why was I here? Why was I holding a knife? The setup, the rural woman tied to the chair, the raw malice in the room. It perfectly matched the wish I had read before falling asleep. I glanced at a monitor hooked up to the camera. The chat was moving so fast it was a blur. [Holy crap! A dark web execution stream? Is this real?] [Probably some indie horror movie viral marketing. Where’s the fake blood?] [That doesn’t look fake. Look at her eyes. I’m calling the cops right now!] [Wait! Doesn’t this match the new wish from the Whisper Wall this afternoon? The girl with the knife is the app developer!] Someone in the chat posted my full name and details. [It’s her! Riley! The cops brought her in for the other two murders today. She really is a serial killer!] [Broadcasting a murder live? This psycho is mocking the police!] Sirens wailed in the distance. The flashing red and blue lights sliced through the grime on the warehouse windows. The heavy metal doors flew open. Mom and Sophie stumbled inside. Seeing the scene, Mom’s knees buckled. She collapsed onto the concrete floor, sobbing hysterically. “Riley! What are you doing? Put the knife down! Don’t do this!” Sophie had tears in her eyes. Her voice cracked. “Riley, it’s not too late. Please, I am begging you, put the weapon down. Don’t kill her!” A SWAT team flooded the warehouse right behind them. Tactical flashlights blinded me, and a dozen assault rifles were aimed directly at my chest. “Drop the weapon and step away from the hostage! I’m going to count to three, or we will open fire!” the team leader roared. I stood frozen in the spotlight, staring at the chaotic, surreal nightmare unfolding around me. Did I really do all those things? Was there some bloodthirsty monster hiding inside my brain, taking over my body to grant these sick wishes? In that moment of absolute despair, my eyes landed on a small detail in the corner of the room. My pupils dilated. It was like a bolt of lightning cutting through the fog. All the weirdness, all the impossible coincidences. Suddenly, I understood everything.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458738”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My husband cheated on me with his secretary during my pregnancy. In a fit of rage, I gathered his family and stormed the hotel room where they were staying. But during the chaotic confrontation, the secretary pushed me down the stairs, causing me to miscarry. The devastating loss plunged me into a deep, dark depression, plagued by constant thoughts of ending my own life. My husband stepped down from his executive position, dedicating every single day to taking care of me. He blacklisted the secretary from the entire industry and swore he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me. Three years passed, and I slowly began to piece my life back together. On the day of my final recovery checkup, I took his car. When I turned on the automatic GPS to navigate home, the route took me to an upscale apartment complex directly across from our estate. On the screen, the saved address was simply labeled: Home. I realized then that his home was never with me, and I was never the one he loved. 1 Not far ahead, Nicholas was gently guiding a visibly pregnant Evelyn toward the entrance of the apartment building. The tenderness on his face was identical to the expression he wore every time he coaxed me to take my medicine over the past three years. But at this moment, the illusion shattered. Every sweet word, every warm embrace, had been nothing but a carefully orchestrated lie. Numbly, I picked up my phone and dialed the number pinned at the top of my contact list. A few yards away, Nicholas paused. He freed one hand to answer the call, his voice dripping with his usual affectionate warmth. “Fiona, honey, is your checkup finished?” “I’m so sorry, sweetie. An emergency came up at the office today, so I couldn’t make it to the hospital with you.” My gaze remained locked on the rearview mirror, watching the two of them leaning in close to one another. My voice felt incredibly dry, raspy as I spoke. “Where are you?” “I’m at the office working overtime, of course. Do you want to do a video call?” He knew I wouldn’t. For three years, he had meticulously logged his daily schedule for me, even reporting what he ate for breakfast. But I had always kept a respectful distance. I didn’t want to smother him, and I didn’t want him to lose face in front of his employees. Whenever he said he was working late, I never called to disturb him. I had no idea he was using my trust to build a second life. Through the glass, I saw him lean down, pressing his nose against Evelyn’s cheek as if reassuring her not to be jealous. My voice turned ice cold. “Really? Because I think I just saw you at the gates of our neighborhood.” The color drained from Nicholas’s face instantly. He spun around, searching the surrounding street. When he couldn’t spot me, his confidence returned. “Fiona, you must have seen someone else. I’m literally in the middle of a conference room right now. My colleagues can back me up.” I cut him off. “Nicholas, do you really take me for an idiot?” I pushed the car door open and stepped out. The moment Nicholas saw me, his instinctive reaction was to pull Evelyn behind his back, shielding her from me. That single, defensive movement tore through whatever remained of my heart. Evelyn clung to his arm, her eyes wide with carefully rehearsed terror. “Mrs. Montgomery, you can scream at me all you want. But my baby is innocent. Please, don’t hurt my child. I’ll kneel and beg for your forgiveness if that’s what it takes.” She made a show of bending her knees, but before she could even lower herself, Nicholas pulled her back into his arms. His voice was thick with panic. “Evelyn, you’re pregnant!” “You have to think about the baby, even if you don’t care about your own body! I won’t let anyone touch our child!” Evelyn looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Even if that person is Fiona?” Nicholas’s response was instant and absolute. “Not even her.” Watching the theatrical display, the rage in my chest slowly subsided into a calm, hollow silence. “So this is your choice, Nicholas,” I said quietly. “Between me and this woman, you chose her.” Nicholas bit his lip, a flash of conflict crossing his eyes, but his voice remained firm. “I lost a child three years ago. I won’t lose this one. Evelyn’s baby will be protected.” “Fiona, please stop causing a scene. Once the baby is born safely, I will do whatever it takes to make this up to you.” A dry, bitter laugh escaped my lips. He still remembered the child we lost three years ago. Yet his way of honoring that loss was to cherish the woman who caused it, giving her the very family he denied me. How incredibly poetic. When I looked at him again, my eyes were as still as a stagnant pond. “Nicholas, you don’t deserve to mention that child.” 2 I returned to our house, a place I had considered my sanctuary just an hour ago. Staring at the massive wedding portrait hanging in the center of the living room, the happy, radiant smile on my face felt like a cruel joke. I took the frame down, carried it out to the garden, and lit it with a lighter. The flames slowly consumed our smiling faces, turning my love for Nicholas into a pile of black ash. My phone vibrated. I expected a text from Nicholas, but it was an unknown number. Mrs. Montgomery, your sudden appearance really gave me quite a fright. But Nicholas was so worried about me that he decided to move in with me until the baby is born. Thank you for stepping aside! My fingers trembled slightly, but the devastation I expected didn’t come. I suddenly realized that my recovery was never going to come from a bottle of pills. It was going to come from seeing Nicholas for what he truly was, and leaving him. Before I could delete the message, my mother’s call came through. “Fiona, how did the checkup go? Did the doctor say when you can stop taking those meds?” Without waiting for my answer, she hurried on. “You’ve been in such a good mood lately, so you should probably stop taking them anyway. I heard those psychiatric drugs can affect your fertility. Nicholas’s business is growing rapidly. You need to secure an heir before some other woman does. If you let someone else get ahead of you, you’ll be left with nothing but tears.” “He might say he’s not in a hurry, but what successful man doesn’t want a son to inherit his hard work?” In the three years since my miscarriage, I had brought up the idea of trying for another baby multiple times. But every single time, Nicholas had shut it down. He told me pregnancy was too hard on my body, that we needed to wait until I was fully healed. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of replacing our first child so quickly. I had believed every word. I had let myself drown in his tender care, even harboring a quiet sense of guilt. I had wondered if things would have been different if I hadn’t been so impulsive, if I hadn’t dragged his mother to that hotel room. But I had forgotten a simple truth. Nicholas was the root cause of all of it. A leopard never changes its spots. My mother was still rambling over the line, telling me that Nicholas had simply made a mistake that any man would make, urging me to let go of the past. “Mom,” I said, a faint, mocking smile touching my lips. “Nicholas is about to have a child. It’s just not with me.” Before she could speak, I disconnected the call. I scrolled through my contacts and found the number of the divorce lawyer I had consulted three years ago. “Mr. Carter, I want to proceed with the divorce. Please draft a new agreement for me.” The line was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Montgomery, I thought you had decided to reconcile. Why the sudden change?” “My husband is having a baby,” I replied. “With the same woman from three years ago. This time, I don’t just want a divorce. I want him to leave with absolutely nothing.” After finalizing the details with the lawyer, I sent a message to my mother-in-law. Though she had dropped hints about wanting a grandchild over the years, she had generally treated me well. When she first discovered Nicholas’s affair three years ago, she had been so furious that she transferred a major portion of the family company’s shares to my name, declaring she no longer had a son. Even after I lost the baby, she had never asked for those shares back. Mom, congratulations. You are about to become a grandmother. But the mother isn’t me. I am divorcing Nicholas so they can have their family. I set my phone down just as the sound of a car entering the garage echoed through the house. 3 The moment Nicholas walked through the door, his eyes fell on the charred remains of our wedding photo on the floor. He frowned instantly. “Fiona, what is this? I just spoke with your therapist, and she said your depression was almost fully managed.” “Can we please stop with the drama? I’m only human, Fiona. I get exhausted too.” The sheer absurdity of his words nearly made me laugh. He was the one who had cheated, yet he was standing there playing the weary victim. I didn’t have the energy to argue. I turned to walk back into the house, but he caught my wrist. “Fiona, whether you believe me or not, this baby with Evelyn was an accident.” “I wanted her to terminate the pregnancy, but the doctor said her body is too weak. If she loses this child, she might never be able to conceive again.” “You’re a woman. You know what it feels like to lose a baby. Surely you can find some compassion for her, can’t you?” Hearing those words, the last of my restraint snapped. I raised my hand and delivered a sharp slap across his face. “Nicholas, I am nothing like you,” I spat, my voice shaking with disgust. “I will never show compassion to the woman who killed my child.” Nicholas had never been struck in his life. His expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening. Before he could speak, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, let go of my wrist, and stepped aside to answer it. “What do you mean, divorce? I am not getting a divorce!” “I will explain the situation to you in person, Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Fiona.” He hung up and turned back to me, his voice cold. “Fiona, do you really think that running to my mother and threatening divorce will force me to make Evelyn get an abortion?” “Once Evelyn gives birth, if you’re willing, we can raise the child as our own. If you don’t want that, I will send her and the baby abroad.” “I know this is incredibly unfair to you, and I promise I will make it up to you once this is settled.” “For now, I’m going to stay at Evelyn’s place to take care of her. You need some time to calm down.” “But rest assured, you will always be Mrs. Montgomery. You are the only woman I love.” Hearing the word love from his mouth made my stomach churn violently. I rushed into the bathroom, leaning over the toilet as my body convulsed, throwing up everything I had eaten. When I finished, Nicholas was by my side, gently helping me up with an expression of deep concern. “Fiona, what’s wrong? Is your stomach upset? Let’s go to the hospital.” I wiped my mouth, pulling away from his touch. Before I could speak, his phone began to ring. It was a unique, high-pitched ringtone. I had heard that specific tone multiple times over the past six months, sometimes during the day, but mostly in the dead of night. When I had asked him about it, he told me it was a highly important prospective client. He said securing this deal would ensure a flawless financial report for the year, and the board would finally approve his appointment as chairman. I had believed him. Every time that phone rang, I had quietly brought the device to him and left the room to give him space. But now, standing so close, I could hear the high-pitched voice coming through the receiver. It wasn’t a client. It was Evelyn. “Nicholas, my stomach hurts so much. Is something wrong with the baby?” In the next second, Nicholas shoved me aside, rushing toward the front door without a single backward glance. “Fiona, Evelyn is having an emergency. I have to go.” “If your stomach is really hurting, take some medicine. I’ll take you to the clinic once I make sure she’s okay.” He vanished through the door. He didn’t see me collapse onto the cold tiles, a sharp, white-hot pain blooming in my abdomen as a dark red stain began to spread across my clothes.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458737”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our final divorce cooling-off day, I called Jack—one last time. Would he really drain our assets for Karina? He picked up, but his voice was frantic, not cold. “Beth! Don’t hang up! It’s a trap! That bitch set me up!” Wind roared in the background. “Three months from now, it’s 160 degrees! The empire is melted scrap! Karina took my last cooling suit and ran!” “Beth, please! Let me into your bunker! Just one piece of ice and I’m yours for life!” Before I could speak, the villa doors opened. Jack walked in, cold air trailing him. He slammed the papers onto the table. “Enough with the phone theatrics.” “Karina needs the money for a manor to recover. Sign, and take the abandoned bunkers.” Listening to his future screams and staring at the man before me, I ended the call. “Alright. I’ll sign.” … I scribbled my name and pushed the papers back to him. Jack was visibly stunned. He probably thought my phone call earlier was just one last desperate attempt to manipulate him into staying. After all, for the past five years, I had loved him so much that I was willing to sacrifice everything for him. “You signed it?” Jack frowned, a flash of displeasure crossing his eyes. But his cold mask quickly slipped back into place. “Glad you finally know your place.” He pulled a rusty ring of keys from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. “These are the keys to the abandoned military bunker out in the west suburbs. That, plus the five million in your account, is enough for you to live on for the rest of your life.” “Beth, stay away from Karina from now on. She has a weak heart. She can’t handle the stress you cause her.” I picked up the rusty keys and let out a self-deprecating laugh. Five million? Was he treating me like a beggar? The company had over two billion in liquid assets. He had drained the entire account just to buy Karina some massive vacation estate with sprawling lawns overseas. If this were ten minutes ago, I might have cried from the heartbreak. But now, all that echoed in my head were his agonizing screams from three months in the future. “It’s a hundred and sixty degrees out here! The entire family empire is just melted scrap metal.” “That vicious bitch ran off with my last temperature-controlled suit.” What was two billion dollars anyway? Three months from now, global temperatures would skyrocket past a hundred and sixty degrees. All that money would turn into worthless ash. But this rusty ring of keys in my hand? It was going to become Noah’s Ark. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother either of you.” I gripped the keys tightly. “Jack, I hope the two of you have a long, happy life in your overseas manor.” I grabbed my purse and walked toward the door without looking back. Just as I reached the entryway, Jack’s phone rang. He answered it, and his harsh voice instantly melted into something sickeningly gentle. “Hey, Karina.” “Yeah, she signed it. That’s right, all the funds are being transferred to your name right now. We’ll fly out to look at the property next week.” The volume was loud enough that I could hear Karina’s delicate, breathy voice. “Jack, do you think Beth will be angry at me?” “Maybe we should leave a little more money for her. How is she supposed to survive without you?” “She brought this on herself,” Jack sneered, turning his head to glare at my back. “She owes you this.” Owed her? I stopped in my tracks, my fingernails digging into my palms. Did he forget how he built this empire in the first place? I was the one who stood by him when he had nothing. For five years, I worked thousands of late nights. I drank with investors until my stomach bled. I even drank myself into a hospital bed just to secure his first round of funding. We went through hell together. But a year ago, a car accident outside the office ruined everything. When the truck swerved toward us, I was the one who pushed Jack out of the way. But Karina, the new intern who hadn’t even passed her probation period, used the chaos to throw herself into Jack’s arms. She walked away with a scratched knee. But afterward, she was miraculously diagnosed with severe heart failure, supposedly caused by the “trauma of shielding someone from a deadly crash.” And Jack? Not only did he forget who actually pushed him to safety, but he slapped me across the face right outside her hospital room. “If she hadn’t tried to save me, she never would have gotten this sick! You owe her a life, Beth!” From the moment that slap landed, the five years of devotion I poured into him became a joke. Karina suddenly became his untouchable angel. And I became the ungrateful sinner who nearly got her killed. I shook my head, let out a scoff, and walked out the door. The sunlight outside was blinding. It was only May, but the temperature was already pushing a hundred and four degrees. People online had been complaining about the suffocating heat wave for days, but nobody realized it was just the prelude to a catastrophic solar storm. I got into my car and floored the gas pedal, heading straight for the west suburbs. An hour later, I pulled up to the foot of a barren mountain. This place was originally a military bunker dug out in the last century. Jack’s family bought it years ago intending to build a massive cold storage facility, but the project went bankrupt and it had been abandoned ever since. He threw it at me in the divorce settlement just to humiliate me. I waded through the tall weeds, shoved the rusty key into the heavy iron door, and wrestled with it for several minutes before it finally groaned open. The moment the door swung wide, a blast of damp, freezing air hit my face. I couldn’t help but shiver. It was over a hundred degrees outside, but inside the bunker, it couldn’t have been more than sixty. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and stepped inside. The further I walked, the more my heart raced with pure ecstasy. Because this place was massive. It was practically tailor-made to survive an extreme heat apocalypse. The main corridor was lined with two feet of reinforced concrete, buried deep within the belly of the mountain. Even if the surface temperature roasted at two hundred degrees, the bedrock would perfectly insulate the interior. Not only that, but it was already sectioned into living quarters, and there was even a natural underground river running through the back. No wonder the Jack from three months in the future was willing to trade his soul just for a spot in here. My hands shook with excitement as a dozen different plans started forming in my head. The bunker was perfect, but it was essentially a concrete shell right now. To survive the apocalypse, it needed heavy modifications and a massive stockpile of supplies. The ventilation shafts needed the highest-grade filtration systems to block the toxic heat waves that would come later. The main entrance needed a bank-vault-grade blast door to keep out the desperate, heat-crazed mobs who would inevitably try to take this place by force. But the most critical things were ice, drinking water, and thermal insulation coatings. I immediately pulled out my phone and called my broker. “Mark, I need you to liquidate my Porsche, and all the designer bags and jewelry my mother left me.” “As fast as possible. I need the cash tonight!” The broker sounded shocked. “Miss Beth, you’re going to take a massive hit selling them this fast. You’ll lose at least half their value!” “I don’t care. If the money isn’t in my account in two hours, I’m finding someone else.” I hung up and started searching for the largest ice factories and cold-chain logistics centers in the city. The five million from the divorce, plus the couple million from liquidating my assets. Seven or eight million dollars spent purely on ice and water could buy mountains of it. I dialed the owner of the biggest ice plant directly. “Is this Mr. Lee? I want to buy out your entire production of industrial ice blocks and food-grade dry ice for the next three months.” The owner thought I was insane. “All of it? Lady, that’s tens of thousands of tons of ice! What the hell are you doing?” “Building a cold storage empire.” “I’ll wire you a million-dollar deposit right now. I need the first shipment sent to the west suburb bunker tonight. And use the best thermal insulation packaging you have.” Just as I finalized the first order, my phone screen lit up. It was a text from Jack. [Beth, Karina is too soft-hearted. She’s been begging me to go easy on you.] [Here’s the deal. If you come back, kneel down, and apologize to Karina, I’ll give you a small subsidiary company to run. It’s better than rotting in that abandoned cave.] I laughed out loud, blocked his number, and deleted his contact. I didn’t waste a single second. I drove straight back to the city, pulling up to the best security engineering firm in the state. As soon as I walked into the reception area, I heard a sickeningly sweet voice drifting from the VIP lounge. “Jack, you are so good to me.” “With a lawn that big, and this top-of-the-line security system, I know I’ll recover quickly once we move into the manor.” Karina was leaning heavily against Jack’s shoulder, looking the picture of pure bliss. Jack wrapped an arm around her, his voice full of sickening devotion. “Whatever you want, baby. Money is no object.” Hearing the door open, they both turned around. The moment Jack saw me, the gentle look on his face vanished, replaced by disgust and annoyance. “Beth? Are you stalking me?” He stood up, his face hardening. “I already gave you the bunker and five million. What are you doing following me here?” Karina shrank back into his arms, acting like a frightened little bird. “Beth, please don’t be mad at Jack. If you’re really that upset, maybe we can all go to the manor together?” Watching these two put on their little show made me want to throw up the lunch I ate yesterday. I shook my head, walked right past them, and slapped a black card onto the receptionist’s desk. “Get your manager out here. I need a bank-vault-grade blast door and military-spec thermal insulation installed. And I need the work started immediately.” The receptionist took one look at the black card and scrambled to find the manager. Jack paused when he heard my request, then let out a loud, mocking laugh. “Have you completely lost your mind, Beth?” He walked over, looking at me like I was severely brain-damaged. “You took your pathetic little severance package and ran straight here to buy a vault door and insulation?” “What are you going to do? Install it on that rotting cave?” Karina covered her mouth and giggled softly. “Beth, even if you’re just doing this to get Jack’s attention, this is a bit much, isn’t it? That cave is deep underground. Spending millions to decorate it is just throwing money down the drain.” “I’m warning you one last time,” Jack said, taking a step closer. “Even if you line that filthy cave with solid gold, I will never look at you again. Take your little check and get lost. Stop embarrassing yourself.” “Embarrassing myself?” I turned my head and stared dead into his eyes. “Jack, if you’re not going to use those eyes, you should donate them to someone who actually needs them.” “I’m spending my own money. What the hell does it have to do with you?” “You—” Jack started, his face turning red, but the manager came rushing out. “Oh, Mr. Jack! Miss Beth! Please, calm down!” The manager looked at my work order and hesitated, his face twisting into an awkward grimace. “Miss Beth, we actually do have the exact equipment you’re asking for sitting in the warehouse right now.” “But the installation for a system this complex is extremely difficult. We only have one crew in the entire company capable of doing it: Foreman Chen’s team.” “The problem is, Mr. Jack just booked them.” The manager rubbed his hands nervously. “Mr. Jack wants us to install the security system for his overseas manor. Chen’s crew is scheduled to fly out next week. The earliest we could start your project would be three months from now.” Three months? Three months from now the heat apocalypse would hit. I wouldn’t need a door; I’d need a coffin. Hearing the manager’s words, the anger on Jack’s face instantly dissolved into smug triumph. He smirked. “Did you hear that, Beth? I just booked the best crew they have.” “Even if you got on your knees and begged me right now, I wouldn’t give them up.” Karina sighed, her face full of fake sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Beth. What bad timing.” Looking at their arrogant, punchable faces, I felt absolutely nothing. I turned back to the manager and asked point-blank, “Did he pay in full?” The manager froze, glancing nervously at Jack. “Well… Mr. Jack signed the contract and put down a ten percent deposit. The balance will be paid once the manor is finished. He’s one of our biggest VIPs, his credit is—” “I know how this business works. If it’s not paid in full, it’s fair game.” I cut him off completely. “How much for the blast door, the insulation, materials, and labor combined?” “Roughly six million.” “I’ll give you eight.” I pushed the black card across the desk. “Paid in full! Swipe it right now!” “My only condition is that Foreman Chen and his entire crew load up the equipment and head to the west suburb bunker tonight! The work starts immediately!” The manager’s eyes practically popped out of his skull. In this economy, contractors lived in constant fear of clients defaulting on final payments. So… “Beth, you dare try to steal my crew?!” Jack slammed his hand on the desk. “Manager! You give her that crew, and I swear to god, my family will blacklist your company from ever doing business in this city again!” The manager looked trapped, sweating bullets. “Mr. Jack, please don’t be angry.” “Company policy is very clear. Clients who pay the full amount upfront get priority scheduling. Unless… you want to pay the full ten million for the manor system right now?” “If you swipe your card for the full amount right now, the crew is yours!” Jack’s face turned the color of bruised liver. He didn’t have ten million in cash lying around right now. To buy that ridiculous vacation estate for Karina, he had emptied out every liquid asset the family had. Everything else was tied up in stocks and real estate. It would take at least a fiscal quarter to liquidate any of it. But Karina was still tugging on his arm, pouting. “Jack, she’s going too far! She’s doing this just to spite me.” “Just swipe the card! You can’t let her steal your crew!” “Shut up!” Jack furiously yanked his arm out of her grasp, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Seeing him squirm like that almost made me laugh out loud. “What’s wrong, Mr. VIP? Didn’t you just say money was no object?” “Don’t tell me the great prince of the city’s elite can’t even scrape together ten million in cash?” As soon as the words left my mouth, the manager returned with a huge, sycophantic smile and handed my card back. “Miss Beth, consider it done! Foreman Chen’s trucks will be loaded and ready in thirty minutes. They’ll start digging tonight!” “Beth! You are going to regret this!” Jack pointed a shaking finger at me, roared in frustration, grabbed Karina by the wrist, and stormed out without looking back. … Fueled by the massive upfront cash payment, Foreman Chen’s crew worked in three shifts around the clock. It only took them a month to completely retrofit the bunker. The massive, two-foot-thick blast door was anchored directly into the bedrock. The entire facility was lined with military-grade thermal insulation. Tens of thousands of tons of industrial ice blocks, and enough food and supplies to last three lifetimes, were packed tightly into the storage sectors. And on the exact night the final shipment of supplies was unloaded into the storeroom… The extreme heat apocalypse arrived early. Without any warning, the temperature skyrocketed from the low hundreds. Society collapsed completely within a matter of days. Three months later, the surface temperature stabilized at a constant hundred and sixty degrees. The city’s power grid was completely fried. Outside, thousands of people were being roasted alive every single day. While I sat comfortably inside my bunker at a cool sixty-five degrees, lazily scooping out the center of an ice-cold watermelon. Suddenly, the proximity alarm on the blast door blared. I tapped the monitor screen and saw Jack and Karina wrestling on the scorched earth right outside. “Karina! Let go! If I take this off, I’ll cook to death!” Jack was desperately clutching the temperature-controlled suit he was wearing. Karina’s face was twisted in pure malice. She grabbed a jagged rock from the dirt and smashed it directly into the side of Jack’s head. Jack screamed in agony and collapsed to the ground, clutching his bleeding scalp. Karina ripped the temperature suit off his body and shoved her arms into it. Her eyes were full of absolute contempt. “You stupid idiot! Let me tell you the truth! That two billion dollars went straight into offshore accounts managed by me and my brother!” “That overseas manor? It never existed! I scammed you from the very beginning!” “Now that money is worthless, did you really think I was going to sit around and die with you?” She didn’t even spare Jack another glance. She turned around and sprinted into the hundred-and-sixty-degree heat wave. “Karina, come back here!” Jack reached out a desperate hand, but only grasped a fistful of boiling hot sand. The moment he lost the protective suit, the hundred-and-sixty-degree air hit him like a physical blow. Massive, agonizing blisters immediately began forming on his exposed skin. He shrieked as he dragged his body toward my blast door. He slapped his bloody, blistered hands against the reinforced steel, sobbing and wailing. “Beth! Beth, I know you’re in there!” “I was wrong! I made a mistake! It was all a trap! That vicious bitch set me up!” “The apocalypse is here! It’s a hundred and sixty degrees out here! Karina just ran off with my last temperature suit!” “Beth, let me into the bunker, please? I’m begging you, just give me a sip of ice water, and I’ll be your slave for the rest of my life!” Every single word matched the phone call from my memory, exactly as it played out three months ago. I swallowed my bite of watermelon and grabbed a paper towel to wipe my hands. Then I pressed the intercom button. “My slave?” I sneered. “Jack, do you honestly think you’re worthy of that?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458736”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 It was during a summer charity drive at Saint Jude’s Orphanage when I stumbled upon my future daughter. She claimed she had traveled back in time, twenty years from the future. I stared at her, my heart fluttering with a mix of dread and dizzying excitement. “You look so much like Todd,” I whispered, studying her face. “How old are you?” “Are Todd and I still happy twenty years from now? He swore to me that he’d cherish me even more after we tied the knot.” I kept babbling, eager for any scrap of our future. But the girl only let out a strange, hollow laugh. “Oh, your bond is spectacular,” she said, her voice dripping with something dark. “Twenty years later, he still treats you like his crown jewel. Last year, when you had a minor surgery, he practically lived outside the operating room, donating half his net worth to charity just to beg the universe for your safety.” A sweet warmth bloomed in my chest. “He always did have a flair for the dramatic,” I murmured, a soft smile tugging at my lips. Before the warmth could settle, her voice drifted over, light as a feather but cold as ice. “But then, a secret lover is always more thrilling than a real wife, isn’t she?” “When the woman on the outside gets a minor headache, the old bastard drops everything, leaving his actual family in the dust.” “Isn’t that right, stepmom?” Maeve seemed delighted by my sheer bewilderment. She wore a mocking grin, as if watching a tragedy unfold in real-time. “You didn’t actually think you were my mother, did you?” “A homewrecker like you doesn’t deserve a daughter.” She spoke with absolute certainty. But it made no sense. Todd and I had signed our marriage papers just last month. How could I possibly be his mistress? “That’s impossible. Who are you? What are you…” Maeve cut me off with a scoff. “Fine. Today happens to be my parents’ wedding anniversary anyway. If you don’t believe me, let’s go see for ourselves.” Half-doubting, half-terrified, I drove Maeve to the address she gave me. It was in the very same gated community where Todd and I lived. But while our townhouse sat on the cheap, dusty western edge of the estate, this grand brick villa stood proudly right in the center. Maeve sneered the moment she stepped out of the car. “Twenty years from now, everyone calls you his little side-chick. Quite the title, isn’t it?” “There. See for yourself.” I followed her gaze, and my entire body turned to stone. Todd, who had held me close and begged for a good morning kiss just hours ago, was leaning down, letting a woman wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him deeply. “Take a good look, stepmom. The woman in there is my actual mother.” “You’re saying… Phoebe is your mother?” My voice cracked, dry as ash. Maeve nodded without a trace of hesitation. It was absurd. Phoebe had been Todd’s executive assistant ever since she graduated college. Whenever she saw me, she would smile warmly, treating me like her closest friend and calling me the future Mrs. At our wedding last month, she had stayed late, drinking toast after toast on our behalf to keep the guests happy until she was completely wasted. I had even nudged Todd afterward, telling him to give her a massive bonus for being so loyal. And now, Maeve was claiming Phoebe was Todd’s real wife. Then what was the marriage certificate Todd and I had signed? “A forgery,” Maeve said. I froze, staring at her in sheer disbelief. She shrugged, her lip curling. “It’s all fake. The ceremony was a sham, the guests were hired actors, and the certificate is just a cheap piece of paper without an official state seal.” I refused to believe it. I couldn’t believe that Todd, the man who had swerved the steering wheel during a car crash to take the full force of the impact to protect me, would trap me in such a cruel, humiliating lie. My knees trembling, I stumbled back to our townhouse. With shaking fingers, I pried open the safe. The moment we got back with the certificate last month, Todd had playfully snatched it away before I could even open it. He had wrapped his arms around me, beaming with pride. “This is our family heirloom now,” he had whispered. “We have to lock it away safely.” Such sweet words. I had happily let him have his way. Now, holding the paper under the light, I realized how laughably fake it was. A child could have spotted the forged stamp. I collapsed onto the floor, the paper slipping from my hand as a cold void opened in my chest. “Why?” I whispered to the empty room. “Why would he do this to me?” Maeve made herself at home, wandering around the bedroom. “Because he’s a greedy bastard. He wanted a respectable wife, but he also wanted to keep his favorite toy.” “My mother’s family has money and connections. They gave him funding, resources, everything he needed to build his empire.” “But you? You stuck with him through his poorest years, so he threw you a bone. He put on a fake show to keep you quiet, locked up in this little cage.” I sat on the floor for hours as the afternoon light faded into dusk, entirely oblivious to when Maeve had slipped out. The moon was high by the time Todd finally returned. He paused at the door, surprised to see me curled up in the darkness of the sofa. “Gemma? Sweetheart, why are you sitting in the dark?” “My meeting ran incredibly late today. I’m sorry.” “But guess what I brought you?” With a boyish grin, he produced a small, elegant box from behind his back. “Strawberry shortcake. You said you were craving it yesterday.” He held it out to me, his eyes bright and warm, looking exactly like the man who had promised to love me forever. I pulled my knees tighter against my chest, staring at this man I had loved for a decade. How could he hold another woman, kiss her, and then come home to look at me with such convincing tenderness? Confused by my silence, his smile softened, and he slid onto the couch to pull me into his chest. “I’m sorry, honey. I promise I’ll be home early tomorrow.” He called me his wife so naturally, with such warmth. But I wasn’t his wife. I was just his dirty little secret. Maeve was like a ghost, appearing out of nowhere. The next morning, as I was about to take my medication, she snatched the bottle right out of my hand. I pressed a hand to my throbbing temple, reaching out. “Give it back, Maeve. My head is splitting.” She turned the bottle around, inspecting the label with mock curiosity. “Wow, stepmom, you started popping these this early?” “I don’t know what my dad saw in you. A pill-popper. How pathetic.” I froze. “What do you mean, pill-popper?” She rattled the pills. “These are heavy-duty psychotropics. Hallucinogens.” “Actually, the timeline fits. You get so hooked on these that you hallucinate, crash your car into someone, and end up in prison.” The moment the words left her mouth, she gasped, slapping a hand over her lips as if she had said too much. Shoving the bottle back into my hand, she quickly poured a glass of water and offered it to me with a tense, fake smile. “I was lying. It’s just ordinary pain medicine. Drink up.” I stared at the plastic bottle, my hands shaking violently. Todd had brought these pills home, claiming they were a cutting-edge prescription for my chronic migraines. Every time my head throbbed, he would look more panicked than I was, personally bringing the water and watching me swallow the pill before he could relax. I had thought it was love. But in reality, he was quietly, systematically driving me insane. Hysteria clawing at my throat, I threw the bottle across the room. It shattered against the wall, pills scattering like teeth. We had been together since we were eighteen. Ten years. During our bleakest times, we shared a damp basement flat, living on instant noodles. I had worked myself to the bone helping him pitch to clients. When a wealthy investor humiliated him, I swallowed my pride and spent weeks kissing up to the investor’s snobbish wife just to secure the deal. When Todd found out, his eyes had burned with tears of shame and anger. “Gemma, never again,” he had choked out, holding my face. “I don’t care if I have to drink myself to death for a contract, but I will not let you degrade yourself for me.” The man who swore he would rather die than see me suffer had handed me the ultimate betrayal. I wiped the tears from my face, turning to Maeve, who was watching me with a blank expression. “What else?” I choked out. “What else did he do?” Maeve stared at me, a dark, unsettling smile spreading across her lips. “Stepmom, do you remember the orphanage where you found me today?” “Why do you think a girl from twenty years in the future would be wandering around that specific place?” My heart leaped into my throat. Before I could press her for answers, the front door clicked open. Phoebe walked in, dressed in a sharp pencil skirt and blazer. She froze when she saw me sitting on the floor, her face twisting into immediate concern. “Gemma? Oh my god, what happened?” I whipped my head around to look for Maeve, but she was gone. Vanished into thin air. Phoebe rushed over and knelt beside me, reaching out to help me up. “Gemma, let me help…” The fake warmth in her voice made my stomach turn. I slapped her hand away with all the strength I had left. “Should you be calling me that, or is it my turn to call you the lady of the house?” Phoebe stiffened. A heavy silence filled the room. Then, slowly, her worried expression melted away, replaced by a cold, amused smirk. “So, you finally figured it out.” “I was starting to think you were genuinely brainless. I left so many clues, you know.” She stood up, smoothing her skirt, and made herself comfortable on the sofa, her posture oozing the confidence of a rightful owner. “Todd and I registered our marriage a year ago.” “Yesterday was our anniversary. Did he tell you he had a late board meeting? He didn’t.” “He bought me a cake, gave me a diamond ring, and took me out to a beautiful dinner. Then he drew me a bath and tucked me into bed.” “My appetite hasn’t been great lately, so I told him to take the leftover cake home to keep you happy. Did you try it? The bakery is exclusive.” She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, sighing. “Look, Gemma, don’t hate him. He didn’t want to hurt you. He just didn’t have the heart to break the news.” “You did suffer with him through the lean years, after all. He still wants you around to take care of him when I’m busy.” “Besides, you’re a much better cook. He loves those honey-glazed pork chops you make. I can never get the recipe right, mine are always too sweet or too sour. I made them last week, and he barely took two bites before complaining they weren’t as good as yours.” Cold sweat poured down my neck. My head throbbed with white-hot pain. “When did it start?” I whispered. She tapped her chin, smiling. “Three years ago, on your anniversary.” “The office was in complete chaos. He’d pulled an all-nighter but was still insisting on rushing home to buy you flowers. I got annoyed, so I made him stay with me instead.” Her voice began to warp and fade. Spots of blinding color danced across my eyes, and then the world went entirely black. When I opened my eyes, the smell of antiseptic filled my nose. Todd was asleep, his head resting on the edge of my hospital bed. His brow was furrowed, and his fingers were wrapped tightly around mine. I stared at his face, a face I had kissed ten thousand times. A faint white scar ran from his temple to his cheekbone, a permanent reminder of the day he threw himself over my body as the glass shattered around us. I slowly pulled my hand away. The movement startled him awake. He sat up instantly, his eyes bloodshot. Seeing me conscious, his face lit up with overwhelming relief. “Gemma, thank god. You terrified me.” He poured a cup of water, offering it to me. “The doctor said it was an anxiety attack. Sweetheart, have you been skipping your medication?” I stared down at my trembling fingers. “Todd, where is Phoebe?” He blinked, then offered a smooth, easy smile. “She’s my assistant, Gemma. She’s at the office, of course.” “I only sent her to our place yesterday to grab some files. Why do you ask?” Whenever he lied, his left eyebrow would twitch upward. It was a tell he had possessed since he was eighteen, one he had never managed to shake. I closed my eyes, unable to look at him for another second. “Leave. I want to be alone.” “Gemma…” “Go.” A long silence stretched between us. Finally, he sighed, gently tucking the blanket around my shoulders. At the door, he paused, looking back with soft, pleading eyes. “I love you, Gemma.” The words were filled with warmth, but they left me shivering. The moment the door clicked shut, the dam broke, and hot tears streamed down my face. “Oh? Stepmom, are those actual tears?” Maeve stood by the window, her voice dripping with mockery. She leaned over the bed, her fingers surprisingly gentle as she brushed a tear from my cheek. I froze, staring up into her face. Her wide, round eyes held a strange, haunting familiarity. In the next breath, her wicked smile returned. “I didn’t think bad women knew how to cry. How tragic.” “You deserve it. But don’t worry, there’s plenty more misery waiting for you in the future.” Remembering what she had whispered before Phoebe walked in, I lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. “What did Todd do to the orphanage?” Maeve fell silent. She stared down at my hand wrapping her wrist, her eyes glazed over. For a fleeting second, I could have sworn her eyes were swimming with tears. A sudden panic gripped my chest. “Maeve…” Before I could finish, she violently wrenched her hand away. “You brought this on yourself! It serves you right that my dad bulldozed that dump where you grew up and gifted the land to my mother.” My breath hitched in my throat. Maeve paced the room, her voice rising with forced, manic glee. “You were like a shadow, always playing the victim to keep my dad from coming home to his real family.” “But the moment my mother threw a tantrum, he threw you under the bus. He destroyed the only place you ever cared about just to make her smile.” “My mother told me you literally got down on your knees, begging him. She said you sobbed like a dog.” “Didn’t stop him though. They turned your precious orphanage into a waste processing plant.” “After that, you completely lost your mind, turning his life into a living hell with your psychotic episodes.” “You even caused a death. The old lady who ran the place threatened to sue, but she ended up dead in a convenient accident.” “It was my mother’s development project, so of course my dad cleaned up the mess. He swept the old lady’s death under the rug without blinking.” “And you, like a fool, kept screaming for justice. My dad had to hire a specialist to hypnotize you just to wipe your memories and shut you up.” I was discharged a few days later. I went back to the townhouse quietly. Every curtain, every piece of furniture had been chosen by me. I had built this place believing it was the foundation of my happiest years. Instead, it was a gilded cage built on deceit and blood. I had barely finished packing my suitcase when Todd burst through the door, throwing his arms around me in a desperate embrace. “Gemma, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Why did you leave the hospital without telling me?” Resting my head against his chest, feeling the frantic, terrified racing of his heart, I whispered, “Todd, do you love me?” “Of course I do,” he replied instantly, tightening his grip. “Gemma, without you, I would die.” Such grand passion. I let out a silent, bitter laugh. Before I could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with a frown, his face instantly turning pale and conflicted as Phoebe’s name flashed on the screen. “Take it,” I said, my voice dead. He hesitated, then stepped back, moving into the hallway to answer. When he returned, the mask of the apologetic lover was firmly back in place. “Just some trouble at the firm. Get some rest, okay?” “Once this deal closes, I’ll take you on a vacation. Just the two of us.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and hurried out the door. I stared at the closed door, raising my hand to violently wipe his kiss from my skin. There is no vacation, Todd. There is no future. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out, never looking back. At the corner of the street, some inexplicable urge made me stop and turn. Maeve was sitting on the wooden swing set in the garden of the grand brick villa, swaying gently under the shadow of the trees. Seeing me watch her, she raised a hand, waving with a wide, bright smile. The sight sent a strange shiver through me. How odd. She looked absolutely nothing like Phoebe.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458735”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My daughter always loved telling the truth. When I asked her if she thought I was pretty, she looked right at me and said, “Honestly Mom, you are the ugliest mom at my whole preschool.” When my mother-in-law pointed her finger in my face and called me a wasteful spender for buying her an expensive backpack, I asked my daughter how that made her feel. She smiled and said, “Honestly, I was pretty happy watching you get yelled at.” My husband once joked with her, asking if she would take care of me when I got old. She scoffed. “I am not taking care of her. When she gets old, she should just hurry up and be put six feet under.” My heart went completely cold. But her eyes curved into happy little crescents. “I am just telling the truth!” Later on, a detective came to our house doing a routine neighborhood canvas and asked my daughter a few standard questions. Once again, my daughter told the truth. But this time, it was a truth she would regret for the rest of her life. 1 The detective knocked on our door to update the local residential registry. My seven-year-old daughter, Brenda, blinked her big eyes and asked, “Why do you have to write our names down?” The detective gently patted her head. “It helps keep the neighborhood safe, and it helps us make sure bad people do not kidnap little kids.” Brenda nodded, her face suddenly lighting up with an exaggerated look of realization. “Oh, I get it! You want to catch kidnappers! Well, isn’t my mom one of those?” “She told me out of her own mouth yesterday that she kidnapped me!” The smile froze completely on the detective’s face. I stared at my daughter in absolute shock. Seeing the sly, calculating gleam in her eyes, my brain started to buzz. Brenda had a habit of saying “honest” things specifically designed to humiliate me and cause me pain. Just yesterday, I refused to let her eat too much junk food before dinner. She threw a fit, calling me an evil mother and screaming that she didn’t want to be my daughter anymore. I was exhausted and furious, so I snapped back, “You’re right, you aren’t my daughter! I kidnapped you!” At the time, she argued back saying she didn’t believe me. I never imagined she would take a sarcastic comment she didn’t even believe, package it as the “truth,” and feed it directly to a police officer. The detective was already looking at me with a completely different expression. I forced out a dry, awkward laugh. “She was misbehaving yesterday and I lost my temper. It was just a stupid joke. I didn’t think she would take it literally.” The detective’s brow relaxed slightly. He turned to Brenda. “Little girl, you can’t joke about things like that. If your mom gets mistaken for a kidnapper, she could go to jail.” Seeing Brenda nod, the knot in my chest finally loosened. I thought the ordeal was over. But a second later, Brenda looked up with an expression of pure, innocent sincerity. “But my mom can’t have babies. If I wasn’t kidnapped, where did I come from?” The scrutiny and suspicion instantly returned to the detective’s eyes. I panicked and quickly tried to explain. “I had an IUD put in right after she was born! When kids hear about birth control, they misunderstand what ‘can’t have babies’ means.” I tugged on Brenda’s sleeve, silently begging her to stop talking. She refused to listen. “Mom couldn’t have babies right after she got married! But I am already seven years old!” I had no idea how a seven-year-old girl possessed the mental capacity to connect those dots. But when you thought about what she was implying, it was impossible not to jump to horrible conclusions. My husband and I had been married for six years. I had an IUD for those exact six years. So how could we possibly have a seven-year-old daughter? The detective clearly did the math in his head. His expression turned dead serious. “Ma’am, I am going to need to see the child’s birth certificate.” My stomach dropped to the floor. There was no birth certificate for Brenda in this house. Six years ago, I had literally fought off human traffickers to rip this child out of their hands. When the police eventually pulled the files on her biological parents, the reality left everyone speechless. My husband and I had looked at each other with pale faces, sharing the exact same thought. If we sent this poor baby back to her biological family, living with them would be a fate worse than death. We simply couldn’t bear it. So, we went through the system, adopted her, and raised her to this day. Brenda probably thought my angry comment yesterday was just a cruel joke, but she had no idea that the joke was actually the truth. The only reason we never told her was that we didn’t want her to feel like an outsider in her own home. But now, if I didn’t confess, this detective might actually put me in handcuffs. Just as I opened my mouth to explain the adoption, Brenda suddenly shrieked in mock excitement. “Oh! I remember now!” “Mom got pregnant out of wedlock! She had me before she got married! When the grown-ups talk about women being loose, this is what they mean, right?” I stood frozen in place. If things were really the way she was describing them, I would have wanted the floor to open up and swallow me out of shame. But my silence in that moment wasn’t born of embarrassment. It was born of a chilling, profound heartbreak. Thinking she had successfully pierced my armor, the corners of Brenda’s mouth curled up into a thrilled little smirk. “Mom, I am just telling the truth to help clear your name! You shouldn’t be mad at me.” The detective withdrew his intense gaze from me, shaking his head slightly as he finished writing down our information. In a corner where no one could see, my hands were curled into fists, my fingernails biting into my palms as I desperately pushed down the surge of bitter emotion. This was not the first time she had done something like this. 2 Back when she was in preschool, she constantly praised other mothers in front of me, talking about how gorgeous they were. I asked her, “Do you think Mom isn’t pretty?” Brenda stared dead into my eyes and said, “Mom, you are not pretty at all!” “You are the ugliest mom at the whole preschool!” I was stunned. Seeing her eyes curved into happy little slits, clearly enjoying the moment, I couldn’t help but speak up. “When you say things like that, it really hurts Mom’s feelings.” To my surprise, she crossed her arms and put on a self-righteous face. “But my teacher said good kids always tell the truth!” I was left completely speechless. A strange, uneasy feeling took root in my chest. Logically speaking, young children usually have a natural, loving bias toward the people who raise them, especially regarding their looks. But Brenda was different. Later, when she started elementary school, I spent a hundred dollars buying her a shiny, branded Frozen backpack she had been begging for. When my mother-in-law found out how much it cost, she marched over, pointed her finger right at my nose, and screamed at me for wasting Chris’s hard-earned money. Brenda completely ignored the vicious scolding I was receiving. She treated the yelling as background music while she spun around the living room, dancing with her new bag. Later, I couldn’t help but ask her, “When you heard Grandma yelling at me, did you have any thoughts about it?” Brenda rolled her eyes around for a second before locking them tightly onto mine. “Yeah! I thought it was super fun!” Seeing the genuine, radiant smile on her face, my expression completely froze. She stared at me for a long time, drinking in my reaction, before adding her favorite line. “Don’t be mad, Mom. I am just telling the truth.” Just last month, Brenda caught a terrible flu. I didn’t sleep for weeks, staying by her bedside day and night to nurse her back to health. When my husband, Chris, saw that I had lost ten pounds from the stress, his heart broke. He asked Brenda, “Mom is working so hard to raise you. Are you going to take care of her when she gets old?” Brenda glanced at me, pouted her lips, and said, “No way! When Mom gets old, she needs to hurry up and go into the ground!” Chris stiffened in shock. Every ounce of color drained from my face. Yet, seeing our devastated reactions, Brenda actually started clapping and cheering, thrilled by the misery she had caused. I remained completely silent for the rest of the day. Brenda even had the nerve to ask me, “Mom, are you upset again just because I told the truth?” That night, I didn’t close my eyes for a single second. Chris tossed and turned beside me. Breaking the heavy silence, he suddenly whispered, “Whenever she says those things… she has to just be joking, right?” Even his voice trembled with uncertainty. Every single time her words tore me to pieces, a brief flash of malicious joy would appear in her eyes. Then she would deploy her favorite excuse, using “telling the truth” to silence any complaints I had. Remembering all of this, my emotions were reaching a boiling point. I rushed to the door, eager to see the detective out and be done with this nightmare. “Mr. Detective!” Brenda yelled out just as he stepped over the threshold. “If I find out my mom really is a kidnapper, can I call you to arrest her?” The detective gave Brenda a highly complicated look, then glanced back at me. Ultimately, he slipped a business card into Brenda’s hand before walking away. 3 After the detective left, Brenda tilted her head and studied my face. Seeing that I wasn’t breaking down or yelling, a flash of deep disappointment crossed her eyes. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Why did you say those things to the officer?” Brenda put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin with total arrogance. “Because I am a good kid who tells the truth!” “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself! You are the one who got mad and said I was kidnapped!” That confirmed it. She purposely fed that story to the police just to punish me for the angry comment I made yesterday. I tightened my fists and asked her one more question. “If Mom really did steal you from human traffickers, but your real parents were terrible people and I kept you to protect you… would you still call the police and send me to prison?” Brenda nodded without a single second of hesitation. “Of course I would! Mom, I told you, I am a good kid who tells the truth!” My heart plunged straight into an icy abyss. Chris had come home from work quietly and had been standing in the hallway for a while. His face was terrifyingly dark. Still, he suppressed his anger, walked over, and patted my shoulder to comfort me. “Maybe… maybe she will grow out of it when she gets older.” Seeing Chris upset made Brenda happy again. She completely ignored our pain. I couldn’t stop the thought from echoing in my head. If Chris and I spent half our lives pouring our blood, sweat, and tears into raising a vicious, ungrateful parasite, why shouldn’t we cut our losses right now? But we had raised her for so many years. I wanted to give her one absolute final chance. I looked at the detective’s business card sitting on the table and spoke deliberately. “Brenda, you really were kidnapped. Inside the safe in our bedroom, there is a file containing all your original records. It has the names of your biological parents on it.” “If you keep using your ‘truths’ to intentionally break our hearts, your dad and I are going to pack your bags and send you back to your real family.” Hearing my tone, the smugness vanished from her young face, replaced by a genuine, age-appropriate fear. She turned to Chris in a panic. “Dad, is she telling the truth?” Chris swallowed his disgust and sighed. “Your mom is just messing with you.” The panic slowly faded from Brenda’s face. She puffed out her cheeks and glared at me. “So it was a lie! I wish I actually had different parents! I hate you, Mom!” Chris’s expression darkened even further. But her entire focus was locked onto me. I played along, forcing a deeply wounded, heartbroken expression onto my face. Only then did her lips part into a satisfied, cruel smile. In that moment, everything became crystal clear. Brenda truly believed she was our biological flesh and blood. Because she thought that bond was indissoluble, she felt completely emboldened to hurt me without any fear of consequences. Any remaining warmth in my heart completely froze over. Late that night, as I hovered on the edge of sleep, I heard the subtle click of the bedroom door handle turning. A tiny shadow slipped into the room. A minute later, the shadow sneaked back out. From the hallway outside, a deliberately hushed, childlike voice whispered into a phone. “Hello, is this the police? Honestly, my mom really is a kidnapper. All the proof is hiding inside her safe. You need to come arrest her right now!” 4 The police response was incredibly fast. I barely had time to throw a cardigan over my shoulders before the front door was aggressively pushed open. Brenda ran crying into the arms of a uniformed officer, pointing a trembling finger at me while wearing a mask of absolute terror. “My mom is a human trafficker! She told me she kidnapped me!” The officer didn’t notice, but from my angle, I clearly saw the wicked, triumphant glint in Brenda’s eyes. It was that exact same thrill of successfully torturing me with her “honesty.” The lead officer stepped forward, his hand resting intimidatingly on his utility belt. His voice commanded authority. “Ma’am, we need you to open the safe in your bedroom immediately so we can inspect the contents.” Chris had been woken by the commotion. He rushed into the living room, panic flashing across his face when he heard the word safe. “You can’t open that!” Taking Chris’s panic as a sign of guilt, the officer signaled to a colleague carrying a heavy breaching kit to step forward. Looking at the heavy metal pry bars hitting the floor, I turned my gaze slowly to Brenda. “Brenda, your dad told you during the day that it was just a joke. Why did you still call the police? Is this what you call telling the truth?” Brenda clamped her mouth shut, conveniently ignoring what Chris had told her earlier. I looked at her with a heavy, loaded stare. “If that safe opens, you are going to regret it for the rest of your life.” Brenda snorted loudly and crossed her arms. “Mom never knows the difference between a joke and the truth. I have to punish Mom.” “This way, Mom will learn to only tell the truth, just like me.” The first lock on the safe popped open with a loud crack under the officer’s pry bar. The heavy steel door swung wide. Inside rested a single, tightly sealed metal lockbox. I looked at Brenda one last time. “If we prove right here and now that you are not my daughter, will you pack your bags and go back to your biological parents?” Brenda answered without missing a beat. “Yes!” “Every time I tell the truth, Mom gets mad. I hate Mom!” The very last microscopic shred of pity I held for this girl evaporated into thin air. The sealed lockbox was a high-density, tamper-proof container I had bought specifically for this. It was incredibly difficult to pry open by force. Watching the officer sweat as he struggled with his tools, I finally spoke up. “I can open it with my passcode. But only if Brenda signs a voluntary relinquishment of parental rights form with me.” Brenda didn’t understand the legal terminology of what a relinquishment form was. But she recognized that I desperately did not want that box opened. Because of that, she nodded eagerly. She pressed her thumb into an ink pad and stamped her print onto the document I printed out. I punched in Brenda’s birthday on the keypad. The box clicked open. Inside lay three neatly stacked files. The first was a legal adoption certificate. The second was a stack of official police reports and news clippings from the day she was rescued from the trafficking ring. The third was a detailed background file on her biological parents. The lead officer read the adoption papers and remained silent. He moved to the second file. His eyes widened in shock. He read the police reports over and over again. When he finally looked back up at me, the suspicion was gone, replaced by profound respect. “You fought off a gang of traffickers to get her back? Lady, you have some serious guts.” Brenda, expecting to see me handcuffed and dragged away, stood completely paralyzed when she heard the officer praising me instead of arresting me. The officer didn’t dwell on his amazement for long. Driven by professional duty, he opened the third file. With just one glance, he froze. He looked up at me in absolute disbelief. “Are… are you sure about this? These are the kid’s real parents?” “You actually want to send her back to them?” The other officers, confused by their sergeant’s reaction, crowded around to read the file. A moment later, every single one of them turned to look at Brenda with eyes full of deep, uncomfortable pity. Everyone was waiting for my answer. I simply closed my eyes and nodded. “The relinquishment agreement is signed. There is no going back now.” Looking at the strange reactions of the adults around her, the reality of the situation finally seemed to pierce through Brenda’s arrogance. Pure terror washed over her face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458734”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My roommate, Cassie, was the ultimate player. She was currently dating five different guys online. Since they all happened to ask her out on a first date for the exact same evening, she was terrified of being exposed. To solve her dilemma, she decided to hold a boyfriend auction right in our dorm room. The other four girls in our room happily bought up one guy each. But when it was my turn, Cassie’s face twisted into a mocking sneer. “Bridget, you’re hideous and dirt-poor. Shoving a man toward you would be a crime against humanity.” “The only way you’ll ever get a taste of a man is if you hang around the dark corners of the campus track field at midnight.” By telling me to go to the track field at night, she was mocking me, implying that only under the pitch-black cover of darkness would a man be blind enough to look at me. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch her underlying meaning. Instead, I stood up and asked in a small, tentative voice: “Can I buy the last one?” … Cassie was a master of scheduling. She juggled five online relationships simultaneously, her face glued to her screen all day, sweet-talking them one by one through voice calls late into the night. One minute she’d be sweet-talking Boyfriend A into carrying her to a higher rank in an online game, and the next she’d be sending a breathless, baby-voiced voice note to Boyfriend B, whining that she was craving boba. My bunkmate, Becca, watched this daily show with a mix of awe and deep envy. “Cassie really has all the luck,” she sighed. “Managing five guys at once? She’s single-handedly meeting the relationship quota for our entire floor.” “What if all five of them ask to meet up on the exact same day?” I couldn’t help but ask. Cassie poked her head out from behind her bed curtains, giving me a dismissive smirk. “I’m not an idiot, Bridget. I’d never let that happen. If you have so much free time to worry about me, why don’t you go jog on the track tonight? Who knows, maybe some blind fool will bump into you in the dark.” “Why the track at night?” Becca asked, genuinely confused. Only a cruel snicker from Cassie answered her. The others caught on instantly, their lips curling into nasty, quiet smirks. A familiar, sharp ache bloomed in my chest. I was born with dull, dark skin and heavy monolids. Growing up in grinding poverty meant years of hard labor in the fields, leaving my stature stunted. When she told me to run at night, she was mocking me, saying that only under the cover of pitch-black darkness would a man be blind enough to look at me. I silently climbed back onto my bunk and drew my curtains shut, sealing out their malice. The curtain was a tattered, hand-me-down piece left behind by a graduating senior. I had smuggled it back to our room while the dorm mother wasn’t looking. But none of us could have guessed that my idle question would turn into a prophecy. A few days later, Cassie was pacing the room in a frenzy, her fingers flying across her phone screen. In a fit of rage, she slammed her phone onto the desk. The sound made my stomach sink. That phone cost nearly a thousand dollars, equivalent to months of my living expenses. Sensing my gaze, her face twisted in fury. She stormed over to my bunk, hauled me down, and slapped me across the face twice, hard. My ears rang, and my head spun from the sheer force of it. The commotion drew the others, but they didn’t care about the red welts swelling on my cheeks. They only cared about why Cassie was so angry. “It’s all this peasant’s fault!” Cassie snarled, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Her jinx of a mouth actually worked! Every single one of my guys demanded to meet in person tomorrow night. They won’t take no for an answer. They said if I don’t show up, we’re over!” She was too blinded by rage to notice the brief, satisfying glints of schadenfreude passing over the others’ faces. “Oh, what a nightmare,” Valerie murmured. She was the prettiest girl in our dorm, crowned the department’s beauty queen, but she was also incredibly green with envy. She hated how many handsome guys Cassie juggled. Watching Cassie face a total romantic collapse was probably the highlight of her month. “I guess you’ll just have to make a choice and dump the rest.” But Cassie didn’t look defeated. Instead, she fell quiet, her lips curling into a secretive, chilling smile. “Do you guys want boyfriends? I’m offering a sister discount.” And just like that, a boyfriend auction began in our cramped room. I, the girl who had just been slapped for absolutely nothing, was instantly forgotten. 2 “First up is a varsity athlete from the neighboring college,” Cassie announced, scrolling through her photos. “Six-foot-two, tanned, rock-hard abs.” She passed the phone around. The girls gasped. “Tara, you’re always working out and you love extreme sports. This jock is perfect for you. You two would have so much in common.” She leaned in, whispering something into Tara’s ear. I sat on the edge of the room, but from her lip movements, I could make out three words: seven-inch prize. Tara bit her lip, hesitated for a second, then pulled out her phone to scan Cassie’s Cash App code. She sent over half her monthly allowance. One hundred and fifty dollars. To me, that was enough to buy cheap instant noodles and stale bread to survive for months. Seeing someone take the bait, Cassie struck while the iron was hot, pushing the next target. “Next, we have the starving artist type,” Cassie pitched, moving to the second profile. “He’s broke, but his face is pure luxury. A sugar mommy tried to buy him a Mercedes last term and he turned her down to keep his pride. He’s incredibly sweet and attentive. Perfect for Regina.” Regina was a rich girl with a spoiled princess attitude. During our freshman year, I had practically acted as her maid, fetching her water and hand-washing her delicate undergarments just to earn a few crumbs. But she found my face too repulsive to look at and quickly hired a poorer student from across the hall instead. Regina didn’t care about money. Spending a hundred and fifty bucks for a handsome plaything to massage her ego was a steal. Cassie turned her gaze toward Valerie, her smile sharpening. “This next one is four hundred dollars. But Valerie, I know you’ll want him. He’s a corporate VP. Sure, he’s a bit older, but he’s incredibly generous. That Chanel bag in my closet? He bought it for me.” “You’re gorgeous, Val. Your charm is way better than mine. Play your cards right, and he’ll probably clear those online credit cards you’ve been hiding from the dean.” It was a blunt slap to Valerie’s pride, a silent jab at her materialism. But despite her annoyance, Valerie paid up. She desperately needed a savior. If she didn’t clear her debts soon, the collection agency would notify the university. Becca grew anxious, grabbing Cassie’s arm. “What about me, Cassie? We’re best friends, you can’t leave me out!” Cassie let out a soft snort, showing her a profile screenshot. “Wouldn’t dream of it. A top-tier pro-gamer. He’ll carry you through every match, gaming queen.” Becca’s eyes lit up, and she squealed with delight. “What about the last one?” Valerie asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing. “Aren’t you going to introduce him?” Cassie waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, the fifth one is pretty average. He doesn’t have any outstanding qualities.” She sounded modest, but the smug triumph in her eyes was impossible to miss. “Average” meant he had no flaws. He was a perfect all-rounder: wealthy, handsome, athletic, and attentive. I didn’t catch her underlying meaning. I stood up, clutching my pockets, and asked in a small, trembling voice, “Can I buy the last one? I… I can pay a hundred dollars first.” 3 They all turned to look at me. The silence in the room was instantly filled with sneers, disgust, and disbelief. My face burned hot. I squeezed the crumpled bills in my pocket, bracing myself against their sharp, judging eyes. Cassie’s smile vanished. She slowly sauntered over to my corner. She pinched the sleeve of my pilling, oversized sweater between two manicured fingers, then yanked a strand of my dry, straw-like hair. “Bridget,” she drawled, her voice dripping with pity. “Do you even own a mirror?” “Look at yourself. You’re ugly, you’re dirt-poor, you can barely afford to eat, and you walk with a limp. Shoving a man toward you would be a sin.” Valerie giggled, covering her mouth. “Don’t be so harsh, Cassie. She really can’t afford a mirror. That sweater she’s wearing? I watched her fish it out of the communal recycling bin down the hall and scrub it like it was some designer piece.” Every ounce of my dignity was stripped bare before the very people I had to live with every single day. My face throbbed with a burning heat, and I could no longer tell if it was from the slaps I had received earlier or the crushing weight of my own shame. As they squealed and added their new targets on their phones, discussing what they would wear for their dates, I crawled back behind my curtain. I huddled in the dark like a sewer rat. But I had perfect vision, and a flawless memory. When Cassie had opened the contact page of the man she had kept for herself, I had memorized his username. Staring at my cracked screen, I typed in the username. His profile picture was an abstract, dark portrait that felt strangely cold. A spark of pure, quiet malice flared in my chest. I tapped the send button without a second thought. The request was accepted almost instantly. Hi, I typed. I’m Bridget. The next evening, the four girls spent hours putting on makeup and doing their hair. They left the room in a cloud of expensive perfume, laughing and chatting about their dates. Meanwhile, the mastermind behind all these dates remained in the room with me, with no intention of going out at all. Cassie was furiously tapping on her screen, the rhythmic, violent clacking revealing her mounting frustration. I curled up on my mattress, pulling my blanket over my mouth to muffle my silent, hysterical laughter until tears leaked from my eyes. Before curfew, the roommates began trickling back into the dorm. Only Tara sent a message to our group chat, telling us she wouldn’t be returning tonight and asking us to cover for her. It seemed she was already getting her money’s worth. As we lay in the dark, the girls began whispering about their encounters. Becca gushed about her gamer guy, saying he was witty, charming, and seemed to come from a wealthy family. She was completely smitten. Valerie came back with a delicate box. A shimmering Van Cleef bracelet now rested on her wrist. Regina didn’t say much, but she begrudgingly admitted her handsome artist was even more stunning in person than in his photos. But as the gossip died down, Valerie noticed how silent Cassie was. For someone who loved bragging more than breathing, keeping quiet about her “perfect” date made no sense. “Hey Cassie,” Valerie called out, her voice dripping with faux-innocence. “How did your night go? You haven’t said a word.” “It was fine,” Cassie muttered. Her voice was flat. Even Becca noticed the tension. “Cassie? Is everything okay?” Realizing the spotlight was on her, Cassie’s pride kicked in. She began to spin a beautiful lie, describing how incredibly attentive her date was and how he had fallen head over heels for her. “But you were in the dorm room the entire night, weren’t you?” I threw the words into the darkness like a bomb. The room fell into a suffocating, dead silence. In the quiet, I could hear Cassie grinding her teeth so hard they threatened to crack. “Ha,” I let out a sharp, ugly little snicker.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458733”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Joey snatched my wrist as I plunged into the Antarctic crevice, gripping it white-knuckled. “I’ve got you, Julie! I’m never letting go!” But my name isn’t Julie. Rescued, I asked who Julie was. He looked away, voice strained. “You misheard.” I dismissed it as terror-induced hallucination until midnight. Waking to an empty bed, I found Joey’s pack overturned, papers scattered. Kneeling, I froze at a five-year-old accident report. Victim: Julie Coleman. Death: fall into Antarctic crevice. Beneath it, travel photos of a girl identical to me—same poses, clothes, locations as Joey and I had shared. Under those, today’s topographic map of our location, covered in calculations of my weight and terminal velocity. Handwritten at the bottom: This time, I will save her. Joey pushed me. I was his dress rehearsal to rewrite his trauma. Numbness hollowed my chest. Trembling, I texted our coordinator: Arrange transport out tomorrow. Don’t tell Joey. Antarctica faces months of total darkness. Joey’s world would be endless polar night. Mine was finally breaking dawn. I’m so sorry, Sylvia, the coordinator’s reply came a few minutes later. It’s peak season, and all transport is booked. The earliest boat we can get to you is in three days. Okay, I replied. Our trip was scheduled for five days. As long as I could leave before Joey noticed, I could survive three days. I tucked the photos back into his pack, smoothing the canvas to make it look untouched. But sleep was gone. The silence of the cabin pressed too hard against my ears, so I wrapped myself in a coat and walked out. At the cabin entrance, I saw Joey through the frosted glass. He was crouching in his heavy winter gear, painstakingly planting red roses into the pristine, powdery snow. In that blinding white wilderness, the crimson petals looked shockingly bright. To me, they looked like drops of fresh blood spilled from my own chest. “Julie, I brought your favorite roses,” he whispered to the wind. When Joey first pursued me, he brought me red roses every single week, without fail. I thought it was a symbol of his burning devotion. I never realized that intense, fiery love belonged to someone else. “It’s a pity I never got to capture your face when you saw them back then,” he murmured. “But I’ll make sure to capture it today.” Joey turned and caught my eyes. His frame went rigid for a fraction of a second before a smooth, easy smile slid onto his face. “Hey, why are you awake?” I forced my lips to curve. “Couldn’t sleep. Needed some air.” He sighed, a look of playful defeat in his eyes. “I wanted to surprise you, but you caught me.” If I hadn’t seen those files, if I didn’t know the ugly truth, I would have been a fool, weeping tears of gratitude at this romantic gesture. Roses in the snow, how poetic. But they were never meant for me. “It’s fine,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m still surprised.” Joey didn’t seem to register the coldness in my tone. He waved me over. “Come out here. Let me take a picture of you.” “No, it’s too cold.” He unzipped his thick outer parka. “Take mine. I’ve already warmed it up. It’ll only take a second.” I shook my head. “No.” A faint, almost imperceptible frown creased his brow. He walked toward me, bringing a gust of freezing air with him. He reached for my hand, but I stepped back, repelled by his chill. He blinked, stunned. “What’s wrong? I thought we promised to document every beautiful moment.” We did promise. The last time I had refused to take a photo, Joey had thrown a tantrum and left me stranded on a street corner in a foreign city. I didn’t speak the language, got horribly lost, and was nearly dragged down an alley by a vagrant. Joey had shown up at the last second to rescue me. His explanation back then was simple: I just want to keep these memories for when we’re old. When you refuse to take photos, it feels like you don’t want a future with me. I had melted, blaming myself for not loving him enough, and swore I would never reject his camera again. Now I knew the truth. It wasn’t about our future. It was my punishment for failing to play Julie well. I looked at him, my expression blank. “I don’t think a face frozen red with snot is particularly beautiful.” “Sylvia!” Joey’s patience was wearing thin. I let out a soft, mocking laugh. “What? Are you going to abandon me in the middle of Antarctica this time?” He flinched, his voice softening in an instant. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just… it wasn’t easy to bring these roses all this way. You’re being a bit of a buzzkill.” A buzzkill. So be it. I wasn’t Julie. I didn’t love red roses, I didn’t love traveling, and I hated this bone-chilling cold. “The biggest buzzkill, Joey, is forcing someone to do something they hate.” Without waiting for his reply, I turned and walked back to our room. He followed me, but I picked up my pace, slipped inside, and locked the door. He knocked repeatedly. “Sylvia, open up. Let’s talk this through.” I leaned against the heavy wood, my body trembling uncontrollably. It was too cold here. I wanted to go home. “Get another room,” I yelled through the door. “We both need to cool down.” The knocking stopped. I didn’t care if he stayed outside or went down the hall. I crawled into bed and shut my eyes. The night was a restless blur. When I opened the door the next morning, Joey slumped forward, falling right into the room. I gasped, stepping back. He lay on the floor, blinking sleepily at me. “Morning, Sylvia.” I frowned. “Did you sleep outside my door all night?” He pushed himself up, offering a tired smile. “Yeah. I couldn’t leave you alone.” A tiny, traitorous part of my heart twitched. Joey wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his voice turning soft and pleading. “Yesterday was my fault. I shouldn’t have been so pushy. Don’t be mad, okay? This is the last leg of our trip. Let’s make it perfect.” I let out a bitter, silent laugh. I was actually feeling touched by his little performance. The rescue was done, the path was halfway walked, and he was so close to healing his old wounds. He had to bow his head to keep his perfect puppet in line. After a long pause, I forced a single word past my lips. “Okay.” Not because I wanted to finish the trip, but because I decided to play my part in his theater one last time. Before we set out, Joey draped a heavy winter parka over my shoulders. One of our tour group members looked over, confused. “Isn’t that jacket style from five years ago?” Joey’s hand hesitated on the zipper. “I just think the older designs look better.” It wasn’t about the design. It was because Julie had worn it. “Joey, you know I don’t like blue,” I said. “You look great in blue. It brings out your eyes.” “But I don’t like it. You said you wouldn’t force me anymore.” “There’s no time to go back and change now. Let’s not keep everyone waiting.” There were still ten minutes before departure. Changing would have taken two. But to keep his perfect Julie fantasy alive, he chose to paint me as the selfish one. Today’s itinerary was to see the penguins. But I have a phobia of birds with sharp beaks. The moment we got out of the vehicle, I instinctively shrank behind Joey. But he didn’t notice. Instead, he pushed me toward the colony. “It’s a rare chance. Go get a photo with them.” “Joey, I’m scared.” He looked baffled. “Scared of what? You love penguins.” I wanted to scream that I wasn’t Julie, that he needed to stop forcing her dead ghost onto my living body. But I kept my voice low. “Joey, I hate sharp-beaked animals.” He froze, a flash of deep disappointment crossing his eyes. While the others were soccer-mom excited, snapping photos, Joey looked at me, then at the penguins, clearly unwilling to give up. He softened his voice. “Let’s just take one together. Just one. I’ll protect you.” Before I could object, he handed his camera to our guide and pulled me close in front of the flock. My skin crawled. I stared stiffly at the lens. The shutter clicked, and Joey immediately let go. “Stay there. Let me go see how it looks.” He abandoned me to check the camera. Suddenly, one of the penguins waddled toward me. Panic surged. I tried to run, but my boot slipped on the ice, and I tumbled backward toward the freezing lake. “Ah!” My scream made Joey’s face pale instantly. He whipped around and sprinted toward me, catching my falling body. The world spun, and I crashed into his chest. He was shivering violently, terrified. “Sylvia, are you okay?” His voice cracked with unshed tears. I looked up and saw his eyes were rimmed with red. “Joey, are you that afraid of me dying?” He went rigid. “Don’t say that word, Sylvia. I don’t want to hear it. You’re going to live a long, long life. We’re going to be together forever.” But he had written those exact words on the back of his photo with Julie. Who did Joey actually want to be with? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care anymore. Because my future would no longer include him. Due to an approaching blizzard, we were forced to stay in the cabin. Joey’s mood was visibly low. He was distracted during dinner. I thought he was still shaken by the morning’s near-accident. But when I leaned closer, I heard him whispering to a travel brochure. “What a shame. We can’t go after all.” He wasn’t traumatized. He was disappointed. Disappointed that the places he couldn’t reach five years ago would remain unvisited. A wave of cold mockery washed over me. I looked away and focused on my food. Joey suddenly turned to me. “Sylvia, are you disappointed we can’t make it to the polar coordinates today?” I never cared about that place. I wanted to say it, but instead, I murmured, “I never expected much from it anyway, so no.” Joey stared at me, his mouth opening and closing. I knew he wanted to call me a buzzkill, or lecture me on the beauty of the polar circle. But in the end, he only said, “Right. Everyone is different.” It was the first time he acknowledged my individuality. But it was far too late. That night, the heater in my room broke. Since it was late and no technician was available, I was forced to share Joey’s room again. His mood shifted dramatically. He pinched my cheek playfully. “Want a warm foot soak?” I wiggled my freezing toes and nodded. He beamed, rushing around to find a basin and fill it with hot water. He even bought dried roses from a lady next door at an exorbitant price. Our group chat was filled with envious comments about how attentive he was. As the hot water warmed my skin, the icy wall around my heart softened just a fraction. Until Joey pointed his camera at me. My body tensed. My mind flashed back to the photos in his bag. Julie had a photo just like this, soaking her feet, smiling at the camera. Every mundane detail of their lives had been lovingly recorded. And the warmth I was feeling now was just a cheap copy of that happiness. I had almost let my guard down over a basin of hot water. My face went cold. Joey noticed. “What’s wrong? Is the water cold?” I pulled my feet out. “No, I’m warm enough.” “Oh.” He looked crestfallen as he carried the basin out. As I dried my feet, I noticed a velvet box peeking out from under his pillow. Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a large, brilliant diamond ring. I slipped it out and saw the engraving on the inner band: S.Y.—Sylvia Young. He was going to propose. But I knew he wasn’t marrying me. He was marrying the vessel that looked like Julie. Hearing footsteps, I quickly put the ring back and pretended nothing had happened. Joey walked in, took off his coat, and lay down beside me. He wrapped his arms around me, smiling. “Sleep early tonight. The guide said the blizzard will clear tomorrow, and we can head to the polar spot.” “I’ve got a surprise waiting for you there.” My heart rate didn’t even flicker. Because tomorrow, I was leaving. The coordinator had messaged me that a spot on an earlier ice-breaker had opened up. No matter how grand Joey’s surprise was—even a proposal—I didn’t want it. The next morning, the storm had cleared. Joey got up early to prepare, trying to keep quiet, but I was already awake, pretending to sleep. Once the door clicked shut, I sat up and packed. There wasn’t much. Most of the gear was bought by him. I only took my own clothes and my passport. I left the blue parka behind. Anything he had bought me on this trip, I left. Within minutes, I was done. My eyes fell on Joey’s backpack. A sudden urge took hold of me. I zipped it open and pulled out the bundle of photos tied with a rubber band. The top photo was Julie at the South Pole, head tilted, flashing a silly peace sign. On the back, it read: Julie said this was the happiest day of her life. Me too. But beneath it, there was a new note written in Joey’s hand: Julie, this is the final stop. I’m here to say goodbye. From now on, there will be no more replacements. I’m going to love someone new. Her name is Sylvia Young. My hands shook slightly as I read the words. My phone lit up: The car is ready to pick you up. Can we head out? I hesitated for two seconds before replying: Yes. So what if Joey had finally woken up? Three years of deception wouldn’t magically vanish. Every moment he loved me as a ghost had grown into a thorn in my flesh, impossible to pull out, impossible to digest. I stuffed the photos into a small grey canvas bag and left it on the corner of the table. Joey came back to the room to get me. We ate breakfast, put on our coats, and walked toward the waiting vehicles. After a few steps, I stopped and pulled his arm. “Joey, I forgot something in the room. It’s in a grey canvas bag. Could you get it for me?” He blinked. “Is it important?” “Very important,” I nodded. He patted my head. “Alright, you scatterbrain. I’ll get it.” The moment he turned back toward the lodge, I took off. I ran like my life depended on it toward the black SUV parked in the distance. The freezing wind rushed down my throat like a mouthful of knives, but I didn’t stop, and I didn’t look back. The door of the SUV was open. The driver looked shocked as I bolted toward him. I threw myself into the back seat, scraping my knee hard against the doorframe. Tears stung my eyes from the pain. “Drive!” I screamed. “Wait, is there anyone else—” “Drive!” The engine roared to life, and the vehicle lunged forward. The cabin, the snow, and Joey all shrank into a tiny dot, dissolving into the white horizon. The suffocating weight on my chest finally began to lift. Back at the cabin, Joey searched the room frantically. When he finally spotted the grey bag in the corner, he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t open it. He just wanted to get back to me. But when he stepped outside, the spot where I had been standing was empty. His heart skipped a beat, but he quickly reassured himself: Sylvia must have gotten too cold and went to the car. He ran toward the tour vehicle. The guide rolled down the window. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Joey’s face drained of color. “She isn’t in the car?” “No!” Joey’s hand lost all strength. The grey canvas bag slipped from his fingers, hitting the hard pack. The contents spilled across the snow. “Hey! Your things!” the guide called out. Joey looked down, and his world began to spin. The pristine white snow could no longer hide his filthy secrets.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “458732”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel