1 In the fifth year of my marriage, I did something incredibly stupid. I sent Simon’s precious little canary packing—all the way out of the country, hoping he would finally come back to me. But when he found out, he said nothing at all. Instead, in the blink of an eye, he brought my family’s business to ruin, forced my father to his knees, and turned my mother’s hair white overnight. And now, here he was, his face a thunderous mask, ready to make me pay. “Kara,” he said, his voice a low growl, “I suppose I was too good to you. It made you forget your place.” “Now, it’s your turn to taste what it’s like to wish you were dead.” … When those words left his lips, I finally lifted my head to look at him. We’d been in love for four years, married for five. We had given each other the best years of our youth. I never imagined it would come to this. My hand drifted to my stomach, where our child had been growing for nearly three months. But it was as if Simon couldn’t see it, his eyes burning with a single, obsessive question. “I’ll give you one last chance. Where is she?” A bitter laugh threatened to escape, but I choked it down. My one act of rebellion had already cost my family everything. “Let my parents go,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “And I’ll tell you.” Simon nodded slowly. He closed the distance between us, and before I could react, his hand shot out, clamping around my throat. He forced my head back, leaving me no choice but to stare into his eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Kara.” “Finding Mia is just a matter of time. What makes you think you’re in any position to bargain with me?” A violent wave of suffocation seized me. I gagged, my face flushing a deep crimson as the veins in my neck bulged. Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at me. I bit down hard, but through the terror, I managed to rasp out the words. “And that gives you the right… to force my father to his knees?!” “He’s my father!” Simon’s expression remained a blank, chilling mask, his grip unyielding, his strength terrifying. Tears streamed from my eyes, but my gaze was locked on his. His pupils were dark pools of madness. I had no doubt he would kill me right here, right now, for another woman. Just as my vision began to tunnel, he released me, flinging me back against the sofa. I gasped for air, my body trembling with the aftershock of fear. I curled into a ball, and in that single, fractured moment, our past flashed before my eyes—all the love, all the promises. A sob tore from my throat, raw and uncontrollable. I wept for the past we could never get back, for this hopeless, devastating marriage. And most of all, I wept for the pathetic woman I had become. Simon just stood there, watching me, his heart a stone. He didn’t even give me a moment to breathe before he grabbed my chin again, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “I’ll ask you one last time. Where did you send my Mia?” He was gone. The moment I gave him the information, he bolted from the room. I saw it clearly—the wave of joyous relief that washed over his face. My husband was truly, utterly mad for another woman. Wiping my tears, I called my parents, telling them to pack. We had to leave tonight. I expected my father to scream at me, to blame me, but instead, his aging voice cracked with unshed tears. “Our dear Kara, you’ve suffered so much. Daddy doesn’t blame you. We’ll just… we’ll leave.” After hanging up, I was swallowed by a tidal wave of guilt and despair. Simon and I had met in college and married right after graduation. His family, the Stantons, were a dynasty. Marrying into their world was something my father could never have dreamed of. He’d worried, of course, that I would be bullied, that with my family’s modest standing, I’d have no one to back me up. But I had promised him, with all the certainty of a girl in love, that Simon adored me. He would never let me suffer. 2 He used to shower me with gifts for every occasion and proudly introduce me to all his friends. Whenever we were apart, he’d text me a hundred times a day saying he missed me, his eyes turning red with jealousy if another man so much as looked my way. “You know, Kara,” he once whispered, “the Stantons are all twisted monsters. You’re the only one who ever taught me what love is.” He was deeply insecure, constantly seeking reassurance of my love. I would hold him for hours, stroking his hair until he finally fell into a peaceful sleep in my arms. I thought we would be like that forever. So when his affection vanished, falling off a cliff without warning, I panicked. Mia was a fresh college graduate. I first heard her name from Simon’s executive assistant, who mentioned it as a joke. “These young girls have no imagination,” she’d laughed. “The whole ‘accidentally spilling coffee on the CEO’ cliché? It’s been done to death.” I dismissed it as office gossip. But it wasn’t long before Mia, against all company policy, became Simon’s personal assistant. He took her horseback riding. When she admitted she didn’t know how, he lifted her into the saddle in front of him, his arms wrapped around her as they ambled along on a single horse. She was clueless about the nuances of the business world, so Simon patiently mentored her, even personally teaching her how to prepare his tea just the way he liked it. Once, a crass business partner made a suggestive joke about her. Simon, always so cool and composed, beat the man so badly he ended up in the hospital. He made no effort to hide it. His infatuation with Mia was an open secret. By the time the stories reached me, they were already attending galas as a couple, kissing amidst the teasing laughter of the crowd. When someone sent me a photo, I confronted him, losing my temper with Simon for the very first time. He just sat there in his leather throne of a chair, watching me silently, his eyes seeming to accuse me of being irrational. “Kara, you’re almost thirty. Why are you competing with a young girl?” “When you were in your early twenties, I doted on you just the same, didn’t I?” In that instant, I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. I finally understood. Simon’s love was loyal, in its own twisted way. He only loved young women, and I had aged out of the role. I was ready to file for divorce, but then I found out I was pregnant. For my child, for the family I still wanted to believe in, I decided to fight. I asked my father to use his connections to send Mia abroad. The result was a catastrophe. After nine years together, I meant nothing to Simon. I had lost, utterly and completely. My father told me to give him three days. Having made an enemy of the Stantons, there was no place left for us in this country. I used that time to schedule an abortion. If the love was gone, there was no reason to keep Simon’s child. There would be plenty of younger girls to bear his children. But the doctor informed me that the pregnancy was too far along for a simple procedure. It would require an induction, which meant a hospital stay. With only three days left in the city, I had no choice but to put it off. On the way back, I tried to consult with a lawyer about the divorce. But the moment they heard the name Simon Stanton, they all backed away. “Mrs. Stanton,” one of them said apologetically, “Mr. Stanton’s firm has a team of the best lawyers in the country. We… we wouldn’t stand a chance.” I understood. I didn’t push it. After marrying Simon, I had become a full-time homemaker. He said he didn’t want me working, and like a fool, I had listened for five years. Now, my entire social circle was curated by him; I had no one to turn to for help. It didn’t matter. Once he had his precious Mia back, I was sure he’d grant me a divorce easily enough. 3 I started sorting through our things at home. I left anything of value, taking only some seasonal clothes and my personal documents. The pregnancy made me constantly tired, and that evening, I fell asleep on the sofa while packing. The next morning, the sound of the front door opening startled me awake. I shot up from the sofa, my heart pounding. I never expected him to be back so soon. It was Simon. And he was holding a young woman’s hand. It was Mia. She was even more beautiful in person, a delicate flower that photos couldn’t do justice. She clutched several shopping bags from high-end luxury brands, and the diamonds on her stilettos caught the light, nearly blinding me. Clearly, he had already won her back. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I couldn’t believe how quickly he’d returned. My hand instinctively went to my neck, the phantom sensation of his grip returning. I was afraid of him. Truly afraid. I forced myself to my feet. Simon led Mia to stand directly in front of me. He smiled at her, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then turned to me, his expression instantly cooling. “Kara. Apologize to Mia.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Even after he’d destroyed my family, after he’d tried to strangle me just yesterday—I thought he’d reached the pinnacle of cruelty. But now he wanted me to apologize to his mistress? Seeing my stunned silence, Simon’s fingers dug into my jaw, forcing my head to face Mia. “Didn’t you hear me? I said, apologize to Mia.” He was a businessman. He knew exactly how to shatter a person’s spirit, even if that person was the wife who had loved him for years. Mia, for her part, hadn’t so much as glanced at me since she walked in. She kept her eyes downcast, her lips pressed into a faint pout. She didn’t have to say a word to look like the picture of a wronged, pitiable victim. “Simon, please, you don’t have to do this,” she murmured. “My position is… awkward, I know. It’s only natural for your wife to hate me.” Though her words were placating, I caught a quick, venomous glance she shot in my direction. Then she tugged at Simon’s sleeve, her voice a soft whine. “Simon, I’m a little tired. Can I go rest?” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, his voice dripping with tenderness. “Of course. Go on, get some rest in the bedroom.” Mia’s wide eyes flickered toward me. “But this is your house. Where should I go?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Simon led her toward our master bedroom. The implication was a slap in the face. My entire body was shaking. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, fighting the urge to scream. I took a deep, ragged breath, watching as he settled her into our room. Only when the door was closed did I finally speak to his back, my voice a raw whisper. “Simon, let’s get a divorce.” “You’ve trampled on my dignity like it’s trash. You’ve destroyed my parents’ life’s work.” I stared at him, my eyes red-rimmed but my voice steady. “This was all my fault. My mistake was being blind enough to fall in love with you in the first place.” At this, he actually raised an eyebrow. He sauntered back over to me, his hands in his pockets, leaning in until his handsome face was inches from mine. His expression was a mix of malice and something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393319”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To make up for it, my parents adopted him. But when I returned home after three years as an exchange student, I found my two older sisters, who had always doted on me, throwing a lavish birthday party for the adopted son, Brian. In front of all the guests, they announced that Brian was the true young master of the Thorne family, and I was merely his backup blood bank. When Brian wanted my room for a painting studio, they threw my belongings into the maid’s quarters. When Brian wanted shares in the company, they took the stock transfer agreement my father had left for me and gave it to him without a second thought. And when Brian decided he fancied my fiancée, the childhood betrothal was transferred from my name to his. In my past life, I was tortured to death. Bound by a foolish notion of family, I never fought back. This time, I’ve been reborn. And I plan on destroying every single one of them. Through the noise of the grand ballroom, I saw Brian, surrounded by a crowd of sycophants. As they were fawning over him, saying how I, the “other” son, wasn’t fit to lick his boots, I strode forward and ripped the watch from his wrist. “This is ‘The One,’” I announced, my voice cutting through the chatter. “A one-of-a-kind timepiece my father bought for me at a record-breaking auction. You’re just some backwoods nobody. Don’t you have any shame, parading around with stolen goods?” The room fell silent. Then, a wave of ridicule erupted. “Is Caleb Thorne sleepwalking? Causing a scene at his own brother’s birthday party.” “He’s just desperate for attention. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.” My two sisters, drawn by the commotion, rushed to Brian’s side, shielding him as if I were a wild animal. Brian clutched his wrist, his face a mask of wounded innocence. My eldest sister, Clara, immediately started shouting for the housekeeper to fetch the first-aid kit, as if the faint red mark on Brian’s wrist might vanish if she didn’t act fast enough. My other sister, Giselle, shoved me hard. “Caleb, have you lost your mind? How dare you hurt your brother!” she shrieked. “Dad bought that watch for his real son. Are you his real son? Don’t be so shameless. Give it back.” I clenched my fist around the watch, a cold sneer on my lips. “His real son? If he’s real, what am I, a fake? Giselle, did you get your head slammed in a door? You don’t even recognize your own brother? Let’s see you say that to Dad’s face!” Giselle’s face turned purple with rage. Brian held her back, sighing with theatrical magnanimity. “It’s alright, Giselle. Caleb came from a rough background. He wasn’t raised with manners. Don’t hold it against him. It’s my fault, as his older brother, for not guiding him better.” He continued, his voice dripping with false humility, “If it weren’t for my rare blood type, Mom and Dad wouldn’t have been so worried about my health. They wouldn’t have been forced to bring him here as a foster son. It’s my own body that’s failed me. It’s only right that I should be more patient with him.” I almost laughed out loud. It was the same old act. In my past life, I had been cut to pieces by Brian’s soft, insidious words. He loved to play the victim in a crowd, saying things that seemed thoughtful but were designed to belittle me and polish his own halo. He made everyone believe I was nothing but trash, while he was the chosen one. In reality, he was an idiot who needed the Thorne family to pull strings just to get him into community college. The guests, of course, lapped it up. “Brian is a true credit to his family. So kind and understanding. Not like some people who stick a feather in their cap and think they’re royalty.” “Exactly. A guttersnipe from the middle of nowhere. The Thornes give him a life of luxury and he’s still not satisfied. Now he’s trying to steal from the real young master. The nerve.” Brian shook his head, a look of weary resignation on his face. “It’s alright if I’m wronged a little. Please, don’t blame my brother. He comes from a place of hardship. I can understand his jealousy. I will do my best to guide him onto the right path.” His performance of generosity won him a wave of sympathy. “Young Master Brian, you’re too kind,” someone gushed. “Yes, if you keep spoiling him like this, that ungrateful viper will only take advantage of you.” Clara’s eyes narrowed on the watch in my hand. Her tone was imperious. “Give me the watch.” My eyes were red with fury. “This watch, ‘The One,’ was a gift from my father. To me.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Caleb, we took you in. Not so you could bully my real brother. If you can’t accept your place as a foster child, then get out of this house.” I couldn’t believe it. These words were coming from the sister who had cherished me, protected me, since I was a child. The chill in my heart wasn’t from a single moment, but a slow, creeping frost. I laughed. “It’s not your place to tell me to get out. And no one is taking this watch today.” Giselle exploded. “Are you all blind?” she screeched at the household staff. “You’re just going to stand there and watch this brat steal from the young master? Get it back!” The butler, Harrison, rolled up his sleeves and was the first to move. I’d seen him exchanging glances with Brian earlier. I knew he’d been bought. I grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby table, smashed it on the edge of a dessert cart, and held the jagged neck out in front of me. “I’d like to see you try! Think very carefully about who the real young master of this house is. The people who sign your paychecks are my parents. Anyone who touches me today will be packing their bags tomorrow.” My ferocity stunned them. Many of them had worked for our family for years. They knew me. They hesitated, unsure. But Harrison lunged forward, snatching the watch from my hand and presenting it to Brian with a fawning smile. “Young Master, I’m an old servant of this house. I’ve watched you grow up. No one can impersonate you, and no one can take what is yours. This watch was made for you.” I kicked the back of his knee, hard. He crumpled to the floor. “You’re an employee. Who gave you the right to snatch things from my hand? What, did Brian offer you more money than my parents do?” Harrison’s eyes darted away, his guilt obvious. Brian rushed over to shield him. “Brother, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Why are you bullying Harrison? He’s an old man. He only spoke up because he’s heartbroken seeing you steal my things day after day. I know this watch is a priceless gift from Dad, and I know you’ve been jealous of it for a long time. You’ve even snuck it out of the house to show off. I can forgive all of that. Just promise you won’t bully Harrison anymore. You can have the watch.” He turned away, his expression a perfect blend of resignation and pain. I pointed at my own nose in disbelief. Me? Jealous? I was the heir to a fortune. Jealous of him? Of his backwoods origins? Of his talent for drama? I felt sick to my stomach. The guests, however, were outraged on his behalf. “What an amateur. He lives a life of luxury for a few days and thinks he’s the real heir. Now he’s bullying the staff. If he doesn’t have a mirror, he should take a look at his reflection in a puddle.” “Caleb is a venomous snake. This is like a real-life fable.” “Poor Brian. The true heir, being tormented by a wild dog.” “This was supposed to be a beautiful party. He’s ruined everything.” Clara’s brow was furrowed in disgust. “Have you made enough of a scene? Are you not satisfied until you’ve dragged the Thorne family name through the mud? The reason Dad called this watch ‘The One’ was to declare to the world that Brian is his one and only true son. Have we been too good to you over the years? Have you forgotten what you are?” Giselle added, “We should just send him back to whatever hovel he came from. With our family’s resources, it wouldn’t be hard to find another match for Brian’s blood type.” I looked at the two sisters who had raised me, and a deep, bone-chilling cold washed over me. My parents had spent a fortune finding several children with my rare blood type. They had let me choose which one to bring home as my adopted brother. But Clara and Giselle had looked at the photos and unanimously chosen Brian. At the time, I thought it didn’t matter who it was. Their job was just to be my companion, and to provide blood if I ever needed it. But looking back, their reaction was strange. Two people with completely different personalities, instantly agreeing on one boy. In my last life, they had used my parents’ business trip as an opportunity to throw this same party for Brian. They had publicly declared him the true heir and me the backup blood bank. Humiliated and ostracized, I was then goaded by Brian’s taunts until my sisters forced a bottle of hard liquor down my throat and locked me in the cellar. By the time my parents returned, my body, dead from a severe allergic reaction to the alcohol, was already beginning to rot. In that life, accused by the sisters I adored, I had been too heartbroken to even speak, let alone defend myself. This time, I stood up straight. “You know perfectly well who the real Thorne heir is. You think you can get away with bullying me in front of all these people? Let’s see how you explain this to Mom and Dad when they get back.” My defiance, even after their verbal assault, gave some of the smarter guests pause. “Could it be… Caleb is the real heir?” “You know, he may be dressed simply, but he does resemble Mr. Thorne.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393318”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am the sole heir to the Grant family fortune, but I am a woman. Everyone whispered that the three foster sons my father raised to be my potential husbands were the true heirs. They certainly acted like it; they never once gave me the time of day. I tried to get Kian’s attention a hundred times, only to be met with a hundred looks of contempt. I thought he was like that with everyone, until I saw him with my own eyes, kneeling before the chauffeur’s daughter, Jenna, and swearing an oath. “I only agreed to marry her to repay the Grants for raising me,” he vowed. “Once I’m in control of the company, I’ll marry you and give you the world. As long as she doesn’t hurt you, I can even give Cora a few million to disappear abroad.” “You,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “are the only one I’ll ever call my wife.” On the eve of the annual shareholder meeting, my father asked me to make my choice. I thought of the three of them, of their averted gazes and dismissive smirks. I smiled. “I am the Grant heir, after all,” I said. “My marriage should maximize our family’s interests.” “I choose Alistair Thorne.” My father’s brow furrowed. “Alistair Thorne? He was paralyzed in that car accident five years ago. He’s a paraplegic, and they say he’s… impotent. Are you sure?” … My voice was soft, but my resolve was iron. “In our world, there is no such thing as true love. Since it’s all about business, it only makes sense to choose the most powerful ally. And that is the Thorne family.” My father’s face was grim. “That may be true, but of the three young men I chose for you, you don’t fancy any of them?” My father had loved my mother deeply. But she died of a cerebral hemorrhage the year I was born. He couldn’t bear to remarry, yet he couldn’t bring himself to entrust the entire Grant empire to me, a woman, alone. On the advice of a friend, he adopted three orphaned boys. He’d amended his will long ago: whichever one I chose would co-manage the company with me, a united front against any dissenting board members. My father loved me, but that love didn’t conflict with his firm belief that a woman couldn’t run a corporation of this size on her own. I looked at him. “Alistair may be paralyzed and unable to perform his husbandly duties, but I can have his child through IVF. He is also the sole heir to the Thorne fortune. Instead of choosing an orphan to prop up our family, why not forge an alliance with a powerhouse?” My father nodded slowly. “If those three couldn’t win your heart, then there is no longer a place for them at Grant Industries.” If I had simply told him that Kian didn’t love me and I didn’t want to force it, my father would have dragged Kian before me and demanded to know what right an adopted son had to refuse me. I didn’t want him to use years of kindness as a weapon. I didn’t want to coerce Kian into a miserable, loveless marriage. Besides, the words I’d overheard had frozen my heart solid. A clean break was the greatest mercy I could offer. As I left the office, my father shot a sharp glance at Kian. After respectfully seeing my father off, Kian turned to me, his brow creased in a frown. “What did you tattle to him about this time?” His eyes were full of disgust and impatience, as if I’d committed some heinous crime. Before I could answer, Evan scoffed beside him. “What else? The usual complaints, I’m sure. That we don’t include her, that we don’t worship the ground she walks on.” The third, Leo, chimed in with a sneer. “Honestly, Cora, this isn’t the dark ages. Do you really think a little money makes you a princess everyone has to bow down to?” The three of them stood united, their words like daggers. I was genuinely confused. “None of you want to marry me. Why has not one of you ever said so to my father?” My father, for all his traditional ideas about my future, was not a tyrant. If any of them had said no, he would have given them a generous sum and sent them abroad to live their lives freely. But in the end, they couldn’t let go of the Grant family’s wealth. Leo, always the most hot-tempered, clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Easy for you to say. You know perfectly well we’re nothing more than the Grants’ charity cases. The lap dogs you raised. What right do we have to refuse?” Kian’s face was dark as he looked at me. “If you’re going to choose me, then choose me. Just don’t make things difficult for the other two.” At this, Leo and Evan looked at him with profound gratitude. Seeing Kian’s expression of noble sacrifice, a bitter taste filled my mouth. Before I could say anything, Jenna appeared. The moment she saw me, she flinched and ducked behind Kian as if I were about to strike her. Kian instinctively shielded her. “She hasn’t done anything. Just leave her alone today.” I looked at them, bewildered, only to find all three of my supposed protectors standing guard in front of Jenna, terrified I might hurt her. Five years ago, when Jenna first arrived at our home, she gave me a hairpin. As a welcoming gift, I gave her a ten-thousand-dollar bracelet in return. But when I reached for the box of pastries on the table, Kian slapped my hand away. “That was a memento from Jenna’s mother! You’d steal that from her too?” he’d roared. Confused, I looked at Jenna, expecting her to explain that she had given it to me willingly. Instead, she burst into tears and dropped to her knees. “Miss Grant didn’t steal it! I gave it to her! She’s been very kind to me, she even gave me this bracelet. I’m not upset, really!” She began kowtowing, banging her head on the floor. The sight of it made the three boys see red, reminding them of their own precarious positions as outsiders. They rounded on me. “Just because you’re a Grant doesn’t give you the right to force someone to give you their mother’s dying gift!” “That hairpin might not be worth much, but its sentimental value is something your stupid bracelet can’t compare to! Give it back to her!” “You’re as selfish and tyrannical as ever. You don’t care who you hurt as long as you get what you want.” My face paled. I thought it was all a misunderstanding, something we could clear up later. Swallowing my anger, I held the hairpin out to Jenna. But as she reached for it, she fumbled, and it shattered on the marble floor. She bit her lip, then screamed at me, “If you were just going to destroy it, why did you have to put on such a show?!” Kian, who always saw himself as a champion of the oppressed, turned on me, his voice cold as ice. “Apologize to Jenna right now. Or I’ll call off our engagement.” At that time, I had already confessed my feelings to Kian, told him he was the only one I would ever marry. He used that as leverage, forcing me to bow to Jenna. I was too young then, too afraid of losing him to defend myself. So I lowered my head and apologized through burning tears. And I had been apologizing for five years. Ever since that day, whenever Jenna saw me, she would act like a mouse seeing a cat, either dropping to her knees or bursting into tears. And I had done nothing. My face hardened. I looked at Kian. “If you’re so worried I’m going to hurt her, why don’t you just chain her to your belt?” It was a sarcastic barb, but he took it literally. “Is that a threat? What are you planning to do to her?” Leo slapped his hands together. “I know what this is about! It’s because we gave the ‘Ocean of Stars’ to Jenna for her birthday, isn’t it? You’re just using that as an excuse to bully her!” Evan’s eyes were cold. “You have everything, Cora. Jenna has never even had someone celebrate her birthday. It’s just an aquarium. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” My blood ran cold. “The Ocean of Stars?” The Ocean of Stars was a private, subterranean aquarium that had been under construction since my birth. Its most stunning feature was a wall of flawless, imperial green jade that, when viewed through the shimmering water, created the illusion of a cosmic nebula. It was set to be completed six months ago. My father had entrusted the final stages to Kian, tasking him with presenting it to me at my birthday gala in one month’s time. And now, my gift had been given to Jenna. My gaze fell on Kian. He was in charge of the project. No one could have entered the unopened aquarium without his permission. He looked away, a flicker of guilt in his eyes before it hardened into anger. “Jenna grew up poor, working her whole life just to get by. She’s never had a chance to properly see the stars. I just wanted to grant her one wish. Besides, the aquarium still belongs to you, doesn’t it? Stop being so unreasonable. Fine. I’ll announce our engagement at your birthday party next month. Are you happy now?” He looked at me as if he were bestowing a great charity. For a moment, I almost thought I was the one who had been adopted. But no one else seemed to see anything wrong. In fact, they all looked at Kian with sympathy. “Why would you make such a sacrifice? Cora is spoiled, cruel, and selfish. Marrying her would be worse than becoming a monk.” “She’s probably over the moon now. She’s finally getting what she’s wanted for years.” “Oh, Kian, please don’t throw away your happiness for my sake!” Jenna sobbed. “I’ll get on my knees, I’ll kowtow to Miss Grant, I’ll be her servant, I’ll do anything…” My throat was dry. “I’m not going to marry you,” I managed to say. Kian raised a skeptical eyebrow. Leo and Evan exchanged a look of alarm, terrified I would choose one of them instead. Being so despised by the three people I had grown up with… I was afraid if I stayed a moment longer, I would break down in tears. I turned to leave, but Jenna grabbed my wrist. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she, once again, fell to her knees before me. “Please, don’t make things hard for Kian. All three of them were taken in by your family. They’re already in a difficult position. If you’re angry because they gave me the Ocean of Stars and you’re going to tell your father, I’m willing to apologize. I’ll beg for your forgiveness.” She started banging her head on the floor again, her forehead quickly turning red and starting to bleed. Kian pulled her up, his heart aching for her, and glared at me. “You say you won’t marry me, but let’s see you stick to that! What kind of game is this, pretending to back off just to torment Jenna?! You’re just trying to find an excuse to tell your father and get her thrown out, aren’t you?” I looked at him, my voice cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But rest assured, I will not be choosing you as my husband.” I thought that would be the end of it, but he grabbed my arm. “If not me, then who? Evan? Leo? Leo wants to study art abroad. Evan craves freedom. Isn’t ruining one of us enough for you? Do you have to destroy their lives too?” Kian took a deep, steadying breath. “If you promise to leave Jenna alone from now on, I will marry you. Just stop this, okay?” His eyes were full of exhaustion, as if I had been tormenting him for years. I looked at him, truly looked at him. “You’ll get your wish,” I said softly. He was afraid I would bully Jenna. He didn’t want to marry me. Once I married Alistair Thorne, all his problems would be solved. I didn’t see Kian again until the day of my birthday gala. He showed up with a grim expression, Evan and Leo trailing behind him, looking equally displeased. I frowned at my assistant. I had specifically told her that since I was announcing my engagement to someone else, there was no need to invite them. She just shook her head frantically, mouthing, I don’t know, they just came on their own. I sighed and decided to ignore them. The other guests, however, were more than happy to greet them. “Mr. Shen, you’re a true prodigy! I hear that project you landed last month is set to make millions. No wonder Miss Grant only has eyes for you.” That was a project I had negotiated. Kian just signed the papers. “Mr. Lu, you may have a temper, but you have a strong sense of justice. Miss Grant will surely be safe with you.” I snorted. Leo was the one who bullied me the most, who looked at me like I was a viper he wanted to crush under his heel. “And Mr. Chen, you’re so handsome and talented. Miss Grant couldn’t go wrong choosing you either. In any case, we look forward to working with you in the future.” The three of them moved through my birthday party as if they were the hosts. I was about to put a stop to the charade when all three of them simultaneously looked down at their phones. Before I could react, Leo’s face contorted with rage. He stormed over to me and slapped me across the face. My head snapped back, the force of the blow nearly sending me to the floor. The entire ballroom fell silent, guests shrinking away from the scene. Kian clenched his fists, stopping Leo from hitting me again, but his own voice was a low growl of fury. “We’re already here, displayed like products for you to choose from. What more do you want? Do you have to drive Jenna to her death?” I was utterly confused. Evan, seeing my expression, sneered. “While we were gone, you had the audacity to have someone kidnap her. I’m telling you, Cora, you won’t get away with this!” And just like that, I understood. Jenna had pulled another one of her stunts. The guests were all my father’s friends or business partners, yet not a single one of them stepped in to stop me from being assaulted. My blood ran cold. They must have been certain the Grant fortune would not fall to me, so they didn’t dare offend the three men they believed would be their future bosses. I clutched my stinging cheek and stared at Leo. “Apologize.” He glanced at my reddening eyes and sneered. “Jenna was nearly violated. You got a little slap. What’s there to cry about?” On cue, Jenna came running in, weeping, her dress torn in a way that suggested the worst. Kian immediately stripped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her, then turned a look of pure loathing on me. “You are as manipulative and calculating as ever. I would never marry a woman like you!” Evan, usually the quietest of the three, stepped in front of Jenna protectively. “Your mother couldn’t produce a male heir, so your family brought us in as tools. We’ve accepted our fate, but still, you’re not satisfied. Fine. There’s no need to keep up this pretense of peace anymore.” He turned and walked away, showing no regard for the Grant family’s reputation. As he left, Kian threw one last arrogant statement over his shoulder. “I’ll marry you. But you will be nothing more than a figurehead. If you want me to protect the Grant empire, you’d better learn to behave.” I laughed. Had they forgotten? Without me, they never would have been adopted by the Grant family in the first place. As the three of them started to leave, some of the guests finally tried to intervene. But I cut them off, my voice sharp with command. “Let them go!” Jenna shot me a triumphant, provocative glance, as if she had just conquered the world. I stood there, silent, until my assistant whispered frantically, “What do we do now? They’ve all left. Who will you choose?” The guests were murmuring amongst themselves. “A woman has to marry eventually. If the three men who know her best won’t have her, who will?” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, then smiled as I raised my wine glass to the crowd. “Honored guests, as you all know, tonight is not only my birthday celebration, but also my engagement party.” A face appeared on the giant screen behind me, handsome and severe. A collective gasp went through the room. “Isn’t that Alistair Thorne, of the Thorne family?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393317”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The third day my son was missing was the day my rival’s daughter got her new heart. Bianca flaunted it, beaming at me, so sure her daughter was destined for a long and happy life. But all I could see was the memory of her eyes, a venomous glint as she once stared at my son’s chest. I had to know. I had to know who the donor was. I became a woman possessed. My husband, a man who valued his public image above all else, was furious. He thought my frantic questions in the hospital hallway were a public disgrace, hissing that I was a lunatic. But I saw it. Through a crack in the operating room door, I saw the body of the child on the table. And on that small body, I saw the birthmark that belonged only to my son. “I need to see the body! That child is my son!” My hair was a wild mess, my voice a desperate, crazed shout in the sterile hospital corridor. A nurse blocked my path, her tone sharp with impatience. “I’ve already told you, the deceased is a boy named Aiden King. He is not your son.” Her hand was firm on my arm. “And without the family’s consent, you have no right to view the remains. Claire, please, stop making a scene and wasting our time.” Other nurses glared at me, their faces a mixture of anger and pity. “I don’t believe you. That has to be my Leo.” My eyes were locked on the operating room door, every muscle in my body coiled to burst through it. But a large hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back so hard I slammed against the wall. Dr. Hugo Grant, my husband, stared down at me with pure disgust. “Claire,” he seethed, “what’s the difference between you and a lunatic right now? Leo has only been missing for three days. Stop trying to curse him to death!” “And in those three days, have you, his father, even once asked for an update on his case?” I shot back, my eyes burning. A flicker of annoyance crossed his perfect face. “I’m not a detective. What good would asking do? Are my questions going to bring him back?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a contemptuous whisper. “This is just another one of your pathetic attempts to get my attention, isn’t it? Fine. You’ve succeeded. I’ll take tomorrow off to be with you.” One of his colleagues chimed in with a sycophantic murmur, “But Dr. Grant, you have a major surgery scheduled for tomorrow! What terrible luck, being married to a woman with no sense of propriety.” The small crowd of doctors and nurses nodded in agreement, their whispers like tiny daggers. My lips twisted into a sorrowful smile. My heart felt like a dead weight in my chest. We were in love once, Hugo and I. He pursued me our senior year of college. We married right after graduation. He told me his work was demanding, that he needed me to manage our home. So I gave up my career and dedicated myself to him. For six years, he climbed the ladder, becoming the youngest Chief of Surgery in the hospital’s history. And then, after a business trip, he came back with them. His childhood sweetheart, Bianca, and her daughter. Bianca’s daughter had a congenital heart defect. I’ll never forget the day she’d “joked” that since my Leo was so frail anyway, why not just donate his heart to her little girl? The look in her eyes that day wasn’t a joke. It was a promise. “Hugo, I’m begging you,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please, just let me see the body. He’s my son.” I knew Hugo’s greatest weakness was his reputation. So I did the one thing I knew would horrify him. I fell to my knees and wept. His face paled. “Fine,” he snapped. “One look.” “Absolutely not!” a frail voice cried out. Bianca was there, supporting a weeping old man. “My dear girl,” the man sobbed, looking at me. “My grandson… his face was the thing he was most proud of. The accident… it ruined him. We don’t want anyone to see him looking so… so broken in death.” Hugo’s expression turned to ice. “This is the donor’s grandfather, Claire. That should be proof enough that the boy inside is not our son. This is all in your head.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. In my head? No. I refused to believe it. I trusted the invisible thread that connected me to my son. I knew he was in that room. Bianca’s face was a mask of tragic tears. “Claire, I know you’re upset. Hugo is my oldest friend, and I know it’s uncomfortable for you that he’s the one performing my daughter’s surgery. I can handle you taking it out on me, I always have.” Her voice rose, filled with manufactured desperation. “But this is a life! A real, living child! The window for a heart transplant is four hours, the sooner the better! You’ve already delayed this for so long! Please, don’t hold this up any longer. Let Hugo do the surgery. I’ll get on my knees and beg you.” And with that, she dropped to the floor before me. The whispers from the staff grew louder, their scorn for me thickening the air. A shrew. A harpy. No wonder Dr. Grant preferred the gentle, understanding Bianca. A year ago, those words would have shattered me. Now, they were meaningless. I’d stopped loving Hugo the day he brought Bianca into our lives. I only stayed for our son. “Let me see the body,” I repeated, my voice flat. “Have you lost your mind? I never knew you could be so petty, so cold-blooded!” Hugo’s patience finally snapped. “When I met you, you were the kindest person I knew. When did you become this… this monster? I’ve told you a thousand times, there is nothing between Bianca and me! She saved my life when we were kids, and I am repaying a debt. She is ten times the woman you are! If I truly loved her, do you think you would have had any place in my life these past few years?” His anger escalated into a full-blown rage. With a guttural roar, he swung, his open palm cracking against my cheek with all his strength. I crumpled to the floor, my face exploding with pain. He didn’t even glance at me. He rushed to Bianca, pulling her tenderly to her feet. “She’s been a housewife for too long,” he murmured to her. “It’s made her paranoid.” Then he looked up and saw my swollen face, the trickle of blood at the corner of my mouth. He froze. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes—not for hitting me, but for being caught. For doing it in public. His pristine image was tarnished. Almost automatically, his expression shifted to one of guilt. He reached for me. “I’m sorry, Claire. I didn’t mean to… I was just so angry. Let’s get you some ice for that.” I stared at him with dead eyes. As he drew near, I lunged, grabbing his right hand and pressing the tip of a fruit knife I’d grabbed from a nearby gift basket against his wrist. “You’re going to sign the divorce papers,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “But first, you’re going to take me to see that body. If you don’t, I’ll ruin that right hand of yours, and you’ll never be a surgeon again.” My face was a mask of desperate ferocity. Today, no one was going to stop me. “Divorce? You want a divorce? Over this?” He looked genuinely stunned. Then he saw the absolute emptiness in my eyes and finally seemed to realize that any love I once had for him was long, long gone. I saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes and almost laughed. He asked when I had become a monster? Perhaps it was during the years of silent, single-handed parenting. Or maybe it was the slow erosion of my soul from his daily neglect and the endless, thankless chores. I hadn’t become a monster. I’d become a ghost. A madwoman. I remembered when we were first married. He was busy, but he insisted on making me oatmeal every morning, saying my stomach was weak and needed care. He did it for six months, until I was better. The first year of our marriage, I was in a car accident. He cried at my bedside, wishing it was his leg that was broken, not mine. “I swore in our vows to be with you until we were old and gray,” he’d said. “I will never abandon you.” I thought I had married for love. When did it all change? It wasn’t until I found his journal that I understood. I was never his first choice. He loved someone else. When I was about to give birth, I saw him carefully picking out baby supplies online. My heart swelled with hope, thinking he was finally embracing fatherhood. Then I saw the shipping address. He sent everything to Bianca. From the very beginning, he was never on our side. Letting him go was the most natural thing in the world. “Dr. Grant, it’s been nearly three hours,” a nurse interrupted, her voice urgent. “If we don’t start the procedure now, the heart’s viability will drop significantly. Even if the surgery is a success, the patient’s recovery will be compromised.” Bianca fell to her knees again, slamming her forehead against the linoleum floor until it was bruised and bloody. “Claire, I’m begging you! Please, let Hugo do the surgery first! My daughter is my life, I can’t lose her! You’re a mother, too. How can you not understand how I feel?” Her pathetic display won the sympathy of the onlookers. The head nurse’s face hardened. “Claire, if you continue this, we will call security!” Even Hugo, still under the threat of my knife, frowned. “Claire, can we please discuss this after the surgery? I know I’ve neglected you. I’ll do better. I promise I’ll spend more time with you.” “No need to call security,” I said, my voice ringing with cold clarity. I looked straight at Bianca, my gaze boring into her as if to expose the darkness in her soul. “I’ve already called the police.” “It only takes a moment to look at a body,” I announced to the room. “So who, exactly, is the one wasting time here? You’re doing everything in your power to stop me from seeing those remains. What unspeakable secret are you trying to hide?” My words seemed to finally penetrate the fog of prejudice. The nurses and doctors exchanged uncertain glances. It was true. Why would Bianca and the old man protest so violently against something that would take only a minute, especially if a child’s life was on the line? Panic flickered in Bianca’s eyes. Just then, two police officers arrived. “Who called in a suspected homicide?” At the word “homicide,” the atmosphere in the hallway shifted. “I did,” I said, turning to the officers. “I believe the child in that operating room is my son, who has been missing for three days. I request a DNA test.” “Officers, that’s my grandson in there!” the old man cried pitifully. A quick check of their system confirmed that the man did, in fact, have a grandson. “Officers, please, you have to help me,” Bianca wept. “Because of her, my daughter’s life-saving surgery can’t begin.” “Ma’am,” one of the officers said sternly to me, “that’s enough. Let the doctor go so he can do his job.” Seizing the opportunity, Hugo wrenched his arm free. He looked at me with an expression of profound disappointment. “Claire, I never imagined you were this far gone. Bianca has done nothing to you, yet you’re willing to let her daughter die. I must have been blind to ever fall for you.” A lunatic? Yes. I smiled a thin, sharp smile. I had been a lunatic since the moment I knew my son was gone. I turned the fruit knife around and pressed it against my own throat. “I am going to see that body,” I told the officers. “Or I will die right here, right now.” I pushed the blade harder. A thin line of blood welled up, tracing a path down my pale skin. Seeing that I was serious, the police finally relented and escorted me into the operating room. 2 I finally stepped inside. There, on the surgical table, was a small, cold body. My heart seized with a pain so sharp it stole my breath. It was him. It was my son. With a trembling hand, I lifted the white sheet. A small, unfamiliar face, half of it destroyed, stared up at me. It wasn’t Leo’s face. Hugo let out a sigh of relief. He turned on me, his voice glacial. “There. You’ve seen him. Are you satisfied? It’s not our son. Now get out so I can do my job!” I shoved his hand away and carefully pulled back the surgical gown. There, on the pale skin of his abdomen, was the distinct, puckered mark of a burn. And next to it, a small, heart-shaped birthmark. A guttural sob ripped from my throat. I looked at Hugo, my voice a broken rasp. “Look at this scar. Look at this birthmark. Now tell me again that this is not our son.” Hugo’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. The color drained from his face as his trembling fingers traced the outline of the burn. He knew that scar. He had been the one to accidentally cause it while taking care of Leo. The body on the table was his son. And moments ago, he had personally harvested his heart.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393316”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was a Nine-Life Lynx, consort to the Celestial Realm’s God of War. In the third year after my death, he finally remembered me. He descended to the mortal world, intending to tear another tail from my body to save his childhood love. The little girl I had once rescued was now an old woman, her hair a cascade of white. She told the God of War that I was already gone. He just scoffed. “If my memory serves, she has two lives left. If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it believable.” He added, his voice dripping with condescension, “Tell her that if she saves Seraphina, she can remain my consort.” Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, fixing on the boy hiding behind the old woman, a boy with a face so strikingly like my own. The child’s expression soured. “Well, well,” Kaelen sneered. “Ten years in the mortal realm and she’s already managed to pop out a child. Since she refuses to show herself, I suppose I’ll have to take it out on her little bastard!” A torrential rain hammered down from the heavens, but where the God of War, Kaelen, stood in his immaculate white robes, not a single drop touched him. He was an island of perfect dryness in the storm. With a brutal tug, he ripped my son from behind Linda. A cruel smirk twisted his lips. “Hah, the resemblance is uncanny. Lyra has done well for herself, hasn’t she? Ten years down here, and she even has a child to show for it.” His voice turned to ice. “When I find out which gutter rat fathered this thing, I will tear him limb from limb!” He extended a finger, tracing a line along my son Finn’s arm. A crimson wound bloomed instantly, weeping blood. Finn let out a piercing wail. As he cried, the gash on his arm slowly began to knit itself closed. “He’s Lyra’s son, all right,” Kaelen declared. “If she won’t crawl out to see me, then I’ll just have to take the tail from her boy instead!” Trembling, Linda threw her cane aside and collapsed to her knees before him. The cold rain soaked her white hair, plastering it to her wrinkled skin. “Lord Kaelen, Lyra… Lyra is truly dead! How can she possibly come to see you?!” Kaelen’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Dead? Don’t be absurd. She has two lives left! Don’t play these pathetic games with me. She heard Seraphina was injured and now she refuses to help. It’s just one tail. It’s not as if I’m asking for her life!” I floated in the air above them, my heart—or the ghost of it—aching with a familiar pang. It was strange. I’d been dead for three years, yet the pain was still so real. My heart ached for Linda, and for my little Finn. Linda crawled forward on her knees, wrapping her frail arms around Finn. “My lord, I am not lying. Lyra died three years ago.” Kaelen’s laugh was a cold, sharp thing. “So, you choose the hard way.” He seized Finn, lifting him into the air with an invisible force. He then bellowed towards the small cottage, “Lyra, I am giving you one chance. If you don’t get out here right now, I will take it out on your son. They’re both Nine-Life Lynxes. One tail is as good as another!” Suspended in the air, Finn choked on the driving rain, his small hands clawing desperately at nothing. “You’re a bad man! A monster!” Linda scrambled through the mud, clinging to Kaelen’s immaculate boots. “My lord, please, he’s just a child. Let him go, I beg you.” With an indifferent flick of his wrist, Kaelen sent Finn crashing to the ground. The boy coughed, a spray of blood staining the mud. “I will give Lyra one day,” Kaelen announced, his voice booming over the storm. “If she doesn’t appear before me by tomorrow, she can’t blame me for being cruel. And when I’m done, this bastard she had with her lover will be punished alongside her!” He turned, his white robes swirling, and vanished. Linda and Finn clung to each other, their sobs lost in the deluge. “Auntie Linda,” Finn whispered, his body trembling, “who was that? He was so scary.” Linda’s gaze darkened. “He is no one, Finn. No one at all.” 2 I clenched my spectral fists, a bitter sorrow welling within me. Kaelen, you couldn’t even recognize your own son. Her lover? The thought was so bitter it was almost laughable. But then, why would he know? He never cared about me. He never would have guessed Finn was his. Even if he knew, he would probably just pour all his hatred for me onto our son. Linda helped Finn back into the cottage and immediately began to pack. “Finn, we have to go. We can’t stay here anymore.” A wave of relief washed over me. She remembered my words. Before I died, I had begged her: if Kaelen ever came looking for me, she had to run. Run as far as she could. I drifted behind her, wishing I could rest a hand on her shoulder. Linda, I’m so sorry. I’m the one who brought this trouble to you. She clutched the moonstone locket I’d given her, her eyes filled with a deep, aching nostalgia. “Lyra,” she murmured to herself, “you gave me this life. Don’t you worry. I will protect Finn with everything I have.” As I watched her face, shadowed and flickering in the lamplight, my mind drifted back fifty years. I saw her again, a little girl who had fallen from a cliff while gathering herbs for her sick mother. I had been passing by and saved her on a whim, healing her mother as well. Such a small act, yet she had carried the weight of that gratitude her entire life. She always said it was a debt she could never repay. Ten years ago, when Kaelen cast me out of the Celestial Realm and his enemies hunted me, it was Linda who took me in. We had lived as fugitives for a decade. I thought Kaelen had finally forgotten me, had let me be. I never imagined that even in death, he would not grant me peace. Linda packed quickly, and under the cloak of darkness, they slipped out of the yard. She paused, looking back one last time at the home we had shared for ten years, and sighed. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, she turned and led Finn away into the night. The moonstone locket would guide them to a hidden cave within my tomb. It held the last vestiges of my arcane power, enough to shield them from Kaelen’s senses. But it would only last for a week. Still, it should have been enough. Kaelen would never waste more than three days searching for me. But they hadn’t gotten far before he appeared, blocking their path. He stood there, an oppressive aura of power rolling off him in waves, crushing down on them. Linda and Finn collapsed, blood trickling from their lips. I flew at Kaelen, my ghostly fists and feet passing right through him. “Kaelen, you bastard! How can you do this to an old woman and a child?! And you call yourself a god, a savior of the realms!” But he couldn’t feel my blows or hear my screams. I was filled with despair. I knew that for his precious Seraphina, there was nothing he wouldn’t do. He looked down at them, his voice a low growl. “And where do you two think you’re going?” Linda struggled to speak. “I… I was just taking Finn to buy some things.” “Oh? To buy things? With all your belongings packed? It looks to me like you were trying to run!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Fools! I already gave you a chance!” Suddenly, a surge of power erupted from Finn. Lynx claws burst from his fingertips, and he lunged at Kaelen. “You monster! Don’t you hurt Auntie Linda! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” My spectral heart leaped into my throat. “Finn, no!” I shrieked into the void. If Kaelen was angered, he would kill Finn without a second thought. It wouldn’t matter that he was his son. Because he was my son, Kaelen wouldn’t care. Kaelen, caught by surprise, didn’t react in time. Finn’s claws tore a deep gash in his arm. His eyes instantly turned to shards of ice. He grabbed Finn by the throat, lifting him effortlessly. “You’re just like your mother,” he hissed. “A defiant little stray.” Finn glared at him, spitting out the words with all his might. “My mother was the best person in the world! You don’t get to talk about her!” Tears streamed down Linda’s face as she began slamming her head against the rocky ground, over and over, until her forehead was a bloody, pulpy mess. I spun in the air, frantic with helplessness. Kaelen, you animal! A cold, pure hatred bloomed in my chest, a feeling I had never truly known until this moment. Kaelen, I was finally, truly beginning to hate you. 3 “My lord,” Linda choked out, her voice thick with blood and tears. “Please, let him go. I told you, Lyra died three years ago.” Kaelen’s grip on Finn’s neck tightened. “Did she now? Well, if she’s dead, her son’s tail will have to do! I refuse to believe she’d stand by and watch her own child be mutilated!” Finn’s face was turning a deep shade of purple. Linda’s lips trembled as she forced out the words. “My lord… Finn… he’s your son.” My gaze snapped to her. How did she know? I had never told her the truth of Finn’s origins, and she had never asked. Perhaps she saw the faint echo of Kaelen in my son’s features. Kaelen merely arched an eyebrow. “You’ll say anything to save that woman, won’t you?” He clearly didn’t believe it. A sphere of golden flame materialized in his right hand, and he pressed it against Finn’s arm. Finn screamed in agony as the Celestial Fire seared his flesh, the wound burning black and refusing to heal. Kaelen’s bloodline carried the divine power of Celestial Fire. Our lynx regeneration, no matter how potent, was useless against it. The wounds would not begin to mend until the last spark of his fire had been extinguished. Twenty years ago, after Seraphina had framed me, Kaelen had burned me with that same fire for an entire hour. My body was a ruin of charred flesh. It took me five years for the scars to fade. And Finn… Finn was not even ten years old. How could he possibly withstand such a torment? Kaelen sneered. “He can’t even endure my Celestial Fire, and you dare claim he’s my son? It seems ten years of suffering in the mortal realm haven’t changed Lyra’s vicious, deceitful nature one bit!” Finn was too young. The War God’s bloodline hadn’t awakened in him yet. Kaelen, you monster! He shouted into the surrounding darkness. “Lyra, I’ve changed my mind! This is your final chance. If you don’t show yourself, I won’t just take your son’s tail. I will burn him with Celestial Fire for three days and three nights!” Desperate, Linda lunged forward to shield Finn. But she was only a mortal. The moment her skin touched the divine light, her entire hand dissolved into ash. Her shriek of agony echoed through the forest. I wanted to tear Kaelen apart. I was consumed by a rage so profound it felt like it could shatter my very soul. Kaelen, Kaelen, I hate you. I hate that I ever met you, and I hate myself for ever loving you! Kaelen dismissed the flame, but Linda’s arm was gone from the elbow down. Finn, ignoring his own searing pain, crawled to her side. He bit into his own wrist and let his blood drip onto her wound, and only then did the bleeding stop. He turned to Kaelen, his voice raw with a grief beyond his years. “You fiend! Who are you?! Why do you hate my mother so much when she’s already gone?!” He screamed, his small body shaking. “My mother is dead! I am her son! Whatever you want, take it from me! I don’t know what she did to you, but please, I’m begging you, don’t hurt Auntie Linda!” Kaelen’s expression flickered for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. He likely couldn’t bring himself to admit that I, a “lowly” lynx, had been his consort. He had always seen me as a source of shame. Linda’s face was deathly pale. After a long moment, she managed to catch her breath. Using her one remaining hand, she propped herself up with her cane, struggling to her feet. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling, hollow mockery. She looked straight at Kaelen and laughed. “God of War,” she said, her voice steady. “You wish to see Lyra? Then follow me.” Kaelen, completely oblivious to the change in her demeanor, assumed his display of power had finally broken them. A triumphant smirk touched his lips. “You should have just led me to her from the start. You could have saved yourselves so much pain.” As Linda walked ahead, she laughed again, a soft, broken sound. She murmured, so low I could barely hear her. “Lyra… oh, Lyra. Is this truly the man you once loved so deeply? I grieve for you.” I’m sorry, Linda. I’m so sorry. I wished I could turn back time, back to the day I first met him a century ago. I would have turned and walked away without a second thought. I would have ensured our paths never, ever crossed again. 4 After a short walk, we arrived at my tomb. It was built into the face of a sheer cliff. Linda took out the moonstone locket I had given her. A simple squeeze would shatter it, and the rock face would open. The moment Kaelen saw the locket, his composure faltered. He snatched it from her hand, staring at it for a long moment before speaking, his voice laced with a strange, biting anger. “Hah. She never took this off. Now that she has a new lover, I see she gives away her treasures so freely.” Linda’s eyes flashed with contempt. She snatched the locket back and squeezed, but her strength failed her. Frustrated, she hurled it to the ground, and the moonstone shattered into a thousand glittering fragments. Kaelen roared, grabbing her by the collar of her tunic. “How dare you!” “You wanted to see Lyra, didn’t you?” Linda said, gesturing to the opening that had appeared in the cliff face. “She’s in there.” With a cold snort, Kaelen dragged Finn inside. But the cavern was stark and empty. There was nothing. He realized he’d been tricked. A malevolent energy radiated from him, and the temperature in the cave plummeted. Linda leaned against the wall, shivering violently. I rushed to her, trying to shield her with my ghostly form, but my arms passed right through. A mortal would freeze to death in this cold, especially one as old and frail as she was. But Linda seemed not to notice the chill. She reached out, stroking the cold stone of the cavern wall with an aching tenderness. “Lyra,” she whispered. “It’s been too long.” It had been. My body had become one with the mountain itself. Kaelen flicked his wrist. Finn’s form shimmered and shrank, until he was nothing more than a small lynx kitten, mewling in his grasp. “Fine,” Kaelen snarled. “You’re all as defiant as she is. You think my patience is endless? Then I’ll offer her bastard son to the heavens!” He raised his hand, preparing to rip away Finn’s single, precious tail. “Hah, one tail? You’re a liar, just like your mother! Pathetic little mongrel.” I howled, throwing myself at Kaelen again and again. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I screamed anyway, begging him to spare my son. I was a Nine-Life Lynx, but giving birth to Finn had nearly destroyed me. Finn was just an ordinary lynx spirit. He only has one life. Kaelen, are you really going to murder your own child?!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393315”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My father, the Duke, was executed, his estate seized. I, a lady of noble birth, was sold to a brothel. In my desperate struggle, I clawed at the worn leather breeches of a passing hunter. “Please,” I begged, “buy me!” The man looked down, his gaze steady and intense. “I am a poor man. My brothers and I have no coin for wives. If I buy you, you must be a wife to all three of us. Do you consent?” My eyes widened in shock. But before the darkness claimed me, I nodded. I expected a life of endless toil and childbirth. I never imagined that they would look past my disfigured face and cherish me with all their hearts. The only hardship was their age. All three were in the prime of their virile youth. On the bed, each was like a wolf. It reached a point where I began to fear the sunset. Because when night fell, I knew I would be claimed by one of the three brothers, devoured and left too weak to even leave the bed. 1. When I awoke from the blackness, several voices echoed around me. “Brother, when will our wife awaken?” “She’s been asleep so long. Isn’t she hungry?” I blinked my eyes open, disoriented, and met a pair of dark, fathomless eyes. It was him. The hunter I had begged to buy me. Before I could speak, he reached out, his strong hands helping me sit up from the rough wooden pallet. “You’re awake. You should eat something.” Only then did I take in my surroundings. I was in a small, dilapidated hovel with a thatched roof. Three towering, powerfully built men stood in the cramped space, their gazes fixed on me. The tiny hut felt completely filled by their presence. Remembering the terms of my purchase, my breath hitched, and a wave of shame washed over me. I clenched my fists. These three brothers… they were to be my husbands? It is said that a good woman does not take a second husband. And here I was, taking three at once. If my mother and father could see me from the afterlife, they would surely curse the day they bore such a shameless daughter. But after trying to end my own life once, I found I did not have the courage to try a second time. It was the only reason I still clung to this wretched existence. I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Rosalba, I told myself, it could be worse. You could have been sold to the filthiest whorehouse in the city. To be a wife to three brothers… this is a blessing by comparison. Besides, though my first glance had been brief, I’d seen their faces. They lacked the refined grace of the gentlemen in the Capital, but each was ruggedly handsome in his own right, with a strong, tall build. If not for their crushing poverty, men who looked like them would have had no trouble finding wives. I should be grateful they were the ones who had bought me. But still… looking at their formidable physiques, could my body truly endure being a wife to all three? As I worried, the hunter who had bought me spoke to his brothers. “Caelan, go fetch her a bowl of porridge.” “Owen, go heat some water for a bath.” The two younger brothers nodded at their elder’s command and immediately left the hut. Once they were gone, the man’s deep gaze settled on me again. I nervously clutched the rough fabric of my tunic. He simply tucked the worn blanket around me. “My name is Rhys. I am the eldest. Owen is the second, and Caelan is the youngest. You’ve seen our situation.” “There are just the three of us. We have no land, only this hut. No father would give his daughter to a house like this.” “The silver I earned a few days ago selling a deer hide… I was going to use it to pay the apprentice fee for Caelan to learn carpentry.” “But you begged me to buy you, and we are in need of a woman in the house. So I made the choice to buy you as our wife.” “From now on, the three of us will treat you well. As long as we have food in our mouths, you will not starve. But I expect you to fulfill your duties as a wife.” My voice was a raw whisper. “I understand.” In truth, I had grabbed Rhys’s leg as a last, desperate gamble. I never imagined he would buy me for such a purpose. After all, I had a large, gruesome scar on my forehead from where I’d slammed my head against a stone wall in my suicide attempt. After the brothel madam sold me to a slaver for a pittance, he had paraded me through town, trying to offload me, but no one was willing to buy a disfigured woman. 2. Soon, Caelan returned, carefully carrying a bowl of steaming porridge. His eyes, when they met mine, held no disgust. Instead, they shone with a bright, almost pleading light. “Wife, you must be starving. Here, eat.” The porridge was thick and rich with shreds of meat, cooked until it was soft. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since being dragged north by the slaver. My stomach let out an embarrassing, loud growl. My face flushed with humiliation, and I couldn’t help but look down. Rhys turned to Caelan. “She has been hungry for a long time. Feed her slowly. I’m going into the mountains to see if I can hunt a pheasant to help her regain her strength.” He took his bow from the wall and strode out. Caelan nodded eagerly. “Don’t worry, Brother! I’ll take good care of our wife.” He scooped up a spoonful of porridge and held it to my lips, his face alight with anticipation. My hunger won out over my shame. I opened my mouth and swallowed greedily. The porridge was seasoned with coarse, bitter salt, but to me, it tasted sweeter than any honeyed cake from my past life. Seeing how ravenously I ate, Caelan’s face softened with pity. “Slow down, wife. There’s more in the pot.” Just as I finished the bowl, Owen returned with the hot water. He hauled in a wooden tub, large enough for a man to sit in, and placed it in the center of the hut, grinning at me with a flash of white teeth. “Wife, the water is hot. I’ll go fetch more to fill it. Just a moment!” I thought of how I hadn’t properly bathed in half a year, how I had intentionally smeared mud in my hair and on my skin to make myself repulsive in the brothel. I gave Owen a small nod. “Thank you… husband.” Hearing the word, Owen’s gaze burned into me, his grin threatening to split his face. “Of course, of course.” Caelan, not to be outdone, stared at me intently. “Wife, I want to hear you call me husband, too.” Heat crept up my neck, and I felt a fresh wave of unease. But remembering Rhys’s words, I whispered it. “Husband.” Both brothers beamed, their faces alight with pure joy, and then they bustled out, filled with a newfound energy to fetch more water. 3. Soon, the tub was full of steaming water. Seeing the two brothers standing there, staring at me expectantly, I felt a fresh wave of embarrassment. “Husbands… could you… could you please step outside for a moment?” They finally seemed to realize, their faces flushing. “Right! We’ll be just outside. Call if you need anything!” they stammered, backing out of the hut with obvious reluctance. Once the door was shut, I let out a long breath. I looked down at the still surface of the water. The reflection that stared back was a stranger: a woman with filthy, matted hair, a face grey with grime, and a terrifyingly ugly scar marring her forehead. The sight of it made even my own stomach churn. And yet, looking at this monstrous reflection, the brothers had smiled. There hadn’t been a trace of disgust or revulsion on their faces. For a moment, I felt a profound sense of confusion. In my old life, men like them would not have been worthy to tie my slippers. Now, it was clear that I was not worthy of them. But from their actions, it seemed they didn’t care how frightening my face was. Perhaps… perhaps I could truly build a life here. 4. I shed my ragged clothes and, using a small stool, carefully stepped into the tub. I knew they were poor, that every piece of furniture was likely hard-won. I was careful not to slip, terrified of breaking the tub. As my body sank into the water, the clear liquid quickly turned murky. My skin, beneath the layers of dirt, began to reveal its original pale fairness. Seeing the filth clouding the water around me, I stood up, wrapped the tattered rags around myself, and called out, my voice thick with embarrassment, “Husbands… would you mind helping me change the water?” The two of them answered immediately from outside. “Coming!” 5. A moment later, the door creaked open. As the brothers entered, their eyes immediately fixed on the bare skin of my arms. “Wife… you’re so pale,” Caelan breathed, his voice filled with awe. I clutched the rags tighter, unable to meet their intense gazes. Owen nudged him. “Caelan, help me with the tub! We can’t let our wife get cold.” Caelan snapped back to reality. Together, they lifted the heavy tub of dirty water, carried it outside to dump it, and quickly brought in a fresh one. After a second bath, I finally felt clean. I changed into a set of their old clothes, patched and worn but clean. After they’d disposed of the second tub of water, Caelan rushed back in, his eyes shining as he looked at me. “Wife, let me help you dry your hair.” I looked at my dripping hair and gave a hesitant nod. Caelan excitedly took the cotton cloth and gently began to squeeze the water from my long locks. His fingers, as they worked at the nape of my neck, would occasionally brush against my skin, sending a jolt of heat through my entire body, making me tense. Once my hair was mostly dry, the sun was high and warm. The brothers moved a stool into the small yard for me, so I could sit in the sun and let my hair dry completely. Their constant, attentive care was so thorough that for a fleeting moment, I felt as if I had returned to my old life of ease and comfort. Of course, it would have been better if their eyes didn’t gleam with such raw hunger. It made me feel like a lamb being watched by a pack of starving wolves.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393314”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the cusp of college graduation, my girlfriend, Sophie, suddenly broke up with me. She gave me a mansion, a Bentley, and a check for eight million dollars, saying it was thanks for my four years of companionship. I was completely blindsided. I needed to know why. But her voice was cold as ice. “Ethan, for people from my kind of family, love and marriage are two very different things. I’m going back home for an arranged marriage. Do you understand?” 1 My girlfriend was getting engaged, but the groom-to-be wasn’t me. When I rushed to the engagement party, I saw her on the stage. Sophie. She was wearing a couture gown and dripping with magnificent jewels, an image of breathtaking, dignified beauty. But the man standing across from her was a different story. He couldn’t have been more than five-foot-three, was grotesquely overweight, and his face was a constellation of greasy, angry pimples that looked like they were about to burst. This was the man my girlfriend was going to marry? My mind flashed back to the night before, and it felt like a lifetime ago. I had just gotten home to the mansion from my internship when Sophie pinned me to the bed. She leaned down, her lips on mine, and her voice was a husky whisper. “Tonight… forget I’m human.” And then, she devoured me. But when I woke up, she was gone. Her number was disconnected. Her social media—all of it—deleted. It was as if she had been erased from my world without a trace, leaving me reeling. Then, her lawyer showed up. He arrived at noon. He said Sophie had given him specific instructions to wait until then, so as not to disturb my rest. He handed me a folder. I read the documents, my mind a complete fog. It was a gift deed. It stated that Sophie Claire Sullivan was voluntarily bestowing upon me the mansion, the Bentley, and a savings account with eight million dollars as a thank-you gift for our four-year relationship. So, she had just dumped me out of the blue, and was now treating me like some kind of kept man, throwing money at me to make me go away? The thing is, I didn’t need the money. Not even a little. I’d told her as much when we first got together. But she had just smiled with that incredible confidence of hers and said, “No matter how rich you are, Ethan, you’re not richer than me.” I never bothered to argue. I was in love with her. But why would she end things? Just last night, she had been so passionate, so fierce, whispering how much she loved me over and over again. How could it all just be over? I forced myself to calm down. I made a few calls, pulled a few strings, and within an hour, I had the full picture. And that’s how I ended up here, at her engagement party. I could see it on her face—Sophie wasn’t happy. Was she being forced into this? “Kiss her! Kiss her!” someone in the crowd yelled. I watched in horror as the fat man reached for Sophie’s hand. She flinched back instinctively, pulling away. His face soured. His thick lips flapped, spraying spittle as he spoke. “Have you already forgotten what you promised me?” Sophie’s face went pale, but she took a hesitant step forward. She was being threatened. I was sure of it. I pushed my way through the crowd, shouting her name. “Sophie! If something’s wrong, just tell me! Don’t do this to yourself!” Every head in the room turned to look at me. When Sophie saw me, a flicker of joy ignited in her cold eyes, but it was extinguished in an instant, replaced by a wall of ice. “Who the hell is this kid?” the fat man sneered, glaring at me. “Calling my fiancée by her first name? Real chummy, aren’t you?” I was about to declare exactly who I was when Sophie cut me off. Her beautiful brows furrowed. “He’s just some pathetic simp. Have security throw him out. Ignore him.” 2 A simp? I could feel the weight of a hundred disdainful stares. Who ever respected a simp? But that wasn’t me. Not at all. Sophie and I met at a club fair. I’d just finished a basketball game and was so hungry I could have eaten a horse. I ended up sneaking some snacks from my roommate’s stash. He gave me some crap for it and dared me to call him ‘daddy’ for the rest of the day. It was just stupid dorm room banter, so I did it. Sophie, who happened to be nearby, immediately stepped in to defend me. She lectured my roommate about picking on people who were less fortunate, then she turned to me and lectured me about stealing. She had this fierce, take-charge personality, always playing the role of the righteous protector. After that, I played up the ‘poor, pitiful me’ angle. I started following her around everywhere, and before long, we were together. The whole campus knew me as the guy she’d “taken in.” People would whisper about her and her boy toy, and I worried it would embarrass her. I told her the truth—that my family was actually incredibly wealthy—but she just shrugged it off, not seeming to care. Our four years together weren’t some epic, dramatic love story, but they were filled with a sweet, deep affection. We barely ever fought. That’s why this sudden breakup was so impossible for me to accept. I had to know the real reason. I looked at her on the stage and started walking toward her. Before I could say a word, the fat man stepped in front of me. He was so short I had to look down to see him, and he had to crane his neck to look up at me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming up here.” He actually jumped, trying to slap me. I stepped back easily, dodging the blow. I frowned, my eyes fixed on Sophie. “You broke up with me for this piece of work?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Sophie rushed forward and, with a sharp swing, slapped me across the face. When he tried to hit me, I moved. When she hit me, I stood perfectly still. She was wearing heels. I was afraid she might lose her balance and fall. She was about to marry another man, and I was still worried about her. God, I was pathetic. I touched my stinging cheek, my heart aching with a grief so sharp it stole my breath. “So you’re the college boyfriend?” The man, Gus, walked over, a contemptuous smirk on his face. “A kept man who dares to act tough in front of me? Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Gus Coleman. The Colemans are the richest family in Port City!” I ignored him, my gaze locked on Sophie. “You just left. Without a word. That’s not fair to me.” “Fair?” Her voice was laced with scorn. “The mansion, the car, the money—I gave you everything. What more could you possibly want? Stop making a scene, Ethan. We’re over.” She frowned. “You know how it is for families like mine. Love and marriage are separate. Thank you for the last four years, but my husband can only be Gus Coleman. Is that clear enough for you?” “I just want to know one thing,” I said, my voice low. “Do you love me?” I knew all about arranged marriages between powerful families. My own parents were a product of one. But they were lucky; they were childhood sweethearts, and their love story was a natural progression. As for me… I was supposed to have an arranged marriage too, but it wasn’t a requirement. The Hayes family’s position in New York was so secure, we no longer needed alliances to solidify our power. “Love?” Sophie let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t be naive, Ethan. I’ve known since I was a little girl that I would have to marry for duty. I don’t believe in love. I was with you because you were good-looking, and because you were poor enough to be easily controlled.” She smirked. “There. You have your answer. Now go.” 3 So, what I thought was a deep, sweet love was just a fantasy I’d created in my own head. In Sophie’s eyes, I was nothing more than a handsome, obedient boy toy. It was laughable. I nodded slowly. If that’s how it was, then fine. The pain in my chest was a physical thing, but I knew how to let go. I came here to try and win her back. If that wasn’t possible, I would walk away. I gave her a sad smile. “Alright. I wish you happiness, Sophie.” With that, I turned to leave the stage. Sophie’s hand clenched into a fist, but she looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. But Gus stepped in front of me, blocking my path. His laugh was a mocking sneer. “You came all this way. You might as well stay and watch the ceremony. Leaving now would be a personal insult to me, to the Coleman family… to all of Port City!” “That’s a bold statement,” I said with a small, dangerous smile. I’d heard similar lines before. New York is a big city; not everyone knows who I am. It’s inevitable that some idiot would try to puff out his chest in front of me. But after I’d dealt with a few of them, people learned to watch their mouths. Gus didn’t catch the contempt in my voice. He just clapped his hands. Instantly, a crowd of men in black suits emerged from the wings, surrounding the stage. “Listen, kid,” Gus said, his voice low and menacing. “If I’m not happy today, you’re not walking out of this room.” Sophie rushed over, her eyes blazing. “Ethan, get out of here, now! I don’t want to see you again!” “Did I say you could speak?” Gus’s face went cold. “You think I’m an idiot? You think I can’t see you’re trying to protect this kid?” Protecting me? I looked deeply at Sophie and saw a flicker of genuine worry in her eyes. Was it possible… that everything she’d just said was a lie? But she just shook her head, her voice softening as she turned back to Gus. “I just don’t want any connection to my past. Besides, this is our engagement party. What does it look like if my ex-boyfriend is here? How would that make you look?” Her tone was suddenly gentle. “Gus, darling, I’m only thinking of you.” Gus’s expression softened slightly, but he was still puffed up with his own importance. “I’m not worried about how I look. In my little corner of the world, in this city, I am God!” He pointed at me. “Get off the stage and go watch from the audience!” I nodded, gave Sophie a look that was half-smile, half-riddle, and walked down the steps. The moment my feet hit the floor, four men in black suits surrounded me. They escorted me to a table in the far corner and sat me down. They were making sure I couldn’t escape. From the stage, Gus yelled, “Just sit there and enjoy the show, kid. You’re not leaving until I say you can.” I just smiled faintly. “You won’t let me leave now. But when you’re begging me to go later, I might not want to.” “Shut your mouth!” Sophie snapped. I just smiled and said nothing. They wanted to play this game. Fine. They wouldn’t like how it ended. Gus added, “I hear you’re from New York. That’s great. Some very important people from the City will be here later. Real big shots. I’ll introduce you. A little networking for you. Broaden your horizons.” “Why, thank you. I can’t wait,” I said, unable to suppress another laugh. Just then, a group of young men swaggered over. They were all loud, arrogant, and reeked of privilege. Gus’s cronies, no doubt. “Kid, you really should have just stayed home.” “You actually think Sophie can protect you?” “Let me tell you something. Even if you hadn’t shown up today, Gus wasn’t going to let you off the hook. You think he’s going to let the guy who slept with his fiancée for four years just walk away alive?” “I’ve got my phone right here. Want me to call the cops for you?” They laughed, their mockery echoing in the large hall. I just fiddled with my phone, not bothering to engage with them. But one thing was now crystal clear. Sophie was, indeed, trying to protect me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393313”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At the company celebration dinner, the handsome new intern started charming my wife, Nina. He playfully asked to see the hearing aid in my ear. With a laugh, Nina reached over and pulled it off, handing it to him. The intern, Charlie, glanced at it with a flicker of distaste before casually dropping it on the floor. I lunged to pick it up, but he “accidentally” stepped on my hand. A sharp, searing pain shot through my fingers as the device was crushed under his shoe. When I put the mangled aid back on, a wave of fury washed over me. I turned to confront him, but Nina’s hand cut through the air, slapping me hard across the face. “Elliot, this is a party to celebrate Charlie’s new software. Don’t make a scene!” I looked at my wife’s furious face, then at Charlie, who was smiling at me with open provocation from behind her. A sense of release washed over me. I smiled, a real smile, and plucked the hearing aid from my ear. I dropped it into the nearby trash can and turned to leave. It was the most precious gift she had ever given me, from the day we made our relationship official. But now, her and the crushed hearing aid… I was done with both of them. 1 Under the stunned gazes of everyone in the room, I calmly smiled. “You all enjoy. I’m heading home.” Then, I walked out. My world plunged back into silence, an isolated bubble where sound couldn’t penetrate. I saw the anger on Nina’s face but didn’t care anymore. Once outside the private room, I sent a text to my best friend, Mark. [I’m quitting in a couple of days. I’m coming to join you.] He replied almost instantly, his excitement palpable even through the text. [YES! With you here, we can develop that software together. This is going to be huge!] I was grateful he didn’t ask any questions. In college, Mark and I were both computer science majors, obsessed with coding and software development. We’d teamed up for countless competitions, winning award after award. After graduation, he moved to another city to start his own company. I stayed behind, married Nina, and went to work for her family’s tech firm. Mark’s career took off. Mine stagnated. He often told me my talent was being wasted and urged me to join him, but I always refused, wanting to stay by Nina’s side. But now, she had changed too much, all for a new intern. There was no reason for me to stay anymore. Back home, I took out a spare hearing aid and put it on. My phone buzzed. It was a video from Charlie. I opened it. The lighting was dim, a karaoke bar. Nina was holding the microphone, her eyes looking at the camera with a melting tenderness. “Charlie is an exceptional talent,” she announced. “This song is for him!” Then, the familiar intro to “Prank” began to play. Her voice was beautiful, clear, and full of emotion. My heart seized. Nina was famously tone-deaf. “Prank” was the one song she had practiced for months, the only one she could sing perfectly. She did it for me. Because a childhood illness had stolen most of my hearing, she would lean in close, her voice a sweet, soft whisper right next to my ear, so I could hear every word clearly. Her smile back then was warm and dazzling. “Elliot,” she’d said, “I learned this song for you. And I’ll only ever sing it for you.” That was the moment a string deep inside me snapped, and I was filled with an overwhelming love for her. Now, she was singing it in a crowded room, for another man. Nina had broken her promise. I closed the video, a bitter taste in my mouth. The apartment felt cold, desolate. I opened my closet and began to pack. 2 Nina didn’t get home until almost one in the morning. She saw me sitting calmly on the sofa watching TV, and her face darkened with anger. “I texted you. Why didn’t you come down to meet me?” Whenever Nina worked late, I would always go downstairs to wait for her, to make sure I was the first thing she saw when she entered our complex. This time, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I picked up my phone. The chat log with Nina was a sea of my own green text bubbles, with only a few terse replies from her. The latest one was hers. Four cold, simple words: [On my way home.] I looked up at her, my voice flat. “I forgot to check my phone.” She strode towards me, unleashing a torrent of accusations. “Elliot, what is your problem? Charlie is younger than you, can’t you cut him some slack? He stepped on your hearing aid by accident, and you throw a fit in front of everyone! Did you even for a second consider how that made me feel?” I listened silently to her tirade, my expression unchanging. My eyes, however, drifted to the smooth, white skin of her neck. There, nestled just below her jawline, was an angry, red mark. Noticing my gaze, Nina flinched, instinctively pulling up her collar to hide it. But her tone remained harsh. “The slap was a lesson. Don’t you ever do that again! Charlie is young. You need to be the mature one.” I nodded, not arguing. “I understand. I’m a little tired, I’m going to bed.” I stood up and walked into the bedroom. Behind me, Nina’s face was ugly with rage. I heard her let out a cold, dismissive huff. I lay in bed, my eyes closed, but my mind was a raging storm. “He stepped on your hearing aid by accident.” She accused me of being petty. But that hearing aid was the one she gave me when we first got together. I treasured it, protected it like a holy relic. It was old, but it worked perfectly. I remembered that day so clearly. She had smiled, placing it gently in my ear. In that instant, the muffled world snapped into focus. I heard her voice, crisp and clear. “Elliot, I love you!” It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. But after Charlie crushed it, she dismissed it with a single, careless sentence. It was as if she’d completely forgotten what it meant to me. From the living room, I could hear her laughing, her voice light and flirtatious as she sent voice messages to someone. My phone buzzed again. Another message from Charlie. It was a screenshot of his chat with Nina. They were in the middle of a lively conversation. Nina’s last message was a love-filled “Goodnight.” [Elliot, you and Nina should get some rest too! I won’t bother you anymore ;)] Charlie’s words were pure provocation. I closed my eyes, refusing to look. After her shower, Nina went into the spare bedroom. Ever since Charlie had joined the company and she’d grown close to him, she hadn’t wanted to sleep in the same bed as me. The love I had for her was slowly, painfully, dying. 3 The next morning, I wrote my resignation letter. Then I went to the best law firm in the city and had them draw up divorce papers. Only then did I go to the office to finish my work. Nina was at Charlie’s desk, their heads close together, intimately discussing something. It was strange. Seeing them like that, I felt almost nothing. Charlie’s sharp eyes spotted me. “Elliot, you’re late today,” he called out. “You look awful. Didn’t sleep well?” His eyes danced with triumph as he leaned even closer to Nina. “He thinks just because he’s been here a while, he can ignore the rules,” Nina said, frowning at me without even waiting for my response. “If he keeps this up, he won’t last long in this company.” I offered a faint smile, looking at them both. “I’ll be more careful in the future. Thank you for the reminder, Ms. Vance.” Hearing me call her that, Nina’s expression turned thunderous. I rarely used her last name. My tone was polite, but distant. Ignoring them, I sat at my desk and dove into my work. I was almost finished with my part of the project. Even though I was leaving, my sense of responsibility demanded I see it through. At lunch, Nina pulled her car up to the front of the building. Charlie happily slid into the passenger seat. He saw me walking past and called out, “Elliot! Nina and I are going to that new Italian place. Come with us!” The invitation was empty. He made no move to give up his seat. I shook my head and smiled. “I’m not a big fan of Italian. You two go ahead.” I walked away without looking back. I could faintly hear Nina’s voice drift over. “He’s been in such a mood lately. Don’t mind him. It’ll just be us.” A small smile touched my lips as I pushed them from my mind. While eating, I scrolled through my social media feed and saw Charlie’s latest post. [Boss found out I smoke and got me a designer lighter! Best boss ever, I’d work for her for life!] I raised an eyebrow at the picture. On the table was an exquisitely crafted lighter. The background was unmistakably the Italian restaurant. And in the corner of the photo, you could see Nina’s slender fingers. When Nina and I first got together, I still smoked when I was stressed. She would always pluck the cigarette from my fingers, put it to her own lips, take a huge drag, and dissolve into a coughing fit, tears streaming from her eyes. I’d quickly stub it out and pat her back. Her eyes would be watery, but she’d pout, half-joking, half-angry. “Elliot, I hate the smell of smoke! If I ever see you smoking again, I’ll just do this and make myself sick! Then you’ll feel bad!” She’d shake a tiny fist at me, her girlish charm utterly adorable. I’d laughed, and from that day on, I quit smoking. After Charlie showed up, Nina’s attitude towards me grew cold and distant. I sometimes found myself unconsciously reaching for a cigarette. She would see it and snap at me, her face contorted in disgust, demanding I put it out immediately because she hated the smell. But now, she was buying a lighter for a smoker. I shook my head and turned off my phone, a dull ache spreading through my chest. 4 When I got home after work, I found a custom-tailored suit Nina had ordered for me had been delivered. She loved to dress up, and she loved to dress me up. After we got married, she bought all my clothes. She would watch me try on new outfits, her eyes sparkling, telling me I had a great figure, a natural-born model. Then she would flutter into my arms like a butterfly and plant a kiss on my cheek. She always said I looked best in a suit and had a standing order with a high-end tailor to send me their new seasonal collection. The memory brought a flicker of warmth to my heart. I tried on the new suit, but to my surprise, it didn’t fit. Nina knew my measurements by heart, and the tailor had been making my clothes for years. They shouldn’t have made a mistake. I took off the suit, put it back in the garment bag, and drove to the tailor’s shop. I never expected to find Nina and Charlie there. “Charlie, you look amazing in that suit!” I heard Nina exclaim. “I opened an account for you here. You can come by whenever you want, it’s all on me!” I glanced over. Charlie was standing tall and proud in the season’s new suit. And Nina, her face flushed, was nestled against his side. They were looking at each other, smiling, the air thick with intimacy. “Mr. Fusco, what are you doing here…?” a sales associate recognized me and gasped. The sound was just loud enough for Nina and Charlie to hear. They sprang apart and whipped their heads around to look at me. Anger instantly flooded Nina’s face. She strode towards me, her voice loud and accusatory. “Elliot, what are you doing here? Are you following me? How could you be so shameless!” I looked at her calmly, then at Charlie standing behind her. Charlie’s height, his waist, his shoulder width… I let out a soft, humorless laugh. They had mixed up our measurements. That’s why the suit didn’t fit me. “I wasn’t following you. The suit you ordered arrived, but it’s not my size. I came to return it.” I held up the garment bag, dangling it in front of her. “I’ll just leave it here. I have other things to do, so I won’t disturb you.” I turned to go. A storm of complex emotions crossed Nina’s face, her beautiful eyes glaring at me. “Elliot, don’t take this too far! There’s nothing going on between me and Charlie! Stop thinking such disgusting thoughts!” I shrugged, a careless smile on my face. “I wasn’t thinking anything. You don’t need to be angry.” With that, I turned and walked away. I felt like I was making progress. Seeing Nina and Charlie together like that didn’t hurt as much anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393312”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The world ended in a roar of shifting earth. I was declared dead—a fatal mistake by my husband’s true love—and buried alive. My husband, Alex, chose to carry her, with her minor scratches, to safety. He left me to die alone. The last time this happened, in another life, he found out about her misdiagnosis and forgave her. He married her at my funeral, whispering “I love you” to my memorial portrait before turning to kiss her deeply. This time, when I opened my eyes, it was to the sight of my husband burying me with his own hands. He was ready to abandon my rescue, all to cover up her mistake. Just as he was about to sign the form to cease all efforts, I grabbed his wrist. This time, they would pay. … “No pulse, no respiration. We can’t waste resources. Bury her on-site.” The moment Alex heard those words from Isabelle—his one true love—he didn’t hesitate. As the rescue team captain, his first command was to have me buried. He didn’t even check for himself. He just started barking orders at his men. When he saw them moving too slowly, he grabbed a shovel himself. He piled scoop after scoop of heavy, damp earth onto my body, onto my face. He stomped it down with his boots, packing it tight, sealing any path to the air, erasing any chance of survival. Then, when a secondary tremor shook the ground, he saw it. He saw my hand, struggling, breaking through the soil. But he still turned away, scooped the lightly injured Isabelle into his arms, and ran, leaving me to my fate. This time, I clung desperately to the last rescuer to flee. “There’s another survivor!” the man screamed. “She’s alive!” But Alex’s voice boomed back, a cold, hard command. “It’s probably just post-mortem reflexes, air escaping the lungs. She’s not alive. Move out, now! We can’t risk more casualties!” The man hesitated. He wanted to run, but I held on, my grip like iron. With the last of my strength, I rasped, “I’m alive. Please… save me.” But after another roar from Alex, the man wrestled his arm free from my grasp and sprinted towards his captain. “Don’t waste time on the dead!” Alex yelled. “Let’s go! There are others who need us!” The dead. That included me. His wife of six years. He knew I was alive. He saw my hand. But he had no intention of saving me. His entire world was focused on the woman in his arms, the one with nothing more than a scraped leg. In my last life, it was the same once-in-a-century landslide. I was buried in a state of shock, suffocating, while trying to save someone else. His precious Isabelle, a doctor on his team, had pronounced me dead. Alex was about to leave me there, to conserve resources. But someone else found me, felt a faint breath, and rushed me to a hospital. I died on the operating table. Isabelle’s misdiagnosis was exposed. She was fired and had to pay compensation. But at my funeral, Alex married her. He stood before my portrait, telling everyone how much he loved and missed me, then turned and sealed his vows to her with a passionate kiss. In that life, he’d spoken of his regret endlessly. He’d told anyone who would listen that if he had a second chance, he would save me. And here was that second chance. He chose to bury me himself. The earth he’d stomped down was as hard as concrete, pressing the life from my lungs. I was suffocating again, could feel Death’s cold hand reaching for me once more. Suddenly, the ground convulsed. I used the violent tremor to claw my way upward. The air was thick with dust. Through the haze, I could see the rescue team, not far away. I could even see Alex, his brow furrowed with concern as he gently applied antiseptic to Isabelle’s leg. Once he was done, he led his entire team away without a single backward glance. I stretched out a hand, a silent plea for help, but all I saw were the taillights of their truck shrinking in the distance. It was deep into the night when the second search party arrived. They found me, barely breathing, lying amidst the ruins. “Who in God’s name buries a living person?” one of them shouted. “Her nose and mouth are packed with dirt! She’s lucky to be alive. Who’s responsible for this?” “Team One was already through this sector, weren’t they? How could they have missed her?” The team leader was furious. They rushed me to the nearest hospital, their shouts of “Make way! Emergency!” echoing down the chaotic hallways. But our path was blocked. “Captain Wilson, what the hell are you doing?” my rescuer demanded. “We have a critical patient here!” Alex glanced at me, his eyes wide with shock, but his words were cold. “Dr. Ross was scraped by a rebar. It’s more urgent. Tetanus can be fatal. You’ll have to wait.” 2 “This woman has been without food or water for half a day, and she’s suffering from severe hypothermia. If we don’t treat her now, she’s going to die!” my rescuer pleaded. The young nurse who had been talking to me, trying to keep me conscious, was openly weeping. But my husband just gave me a fleeting, indifferent look. “She’ll be fine. She’s my wife. If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility,” he told them. “Dr. Ross’s injury needs to be treated first. She volunteered to come into a disaster zone with us; the least we can do is make sure she’s safe.” After he spoke, every eye in the hallway turned to me. But Alex’s gaze never left Isabelle, who was on a gurney, having her tiny wound stitched up as if she were the one knocking on death’s door. No matter what anyone else said, Alex acted as if he couldn’t hear them. It wasn’t until a nurse, trying to start an IV, noticed my pupils beginning to dilate that a doctor was finally called. After a quick examination, the doctor’s voice was grim. “Her core body temperature is below eighty-six degrees. Prolonged, severe hypothermia is fatal. We need to get her into surgery, now!” But the disaster had overwhelmed the system. Every operating room in every hospital was booked solid. There had been one free OR when I first arrived, but Isabelle had been rushed into it for her minor procedure. I had lost my one precious chance. When Alex heard the news, a look of relief washed over his face. He quickly approached the medical staff. “If it’s too difficult, I can sign a waiver to cease rescue efforts,” he said, his voice ringing with false nobility. “I’m her husband. Let’s give the living a better chance.” He sounded so righteous. The others looked at each other, uncertain. Then, Isabelle spoke up. “There’s often little point in reviving a patient who has suffered from hypothermia for so long. The process itself would be torturous for her. Letting go is a mercy.” Coming from a family of renowned doctors, her words carried weight. The staff began to waver. A few moments later, someone returned with the consent form. Alex took it without a moment’s hesitation, ready to sign. At that moment, the injustice of two lifetimes ignited into one last surge of strength. My hand shot out from under the blanket and clamped onto his wrist. I held on with a death grip. He was stunned that he couldn’t break free. As he tried to pry my fingers off one by one, the surgery in the OR next door finished. The young nurse who had been watching over me cried out, “Doctor, we can use this room! She still has a chance!” As they wheeled me away, Alex still hadn’t given up. “If you can’t save her,” he called after them, “you have my permission to let her go!” It was the most monstrous thing you could hear outside an operating room. Every other family member was praying for a miracle. He was praying for my death. I survived two hours of grueling surgery fueled by nothing but pure, unadulterated rage. When I was wheeled out, Alex’s face fell the moment he saw I was alive. He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper no one else could hear. “Why didn’t you just die? If you were dead, you wouldn’t be a threat to Isabelle.” Then, his hand slid to my throat, a feathery, terrifying touch, as if he were contemplating finishing the job himself. 3 Once I was settled in a private room, Alex shut the door. While fussing with my blanket, he spoke. “Clara, Isabelle has worked hard to build her reputation. She volunteered for this mission. About the… misdiagnosis… if anyone asks, just say it was another doctor.” He gave me a name. He’d already found a scapegoat. He would move heaven and earth for his precious Isabelle. I could beg him for anything, and he’d tell me it was impossible. But all she had to do was cry, and he would make the impossible happen. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I looked at the name he had written down for me, then at his phone, which he’d left on the nightstand. His chat history was filled with her name. This whole cover-up was for her. My decade of devotion felt like a cosmic joke. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll do as you say.” A smug, confident look crossed his face. He knew he had me wrapped around his finger. He gave the blanket a cursory tug, not even bothering to cover me properly, and left. For the next few days, he walked right past my room with Isabelle on his arm, taking her to have her dressing changed, never once looking in on me. I signed all my own medical forms. Meanwhile, when Isabelle’s minor wound showed the slightest sign of infection, he nearly came to blows with her doctor, his voice choked with concern. The irony was laughable. After a few days of rest, the rescue efforts in the disaster zone were winding down. As things returned to normal, the media began their interviews. Isabelle, the brilliant heiress from a medical dynasty, was their star. A photo of Alex carrying her as he ran from the disaster zone went viral. Everyone was speculating about their relationship. The headlines all read: A True Couple, Forged in Crisis. Meanwhile, I, his wife of ten years, had no one to even help me to the bathroom. Alex even posted a photo on his social media of him feeding Isabelle and bringing her flowers, without even bothering to block me. I liked the post. Then, using the photo he’d sent me, I found the scapegoat. The young doctor was a new intern. Isabelle had only told him he’d misdiagnosed a patient; she’d left out the part about burying me alive. When I laid out the full story, he understood the gravity of the situation. “Ma’am,” he said, his voice trembling, “they have an interview scheduled for tomorrow. They told me to go and publicly confess that I made the mistake, and to say that Isabelle discovered my error in time and saved a life…” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The sheer audacity of their plan was breathtaking. “Should I still go?” he asked. I nodded. “Yes. You absolutely have to go.” The next day, just as the interview was about to start, the intern sent me a text. I immediately called the police. “Hello, I’d like to report a crime,” I said, my voice steady. “Rescue Captain Alex Wilson and Dr. Isabelle Ross of Central Hospital are suspected of attempted murder.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393311”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After eight years of marriage, my husband’s secretary, Jenna, posted a picture to her Instagram story. She was behind the wheel of his limited-edition sports car, with a caption that dripped with insinuation: “What my boyfriend can’t give me, my boss can!” I’d just commented, “Try not to let it affect your work,” only to find she’d already blocked me. Immediately, my phone rang. It was my husband, Julian, and his voice was a furious storm. “I just lent Jenna the car for a spin! Did you really have to send people to run her off the road? She just called me, crying her eyes out, terrified she was about to crash! How could you be so vicious? I’m warning you, Erika, stop this insane jealousy!” He hung up before I could utter a single word of defense. That very night, driving that same car, Jenna hit me. I was two months pregnant. The impact threw me to the ground, and the car dragged me for what felt like an eternity—ten, maybe fifteen yards. The pain stole my voice, but I could feel the warm, horrifying spread of blood beneath me. A bystander rushed to my side and called an ambulance. Just before they wheeled me into surgery, a message popped up on my phone. It was from Jenna. A picture of a brand-new Porsche. I knew. It was Julian’s way of making it up to her. But this time, I didn’t care. I looked at the doctor beside me and my voice was a slow, steady rasp. “The baby… I’m not keeping it. Let it go.” … A vise-like cramp in my abdomen had me drenched in a cold sweat. As the nurses wheeled me out of the operating room, the sheets beneath me were stained a deep, horrifying crimson. Right on cue, Julian called back. I wanted to ignore it, but my fingers, trembling with pain and shock, fumbled and hit the answer button. His enraged voice exploded in my ear. “Didn’t you see my texts? I told you to apologize to Jenna! Are you playing dead after pulling a stunt like that?” “She’s been crying for a solid hour! I can’t believe this is who you’ve become. I’ve told you a hundred times there’s nothing between us! Do you have to be so goddamn unreasonable?” “Erika, you’re such a disappointment! Where are you? You have thirty minutes. Get your ass over here and apologize to Jenna!” A bitter, broken laugh escaped my lips. I had actually thought he might be calling because I’d missed our dinner plans, worried something had happened. But no. It was all for his precious secretary. My shattered heart hit rock bottom. “Disappointed?” I whispered, my voice a fragile wisp of air. “I’ve been disappointed in you for a very, very long time. Does she need an apology? I’ve already given her my husband. If that’s not enough compensation, I don’t know what is.” Before I could hang up, he roared, “What is that supposed to mean? Who do you think you’re talking to with that sarcastic tone? If this is the kind of person you are, I can’t imagine what you’d turn our child into!” “You keep this up, and you won’t even see the baby when it’s born! I’ll have my parents raise it!” Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. I slammed the end-call button. Did he care about the baby? No. He only cared about his own ridiculous pride. In that moment, I almost felt a strange sense of gratitude toward Jenna. Without her, I might not have found the resolve to let this baby go, to sever the one tie that would have bound me to Julian forever. Once I was settled in my room, I called over the kind man who’d brought me to the hospital and transferred $50,000 to him as a thank you. As the anesthesia wore off, the pain returned, sharp and relentless, blanching my face. I curled into a ball on the bed, my gaze fixed on the IV bag. Drip. Drip. Drip. Each drop was like a second of my love for Julian, draining away into nothing. In my haste, I hadn’t checked which card I’d used for the transfer. I’d accidentally used the supplementary card Julian gave me. At midnight, his call ripped me from a pain-induced haze. “What the hell did you spend fifty grand on? Did you hire a male model at the dinner party? Just because we had a fight, you go on a ridiculous spending spree?” His fury burned away the last vestiges of sleep. I glanced at my phone’s payment screen. “I used the wrong card,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll transfer it back to you. Is that all?” He started to snap back, but I cut the call. Bitterness and scorn flooded me. Eight years of marriage. He could buy his secretary a Porsche without blinking, but he’d interrogate me over a $50,000 charge. There was truly nothing left to fight for. A major business gala was in two days, and I couldn’t afford to be hospitalized for long. When we first got married, Julian and I had an arrangement: he handled the internal operations, and I was his face for all external networking and social events. The upcoming gala was my golden opportunity, the perfect stage to build the connections I’d need to go independent after the divorce, taking half the company with me. The next day, feeling marginally human, I got a prescription from the doctor and checked myself out. On my way to pick up my gown for the event, I saw that Jenna had posted to her Instagram story again last night. She was off-roading in the desert in her new Porsche. The man in the passenger seat was mostly out of frame, but I saw his wrist. I recognized the Rolex instantly. It was my anniversary gift to him last year. Jenna’s caption read: When a man knows how to treat you right. The wear and tear on that Porsche from a single desert joyride would probably cost more than $50,000 to fix. My jaw tightened, the last bit of warmth in my eyes turning to ice. Of course. For Jenna, Julian’s generosity knew no bounds. Three years ago, when I was drowning in stress, I’d asked him to go for a late-night drive with me, just to clear our heads. He hadn’t even looked up from his phone, busy texting her. He’d said it was boring, a waste of time he needed for work. Now I realized it wasn’t the drive he found boring. It was me. Every second with me, now that the love was gone, was torture for him. I closed the app, navigated to my browser, and canceled the custom gift I’d ordered for him this year. Then I unfollowed the store’s page. I wouldn’t be shopping there again. I arrived at the high-end boutique where I’d had my gown tailored. As I walked in, a message from Julian popped up. He was attending the gala tomorrow night as well. I glanced at it and deleted the chat. The thought of having him as my escort made me sick. “I’m here to pick up my order,” I told the sales associate. She froze, her eyes darting nervously. “Miss Vance,” she began hesitantly, “your husband called earlier… He said you needed the measurements altered? Is this gown still for you? Because the sizing…” My brow furrowed, a cold dread creeping in. Before I could respond, Julian’s voice came from behind me. “Erika, what are you doing here? Oh, right, the gown. No need. I’ve already had yours sent to the house. This one’s for Jenna. It’s her first time at an event like this, she needs to look her best.” He offered a tight, condescending smile. “Consider it my apology to her on your behalf.” I turned to see Jenna standing beside him, a triumphant smirk on her face—the same smug expression she’d worn the night she ran me down. She clearly thought I was too afraid of angering Julian to ever report her to the police. She was wrong. I’d just been too busy to send her to jail. But her presence was a useful reminder: now was not the time to show my hand. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. The sting of pain brought a sharp clarity. “First she wants my man, now she wants my dress?” My voice was laced with derision. “It’s a hundred-thousand-dollar gown. Do you really think she can pull it off?” Julian’s face instantly hardened, his eyes flaring with suppressed rage. “Can you stop being so unreasonable? It’s just a damn dress, Erika! What’s the big deal if you let Jenna have it?!” He still had no idea I’d lost the baby. Jenna tugged at his sleeve, her voice a soft, tremulous whisper. “It’s okay, Mr. Hayes. I’m just a secretary, I… I don’t have any right to go to the gala anyway. I appreciate you wanting to show me a new world, but the gown should go to Erika. I’m fine, really…” Tears welled in her eyes, a picture of fragile innocence. It worked like a charm. Julian’s protective instincts surged. “Wrap it up,” he snapped at the associate. “We’re taking it now.” “Fine, give it to her,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. My eyes, dripping with scorn, locked onto Jenna’s. “I paid for it. A hundred grand. Grand larceny should be enough to put her away for a few years. She should enjoy it while she can.” The double meaning hit its mark. Panic flashed in Jenna’s eyes. She shot a terrified glance at me, and the crocodile tears became a genuine torrent. “I don’t want it! I don’t want it!” she cried. “Erika, please don’t be angry, I didn’t mean it! I’ll never go to one of those galas again, I’m not worthy!” She covered her mouth and fled the store. Julian slammed a glass of water the associate had offered him onto the counter. He shot me a look that could kill. “Are you satisfied now?” Then he turned and chased after her. I looked at the stunned sales associate. “Please wrap it up,” I said calmly. “I have a delivery address for you.” I wrote down the shipping address I’d found for Jenna in Julian’s online shopping history and handed it to her. Then I selected another, equally stunning gown that wouldn’t need alterations. Back at the office, Julian and Jenna were nowhere to be found. Perfect. I got the company’s transaction records from accounting and forwarded them to my lawyer, asking him to calculate my half of the settlement. Then I called a friend at the precinct and filed a police report. I recounted the hit-and-run that caused my miscarriage and sent him the footage I’d copied from the car’s dashcam. I’d installed it when our marriage first started to crack, thinking it would catch evidence of an affair. I never imagined it would serve a much greater purpose. By the time I finished, night had fallen. The painkillers were wearing off, and the familiar, grinding pain returned to my abdomen. As I stood up, a warm gush of fluid made me go pale. I swayed, grabbing the back of the sofa to steady myself before collapsing onto it. I fumbled in my purse for the pills the doctor had prescribed. Maybe I’d overdone it today; the scrapes on my arm from the accident were beginning to bleed again. Back home, I disinfected and re-bandaged my wounds, then packed a single suitcase with the things I wanted to take. I left the suitcase by the door and sank onto the sofa to rest. I opened my phone and saw a new post from Jenna, uploaded three hours ago. The location tag was the most exclusive hotel in the city. The photo showed a sweeping view of the skyline at night. In the reflection of the floor-to-ceiling window, two figures sat at a table, bathed in the romantic glow of candlelight. Her second-to-last supper, I thought grimly. Even though this was the very hotel I had begged Julian to take me to countless times, I felt nothing looking at the picture. It was true. A heart can die in a single instant. Just as I was about to lock my phone, the front door opened. Julian walked in, his eyes landing on me with a rare gentleness. “See? This is much better,” he said softly. “There was no need to make such a scene in public. I was a bit harsh today, don’t take it to heart. Jenna got the gown you sent. She was very happy.” A silent, mocking smile touched my lips. I opened a message from my friend at the precinct. He’d reviewed the evidence. It was solid. He asked when I wanted them to make the arrest. My fingers moved across the screen. Tomorrow night. I sent the gala’s address along with it. Noticing my silence, Julian must have sensed he’d gone too far these past few days. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He actually seemed to humble himself. “Let’s go to the gala together tomorrow. It’s been a while. Besides, Jenna wants to see what it’s like.” I gave a curt, emotionless nod. A drama, after all, is always better with a bigger audience. Usually, when I gave him the cold shoulder, he’d respond with even more hostility. But this time, he said nothing more, walking upstairs to the bathroom with a look of contentment, completely oblivious to the packed suitcase by the door. I laughed, a dry, self-deprecating sound. As I was about to retreat to the guest room, Julian came out of the bathroom, still wrapped in a cloud of steam. His gaze was heated, and the air thickened with a cloying intimacy. I didn’t move as he leaned in close. His warm breath tickled my ear as he murmured, “Honey, I’m so glad I have you…” Then it hit me. A wave of Jenna’s perfume wafted off him. My stomach churned violently. I shoved him away. “Not tonight,” I said, my voice ice. I turned and walked into the guest room, shutting the door on his furious, sputtering insults. “What the hell is wrong with you now? Is this never going to end? Stop playing hard to get! You think I’m actually dying to touch you? You’ve let yourself go, so don’t act like you’re some prize!” On the other side of the door, I leaned my back against the cool wood and slowly slid to the floor. The memory of a young man’s warm voice faded in my ears, growing more distant with every passing second. Erika, we’ll be together forever. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world… The next day, I took care of some paperwork at the police station, then had a professional do my hair and makeup. When it was time, I headed for the gala. The opening remarks had just concluded, and the ballroom was already buzzing. I moved through the crowd alone, weaving between business titans, casually pitching the vision for my new, independent company. Across the room, Julian had his arm around Jenna, proudly introducing her to the guests. The gown stolen from me clung to her body like a second skin, making her look every bit the canary in a gilded cage. I was by a corner table, swapping my champagne flute, when she approached me, heels clicking on the marble. Before I could speak, she lifted her own glass and poured its contents down the front of her dress. A theatrical shriek pierced the air. “Ahh!” Heads turned. All eyes were on us. “Erika, what are you doing?” she wailed, tears streaming down her face. “You already gave me this dress! Why would you do this?” In an instant, Julian was there, charging across the room toward me. He didn’t give me a chance to explain. He swung his arm back and slapped me across the face, his voice a furious roar. “I thought you’d changed, but you’re still the same crazy bitch! If you can’t behave, then get the hell out! You are never attending one of these events again!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393310”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel