During the night shift, I refused my stepsister’s request to administer an IV to her patient. I had to watch with my own eyes as the seven-year-old boy died from an allergic reaction to the wrong medication. In my last life, the moment I’d finished hanging the IV bag, the boy’s furious family stormed the nurses’ station, beating me black and blue. “It was you! You gave him the wrong medicine! You poisoned my grandson!” But it was just a simple glucose drip. Nothing should have gone wrong. Someone called the cops as my consciousness began to fade. I thought salvation had arrived. Instead, my own brother, a police officer, shoved my face to the ground. “Your fingerprints are on the IV bag, you murderer.” Then Ryan, the medical examiner I’d grown up with, presented the autopsy report, pointing a damning finger at me. “Time of death was around 5 a.m., exactly when you were administering the drip.” I had no defense. In the end, the boy’s enraged family cornered me and beat me to death. Even as I died, I couldn’t understand. Why would the brother who had always doted on me, and the childhood friend who had always protected me, do this? Then I opened my eyes. I was back in that same night. 1 “Caroline, listen. Amber’s stomach is killing her. Since you’re on the night shift anyway, could you just cover for her?” My brother Alva’s warm voice on the phone sent a violent tremor through my body. My eyes shot to the wall clock. It was 2 a.m. I stared at the frantic, fluorescent-lit chaos of the nurses’ station, and it took a long moment for the reality to sink in. I had been reborn. Amber, seeing me dazed, gave me a sharp shove, her face a mask of impatience. “So, are you going to do it or not? If you say yes, I’m out of here.” She clutched her stomach theatrically. “It hurts so bad, I need to go home and rest. Just remember to change the IV for the patient in bed 6 at 5 a.m.” Last time, I’d caved for Alva’s sake and agreed to cover for her. The moment I’d reached the patient’s bedside, I knew something was wrong. The little boy was almost completely cocooned in his blankets, only his face visible, ghostly pale in the moonlight filtering through the window. Just as I was about to check on him, Amber’s call came through. “Is the new bag up yet?” she’d asked. “This kid… he’s sleeping so soundly it doesn’t seem right,” I’d replied, a knot of unease tightening in my gut. “I’m going to check his vitals first.” Amber had exploded on the other end of the line. “Oh, come on! He’s been a terror all day. He’s finally asleep. Are you seriously going to wake him up?” Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. “Where are his parents? Why is there no one with him?” “Just stop worrying about it! It’s not like you even have to find a vein, just switch the bag on the stand. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Do you have to wake him up just to feel like you’ve done your job?” I glanced at the label on the new IV bag. It was just glucose, for hydration and energy. My shoulders relaxed. I let my guard down. That single moment of carelessness cost me everything, branding me with a death I didn’t cause. The next morning, as I was getting ready to clock out, the family from bed 6 had descended on the nurses’ station and, without a word, began to tear me apart. That’s when I learned that the boy, Jacob Vance, had died of anaphylactic shock. And I was the last person to touch his IV. But I’d hung a glucose drip, the same one he’d been on for days. He couldn’t have been allergic to it. After it all went down, Amber had shoved all the blame onto me. “Caroline was the one who administered the drug. It had nothing to do with me.” I thought for sure that Alva, my brother, and Ryan, my closest friend, would help me uncover the truth. Instead, my own brother, the cop, pointed me out in a lineup. “The fingerprints on the IV bag are Caroline’s. She’s the killer, no question.” And Ryan, the brilliant M.E., had thrown the autopsy report at my face. “The time of death coincides exactly with when you were in his room. What else is there to say?” My words were useless. In the end, the grieving family cornered me outside the police station. And as Alva and Ryan watched on with cold, indifferent eyes, they beat me until I stopped breathing. Until the very end, I couldn’t understand why. Why would the two people I trusted most in the world abandon me to such a fate? The phantom sting of torn skin and shattered bones still lingered, a ghostly echo in my new body. Reborn into this life, I would not let that tragedy repeat itself. 2 Alva’s anxious voice on the phone pulled me from my dark memories. “Caroline? Are you going to help or not? Just give me a yes or no so I can come pick Amber up.” In my past life, I hadn’t noticed his urgency. His haste to have me cover the shift, and later, his haste to convict me. It was as if he was terrified the blame might somehow splash back onto Amber. Could Alva have been involved from the start? A chill, colder than any hospital draft, snaked up my spine. I glanced at Amber out of the corner of my eye. She couldn’t hide the panic in her expression. Her eyes kept darting toward Room 302, as if some terrible secret was coiled up in the darkness there. I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to be steady. “No, I can’t. I just got back from assisting in the ER, and I’m dead on my feet. Besides, I have my own patients to look after. I can’t help you.” Amber stared at me, her mouth agape. She’d clearly expected me to fold. Her face flushed a deep, angry red. “Seriously? It’s just hanging one IV bag! How much effort is that? You won’t even do that?” Even Alva’s voice turned sharp over the phone. “Caroline, it’s a small favor. Does all the affection I’ve shown you over the years mean nothing?” I was done arguing. I hung up and went back to my duties. Amber rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. “So cheap. Knew I couldn’t count on you for anything.” Last time, I’d helped her without a second thought, and my reward was her pushing me off a cliff. She could find someone else to take the fall. Amber went around the nurses’ station, asking one person after another. But her reputation preceded her. She was bossy, arrogant, and constantly trying to ditch her shifts. No one, except the old me, ever wanted to deal with her. Eventually, her “stomach ache” miraculously subsided. Cursing, she stomped off to the restroom. Why was she so desperate for someone to cover for her? Could it be that something had already happened to Jacob Vance? To test my theory, as soon as Amber was gone, I pulled on a pair of gloves and slipped into Room 302. In the pale moonlight, Jacob’s face was a waxen, bloodless white. I pulled back the blanket to check his temperature. My hand recoiled. I froze, paralyzed by the truth. His body was already cold. Rigor mortis was setting in. He’d been dead for at least an hour. Amber had gone in to change his IV at one o’clock. Had she realized back then that she’d made a fatal mistake? Was that why she was so desperate to find a scapegoat? The thought sent a wave of nausea and terror through me. My first instinct was to report it to the hospital administration immediately. But I took one step toward the door and stopped. That idea was a death sentence. If I, with no reason to be here, was found in the room of a deceased patient not under my care, what would happen? With Amber’s talent for deflecting blame, would she twist the situation and point the finger at me? It wasn’t a possibility. It was a certainty. Making sure no one saw me, I fled the room. It took me a long time, sitting at the nurses’ station, for my trembling to subside. As my mind cleared, one critical point slammed into me. If the patient had died around one in the morning, why did Ryan’s autopsy report in my past life state the time of death was between five and six? He was hailed as a prodigy in the medical examiner’s office, capable of pinpointing a time of death to within the hour. He never made mistakes. How could a professional of his caliber make such a catastrophic error? 3 A splitting pain shot through the back of my head. I pressed my hands to my temples, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Ryan and I had been inseparable since we were kids. He was my knight in shining armor for so many years. Why would he send me to my death? I spent the rest of the night focusing on my own work, deliberately ignoring Amber. She paced back and forth at the nurses’ station, a caged animal, unable to settle. As the clock hand crept toward five, I saw her pick up a medical tray and sit down, showing no intention of going to the patient’s room. She waited. She waited until the other nurses were occupied with their own rounds, leaving just the two of us at the station. She shot me a single, silent glance before finally heading toward Room 302. Calculating the time, I knew the family’s arrival was imminent. I found a discreet corner to hide in and waited. Soon enough, the same agonizing wails from my past life echoed from Room 302. “My baby, my sweet grandson! Wake up, please, don’t scare Grandma!” “Son, open your eyes! Look at Mom and Dad! What’s wrong?” “My Jacob! The doctor said you’d be home in a few days! How could you just be… gone? How are we supposed to live without you?” A storm of noise erupted, and the family swarmed the nurses’ station like a tidal wave of grief and rage. Jacob’s father, a thick-necked man with a booming voice, demanded to know who the nurse on duty was. Who had administered the last IV? Amber cowered in a corner, not daring to speak, her eyes frantically searching for me in the chaos. One of the other nurses, her face pale with fear, pointed a trembling finger at Amber. “Bed 6… that’s Amber’s patient. She’s always been in charge of him.” Before Amber could utter a word, Jacob’s father lunged forward and a sickening crack echoed as his fist connected with Amber’s eye socket. She staggered back, and before she could regain her balance, Jacob’s mother drove a foot into her stomach. Caught between them, Amber collapsed to the floor, howling in pain as Jacob’s grandmother fell upon her, yanking at her hair with savage force. “It was you! You killed my grandson! I knew there was something wrong with you from the start!” “You murderer! I want you to pay with your life! I’ll kill you!” Seeing me step out from my hiding place, Amber’s bloodied face lit up as if she’d seen a savior. She pointed a shaking finger at me and shrieked. “It was my shift, yes, but Caroline was the one who gave him the medicine! It must have been her! She gave him the wrong dose!” In my last life, exhausted from a long night, I was just about to go home when the family cornered me. Faced with their questions, Amber had immediately pointed at me. “Caroline was on duty tonight. She administered the IV. It had nothing to do with me.” I never even had a chance to explain before they were on me. Jacob was only seven years old, their only child. His father looked like a man you didn’t cross, his mother was a lawyer, and his grandmother was notoriously unreasonable. The 25-year-old me had stood no chance, a lamb to the slaughter. This time, Amber wasn’t getting away with it. 4 The family’s furious gaze shifted to me. I immediately held up my hands. “Don’t even try to pin this on me. I did not give him that IV last night, and everyone here can prove it.” The other nurses, seeing an ally, quickly chimed in. “It’s true. Amber asked Caroline for help last night, but Caroline said no. Amber was the one who went to the room.” “Who says?” Amber shrieked, her voice raw and laced with blood. “I asked her again later, and she agreed! At five o’clock, none of you were here!” Her blood-streaked face, twisted by her screams, was a horrifying sight. “This is a person’s life we’re talking about! Do any of you dare to swear you saw me give that IV?” she challenged them. “I’m telling you, Caroline gave him the wrong medicine and now she’s trying to pin it on me to save her own skin!” At the mention of a human life, the other nurses fell silent. No one wanted to get involved. Seeing the anger in the family’s eyes rekindle and turn toward me, I spoke up, my voice clear and firm. “I never went into that room. If you don’t believe me, you can check the security cameras.” “The hallway camera is broken,” Amber shot back, a smug, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. She was holding a winning hand, and she knew it. Of course. She knew the camera was broken. That’s why she waited until the other nurses were gone. The whole thing was a premeditated setup to frame me. Jacob’s father had lost all patience with our back-and-forth. With a roar, he kicked over a computer monitor at the station, then slammed his fists on the desk. “I don’t care! One of you did this, and one of you is going to pay with your life!” Just then, a voice from the crowd shouted, “The police are here!” My heart seized. Through the parting crowd, I saw the familiar face of my brother, Alva. He was here. Finally. But the moment he saw Amber lying bloodied on the floor, his expression was one of pure shock. “What happened? Why are you the one who’s hurt?” Amber clutched her wounds, tears streaming down her face. “Alva, it really wasn’t me who gave the medicine. You have to believe me, you have to help me.” Something was wrong. The situation had exploded so suddenly, no one had had time to call the police. How did Alva get here so fast? It was as if he’d known someone was going to die here tonight. As I stared at him, my mind reeling with suspicion, he strode forward and slapped me across the face. The force of it was staggering, my ear rang, the world tilted. “Caroline,” he said, his voice a distorted buzz in my ringing ear. He sounded like a complete stranger. “You’ve disappointed me so much. Since you made this mistake, you need to have the courage to admit it.” Then, he turned to the family, his face transforming into a mask of placating sympathy. “I apologize on Caroline’s behalf. I hope you can see that she’s still young and won’t be too hard on her.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “I will personally arrest her and make sure she faces the full force of the law.” My own brother. Without a shred of investigation, he had just declared me guilty in front of everyone. At that moment, my heart didn’t just feel cold. It felt dead. 5 I clutched my swelling cheek, hot tears streaming down my face. “I didn’t do it,” I sobbed. “Amber did. My fingerprints won’t be on the IV bag. Go check. You’ll see.” Amber flinched, then looked at me with a wounded expression. “I’ve already taken a beating for you, and you’re still trying to slander me?” Finally, Jacob’s mother, the lawyer, stepped forward. “Fine. We’ll let the police conduct a thorough investigation. I want the person who killed my son found, and I want them to pay.” During the agonizing wait for the fingerprint analysis, everyone was on edge. Everyone but me. I was calm, confident. I hadn’t touched the bag, so my prints couldn’t possibly be on it. But when the results came back, I was slapped in the face by reality all over again. Ryan was at the police station, standing by with the detached air of an observer. Alva held the report, his gaze sweeping over the room before landing squarely on me. “The prints on the right side of the IV bag are a confirmed match for Caroline. The evidence is irrefutable.” The moment the words left his mouth, every eye in the room turned to me. Ryan’s face was a mask of grim disappointment. “Impossible!” My prints could not be on that bag. Not unless Alva had used his position to forge the evidence. Living in the same house, getting my fingerprints would have been child’s play for him. But I had no way to prove it. And this was the man who prided himself on his integrity, a man who claimed to despise injustice. In my past life, I was naive enough to believe I’d actually done something wrong, that his disappointment in me was justified. I never blamed him for his harshness. Now I saw the truth. It was a trap he and Amber had set together from the very beginning, and I had walked right into it. All the memories of his kindness, his brotherly affection, seemed like a cruel joke. When it came down to a choice between me and Amber, I was always the one to be sacrificed. I didn’t need a brother like that. Just as Jacob’s parents were about to erupt, I raised my voice, posing a question. “Hasn’t anyone found it strange? When you found Jacob, he already had signs of livor mortis. Does that look like someone who just died?” I pressed on. “If you calculate the approximate time for lividity to appear, it means he was likely dead before two in the morning. At that time, I was in the ER assisting with a procedure. The surgeons in the operating room can verify my alibi.” If I could prove Jacob died around 2 a.m., then I couldn’t have been involved. “If you truly want to find the real killer,” I said, my voice ringing with conviction, “you should demand a full autopsy. I’m sure Jacob, wherever he is, would want the truth to come out so he can rest in peace.” Jacob’s parents, their faces etched with grief, fell silent for a long moment before finally nodding. “We agree. We want an autopsy.” Amber, looking as if she had been prepared for this all along, exchanged a quick, subtle glance with Ryan. “Then let’s have the police department’s own Ryan, the renowned medical examiner, perform it. I’m sure he will uncover the real killer.” 6 Jacob’s mother’s eyes lit up, a flicker of hope in her grief. “Is he the one they call the genius M.E.? Good. If he’s handling it, I can be at ease.” She began to weep again. “Finally, we’ll find the monster who killed my boy. Oh, my poor, ill-fated son.” In my past life, I too had been filled with that same hopeful anticipation, only to be sentenced to death by Ryan’s own report. I knew this move. I had seen this play before. But I was not the same person I was then. Seeing my hesitation, Amber’s tone turned mocking. “What’s wrong, Caroline? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet about the autopsy now. What exactly are you so afraid of?” I looked down at my phone, at the message I had already composed, and hit send. Then I lifted my head and stared directly into Ryan’s eyes—the same eyes that once held galaxies, that once held only me. I asked him, my voice earnest and clear, “Ryan, with your skills, you will find out the truth. You’ll clear my name, won’t you?” Ryan adjusted his glasses, his gaze a mixture of sincerity and a subtle, condescending pity. “I won’t frame an innocent person, Caroline. And I won’t let a guilty one walk free.” Fine. This was the last chance I would ever give him. If he failed to grasp it, he would be sealing his own doom. “Okay,” I said. “I agree to have Ryan perform the autopsy.” While we waited for the results, Alva cornered me. His words were earnest, his tone filled with what sounded like concern. “Caroline, listen to me. Before the autopsy report comes out, you should confess. You’ll get a lighter sentence. Medical malpractice leading to death… it’s three years, tops. Even if you go to prison, I can pull some strings, take care of you. When you get out, you’ll still be our family’s little treasure.” Amber stood beside him, nodding eagerly, her face full of anticipation. In my last life, panicking from my first-ever encounter with a patient’s death, I had been easily swayed by his words. I was so touched, so stupidly grateful, believing he was looking out for me. The truth was, I never even made it to sentencing. I was beaten to death by the family right outside the police station. They just wanted me to be the scapegoat for Amber. They could dream on. I tilted my head, glanced at Amber, and called out to her. “Amber, did you hear that? Now’s your chance to confess. It’s not too late.” Alva shot up from his chair. “What is that attitude? I was telling you to confess! Since when did I ask Amber to take the fall for you?” I spread my hands, shrugging. “Once the autopsy report is out, everything will be crystal clear, won’t it?” Amber’s chest heaved with fury. “Fine! We tried to help you, and this is the thanks we get. You clearly don’t appreciate my brother’s kindness. Go on then. Wait for the consequences of your own actions.” We’ll see who reaps those consequences. Two days later, we were all gathered at the police station again. Ryan, with grave solemnity, unfolded the autopsy report and, with his own finger, pointed at my name. “The time of death was between five and six a.m. The cause of death was an allergic reaction to penicillin. The evidence is conclusive: Caroline injected the wrong drug, leading to fatal anaphylactic shock.” 7 The words, a carbon copy of the sentence that condemned me in my past life, crashed down on me like a meteor. Even though I had prepared for this, the pain was so sharp it stole the air from my lungs. For Amber’s sake, my brother and my childhood friend had both betrayed their professional ethics, conspired to pin a death on me. Before I was eight, I was the treasure of their world. Alva and Ryan hovered around me constantly, making sure I got the best treats, protecting me from any bullies. But everything changed the day Amber arrived. Suddenly, I was the invisible one, the afterthought. If that’s how it was, then I didn’t need a brother or a childhood friend anymore. I was temporarily detained, pending further investigation. But I wasn’t worried. After a couple of quiet days, Jacob Vance’s family was back at the police station, raising hell, demanding my life and my money. In my last life, taking advantage of a moment when most of the officers were out on a call, Amber had suggested I go out and apologize to the family in person. And so, right under the noses of Alva and Ryan, I was beaten to death by the enraged family at the station’s entrance. This time, Amber tried the same trick. “We can’t let the family keep making a scene like this,” she said to the officers. “Why not let Caroline apologize to them face-to-face? It might calm things down.” Her underlying meaning was clear: It’ll save you, the police department, from further embarrassment. Anyone with eyes could see her true intention: to let the family kill me, leaving no one to contest the official story. To my horror, her proposal was met with unanimous agreement from both Alva and Ryan. Ignoring my protests, they dragged me toward the entrance of the police station. A wall of large, red-faced men turned to see me, and without a word, they surged forward. In that split second, as a baseball bat swung towards my head, a sharp voice cut through the chaos. “The person who killed Jacob Vance was not Caroline!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393087”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I bought my fiancée a private island, but she used it to throw an orgy with her first love, Lucas. When I found out, they stabbed me multiple times and fled on the only lifeboat. As I lay dying, a police officer named Mia risked her life to save me. She later told me that Lucas had drowned. With eyes full of devotion, Mia swore to protect me for the rest of my life. But a year later, I accidentally saw Mia entangled with Lucas. “You deliberately dismissed the island’s security and then schemed to marry him, all so he would sign over his inheritance?” Lucas’s voice was a low hiss. Mia’s reply was cold. “Once he inherited that massive fortune, I knew he would come after you. I couldn’t protect you with force alone. I had to solve the problem at its source.” “He’s going to hate you for this, you know,” Lucas said. Mia just gave a bitter smile. “I’ve already gambled the rest of my life on him. I don’t owe him anything more.” My heart turned to ash. I wrote out the divorce papers. This toxic love Mia offered? I didn’t want it. … I swallowed my tears and walked alone to the hospital. The doctor had called. My grandfather’s condition was critical. I needed to prepare for the worst. My wife and the man who tried to kill me were carrying on right under my nose, but I couldn’t bring myself to care anymore. I just wanted to be with my grandfather in his final moments. But when I reached the hospital, several men in military-style uniforms blocked my path. “Officer Mia has ordered that no strangers are to approach this room. She needs to be with her husband as he says goodbye to his grandfather.” “Don’t stop me!” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “I’m Mia’s husband! The man in there is my grandfather!” The lead officer’s face hardened. “Impossible. The man Officer Mia is with is Mr. Lucas Thorne. The patient is his grandfather.” “You’ve made a mistake!” My hand trembled as I dialed Mia’s number. “Mia, tell your men to let me in. I need to be with Grandpa. That’s my grandfather!” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then her voice came back, laced with irritation. “Don’t make a scene, Jaison. Grandpa’s condition is very unstable. I’m afraid the shock of seeing you would be too much for him. Just wait outside.” The line went dead. But I knew she was lying. I had just seen a lawyer go in with a will. Suddenly, a wave of sobbing erupted from the room. My grandfather was gone. I struggled, desperate to get in, but the guards warned me again and again. Just then, Lucas walked over. He shot me a taunting look, then said to the officer blocking my way, “Officer Mia sent me.” The officer nodded and immediately let him pass. And I was still barred from entry. “Lucas, what the hell are you doing? That’s my grandfather! Let me in!” But Lucas only glanced back at me with a smirk before instructing the officers. “Keep a close watch on him. The man’s unstable. I wouldn’t want him barging in and disturbing Grandpa’s final moments.” He turned, and just as he did, Mia emerged from the room to greet him. They took each other’s hands and walked away together. And Mia never once looked at me. The blood in my veins turned to ice. A wave of rage and grief washed over me, and I collapsed, unconscious. For Lucas, she wouldn’t even let me see my grandfather one last time. When I opened my eyes again, I was met by Mia’s worried face. “Grandpa?” I asked through clenched teeth, the word tasting of salt as tears fell into my mouth. Mia frantically wiped my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jaison. I didn’t let you in because I was afraid you’d be too heartbroken…” I threw off the blanket. “I’m going to see Grandpa. And I’m going to be there for the reading of the will.” Mia’s expression changed instantly, and she blocked my path. “Wait. There’s something I need to tell you.” “Before he passed, Grandpa changed his will. He said that Lucas surviving his ordeal and then staying by his bedside to care for him was a rare kindness. So, he left his entire inheritance to Lucas.” My body trembled, a knot of air caught in my throat. I stared at Mia, my eyes burning. “Mia,” I whispered, “do you actually believe the words coming out of your own mouth?” This self-proclaimed “tough-as-nails” woman, this iron-willed officer, had become such a talented actress for the man she loved. I already knew Lucas was alive. I knew they were plotting against me. “I heard Lucas washed up on a beach somewhere. Luckily, some fishermen saved him,” she had told me before. “Jaison, don’t overthink it. He’s already died once, in a way. Let the past be the past. I’ll protect you.” Protect me? If I hadn’t overheard her conversation with the lawyer, I might have actually believed her. Mia’s voice choked. “I know this is hard for you to accept, but Grandpa felt sorry for Lucas being an orphan. He even asked me to take good care of you. I’ll make sure you never have to worry about anything…” I couldn’t listen anymore. I pushed past her and went to the morgue, collapsing over my grandfather’s body, my sobs echoing in the cold, sterile room. I had been a good husband to Mia. I had given her everything. Why was she doing this to me? Mia’s mother had died young, and her father was clueless about raising a daughter, so she grew up a tomboy. In high school, Lucas had mocked her for her “boyish” short hair and even led the charge in bullying her. I was the one who told her short hair was beautiful on a girl. I was the one who brought her home to my family, who helped her find her confidence again. Because of me, my grandfather had always treated her like his own granddaughter, giving her gifts and money every year. But now I knew the truth. She had been in love with Lucas all along. She had even conspired with him to forge my grandfather’s will. My grandfather didn’t even know Lucas, other than as the man who had cheated with my fiancée. He would never, ever leave his fortune to him. The law would never recognize a forged will like this. What they were doing was illegal. I arranged my grandfather’s funeral. I didn’t invite Mia. But she came anyway, and she brought Lucas with her. I blocked their path. “What are you two doing here?” Lucas put on a wounded expression. “Jaison, Grandpa left his entire estate to me. The least I can do is come and pay my respects.” The relatives who had come to offer their condolences saw this and started murmuring. “What’s going on? Shouldn’t the old man’s inheritance go to his own grandson?” I let out a cold laugh, my eyes locked on Mia. “Don’t believe him. My grandfather told me himself that his will was for me and me alone.” I turned my gaze fully on her. “Mia, my grandfather was good to you. Do you dare to swear on his memorial portrait that you didn’t tamper with his will?” Mia’s face paled slightly, but her voice was loud and defiant. “Jaison, I am your wife, and I am a police officer. How can you doubt me?” “And if we’re talking about debts of gratitude, don’t I have one from you? Don’t forget who it was that rescued you from that island!” My fists clenched at my sides. “And who was it that left me to die on that island in the first place?” She knew I had almost been murdered, and now she was helping the murderer torment me. Mia fell silent. The surrounding relatives began to murmur their disapproval. Suddenly, Lucas burst into tears. “I know Jaison hates me, but I was forced to do it! Now that Grandpa’s gone… I might as well just join him!” He lunged toward a nearby pillar, collapsing to the ground before he even seemed to touch it. “Lucas!” Mia rushed to him, cradling him in her arms, her face ashen with fear. I had never seen such a panicked expression on her face before. “Jaison, are you fucking crazy?” she shrieked at me. “Grandpa’s spirit is watching! He’ll never forgive you for hurting Lucas like this!” “The inheritance will always be Lucas’s. I was going to let you have a little something out of pity, but now you won’t get a single penny!” She cursed at me a few more times before helping Lucas to his feet and leaving. My grandfather’s funeral had turned into a pathetic, gossiped-about farce. The relatives quickly dispersed. I just felt a deep, hollow guilt for my grandfather. I took his ashes and went home. I found a renowned lawyer to prepare a lawsuit and drafted a divorce agreement. As I sorted through my grandfather’s belongings, my heart grew heavier and heavier. “Jaison, who let you into my house?” Lucas suddenly stormed in and kicked over a box of my grandfather’s things. I grabbed him by the collar. “Get out. This is my grandfather’s house!” Lucas just sneered and easily pried my hands away. “Oh? The will says everything is mine, including this house. The one who should be getting out is you.” I broke out in a cold sweat, my body weak. The stab wounds from three years ago had left me with lasting nerve damage. In a physical fight, I was no match for him. Seeing my pathetic state, Lucas looked at me with contempt. “I took out one of your kidneys back then. You’re a cripple now. No wonder you can’t satisfy Mia in bed. She screams my name when I’m on top of her.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “By the way, do you know how your grandfather really died?” “That night, after the old man fell asleep, Mia couldn’t help herself. She pulled me onto the bed right next to his… The old bastard must have heard us. He had a heart attack on the spot. Hahaha!” I snapped. My hands shot out and closed around Lucas’s throat. He didn’t fight back. Not until a sharp voice barked from the doorway. “Let him go!” A dark shadow flew toward me, and my body was sent flying across the room. Through a daze, I saw Mia cradling Lucas, her voice trembling like a plucked bowstring. “Lucas, what’s wrong? Don’t you scare me…” Lucas coughed. “I’m fine… cough, cough… Mia, don’t be angry. I don’t blame Jaison for taking it out on me…” Mia’s eyes, blazing with fury, found me. “Are you insane? Why would you hurt Lucas?” She knew exactly how to make me hurt. She kicked me right where I had been stabbed three years ago. I forced myself to my feet, gritting my teeth against the pain, and slapped him hard across the face. “Because he deliberately killed my grandfather! Is that reason enough for you?” But the next second, something dark and metallic appeared in my vision. My eyes widened. I was staring down the barrel of a gun, held by Mia. She glared at me, her finger on the trigger. “You move, and I’ll shoot.” My already numb heart suddenly ached with an intensity that took my breath away. That gun had been with Mia for years. It had been aimed at countless enemies, countless criminals. And now, it was aimed at me. An image of a young girl’s face flashed in my mind, her hand shaped like a gun. “They all call me a tomboy. So when I grow up, I’ll be a soldier. If Lucas ever bullies you again, I’ll come back and protect you!” The memory was so painful that a sudden ringing filled my ears. I doubled over, gagging. Mia hesitated for a second, then rushed to my side. “Jaison, are you okay?” I looked up at her, my voice dazed. “Mia… am I a criminal? Or am I the enemy?” She froze for a moment, then her voice came out, hard and brittle. “I was just… I was just in a panic. That’s enough. I can’t watch you hurt Lucas anymore. That accident three years ago… it was all that bitch Ava’s idea. Lucas never owed you anything.” “We’ll be back for Grandpa’s things later. You should prepare yourself.” She pulled Lucas away, not seeing the triumphant, smug look on his face. I locked up my grandfather’s house, checking every door and window, before I finally felt safe enough to leave. What they didn’t know was that my grandfather had a second, hidden will. The real assets were in a high-security vault overseas, a vault that only my iris scan could open. The inheritance in this country was just a drop in the bucket, and it was all controlled by the overseas estate. Which meant I was the only true heir. The divorce papers were drafted. I sent Mia a text. “Mia, let’s get divo—” Before I could finish typing, an urgent call came through. “Mr. Hayes, it’s not good! Your wife is here with a strange man, claiming the company belongs to him!” What? I was stunned. I rushed to the company immediately. In the conference room, Mia and Lucas were both there. Mr. Davis, the lawyer my family had employed for years, was reading my grandfather’s will. He claimed that all of my grandfather’s company shares now belonged to Lucas, and that there was a video of my grandfather personally authenticating it. But I could tell with one glance that the video was a fake. The shareholders sat in stunned silence, all of them looking at me. Before I could speak, Mia stepped forward to vouch for it. “I am a police officer. I witnessed the entire process of Chairman Hayes recording his will. If anyone has any doubts, you are welcome to accompany me to the police station to verify the video’s authenticity.” I let out a cold laugh. “Then let’s go to the police station.” Mia grabbed my wrist. She pulled me aside, her voice a low, urgent whisper. “I know Grandpa left you more than this. That’s why I’m not letting you leave the country. And I’ve already switched out your grandfather’s ashes. If you don’t sign the inheritance transfer agreement, I’ll scatter them to the wind.” My blood ran cold. I couldn’t react for a long moment. Threatening me with my grandfather’s ashes? Was she even human? Mia’s expression was complicated, but her tone was non-negotiable. “You know I have connections at the police station. The outcome will never be what you want.” “So just be good, Jaison. With me, you have everything. I’ll make sure you’re happy for the rest of your life.” A warm sensation touched my cheek. It wasn’t a tear. It was Mia’s hand. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Bring it here,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ll sign.” Lucas’s eyes lit up. He immediately produced the inheritance transfer agreement. I signed it quickly. He clutched it to his chest like a precious treasure, then pulled Mia into a tight, shameless embrace. “This is great, Mia! I… I finally have something to my name!” Mia also let out a sigh of relief, her eyes shimmering with joyful tears as she looked at Lucas. I cut them off, my voice like ice. “Give me back my grandfather’s ashes.” Mia hesitated, then sheepishly handed me a key. I took it, rushed home, found my grandfather’s real ashes, and had them re-interred. By the time I got to the airport, it was almost midnight. Mia sent me a video. “Lucas was so happy today, he asked me to stay for a few drinks. You go ahead and sleep.” “Thank you for understanding. Once everything settles down, let’s have a child.” I didn’t reply. I blocked her number and boarded the plane to America. Mia, we will never see each other again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393086”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 I was the Celestial Princess, born of starlight and blessed by the All-Mother. My destiny was to undergo the final Ascension—a trial to become the last true god. But during my trial, as the last lightning struck, the storm raged on. Lyra, my lifelong handmaiden, then transformed. Nine amethyst tails unfurled—proof of divine bloodline. She wept in my mother’s arms: “Eloise’s trial will fail. I have the sacred blood!” The Queen, furious, dragged me to the Scourge Dais. “Today, I’ll have justice for my true daughter!” The King siphoned my millennia of power to Lyra. “This is what you owe her.” My husband Kaelen gazed at Lyra tenderly. “Fate’s threads weave true. At last, destined lovers unite.” Lyra demanded a final price: my flesh for my mother, my bones for my father. I died piece by piece, consumed by cosmic despair. 2 When I awoke, reborn into the past, I was standing on the Scourge Dais once more. My mother was just about to announce my true parentage to the assembled Celestials. But this time, something was different. Just as I braced myself for the denunciation, my mother’s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding as forged steel. “Eloise is the one and only Princess of the Celestials! This is not open for debate!” The sky, already a bruised tapestry of storm clouds, was ripped open by jagged white scars of lightning. A bolt of raw, divine power struck me, and the world dissolved into white-hot agony. The skin it touched blackened and split, a searing torment. But I had no skin left to burn. No flesh left to char. In my last life, my father had already seen to that. On that day, to erase any lingering doubt, he had put me on trial before the entire court. “You have been nurtured by the Celestial realm for seventy thousand years,” he had declared, his voice devoid of any warmth. “This is a debt you owe Lyra. Today, you will repay it.” By then, my seventy millennia of carefully cultivated essence—my very core—had already been drained from me by a secret Celestial artifact and poured into Lyra. I was nothing more than a mortal husk, collapsed and broken on the cold stone. “My power… I earned it through ages of toil,” I’d rasped, my breath shallow. “Lyra now wields it with no effort. Is that not enough?” Lyra’s reply was a cold hiss, her eyes like a serpent’s. “Enough? You dare speak of seventy thousand years? You stole my life! You stole my parents! For seventy thousand years, I should have been the princess, and instead, I lived as a servant because of you!” She turned to the King and Queen. “Father! Mother! If she does not repay her debt—flesh for my mother, bone for my father—then I would rather not be a princess at all!” My mother had flinched, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “Must it come to this? She has already been…” But Lyra threw herself into our mother’s arms, her expression a perfect portrait of pitiable suffering. “Mother…” The Queen said nothing. She sighed, a sound of resignation, and turned away. Seventy thousand years of raising me, undone by a single, whispered word from Lyra. The Celestial guards dragged my unresisting body to the execution block on the dais. The pain was so absolute that I tried to throw myself from the platform, to find the mercy of a quick end. But Kaelen, my husband, stopped me. “Lyra said you’re not to miss a single cut.” Driven mad by agony, I begged him, a primal plea. “For the love we shared, I beg you. Grant me this one mercy. Let me die with dignity. Let me die now!” Kaelen’s face was a frozen mask. “The love we shared? My wife has always been, and only ever will be, the Princess of the Celestials.” The flesh was carved from me, strip by agonizing strip. A torture so inhuman it shattered my soul. Lyra’s laughter echoed, wild and triumphant. “The highest form of this execution requires three thousand, three hundred and fifty-seven cuts. If I find any of you slacking, you’ll regret it.” The guards used the dullest blades. Every slice felt like it was scraping against my very spine. … Now, my father’s deep, imperious voice pulled me from the suffocating grip of that memory. “Eloise. As the Celestial Princess, why has your Divine Trial failed? Why have you not Ascended to godhood?” I lifted my gaze to meet his, a wall of ice. In my last life, I died never understanding how Lyra, a mere handmaiden, could manifest the nine tails—the ultimate proof of divine heritage. Reborn, I would not be so foolish as to walk the same path to ruin. 3 At the King’s question, the assembled Celestials erupted into a cacophony of murmurs. “The seven thunderbolts of the trial have all struck. Why is there no sign of her becoming a god?” “And the storm continues… It’s more than seven. Could her lineage be tainted? Is this a divine curse instead of a blessing?” I threw the question back at my father. “Am I the Celestial Princess or not? Father, are you not the one who knows this best?” I pressed on, my voice ringing with false innocence. “You watched me born, watched me grow. Could there have been a mistake?” The King was dismissive. “As ruler of the Celestials, my duties are vast. I have little time for the affairs of the inner palace.” The implication was clear: he could not, or would not, confirm my legitimacy. The doubts among the court grew louder. “The Princess is destined to become the last true god! The purity of her divine lineage is paramount to the honor of our race!” “If her blood is not pure, then where is the true heir?” My eyes found Kaelen. Though I already knew the answer that festered in his heart, I needed to hear it from his lips. “They all doubt me,” I said, my voice quiet. “Do you?” Kaelen, who had looked at me with such adoration only moments before, now had a storm of conflict in his eyes. “The entire court gathered to protect you through your trial. But seven thunderbolts have fallen, and you have not Ascended.” He couldn’t meet my gaze. “You are not the true princess… which means you are not my wife.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Kaelen. Three thousand years we have been bound, and only today do I see you for what you are: a parasite. You never loved me. You loved the title: Princess of the Celestials. Future God.” He opened his mouth to defend himself, but a sweet, cloying voice cut him off. “Kaelen, darling, why waste your breath on this mongrel?” Lyra swept in, a vision of deliberate splendor, having dressed for the occasion. Before the entire court, she made her declaration. “Allow me to reveal the truth. I, Lyra, am the true Celestial Princess!” She let the ensuing chaos swell before continuing her tale. “Eloise’s mother was a handmaiden to the Queen. Consumed by jealousy, she switched the infants while the Queen was weakened from childbirth.” Lyra’s eyes met mine. She noticed my gaze lingering on her magnificent gown and smiled, a secret, triumphant smirk. She spoke to me then, a whisper carried on the wind that only I could hear. “I’ve always loved this dress on you. But it’s not just the dress. From now on, everything that was yours… is mine.” An uproar tore through the assembled nobles, but my father remained unnervingly calm. He simply asked, “Even if Eloise is an imposter, how can you prove that you are the true princess?” Lyra’s posture was one of pure arrogance. “Only those with the purest divine lineage can manifest the form of the ancient Nine-Tailed Vulpine, the mark of true god-kin. It has been tens of thousands of years since a child was born with the trait, but on the day the true princess was born, the sacred totem of the Nine-Tailed Vulpine shone with a violet light for three days and three nights.” As she spoke, a sliver of violet light pierced the gloom of the storm clouds, illuminating her in a solitary, divine spotlight. And there, for all to see, nine tails of pale amethyst unfurled behind her, like a blooming, deadly flower. A gasp went through the crowd. “By the All-Mother! It’s the blood of the Nine-Tails! The mark of a true god-kin, and the most noble violet, at that!” “She is the true princess! Have we been squandering our resources on a fake for all these years?!” Lyra swished her tails, a peacock displaying its lethal finery, the undeniable proof of her identity. Watching this perfectly orchestrated drama unfold, I saw all the seams I’d missed in my first life. It was too smooth, too rehearsed. And there was still one key player missing. I scanned the dais. My mother, the one who should have been at the forefront of my condemnation, was nowhere to be seen. 4 I tried to summon my own power, to manifest my true form, but just like before, nothing happened. The nine tails would not appear. In my previous life, desperate to prove my legitimacy, I had forced the transformation. But what had emerged was not my beautiful, elegant Vulpine tail. It was a thick, coiling tail of obsidian scales—a serpent’s tail. The sight had horrified even me, and it had sealed my fate as an imposter. If it weren’t for the memories of my own childhood, of my tail popping out uncontrollably whenever my power flared, I might have believed their lies myself. Now, in the present, my father draped a protective, sorrowful arm around Lyra’s shoulders. “My lords and ladies,” he announced, his voice heavy with feigned grief. “Our Celestial realm has been deceived by a lowly servant’s whelp for seventy thousand years! The princess who will bring us glory is here. It is Lyra!” At the pronouncement from their authoritative King, the eyes of the court turned on me, filled with accusation and hatred. “The daughter of a common servant, enjoying the honors of a princess for millennia! She must repay the debt!” “Cast the imposter from the Scourge Dais! Let her die in torment and regret!” I watched the mob’s fury rise, a familiar coldness seeping into my heart. For seventy thousand years, I had accepted their reverence, yes. But I had never shirked the duties of a princess. The Celestial population was sparse, and I had personally handled countless matters that never reached my father’s throne. Many of the nobles now screaming for my blood had accepted precious artifacts and elixirs from my own hand to break through their cultivation bottlenecks. For the honor of our people, I had trained without a single day’s rest, reaching the cusp of Divinity in a mere seventy thousand years. And now? I had done nothing but lose my title. The moment I could no longer benefit them, they wanted me dead. “The Scourge Dais? That’s too good for her!” Lyra spat, her voice laced with venom. “Without the realm’s resources, how could her essence have grown so powerful, so fast? Meanwhile, I, the true princess, was burdened with menial tasks, my own cultivation stagnating. Who knows how many millennia it will take for me to reach the power Eloise now possesses?” My eyes sharpened. This was the moment. In my last life, my father had heard these words and immediately agreed. “The Celestials possess a secret artifact, the Soul-Siphon. It can drain the essence of another and make it one’s own.” Just as I remembered, my father’s gaze turned on me, cold and hard. “This is what you owe her,” he said. “The debt is due.” I recoiled, feigning defiance. “Impossible! The essence I cultivated with my own blood and sweat? I will not give it as a gift to another!” Lyra’s eyes burned with envy. “If you weren’t a princess, with an endless supply of the realm’s treasures, you would be nothing!” The court roared its agreement. My father, taking this as his mandate, produced the Soul-Siphon—an obsidian amulet that seemed to drink the light from the air. It was clear he had it ready all along. “If you submit, you will suffer less,” he threatened. He lunged, a sword of pure energy materializing in his hand, aimed at my heart. I summoned a shield of my own, preparing to block the fatal blow. But with a deafening CLANG, his blade was struck from the air. A furious voice cut through the chaos. “Stop!” 5 All heads turned to see who possessed such power. There, standing before the King, her eyes blazing red, was my mother. The Queen. The King’s voice softened instantly. “Jocasta, my love, we have been deceived for seventy thousand years! The daughter you’ve protected with all your heart… she is not our blood!” I watched the scene unfold, a silent observer of my own past. In a moment, Lyra would rush to my mother, weeping about her tragic life as a servant. With the nine tails as proof of her divine blood, no one would doubt her. My mother, torn between pity and fury, would then personally escort me to the Scourge Dais. The Celestial lineage, since time immemorial, had been matrilineal. This was to ensure the sacred Vulpine blood—the spark of the gods—was passed down. Without my mother’s consent, my death would not have been so certain, so agonizing. Just as I remembered, the Queen pulled me towards the Scourge Dais. She turned to the assembled nobles and declared, “Today, I will have justice for my trueborn daughter!” Below the dais, Lyra shot me a playful, mocking wink. “Blood calls to blood, my dear. A mongrel like you could never compare.” She turned to the Queen. “Mother, I believe that after we transfer her essence to me, she should be flayed and boned. It’s the only way to appease my hatred.” The Queen glanced at Lyra, her expression darkening. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then her voice rang out, clear and resolute. “Eloise is the one and only Princess of the Celestials! This is not open for debate!” The King’s face contorted. “Jocasta! The entire court saw Lyra’s nine tails. The proof of her blood is undeniable! Are you going to deny what is before our very eyes?” Lyra, stunned at this departure from the script, added her own poison. “Mother, if you claim Eloise is your daughter, then where is her tail? Where is her proof of the sacred blood?” The court echoed her sentiment. “If she is the princess, let her reveal her Vulpine form and prove it!” But the Queen, who should have been raining fury upon me, now looked ill, her face pale. She moved to shield me with her own body. “I am the Matriarch of the Celestials. The matter of the divine bloodline is mine to decide! All of you, leave this place!” Under the weight of her absolute authority, the nobles hesitated, some already beginning to retreat. But at that moment, a splash of liquid, cold and shimmering, hit me. I spun around to see Kaelen, an empty flask in his hand, his face a mask of cold indifference. “The Waters of Revealing will show one’s true form. We will see who my wife is, once and for all.” Kaelen. The greatest warrior of the Celestials, his Frostfang blade having defended our borders for millennia. At the foot of Mount Kunlun, he had taken my hand, his eyes full of wonder. “My sword will protect only one from this day forward. Where my wife’s gaze falls, there my blade will follow.” Only today did I understand. He was protecting his wife, yes. The Princess of the Celestials. Who that princess was… didn’t matter. Before I could even process the fresh wave of betrayal, a thick, coiling tail of obsidian scales burst from the base of my spine. A collective gasp of horror rippled through the court. 6 Scorn. Disgust. Mocking laughter. The thunder above me grew louder, a relentless, punishing barrage that showed no sign of stopping. In my last life, it was at this moment—gravely wounded by the heavenly trial—that my father had struck. He had used the Soul-Siphon while I was at my weakest, tearing my seventy thousand years of essence from my broken body. And just as before, a bolt of lightning struck me square on the crown of my head. Pain, absolute and blinding, threatened to tear me apart. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Lyra’s sharp cry. “This is no ordinary trial for godhood! The heavens have thirty-six realms, and each has its own thunder. She is enduring the Thirty-Six Storms of Ascension, a trial no one has ever survived!” The sky felt as though it were collapsing, the black clouds pressing down on the terrified Celestials. But the single violet spotlight around Lyra remained, a sanctuary in the maelstrom. “You see?” she shrieked, her voice triumphant. “She is a cursed thing, an abomination condemned by the heavens themselves! I am the one born of auspicious signs, the one with the true divine blessing!” Even Kaelen turned to Lyra, his eyes full of pity and dawning realization. “So it was you all along. You are my true wife. The threads of fate weave true, letting destined lovers finally be together.” My father seized his chance. With a cry of triumph, the King launched himself into the air, the Soul-Siphon in his hand aimed straight for me. “Jocasta, you see the proof!” he roared. “Today, I will make her repay every moment of suffering our true daughter endured!” A single, soul-shattering cry from the Queen: “NO!” It was too sudden. She was too far away to stop him. The Soul-Siphon was already at my brow. The King’s methods were as swift and merciless as I remembered.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393085”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day before my wedding, I got a call from the hotel. “Mr. Winston, hello. Someone has… well, they’ve wrecked your wedding venue.” I rushed over, completely bewildered, only to find some pretty boy holding a wedding photo of himself with my fiancée, screaming, “You shameless gold digger! Seducing my wife! Spending her money on a lavish wedding like this!” The scene was a powder keg of outrage. Even the hotel manager was pointing a finger at me. “I knew something was off,” he sneered. “The bride-to-be never showed up for a single planning meeting. Turns out he’s not even the real husband.” The crowd of onlookers grew, their whispers turning into a mob. They beat me, shoved me, and in the chaos, my leg was broken. A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to my secretary. “Cancel the wedding. And tell Ella Lee to get the hell out of my company.” Spending my money to keep a boy toy, and one this arrogant? Let’s see how I tear you both apart. … I was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the fit of my tuxedo for the next day, when the hotel manager’s call came through. His voice was dripping with a sick sort of pleasure. “Mr. Winston, ah, yes. About that ‘Starlight Dream’ luxury wedding you’ve booked? Someone’s smashed it all to pieces. I think you’d better get down here.” Smashed? My mind went blank for a second. I had spent half a year and millions of dollars planning this wedding. Who would dare? Tomorrow was the day. The day I was supposed to marry Ella Lee, my girlfriend of seven years. This was the last moment for something to go wrong. Fury ignited in my chest. I didn’t have time to think. I shot a quick text to Ella and sped toward the hotel. I could hear the manager’s oily voice from the entrance. “Oh, I had no idea Ms. Lee’s husband was so young and handsome! A perfect match for a CEO like her!” “See? I told you something was up,” another voice chimed in. “Never saw the bride once during the setup. He’s the other man!” “Let’s exchange contact info. If the hotel has any new projects, I hope you’ll put in a good word with Ms. Lee for us!” Ms. Lee? My heart dropped. I followed the sound and saw him: a skinny, pale pretty boy, pocketing the manager’s business card with a look of venomous satisfaction. “Of course,” he said. “Just as soon as I’m done with this shameless leech.” “I’ll be sure to remember your help.” I strode forward into the ballroom. The magnificent floral arch, which had been painstakingly assembled that afternoon, was toppled like a fallen giant. The towering champagne fountain lay in glittering shards across the floor. And strewn among the wreckage were the vulgar remains of rotten vegetables and broken eggs. My dream wedding venue, a palace of opulence just hours ago, was now a scene of utter chaos. I swallowed my rage, the words grinding between my teeth. “Who. Did. This.” “I did!” The pretty boy saw me and, without a second thought, swung his leg and kicked me hard in the ribs. “I, Leo, am going to teach you a lesson today, you pathetic leech!” I staggered back, nearly losing my footing. “Leo?” The name was vaguely familiar. Right. Ella had mentioned him before—a junior from her university who’d asked for help finding a job. His name was Leo… Ella and I had been together since college. A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. So, this was her game. My father, taking pity on her because she was pregnant, had magnanimously made her the acting president of a subsidiary company to “play with.” And she’d actually started to believe her own hype, brazenly keeping a lover on the side. My glare fixed on Leo. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I snarled. “You dare touch me?” Leo whipped out his phone, the screen displaying a wedding photo of him and Ella. He then pointed a trembling finger at the large welcome portrait of Ella and me at the ballroom entrance. “Who am I?” he shrieked. “I should be asking, who the hell are you?!” “My wife and I had our wedding photos taken six months ago! And you still have the nerve to seduce her?” Seduce her? What a joke. I reached for my own phone to call Ella and have her face this mess, but Leo snatched it from my hand and smashed it on the marble floor. “Calling for backup, are you, gold digger?!” His voice was shrill, attracting a circle of gawkers who began pointing and whispering. “I just Googled her. The woman is Ella Lee, the CEO of Apex Industries.” “Kids these days… they’ll do anything for money.” “I know, right? He’s a good-looking guy, too. Why throw it all away to be a kept man?” Sensing the drama escalating, the hotel manager scurried over to placate Leo. “Don’t be angry, sir, it’s not worth your health. How about this? I’ll arrange our finest presidential suite for you, and a year of complimentary stays for you and Ms. Lee. Please, just calm down?” He then turned to me, his face a mask of contempt. “Mr. Winston, I’m sorry, but our hotel will no longer be hosting your wedding.” I laughed, a sound raw with disbelief. “You’re canceling? Are you prepared to pay the breach of contract penalty?” I swept my gaze over the trashed venue. “And this… this million-dollar setup. Are you sure you can afford to replace it?” Leo scoffed and, catching me off guard, grabbed the collar of my shirt. “Pay?! You used my wife’s money to pay for this, you leech! And you have the audacity to ask me for compensation? Have you no shame?” It was then that he noticed the key fob for my limited-edition supercar in my hand. His face flushed with rage. “So that’s why Ella couldn’t buy me this car! Because you, the mistress, already took it!” He lunged for the keys. My first instinct was to hold on tight, but then I thought better of it. It wasn’t worth getting hurt over this parasite. I let go. Leo, clutching the key fob, then dramatically stumbled backward and fell to the floor. Instantly, the onlookers rushed to help him up, their accusations turning on me. “What has this hotel come to, letting a degenerate like him in?” “Exactly! Mr. Leo, don’t worry, we all saw it! He assaulted you!” “That’s right, Mr. Leo! Um… my husband works at your company, in the marketing department. I hope you’ll mention him to Ms. Lee, perhaps for a promotion?” … Ella was a president in name only, of a company that wasn’t even publicly traded. Yet they were all fawning over “Mr. Leo,” the “CEO’s husband.” I remembered my father telling me just a few days ago that after Ella and I were married, he would slowly hand over the rest of the group’s companies to us. And now? All I felt was a profound sense of relief. Leo, propped up by the crowd, smugly straightened his clothes. He pointed at me and shouted at the manager, “You let anyone into this hotel? Are you trying to ruin your own reputation?” The manager bowed and scraped. “Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right, Mr. Leo. It won’t happen again!” Leo snorted and, dangling my keys, swaggered toward the entrance. With a chirp, the lights of a multi-million-dollar supercar flashed. He pointed at the car, his voice a screech. “You bastard! How dare you waste my wife’s money like this!” He walked back to me, rubbing the key fob menacingly against my cheek. “Someone like you deserves to drive a car like this? I’ll have it smashed to pieces!” He threw the keys to the ground and stomped on them again and again, grinding his heel until the fob was a mangled wreck of plastic and metal. Still not satisfied, he grabbed a hammer from a nearby toolbox. “A ten-million-dollar car is too good for a leech!” He stormed towards my car, raised the hammer high, and as I watched in stunned silence, brought it down with all his might. I didn’t stop him. I just mentally tallied up the damages he’d owe me. Just then, the hotel owner came rushing in. The manager whispered a few words in his ear, and the owner’s head snapped up. He looked at me, his face grim. “Mr. Winston, from this day forward, you are blacklisted from our establishment.” I couldn’t believe my ears. How could this entire group of people be so thoroughly manipulated by one pathetic pretty boy? “Are you sure?” I asked, looking the owner dead in the eye. He gave me a disdainful once-over. “We pride ourselves on our reputation. We do not welcome people like you here.” I nodded slowly. “Fine.” This hotel, of which my father was a major shareholder. Let’s see how much he regrets this. I bent down to retrieve my mangled phone, but Leo’s foot slammed onto my back, pinning me down. “I’ve already called my wife. She’ll be here any minute. Let’s see how cocky you are then!” Wincing in pain, I grabbed his ankle, twisted hard, and sent him sprawling to the ground. The manager gasped and rushed to help him up. “Mr. Leo! Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?” “Forget the ambulance! Arrest him! This man is a shameless homewrecker!” Leo screamed, his eyes red. “You seduce my wife and then you assault me? I’ll ruin you!” The hotel owner’s face was livid. “How dare you attack Mr. Leo! This hotel has security cameras everywhere! I’ve already called the police!” The crowd of spectators now transformed into a posse of righteous vigilantes. They swarmed me, pulling my hair, tearing at my clothes. “You dare hit Ms. Lee’s husband? I’ll record this as evidence! You’re not just a homewrecker, you’re a violent criminal!” “Yes! Post it online! Make him famous!” They shoved me, dragging me toward the welcome portrait of Ella and me. Someone ripped it from its stand and, with a vicious RRRRIP, tore our photo in two. I watched the image of us shatter, and I felt nothing. Nothing but a cold, bottomless well of disgust and rage. Good. Rip it to shreds. “Did you get that on camera? Post it! I want everyone to see this leech’s true face!” Leo directed the mob, puffed up with the thrill of victory. I clutched my broken phone, the screen flashing with dozens of unread messages from Ella. Hah. She still had the nerve to message me? While they were distracted, I managed to open the notifications. Unsurprisingly, they were a stream of pathetic apologies, excuses, and pleas for forgiveness. I scanned them quickly, then deleted and blocked her number without a second thought. Then, I sent one last message to my secretary. “Cancel the wedding. And have my father pull all his investments from the Starlight Grand Hotel. Also, tell Ella Lee to get the hell out of my company.” The reply was instantaneous. A single sentence. “Understood, Mr. Winston.” Leo saw me using my phone. He raised the hammer and swung it at me without hesitation. I couldn’t dodge in time. A muffled grunt escaped my lips as a sickening crack echoed through the room. White-hot agony exploded in my lower leg, and I collapsed, curling into a ball on the floor. A wave of gasps went through the crowd, but they quickly fell silent. The hotel owner looked down at me, his voice dripping with condescension. “Mr. Winston, stop faking it. The damage to the venue was a result of your personal dispute. The hotel will not be compensating you.” “Furthermore, I suggest you apologize to Ms. Lee’s husband, Mr. Leo.” Pain was making my vision swim. I couldn’t speak. I could only glare at the faces looming over me, my eyes burning. Suddenly, the manager pointed at my leg, his voice trembling. “Blood…!” I looked down. My calf was bent at an unnatural angle. Was it… broken? A flicker of panic crossed Leo’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a vicious smirk. He crossed his arms. “Hah! You thought you could seduce my wife with your pretty face and live off her money? Let’s see you seduce anyone with a broken leg!” “You deserved it!” I pressed my hands to the floor, fighting to stay conscious.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393084”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My wife, Ava, needed a guinea pig for her lover’s new wonder drug. So she had me committed. I’d just had surgery for stomach cancer, still weak and stitched up, when she sent me to a private psychiatric facility. They zapped me with electricity until I drooled, my body convulsing on the cold table. Through it all, Ava just covered her lover Ethan’s eyes, her voice laced with disgust. “It’s filthy. Don’t look.” Ethan’s “research” on me earned him a prestigious nomination. To celebrate, Ava set off a firework display that lit up the entire city. And I, under that same brilliant, festive sky, had my right leg amputated. The constant electroshock had caused the tissue to die. To hide his crime, Ethan arranged for a cheap prosthesis and threatened me never to tell Ava the truth. He told her my leg was just “injured” during an experiment. Numbly, I packed my own severed leg into a portable cooler. In seven days, at Ethan’s award ceremony, it would be my gift to her. … My eyes were red-rimmed as I begged Nate, one of the orderlies, for help. He was the only person in this hellhole who’d shown me an ounce of kindness, saying I reminded him of his brother. He didn’t have the power to save me from Ethan, but seeing me clutch my prosthetic leg, sobbing my heart out, he hesitated, then agreed. He’d just taken the cooler and turned to leave when he ran right into Ava. The faint, coppery smell from the box made her wrinkle her nose. She watched the orderly walk away before lowering her hand, her brow furrowed. But nothing could dampen her mood today; she was radiant, like a general returning from a victorious battle. “Ethan’s experiment was a massive success,” she said, her voice bright, almost speaking to herself. “He’s finally going to achieve his dream.” She’d been in my room for minutes, but her gaze was fixed on the fireworks blooming outside my window. She hadn’t spared me a single glance. Only when the silence stretched did her cool eyes finally sweep over me, her brow knotting in irritation. “Leo, this is the only thing Ethan has ever asked of you. You were just sitting at home recovering anyway, with nothing to do. Here, you can make some friends, help him out. You don’t have to look so miserable about it.” Friends. Let’s see. There was the old woman who’d snuck into my room to harass me. The old man who’d tried to strangle me, accusing me of stealing his money. The man who’d kicked me to the ground, screaming that I’d stolen his wife. These were the “friends” Ava was talking about. I was pumped full of Ethan’s drugs and subjected to repeated shocks until my leg rotted from the inside out. The doctor who treated me later said if I’d gotten to a proper hospital sooner, they could have saved it. But what good is a hospital when you don’t even have your freedom? Seeing me with my head down, my eyes burning with unshed tears, Ava finally moved closer, ready to question me. “Leo—” Her word was cut in half as her phone lit up. The moonlight fell across her face, illuminating an expression of pure, unadulterated happiness. She was so absorbed that in the twenty minutes she spent in my room, she never once noticed that my right leg wasn’t real. I was exhausted, about to drift off, when one of Ethan’s assistants came in with my daily dose of pills. The thought of my empty trouser leg filled me with a sudden rage, and I swatted the pills to the floor. Ava, who had been texting by the window, startled. She strode over, scooped the dusty pills from the ground without a second thought, and held them to my lips. Her voice was merciless. “This is part of Ethan’s research. If you don’t take them, how is he supposed to write his report?” Tears blurring my vision, I turned my head away, but she gripped my chin, forcing my mouth open and shoving the bitter pills down my throat. She was about to say more when her phone buzzed again. With a final glance, she turned and left, forgetting her coat in her haste. I knew why she was leaving. I opened my social media feed. The first thing I saw was a cute, goofy picture of Ethan with tissue paper stuffed up his nose. The caption read: Watched fireworks all night and caught a cold. Btw, taking an extra cold pill won’t kill you, right? Ava’s reply was the first in the comments. You have a cold? Why didn’t you tell me? You silly goose. We won’t know if it’s serious until you get checked out. Wait for me. She didn’t come back that night. After midnight, I silently wished myself a happy birthday. I remembered, before all this, Ava taking me for a check-up. The doctor had said my cancer surgery recovery was going well, and her face had lit up. “The day you’re fully recovered is your birthday! We have to celebrate properly.” But times had changed. Now, she was setting off a city’s worth of fireworks for Ethan’s meaningless nomination. The next morning, Nate brought me a small, palm-sized cake. “I remember you said today was your birthday,” he said, his voice soft. “But your leg…” He trailed off, but still lit the candle for me. His care was the only thing keeping me sane. I closed my eyes, made a wish, and was about to blow out the candle when a figure appeared in the doorway. Ava saw the scene, her brow twitching as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh. It’s your birthday.” Flustered, she fumbled in her coat pockets, searching for something, anything, to serve as a gift. What she pulled out was a half-empty box of condoms. Mortified, she shoved it back into her pocket. “That’s… someone must have put it there as a joke. I’ll get you a proper gift later.” I blew out the candle with a sharp puff. “Don’t bother.” Her face instantly darkened. She shoved her hands in her pockets, radiating impatience. “Are you really going to be like this over a gift? I paid for your father’s medical bills when he was sick. And now you’re giving me attitude over some stupid birthday? Don’t you think you’re being unreasonable?” I just bit my lip and listened. She was right. She was my family’s savior. The debt I owed her was one I felt I could never repay. Nate, sitting beside me, couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and brushed past Ava on his way out, bumping her shoulder. She stumbled, her expression turning even uglier. She shot me a glare and turned to leave, only to run into Ethan, who was just arriving in his lab coat. Beneath the collar of his white coat, a faint red mark was visible. Ava’s anger vanished like smoke. She rushed to his side, her voice tender. “I told you to rest at home. Why are you here?” Ethan let out a theatrical sneeze. “You gave me your coat to keep me warm yesterday. I’m much better now.” He suddenly remembered I was there and pulled his adoring gaze away from her, offering me a strained smile. “I came today because there’s an important experiment we need to run. I’ll need your cooperation, Leo.” A jolt of terror shot through me. I looked at Ava, pleading with my eyes, shaking my head, silently begging her to say no. But she just smiled generously at Ethan. “It’s fine,” she said breezily. “He’s not doing anything else.” The knife I felt hanging over my head finally fell. Ethan’s lips curved into a smile. He looked back at me and added, “This one might hurt a little more, but you just have to bear it. You’ve been so cooperative before, Leo. I’m sure you’ll do great.” A deep, dark premonition coiled in my gut. Ava had poured a fortune into setting up this lab for Ethan. She let him test his concoctions on living people, even using barbaric electroshock therapy. And every time something went wrong, she was there to clean up the mess. She seemed to enjoy it. But I never thought she would let him torture me. I didn’t fight back. I owed her too much. But after this, I thought, the debt would surely be paid. At a clap of Ethan’s hands, a group of technicians entered with various instruments. Once everything was set up, Ethan draped his arm around Ava’s shoulders. “Ava,” he whispered, “I’m a little worried. What if this one fails?” Her heart clearly melted. She squeezed his hand, her voice overflowing with tenderness. “It won’t. Let’s go outside. They can just bring us the data when they’re done.” Inside the room, I lay on the cold bed, staring at the ceiling as they strapped down my arms and legs. The light blurred. My consciousness began to fray. As they increased the voltage, my body went numb, but my mind drifted in and out of a strange clarity. In the haze, I heard them scrambling, the clatter of metal. “Shit, what are you doing? You can’t even control the voltage!” Then, an all-consuming convulsion. A distant voice shouting. “Get him to the ER! Now! We might still have time!” I didn’t struggle. It was like being knocked out with a club. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a new, unfamiliar room. Before I could speak, a man’s voice cut through the silence. “You really worked hard for us, Leo. Here’s a little something for your trouble.” Ethan flashed me a mocking grin and pulled a single bill from his wallet, placing it on my pillow. He turned and came face-to-face with Ava, who had just entered. His sneer vanished, replaced by a frown of remorse. “It’s all my fault,” he said, looking down. “I was careless and caused Leo to pass out. I’ve already apologized to him.” Ava barely glanced at me. She stroked Ethan’s face with a doting expression. “It wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize.” Then she paused, as if remembering something. She walked to my bedside. “The doctor said there was a problem with your leg. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” I said nothing. At the time, she was too busy watching fireworks with Ethan. I’d sent her countless messages. She hadn’t replied to a single one. Nate, who was standing beside me, started to speak, but Ethan shot him a threatening look, cutting him off. He turned to Ava. “It’s my fault. There was an unexpected complication with the experiment, and I was so busy handling it I forgot to tell you about Leo’s injury.” “Why would it be your fault?” Ava said lightly. “He’s fine now, it’s no big deal.” She forgave him on my behalf before I could even open my mouth. To keep Nate from talking, Ethan steered him out of the room. Ava turned back to me, a sliver of guilt in her eyes. “You’ve been cooped up for a while. I’ll take you out to a nice restaurant tonight. We’ll celebrate.” She didn’t wait for my answer, simply dragging me to a high-end clothing store and buying me a suit. As I was changing, she saw the mass of bruises, black and blue, covering my back. Her hand, holding out the shirt, faltered. But in the end, she said nothing. She made an excuse and waited outside. Guilt? The thought was so absurd it was almost funny. She saw the state I was in, and she felt guilty? Everything she saw was her own damn handiwork. At the restaurant, Ava’s eyes never left her phone. At one point, she disappeared to the restroom for over twenty minutes. When she returned, she finally remembered to ask the waiter for a menu. But she was completely distracted, randomly pointing at a line on the page. The waiter was baffled. She was pointing at the restaurant’s address. With a sigh, I took the menu and ordered for both of us. The food had just arrived when Ava suddenly stood up, grabbing her coat. “Ethan’s getting bullied at a party. I have to go, now.” She started to leave, then paused, her voice cold. “You should come too. It’ll be hard to get a cab this late.” In the car, she was silent, her eyes glued to her phone, terrified of missing a message. We rushed to the location Ethan had sent. The private room was anything but a scene of bullying; it was loud and celebratory. The moment Ethan saw me, his smile vanished. He quickly composed himself, looking down with an expression of self-reproach. “I didn’t know you were with Ava, Leo. I only sent her the address because I lost a dare.” Ava, still catching her breath from rushing in, showed no sign of annoyance. “It’s not a big deal. We were just having dinner.” Every eye in the room fixed on me. I dug my nails into my palm, wanting to end the farce. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.” I turned to leave, but Ethan called out. “Leo, my research isn’t finished yet. You can’t go home. You should stay in the hospital a while longer.” A mocking voice piped up from the crowd. “So that’s Ethan’s little test subject. No wonder he’s covered in scars.” Another person chimed in. “Scars are one thing, but look at him. A cripple in a suit that expensive. What a waste. It’s hideous.” I kept my back to them, biting the inside of my cheek to swallow the lump in my throat. Ava acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing. “Ethan’s right,” she said, her voice firm. “You’ve come this far. You can’t give up now. Go back to the hospital.” I gritted my teeth, enduring it. But before I could even leave the room, my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Mr. Evans? It’s about your father. His condition is critical. If you can, you should come back… to say goodbye.” My world exploded. I tried to run, but two burly men, clearly bodyguards, blocked my path. I struggled, turning to Ava with desperate, pleading eyes. Her face was a mask of displeasure. “Ethan has worked so hard to get here. Do you have to cause trouble at the last minute?” Seeing my silence, her voice hardened, leaving no room for negotiation. “You are going back to the facility. Tonight.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “My father is dying! I have to see him!” For a fleeting second, she seemed moved. But then Ethan tugged on her sleeve, his face a mask of wounded innocence. Her tone shifted instantly, becoming harsh. “There’s plenty of money in your father’s hospital account. What good would you do there? Ethan has been nominated. The awards are in a few days. Can’t you stand to see him succeed?” My throat closed up. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Her face was a storm of impatience. She gave a slight nod. The bodyguards seized me, dragged me out, and unceremoniously threw me into the back of a van from the psychiatric facility. The journey was long. I was locked back in that cold, dark room. It wasn’t until I saw the official notification of my father’s death that the world shattered completely. Images, sounds, memories—they all crashed down on me. It was like being plunged into a frozen lake. In the days that followed, I was a walking corpse. Ethan could do what he wanted to me. I no longer fought back. On the final day, Ava accompanied Ethan to the award ceremony, a constellation of flashing camera lights. And I was finally free. With a plane ticket Nate had bought for me, a heavy box of ashes, and a body full of scars, I went home. The moment I landed, my phone screen was flooded with missed calls. All from Ava. I thought for a moment, then typed out a single message. Ava, I want a divorce. Then I blocked her number and disappeared into the crowd. Back in my old, run-down neighborhood, I let out a breath I’d been holding for months. I was halfway through packing up my father’s apartment when Nate called. “It’s all over the city news…” Before he could finish, I opened the video link he’d sent. It showed Ava, calm and composed, getting ready backstage. Her evening gown was a perfect match for Ethan’s tie. Nate, just as I’d asked, brought the cooler to her. Ava recognized him, pausing as she adjusted Ethan’s tie. A mocking smile played on her lips. “Did he send you?” she asked. “Knowing him, he’s probably petty enough to put a bomb in there, isn’t he?” The stylists and makeup artists around them burst into laughter. Nate just placed the cooler on the table, his voice unnervingly calm. “Mr. Evans asked me to give this to you. He said it was a gift.” Ethan frowned, looking at the cooler with disdain. “Ava, what good could possibly be in there? Get someone to throw it out. The ceremony is about to start.” Ava scoffed and gestured for her assistant to take it.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393083”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My sister-in-law has terrible eyesight. Before she and my brother were married, she saw us walking together and, assuming I was his mistress, punched me in the face. My eyeball ruptured. I lost sight in one eye. But she just stuck out her tongue and giggled. “Oops, my vision’s blurry. I made a mistake! We’re about to be family, so you won’t hold it against me, right?” My mother and brother agreed. I shouldn’t make a big deal out of it and jeopardize my brother’s happiness. After the wedding, I was in the shower at home when she burst in with a kettle of boiling water and poured it over me. My body was covered in severe burns. She just cried and threw herself into my brother’s arms. “I just love you so much! I can’t stand the thought of any other woman being near you!” He was touched. He forgave her. My family left me in the hospital to fend for myself. I died from a systemic infection. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the moments before my brother and I were about to leave the house. 1 “Lilian’s birthday is coming up. I need to get her a gift. Sis, come help me pick something out.” My brother, Mark, gave me a shove. The motion jolted me awake. The searing pain of boiling water felt so real it was as if it hadn’t faded. I immediately pushed up my sleeves, but my arms were smooth and unmarred. “What are you doing? Let’s go,” Mark said, his voice louder when I didn’t respond. I ignored him, glancing at my phone. The date confirmed it. I was reborn. “I can’t,” I said quickly, clutching my stomach and grimacing. “My stomach’s been killing me for days. I can’t go out.” “Always something with you,” my mother grumbled, emerging from the kitchen. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re faking it. Get up and go help your brother.” She grabbed my arm and yanked. Caught off guard, I fell to the floor. The fake pain became real. But this wasn’t the time to argue. I had to stay home. I had to protect my eyes. “Mom, why don’t you go with Mark? You have better taste than I do. If Lilian knew you picked out her gift, she’d be thrilled.” My mother rolled her eyes. “I’m busy. No time.” I knew what this was really about. Mark wanted me to come along so I’d be the one to pay. My mother knew it too, which is why she refused to go. I pulled out my phone and transferred him some money. “Here, this is from me. The seasons are changing; buy yourself some new clothes too.” The money improved her mood instantly. Mark, seeing he had his funding, no longer cared who went with him. “Fine. Mom, go change. Let’s get going.” As my mother headed to her bedroom, I followed. “Mom, wear this one,” I said, pulling a brightly colored dress from her closet. “It’s beautiful. Makes you look young and vibrant.” She put it on without a second thought. I watched them leave, breathing a sigh of relief. But a moment later, I slipped out of the house and followed them. They went straight to the mall, heading for the luxury boutiques on the ground floor. Mark clearly already knew what he wanted to buy. I watched from a distance, careful not to get too close. Soon, a familiar figure appeared. Mark’s girlfriend, Lilian, was walking arm-in-arm with her best friend, heading towards the same boutique. Her friend spotted him first. “Lilian, look! Isn’t that your boyfriend?” Lilian squinted. There was Mark, arm-in-arm with another woman, laughing and smiling. Because the woman’s hair was down, she couldn’t see her face clearly. Not that it mattered. It was a woman. That was all the proof she needed. “That bastard! He told me he was picking out a gift for me, but he’s fooling around with this slut! I’ll teach her a lesson!” Lilian rolled up her sleeves and stormed towards them. “MARK!” she screamed at their backs. My mother and Mark spun around at the sound of her voice. The next second, a fist slammed into my mother’s eye socket. “AGH!” my mother shrieked, stumbling back and clutching her face. “You’re disgusting!” Lilian spat. “You’ll stoop this low? An old hag? If you wanted to break up, you should’ve just said so!” Mark was stunned for a second, then rushed to help our mother. Seeing this, Lilian grew even more furious. “I’ll kill you, you old witch! You shameless crone!” “Are you insane?! This is my MOTHER!” Mark yelled. Lilian’s hand froze mid-air. “Wh-what?” My mother, cupping her eye, howled in pain. “My eye! It hurts so much! I can’t see! Son, my eye!” “Oh god, ma’am, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I thought you were—” Lilian reached for my mother, but after being punched, my mom was in no mood for apologies. She ignored Lilian completely, grabbing Mark’s arm. “Take me to the hospital! Son, Mom can’t see!” They rushed off to find a cab, not saying a single word to Lilian. But this time, Lilian knew she was in the wrong. And since she didn’t want to break up with him, she scrambled to follow them. I watched the whole chaotic scene, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 2 In my past life, when I went to the mall with Mark to buy a gift for Lilian, we were just walking side-by-side. No physical contact at all. But when Lilian saw us, she charged over and punched me. Even after Mark explained we were siblings, she didn’t believe him. She beat me, kicked me, and refused to let me go to the hospital. By the time I finally got treatment, it was too late. My left eyeball had to be removed. I became a one-eyed woman. When I demanded she be held accountable, she was brazen. “I have bad eyesight! And you two were walking so close. Even if you’re siblings, you should know better.” She’d turned on me. “You only lost one eye. Are you going to ruin your brother’s entire life over it? What a cruel sister you are.” I was so furious I could have spit blood. I pulled out my phone to call the police, but my mother snatched it away and slapped me across the face. “You troublemaker! You only lost one eye, not both! Do you have to see your brother miserable to be happy?!” Losing an eye made me disabled. I lost a promotion at work. My boss, under the guise of “accommodating” me, moved me to a dead-end position where I did nothing but fetch coffee all day. Then, one day, Lilian came home from work and found only Mark there. She heard the sound of a shower running. She immediately assumed he’d brought a mistress home. She stormed into the kitchen, boiled a kettle of water, kicked open the bathroom door, and threw it at the figure inside without even looking. My skin peeled away from my body. She just cackled. “That’s what you get, you slut! Burn! Burn!” When the steam cleared and she saw it was me, she feigned shock. “What—it’s you, sis? Why are you showering in the middle of the day? Are you trying to seduce my husband?!” Pain was everywhere. I didn’t even care that I was naked. I ran out of the bathroom and called for an ambulance. I had third-degree burns all over my body and needed skin grafts. But Mark and my mother took all my savings and told the doctors, “We’re refusing treatment. Just let her die.” As I lay dying from a systemic infection, Lilian stood over my bed, looking down at me with contempt. “In your next life, stay away from other people’s husbands. Or you won’t even know how you died.” I died in agony. And even then, that despicable pair didn’t stop. At my funeral, they slandered my name, claiming I’d tried to seduce my own brother and that my death was divine retribution. My life was pain. My death brought no peace. Thank god for this second chance. This house was full of monsters, and this time, I wouldn’t spare a single one. 3 Mark called me on the way to the hospital, telling me to meet them there. When I arrived, the doctor was examining my mother. Lilian looked me up and down. “And you are?” In this life, I’d deliberately kept my distance from this toxic pair, giving her no reason to attack me. I smiled. “You must be Lilian. I’m Mark’s sister, Sarah. You two make a perfect couple.” My friendly tone disarmed her, and she said nothing more. Back at the mall, she had put her entire strength into that punch, as if trying to kill my mother. My mother’s eyeball had ruptured on impact, blood streaming from the corner of her eye. The doctor sighed. “The eyeball has to be removed. As soon as possible.” My mother gasped at the news, her one good eye rolling back in her head as she started to faint. I quickly stepped forward to support her. “Oh, my poor mother! Who did this to you? How will you live as a one-eyed woman?!” My wailing reminded my mother that she hadn’t yet dealt with the culprit. She lunged at Lilian, grabbing her hair and shaking her back and forth, slapping her repeatedly with her free hand. “You bitch! Give me back my eye! Give it back!” Lilian was a bully who only picked on the weak. A sneak attack was one thing, but in a real fight, she was no match for my mother. She was getting pummeled, screaming for Mark to save her. Mark didn’t know who to help, so he just tried to pull them apart. “Son, you have to break up with this little tramp! We can’t have this kind of woman in our family!” Lilian, her face tear-streaked, clung to Mark’s arm. “Honey, I know I was wrong! I only lost my mind because I love you so much!” She then looked at my mother. “Ma’am, I’ve decided to marry into your family to atone for what I’ve done. I’ll be your daughter-in-law. I’ll take care of you. I’ll be your eyes.” A flicker of satisfaction crossed Mark’s face. He was clearly pleased with this outcome. My mother, however, was not. “A shrew like you? Our family wouldn’t dare! Get out! I don’t want to see you!” she shrieked at Lilian. Then she turned to Mark. “If you stay with this woman, you can forget you have a mother!” Seeing them at a stalemate, I stepped in to mediate, ushering the couple outside the room. “Look,” I sighed, “Mom’s furious right now. She won’t listen to anything. You two wait out here for a bit. I’ll try to talk to her.” Lilian, still smarting from the beating, plopped down on a chair without a word. Mark immediately went to comfort her. Once they were gone, I went back into the room. Lilian had to marry into our family. The suffering I endured in my past life… this whole family needed a taste of it. I sat down beside my mother. “Mom, calm down. Don’t let this ruin your health. We can’t change what’s happened, so let’s think about the future.” Still fuming, she glared at me. “What are you getting at?” A little while later, I called the two of them back in. “I agree to let you marry my son,” my mother said to Lilian.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393082”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The holiday rush was about to begin. Across the city, businesses were shutting down, sending their employees home for a well-deserved break. Not me. I wasn’t giving my crew a single day off. And I sure as hell wasn’t paying them. The workers, a rugged bunch of construction hands, had unfurled a banner and were now picketing below my office building. Their cries were raw, desperate. “Mr. Blackwood! Just pay us what you owe! Our wives and kids are counting on this money to live!” “Please, Mr. Blackwood! We don’t even have to go home for Christmas, just give us our wages! My son’s tuition is due! My family hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks!” I stood there, impeccably dressed in a bespoke designer suit, dangling the keys to my Mercedes from one hand and pinching my nose with the other, my face a mask of annoyance. “Wages? You want your wages? Is the job even finished? I should be charging you for the delays, and you have the nerve to ask me for money?” … My words were like a lit match to gasoline. The protest exploded. An old man, his face a roadmap of wrinkles, dropped to his knees right there on the pavement, his sobs tearing through the cold air. “Mr. Blackwood! We’re not educated men! We took this job because you paid well. My wife… she’s real sick. If I don’t pay the hospital, they’re gonna stop treating her… she’s gonna die!” Others chimed in, their voices a chorus of desperation. “He’s right, sir. We’re all in a tight spot. To a man like you, our pay is nothing, but without it, we’ll be out on the streets!” Sobbing, the old man began to crawl forward on his knees, reaching a grimy hand for the leg of my trousers. I sidestepped him with a look of pure disgust, my brow furrowed. “Did you wash your hands before trying to touch me? This suit is worth fifty grand. You think you can afford to replace it?” The old man froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. He rubbed his palms together nervously and hung his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, don’t mind an old fool like me. I’m begging you, just pay us our wages. Save my wife!” “If you pay us now, I’ll stay. I won’t go home for Christmas. I’ll keep working for you, I swear. Please, Mr. Blackwood, please!” With that, he began to slam his forehead against the concrete. Thump. Thump. Thump. A raw, red patch was already forming on his skin. I rolled my eyes, my voice dripping with scorn. “What do I care if your wife lives or dies? She’s not my wife. Don’t try to lay your guilt trip on me.” “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: the project isn’t finished, and you’re not getting a single dime until it is!” The old man’s spine seemed to collapse. He crumpled to the ground, his body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs. The other workers stared, their faces a mixture of sorrow and burning resentment. A few looked so enraged they seemed on the verge of fainting. A crowd of onlookers had gathered, their eyes filled with a hatred so intense it felt like they wanted to tear me apart with their bare hands. “Julian Blackwood! What kind of monster are you? Everyone knows how long a project like this takes! How dare you withhold their money and keep them from their families at Christmas? That’s their blood and sweat you’re holding hostage!” A man in a sharp black suit pushed through the crowd, glaring at me. I recognized him instantly. Leo Vance. A slimy middleman for construction contracts. He was the one who’d recommended this crew of troublemakers in the first place. “Leo, if you’re so concerned, why don’t you front them the cash?” I said with a lazy shrug. “I’ll pay you back when the job’s done. Right now, I’m a little short.” Leo’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. He looked at me as if I were something he’d scraped off his shoe. “You’re short on cash? Don’t make me laugh! You just posted pictures of your new private jet on Instagram yesterday! Weren’t you about to take your girlfriend on a little trip to the Maldives?” “You could pay their wages ten times over with a fraction of that money!” The crowd roared in agreement. “What a scumbag! I can’t stand parasites like him. Someone put this guy on blast! He should be hung from a lamppost!” Leo helped the old man to his feet. “Sir, don’t you kneel to him. We kneel to God, we honor our ancestors, but we don’t kneel to a heartless leech like this!” “I’m seeing this through today,” Leo declared to the crowd. “I’m not going home until you get what you’re owed!” A wave of cheers went up. “Now there’s a man with a conscience!” “Expose this Julian Blackwood! Let’s see who’ll work with him after this! Ruin him!” The old man bowed gratefully to Leo, but when he looked back at me, his voice was still timid. “Thank you, Mr. Vance, you’re a good man. You got us this job, and now you’re helping us get paid… Mr. Blackwood, we’re honest folk. If you just pay us today, we’ll stay and finish the work. We promise!” The other workers echoed his plea. “Yeah! The job’s halfway done! We’ll see it through to the end!” All eyes were on me. I, however, was busy browsing charters for a luxury yacht in the Maldives and was getting irritated by the interruption. “Look what you’ve done! The yacht I wanted is sold out now! You’ve completely ruined my vacation mood!” “You’re all acting like it’s the end of the world over a little bit of cash. I told you, you’ll get paid when the job is done! If I pay you now, who’s going to cover my losses?” A collective gasp went through the crowd, their chests heaving in disbelief at my audacity. Leo couldn’t take it anymore. He lunged forward, grabbing my tie and pulling his fist back. “Blackwood! I’m asking you one last time. Are you going to pay these men or not?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “And what if I don’t? Are they going to drop dead? Maybe you should all take a look in the mirror instead of blaming me for your problems!” “And you,” I sneered at Leo. “You want to hit me? That’s assault. I’m calling the cops!” That was the last straw for some of the workers up front. They spat at me, one after another. “You goddamn Scrooge! We worked day and night for you, rain or shine!” “You pushed us to work faster and faster, and what did you give us? Watery soup and bread for lunch, barely a scrap of meat! But we didn’t complain! We took the job, and we were determined to do it right!” “Some of the guys aggravated old injuries working for you, but they bit their tongues and kept at it! And now you won’t even pay us what we’ve earned?” The man’s voice cracked, thick with unshed tears. The onlookers were filming everything, a sea of dozens of smartphones pointed directly at me. “What a soulless bastard! Let’s make this go viral! This guy shouldn’t be allowed to leave this building until he pays up!” “I’ve already called the union and the Department of Labor! They’re on their way! Don’t let this parasite get away!” Faced with the mounting pressure, I remained as calm as ever. “A few of you just spat on my shoes. That’s going to cost you, say, ten grand for cleaning and damages. Pay up, and then we’ll talk.” “And you mentioned old injuries? Are you trying to scam me for worker’s comp? You’re all a bunch of scheming crooks. Good thing I saw this coming. You’re not getting a cent!” “You son of a…” Leo’s fist connected with my face. The world exploded in a flash of light as my glasses shattered, my vision blurring. The crowd cheered. “Yeah! That’s what he deserves! Give the scumbag what’s coming to him!” I clutched my eye, pointing a shaky finger at him. “You hit me! You’re paying for my pain and suffering! You’re not leaving here until you do!” Leo shook his wrist, his expression dark. “Fine. I’ll keep hitting you until you agree to pay their wages. Then we can talk about my compensation for having to deal with you.” He bit out each word. “Julian, just pay them! Forget the Maldives! I don’t want to go! I won’t be able to sleep at night if you don’t pay them!” A slender figure came running down from the building entrance. She was moving so fast in her high heels that she nearly stumbled. It was my girlfriend, Lyla. Also, my company’s CFO. Lyla threw herself in front of me, bowing deeply to the workers, apologizing over and over. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Julian has been under a lot of stress lately. He’s just confused. I promise, you will all be paid.” After humbling herself, she turned to me, her face streaked with tears. “Julian, you’ve made so much money. Isn’t it enough? This is their livelihood. Don’t do this!” “We don’t have to go to the Maldives, okay? And you don’t have to pay for the wedding, I don’t need it. Just… consider that money spent, and pay these men what they’re owed!” My eyes roamed over her. She had a fiery body and an innocent face, a combination that was even more heart-wrenching when she cried. She was my type, through and through. And now she was offering to forgo the wedding fund? That would save me a pretty penny. “It’s a thought, but…” I paused. “Your wedding fund won’t even cover their wages. Why don’t you use your dowry to pay them instead?” No one could believe I could be so utterly shameless. Lyla’s face went white. She swayed on her feet. Leo stepped in, pulling her behind him as he spat at me. “Have you no shame? What kind of man withholds wages and then asks his fiancée to bail him out with her own inheritance?” I shrugged. “I told you, the project isn’t done, so no pay. She’s the one who wants to pay them, so she can use her own money. Seems fair to me.” “But just so we’re clear,” I added, “if you pay them now, you still owe me the full dowry later. I’m not marrying a woman who throws her money away.” A bitter, broken laugh escaped Lyla’s lips, as if it took the last of her strength. “Fine. I’ll use my dowry.” “Christmas is almost here. These men have families waiting for this money. What does my inheritance matter compared to that?” There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd. They were all moved by Lyla’s sacrifice, and their hatred for me deepened. “I think I’m gonna be sick. How did a monster like Julian land such an amazing woman? Did he save her life in a past existence?” “Lyla doesn’t have that much money, does she? If she gives it all away, how is she going to live? God, I wish that bastard would just drop dead!” The workers themselves were shaking their heads, tears in their eyes. “No, no, miss. We can’t take your money. We didn’t work for you.” “It was you who paid out of your own pocket to get us better food when the lunch catering was bad. We could never take your money.” But Lyla was resolute, shaking her head and trying to calm them with a soft voice. For a moment, I was lost in a memory. Starting the company had been hard. In the beginning, it was just me and Lyla. She was with me every step of the way as we grew, handling logistics, procurement, secretarial duties, finances… she did the work of four people. At one point, the stress landed her in the ICU. She had given me the best years of her life. She was just like this back then. Stubborn and determined. She’d said, “Julian, everything will be okay. Our company will grow, and we’ll help a lot of people make a good living.” I held her in my arms back then and swore I would give her the grandest wedding, that we would build our dream together. But things change. People change. I hardened my heart and looked away. Leo’s eyes were red with fury. “Julian, are you even a man? Hiding behind your fiancée’s inheritance? Pathetic!” I chuckled, my tone turning suggestive. “Whether I’m a man or not… my fiancée knows the answer to that quite well. As for her inheritance… we’re family. What’s mine is hers, what’s hers is mine.” My words made Leo laugh, a harsh, grating sound. “You twist everything! It’s disgusting! Lyla, aren’t you the CFO of his company? Since he won’t pay, you transfer the money from the company account. He just said it himself—you’re family, there’s no ‘yours’ or ‘mine’!” A spark of realization lit up the crowd. “That’s right! Take it from his company account! Why should you have to use your own money?” Lyla wiped her tears, her gaze filled with sorrow as she looked at me. “Julian, I don’t want to touch the company’s money… but I can’t stand by and watch you make this terrible mistake!” “These people have families to feed! This is all they have! With or without your approval, I’m going to make sure they get paid!” Her voice was soft, but it rang with unshakeable conviction. The crowd burst into applause. “Now that’s a real boss! How did this company end up with that scumbag Julian instead of her?” I just smiled faintly, making no move to stop her. Lyla, spurred on by the crowd’s encouragement, opened the company’s banking app to initiate the transfers. But as she scanned the first worker’s payment code, her eyes widened in disbelief. “Why is there no money in the account? The company’s been doing so well! And… the account is frozen!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393081”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day I went into labor, the pain was unbearable, but I stopped the handmaiden from fetching my mother. “Don’t call her… Get the physician…” In my past life, my husband was at war, and my mother stayed with me during the difficult birth—missing my sister’s nameday. In her rage, my sister ran away, only to be captured, violated, and murdered. My mother retrieved her body with eerie calm, praising my newborn daughter instead. But at my daughter’s first-year feast, she poisoned us all. As I held my dying family, she hissed: “Every woman suffers childbirth. Are you special? If not for you, my Camila would be alive! You all deserve to die!” Now, reborn, I kept my mother away. This time, she’d attend my sister’s celebration. Just as relief flickered, agony tore through me—the midwife was forcing the half-born child back inside. … Wave after wave of agony crashed over me, and I couldn’t stifle my screams. The midwife wrenched my legs apart, her voice a harsh bark. “Push! Push! Haven’t you eaten? Push, I said!” But the baby wouldn’t budge. My handmaiden, Clara, knelt by the bed, gripping my hand, her voice choked with tears. “My lady… just hold on a little longer. I’ll send for your mother right now…” She started to run, but the midwife snatched her back, her forehead cracking against the bedframe. “Today is Lady Camila’s nameday! The mistress is with her. No one is to disturb them!” The midwife turned her scowl on me. “Just one more good push, my lady, and the babe will be born. Every woman goes through this. It’s a small matter. Must you trouble the mistress over nothing? Can’t you be more considerate?” The blinding pain and the midwife’s venomous tone were a brutal confirmation: I had been reborn. It was exactly the same as before. I was dying in childbirth. My husband, Lord Alistair, was far away, quelling rebellions in the borderlands. Fearing I would be lonely in our great house, he had asked my mother to stay with me. In my first life, Clara had wept hysterically, wanting to fetch my mother, only to be blocked by this very midwife, who insisted such a trivial thing as childbirth shouldn’t interrupt my mother’s time with my sister. Back then, I had pulled rank, invoking my title as the Marchioness, and forced Clara to bring my mother. But this time, I didn’t want my mother anywhere near me. Fighting through the pain, I pushed myself up. “Get… Physician Graham,” I gasped to Clara. Physician Graham was the man my husband had explicitly arranged to deliver our child before he left the capital. It was my mother who had insisted on using her own midwife, old Martha, claiming her experience was unmatched. It was a mistake I wouldn’t make twice. A flicker of panic crossed the midwife’s face. Before I could say more, she shoved me back down onto the bed, her hands pressing hard on my shoulders. She kicked Clara away as my loyal handmaiden tried to help me. “Physician Graham? What for? Every noble lady gives birth this way! What danger could there be? You’re just making a fuss!” the midwife spat. “Can’t even deliver a child, just causing trouble. What if word of this gets back to the Marquess? What if the Baron blames his wife and Lady Camila for this mess?” “Get back here! No one leaves this room today!” Clara crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach in pain. Suddenly, two burly guards stormed in from outside and pinned her down, stopping her struggles. Only then did I realize the courtyard was filled with grim-faced men-at-arms. They hadn’t been there in my first life. With Clara subdued, the guards formed a human wall at the door. The midwife pried my legs apart again and gave the baby a violent tug. Blood instantly soaked the bedsheets. A tearing sensation, worse than anything I had ever imagined, consumed me. I screamed, but I was too weak to fight back. The midwife washed the blood from her hands with a look of revulsion. “Don’t waste your energy,” she snarled. “The mistress gave specific orders today. No matter what happens to you, she is not to be disturbed during Lady Camila’s celebration.” Her words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, chilling me to the bone. So, my mother had been reborn, too. This time, she knew I would be on the brink of death, yet she had chosen to abandon me without a second thought. In my first life, my mother had been with me. The midwife, though she disliked me, hadn’t dared to be so reckless. I had given birth to a healthy daughter, and we were both safe. But Camila, furious that our mother had missed her nameday, ran away and met her horrific end. My mother, consumed by guilt, buried Camila with all the honors befitting a Baron’s daughter. After the birth, she locked herself in Camila’s room for three days, refusing all food and drink. When she emerged, her face was a calm, placid mask. She would hold my daughter and tell everyone what a beauty she was, how much she looked like me. She even embroidered a pair of tiny shoes with protective sigils, saying they would keep my daughter safe and healthy. Then came the first-year ceremony. She poisoned the feast. The entire hall of guests perished. With my last breath, I tried to call for a physician for my daughter, but my mother snatched the child from my arms and smashed her against the stone floor. My husband, Alistair, tried to shield me and was cut down by her frenzied knife strikes. The poison spread through my veins, the agony stealing my voice. All I could do was watch as my husband’s bloody body collapsed on top of me. She grabbed me by the hair, dragging me before Camila’s memorial portrait, and slammed my head against the floor again and again. “If it weren’t for you, how could my Camila have died?” she shrieked. “You already stole her husband! Why couldn’t you just leave her alone? You must have been jealous! You had her killed, didn’t you!” No… I didn’t… It was Camila who had refused the marriage, forcing me to take her place and wed Alistair, the formidable Marquess of the North, a man rumored to be a ruthless killer. The metallic tang of blood filled my throat. I couldn’t speak, only shake my head desperately, tears streaming down my face. From the day I was born, my mother had sent me to be raised on a remote country estate. I was only brought back three years ago, for one purpose: to marry the man my sister feared. My mother always said, “You’re the older sister. You must give way to Camila.” Anything Camila wanted, if I had it, I gave it to her without a fight. Just days before I went into labor, I had even written to my husband, asking him to bring Camila a gown in the latest fashion when he returned. I didn’t know she would be taken by bandits. I was just so scared. I was losing so much blood, the pain was unbearable, and I was terrified I would die. Terrified I would never see the man I loved again. But no matter how hard I shook my head, my mother refused to believe me. “Camila died because of you. Now, all of you will join her in hell!” The pain consumed my consciousness, and with it, the last shred of hope I had for her love. But this was a new life, and I would not die here. The blood kept flowing, my eyelids growing heavy. Suddenly, I saw a familiar figure flash past the window. I gathered all my strength and screamed. “Physician Graham—!” My voice was ragged, but he heard it. He stopped, turning to look. The midwife scrambled across the room and slammed the window shut with a loud bang. She rushed back to me, stuffing a wet cloth into my mouth, her voice a low, vicious hiss. “Shut up! I told you to shut up!” Then she called out to the person outside. “Physician Graham, it’s just the usual noises of childbirth. Pay it no mind.” The physician hesitated for a moment. “Very well,” he said. “But if her ladyship needs anything, do not hesitate to call me.” He started to walk away. Clara, still held by the guards, screamed. “Physician Gra—” Before she could finish, the midwife slapped her across the face, hard. “You shut up too! The both of you, nothing but bad omens, always troubling the mistress!” A hand was clamped over Clara’s mouth, silencing her. Through the window, I watched Physician Graham’s figure recede into the distance. My heart sank with each step he took. Clara was dragged out of the room. I was left alone with Martha the midwife and the assistants she had brought with her. The bleeding worsened, but the pain began to dull, a terrifying numbness spreading through me. There was still no sign of the baby. My consciousness faded in and out. I was drowning in despair, unable to breathe. The midwife was ordering the assistants to change the bloody water, her curses unrelenting. “Such a nuisance! Who gives birth like you? I told you to push, are you deaf?” “Just get this baby out! I have to get back to serve Lady Camila at her celebration!” I couldn’t make a sound. Just as I thought I was going to die, a steady, authoritative voice came from outside. “What is the situation in there? Why are you all blocking the door?” My brother? A surge of hope filled me, but the midwife had gagged me and tied my wrists to the bedposts. Hearing my brother’s voice, the midwife glanced at the blood-soaked floor, her expression changing. “This late, and still no baby?” she muttered. “And all this blood… No, the young lord can’t see this. I’ll be ruined!” “That’s it! Push it back in! I have to push the baby back in!” She chanted under her breath, ordering an assistant to press on my stomach while she tried to force the baby’s head back into my womb. The pain was beyond words. I thrashed, slamming my elbows against the wooden headboard, praying my brother would hear and save me. The next moment, his cold, sharp voice cut through the air. “Are you going to move, or not?” “My sister is in labor! It’s been hours, and there’s been no word! Get out of my way! Whoever is in there, if you can’t handle this, get out and let Physician Graham in!” Since I had returned to my family’s home, my brother, Lord Tristan, was the only one who had ever shown me any kindness. The midwife suddenly stood up, hastily washing her bloody hands. She instructed the assistants holding me down, “Keep her still! Don’t let the young lord see anything! Get that baby back inside. I’ll handle him.” She left the room. The assistants she had tasked with her gruesome work knelt down, trembling, and continued their horrific efforts. Outside, I heard the midwife’s groveling voice. “My lord, it’s not that I won’t let the physician in. But he is a man. Where in the entire capital has a man ever delivered a noble lady’s child? What would become of her ladyship’s reputation?” “Childbirth is a swift affair. I understand you’re worried, my lord, but the baby will be here soon. I will ensure both mother and child are safe. You and the physician should go.” My brother’s voice was like ice. “I’ll give you one hour. If the child is not born in one hour, it will be your head.” A short while later, the door creaked open and then shut again. The midwife returned, a smug look on her face. She glanced down at me with disgust. An assistant looked at her worriedly. “Martha, what do we do? If the young lord finds out, he’ll have us all killed!” “What are you panicking for?” she snapped, kicking the girl. She turned back to me, her eyes glinting with malice, her voice a low whisper. “In that case, only the dead can keep secrets. Women die in childbirth all the time. As long as the baby is born, who cares if the mother lives or dies?” My heart plummeted into an abyss of terror. I couldn’t move my arms, so I kicked my feet against the bedframe with all my might. The midwife immediately pinned my legs down and gave the wavering assistant a sharp look. The girl was still hesitant. “But Martha… she’s the Marchioness…” “And you know she’s the Marchioness!” the midwife spat in her face. “If word of what happened today gets back to the Marquess, all of us will be executed, our families along with us! Even the Baron and his lady will be implicated!” The mention of Alistair’s ruthless reputation seemed to do the trick. The assistant’s face hardened with resolve. They converged on me. Some held my arms, while another pressed a cloth over my nose and mouth. I struggled wildly, trying to make any sound I could. My brother’s voice came from outside again. He was trying to force his way in, but the guards were blocking him. After a moment of confrontation, his voice rang out, cold and clear. “If I am not permitted to be present for my sister’s labor, then go and fetch my mother.” “What are you waiting for? Go and get her!” The midwife panicked. She let go of me and rushed outside, shouting, “No, my lord, you can’t! You can’t get the mistress!” “Today is Lady Camila’s nameday! The mistress said no one was to…” “Insolence!” My brother’s voice was a whip-crack, followed by the sharp sound of a slap. He must have struck the midwife. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? I call you Martha out of respect for your years of service to my mother, but you dare to put on airs with me?” Through a crack in the door, I saw the midwife kneeling on the ground, clutching her face, trembling. My brother ordered his attendant to fetch our mother. Physician Graham paced anxiously nearby, casting worried glances toward my room. No… don’t get her… I struggled, reaching out a hand, trying to stop him. I didn’t want my mother. I just wanted the physician. I just wanted to live. But my voice was too weak.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393080”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was New Year’s Eve. Maxwell Kane came downstairs, dressed impeccably. I was putting up festive decorations on the windows. He walked over to me. “I won’t be home for the New Year. Will you be alright on your own?” Before I could ask why, he delivered the blow. “She’s pregnant. The baby’s mine. I have to be with her.” My hand trembled. What I was holding slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. “Why tell me now, of all times?” His silence was the only answer I needed. Our marriage was over. My voice was a raw, broken thing. “Maxwell, let’s get a divorce.” “Ava, haven’t I been good to you? Why would you want a divorce?” 1 Even the calmest, most rational person would shatter hearing those words. I snatched the heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at him. “Why!” “Why?!” “Maxwell, you’re with another woman, and you have the audacity to ask me why?” “Don’t you hear how ridiculous you sound?” Maxwell didn’t flinch. Glass sprayed across the floor. A dark bruise instantly blossomed on his forehead. It wasn’t enough. I threw books, magazines, anything I could get my hands on, pelting him with the debris of our life together. Maxwell stood there, still as a statue, not even a flicker of pain in his eyes. Finally, I smashed my favorite vase—the one holding the flowers I’d picked from the garden just this morning. Maxwell had always been a cold man. Before we married, this house was a sterile monument to minimalist design, all cool tones and sharp edges. It had no soul. Every week, I’d buy flowers to breathe some warmth into the space. After we married, I hired a designer, hand-picked every piece of furniture, every small object, to turn this house into a home. Our home. And now, I had destroyed it with my own hands. The wreckage mirrored the ruin inside me. Maxwell just watched me, his eyes strange, as if he were observing a madwoman. When I had nothing left to throw, I sank to the floor, covering my face, and sobbed. He walked over and stood above me. After a long moment, he lifted me from the floor, cleared a space on the sofa, and gently set me down. He knelt before me, a flicker of what looked like pain in his own eyes. He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Ava, don’t do this… It hurts me to see you like this.” 2 I saw my reflection in his eyes—a tear-stained, pathetic mess. I froze. How had it come to this? I wiped my cheeks, trying to gather the scattered pieces of my composure. “Do you remember what you promised me?” I whispered. “You said we’d be together forever. Through thick and thin. Grow old together.” But Maxwell, we’ve only been married three years. And you’ve already betrayed me. You’ve betrayed our marriage. “How long have you been with her?” His gaze darted away, unable to meet mine. “Almost a year.” A whole year? They’d known each other that long? I dug my nails into my palm, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Why choose now to tell me? Why not just keep lying?” Maxwell sat down beside me in silence, pulling out a lighter and a cigarette. The smoke hazed the sharp lines of his face. “I didn’t want to lie to you.” I didn’t want to lie to you. What a noble, hollow sentiment. If he didn’t love me anymore, he could have just told me. We could have divorced. I’m not the kind of woman who clings. But he chose to cheat. “She’s young,” he said, his voice distant. “In her early twenties. So full of life. She’s not like you, Ava. She accepts the gifts I buy her, the money I give her. She’s clingy, affectionate.” As he spoke, a light I hadn’t seen in years ignited in his eyes, only to dim when he looked back at me. “But you… you’re none of those things, Ava. With you, everything feels… muted.” “I’m your husband. I’m supposed to be the closest person to you.” But Maxwell, this is who I am. Quiet. Reserved. My childhood, my family—it made me this way. I don’t know how to be overly affectionate. I don’t like to be a burden. I keep a careful ledger, even with the people I love most. I was trying to change. I was learning to lean on him. But where was he when I needed him? When I was lying in a hospital bed after the car crash, calling his phone over and over? “Every Monday, you make lasagna. Every Wednesday, it’s roast chicken. I’m tired of it, Ava. I’m so tired of this bland, predictable life.” I didn’t understand. The table was always full of dishes. Only one or two were my favorites; the rest were his. Why was he fixating on those two? “You’re like… plain porridge, Ava,” he said, the words twisting like a knife. “Nourishing, but tasteless. A shame to throw away. But she… she’s like candy. Sweet, addictive. I can’t get enough of her.” A small, fond smile touched his lips. “She’s so bold. She dragged me to an amusement park and insisted we go into the haunted house first. She stood there with her hands on her hips, claiming she wasn’t scared. The second we were inside, she was so terrified she leaped into my arms and wouldn’t let go.” “Her heart was pounding so fast against my chest. Thump, thump, thump. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her face flushed, and she kissed me. I should have pushed her away. But I didn’t…” “Stop it!” The pain was a numb, crushing weight. I couldn’t breathe. “Ava…” “Maxwell, I’m begging you. Please, just stop.” 3 The living room fell into a dead silence. Maxwell’s phone rang. He pulled it out, glanced at me, and answered it without a hint of shame. A young, sweet voice chirped from the speaker. “I’m hungry. When are you coming back?” “Hungry?” As Maxwell looked at me, I shot to my feet, my mind racing, frantically searching for something. “Mmm-hmm. Me and the baby are both hungry.” “I’ll be right there to feed you both.” A chill went through my entire body. I pressed my hands to my head, trying to think. What was I looking for? My phone. Yes, my phone. What if there was an important work message I’d missed? What if I’d missed an important call? “Be good now, baby. I’ll be there soon.” “I love you, hubby! Mwah!” I tried desperately to block out the sound, wishing I were deaf. But I wasn’t. Maxwell’s light, cheerful voice washed over me like a toxic wave. Only the sting of blood in my palm, where my nails had broken the skin, brought me back to myself. Maxwell had ended the call at some point and was now standing behind me. “She’s getting impatient. I should go.” “I’ll explain everything to my parents. If you don’t want to go to the family dinner tomorrow, you can stay here.” He paused. “Do you want me to call the housekeeper to stay with you over the holiday?” “No, that’s probably not a good idea. It’s New Year’s Eve. She should be with her family.” He spoke as if he were thinking aloud. So he did know it was New Year’s Eve. A time for family. What did that make me? A stranger? Someone completely irrelevant? I picked up the electric kettle and poured myself a glass of hot water. The warmth spreading down my throat did little to dispel the icy cold that had taken root in my soul. “Maxwell. Let’s get a divorce.” At the entryway, Maxwell paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I promised I would take care of you for the rest of your life, Ava. If you want, you can always be Mrs. Kane. We can go on just like before.” “And her?” “I’ll buy her a house. Settle her somewhere else. I won’t let her bother you.” 4 Maxwell left. I was alone in the wreckage of our living room. Before he walked out the door, he had come back to wipe away my tears. And with the same lips that had kissed me a thousand times, he’d said the words that broke me. “Ava, just be good. She won’t try to take anything from you.” I walked numbly up the stairs and into our bedroom. I stared at our wedding photo. The girl in the picture was smiling, her face a portrait of pure happiness. I turned and went into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The woman in the mirror was a disaster. Red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks. I slowly raised my hand. Ava, this isn’t you. The cold water was a shock. I told myself not to be sad. But how could I not be sad after so many years? I collapsed onto the bed, wishing it had all been a nightmare. But when I woke up, the memories were still there, sharp and vivid, a cruel reminder that it was all real. My phone vibrated. It was Maxwell’s mother. I ignored it, staring blankly at my laptop screen. A few moments later, it rang again. I hesitated, then answered. “Ava, darling, it’s New Year’s Eve. You and Maxwell, remember to come home early.” I held the phone, unsure how to respond. “Ava?” “Maxwell… did he not tell you anything?” “What’s wrong? Did you two have a fight? That boy isn’t even answering his phone.” “It’s nothing.” “Well, as long as everything’s alright. Just remember to come home early with Maxwell.” 5 Some things couldn’t be said over the phone. It was better to talk in person. But before I went to the Kane estate, I had to stop at a print shop. The usually bustling streets were eerily quiet for the holiday. I tried several shops, but they were all closed. The bitter wind whipped around me, and I pulled my coat tighter. Just as I was about to give up, I saw a small copy shop with its lights still on. Maybe, I thought, my luck wasn’t so bad after all. The owner asked what I needed to print, if I needed help. I managed a polite smile. “No, thank you.” He paused, probably wondering who on earth would be printing a divorce agreement on New Year’s Eve. He quickly bound the documents and handed them to me. “Happy New Year,” he said. My hand froze as I was about to pay. He was the first person to wish me a Happy New Year today. Not my family. Not even Maxwell. A sudden sting filled my eyes. “Happy New Year to you, too.” Outside the shop, I took a deep breath, tucked the documents into my bag, and called Maxwell. “Are you going to your parents’?” “He’s in the shower right now and can’t take your call,” a woman’s voice answered. “Is there a message I can pass along, Ms. Cole?” It wasn’t Maxwell. It was his little mistress. Her words were dripping with provocation. “Please inform Maxwell that his mother wants him to come home.” 6 When I arrived at the Kane estate, Maxwell’s mother was in the kitchen, preparing for dinner. I walked in with the gifts I’d brought. “Ava, dear, why are you alone? Where is that boy?” Faced with their questions, I was at a loss for words. “Maxwell is busy. He’ll be here later.” “So busy on New Year’s Eve? I told him to come home early.” His father grumbled. “I’m going to call him and see what’s so important.” I didn’t try to stop him. I didn’t care. I went into the kitchen to help. Maxwell’s parents had always been kind to me. It was a holiday. I didn’t want to ruin it for everyone. I decided I would talk about my situation with Maxwell another day. We worked all afternoon, but there was still no sign of Maxwell. As dusk fell, we had just sat down to eat when he finally arrived. But he wasn’t alone. “Mom, Dad, I’m home.” Maxwell held a gift in one hand. With the other, he was holding a young woman’s hand. He probably thought I had already told his parents everything. Just then, fireworks exploded outside the window, their colorful bursts lighting up the night sky. It felt like they were celebrating Maxwell and his new love. When the sound of the fireworks died down, Maxwell’s parents exchanged a look. They could see something was wrong. “What time is it? Do you know you’re supposed to be here?” his mother said, her eyes sweeping over the girl by his side. “And on such an important day, why would you bring a stranger home?” The girl seemed frightened and instinctively leaned closer to Maxwell. Maxwell frowned at me, as if he wished I weren’t there. A few seconds later, he smiled and held up their intertwined hands. “Mom, Dad, she’s not a stranger.” “Her name is Chloe. We’re together.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393079”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On the day of my son Murphy’s engagement party, I was the one paying for everything, the one who had organized every last detail. Yet when the time came for speeches, Murphy stood before the guests, beaming, with his arm around his future mother-in-law. “Mrs. Ingram is not just my fiancée’s mother,” he announced to the world. “She’s the woman I’ve always wished I could call ‘Mom.’” When it was my turn, Murphy’s tone soured. “And this is my mother,” he said with a dismissive wave. “No real talents to speak of. She’s a community organizer from our small town, an expert in… pig farming.” As I moved to take the stage for my scheduled speech, Murphy blocked my path. “You raise pigs for a living. What do you know about giving a speech? These are respectable people I’ve recently met. I’d rather not be embarrassed.” His contempt was a physical blow. I kept my voice steady, reminding him, “A son shouldn’t be ashamed of his mother. Don’t forget who I am.” Murphy was unfazed. “If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have been born from you.” In that moment, I gave up on him completely. I vanished from his world. He would search for me everywhere, only to find that I would never look at him again. Catherine Ingram, his fiancée’s mother, was on stage, delivering a long, self-important speech with no intention of stopping. Murphy did nothing to intervene. He paid no mind to me, his own mother, the one he’d just described as “always covered in pig slop.” Instead, his eyes were fixed on his “elegant and sophisticated” future mother-in-law, practically glowing with admiration. I reined in my temper. “She’s already three minutes over her time,” I reminded him. He didn’t even turn around. “You wouldn’t have anything good to say anyway. Just let it go. Let Mom speak.” Let Mom speak? I tried to ignore the sting of him calling another woman “Mom,” and reasoned with him patiently. “I am your mother. This is your engagement party. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t say something.” It was as if he hadn’t heard me. His gaze remained locked on Catherine, filled with a worshipful awe. After a long moment, he finally drawled, “You’re a pig farmer. What do you know about giving a speech? Everyone here today is a respectable person I’ve just gotten to know. I’d rather not be embarrassed.” Embarrassed? Having me as a mother embarrassed him? A knot tightened in my chest. I caught the eye of the event coordinator. “Cut the microphone.” He understood immediately. Silence. Blessed silence. The sudden quiet in the hall registered with Murphy even before it did with Catherine. He spun around and roared at me. “Helen Archer! What do you think you’re doing?” He glared at me as if I were his mortal enemy. “What am I doing?” The disappointment was a chasm opening inside me. I took a breath, my voice turning cold. “I paid for this party. I planned every detail. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to have a chance to speak. And I think we should stick to the agreed-upon schedule.” “What schedule? What do you know about schedules?” he retorted. “You barely finished high school. Could you even string a proper sentence together up there?” He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t had much of an education. I wasn’t worldly. But even if I could barely read, I had built a successful pig farming business from nothing. I had raised him, put him through university, and funded his first startup. When Catherine had kept raising the price of the dowry, making things difficult for him, I was the one who made sure he didn’t lose face. And now? He was ashamed that I raised pigs. Ashamed that I wasn’t “respectable.” I was done pretending. I laid the truth bare. “You and Catherine planned this whole thing, didn’t you?” “You never intended for me to go on that stage.” Murphy said nothing. He just met my gaze, his silence a confession, utterly fearless. In that instant, any desire I had to smooth things over for him vanished. I crushed the speech I had written in my hand. “A son shouldn’t be ashamed of his mother,” I said, my voice heavy. “Don’t forget who I am.” Murphy muttered under his breath, but I heard him clearly. “If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have been born from you.” The look on his face was serious. This wasn’t a tantrum. He meant it. He truly wanted to be rid of me. And so, as he stared at me in confusion, I decided to grant him his wish. I walked steadily to the center of the stage. And announced in a clear, ringing voice, “Today’s engagement ceremony is canceled.” As I began to gather the dowry money from the display table, it was Catherine who reacted first, not Murphy. “Helen, darling, there are so many people here. This really isn’t appropriate.” She smiled, a brittle, false thing, but her eyes were glued to the stacks of cash in my hands. When we had first discussed the engagement, Catherine had been difficult, insisting on a dowry of fifty thousand dollars, plus a suite of expensive jewelry. She wouldn’t budge. Murphy had just started his company. I had given him every penny I had. Before that, I’d bought him a car and sold property to help him. The family savings were completely gone. But when I tried to negotiate with Catherine, Murphy had agreed without a second thought. “Whatever you say,” he had said to her, not even glancing at me. The next morning, he showed up at my farm with a group of men. I hadn’t slept. I was in a daze. Before I could even understand what was happening, they were loading my pigs onto a truck, one by one. It wasn’t until they had taken half of the prize breeding stock I had invested so much in that I snapped back to reality. “Put them down! Put them all down!” I screamed, rushing forward to wrestle my farm’s future from the hands of strangers. I managed to grab one prize piglet, holding it tight in my arms, only for Murphy to rip it away from me himself. “If you don’t want to sell the pigs, fine. But you have twenty-four hours to come up with the dowry money.” His eyes were hard, his expression impatient. I was furious, but I tried to reason with him. “These breeding pigs are the future of this farm. Your mortgage payments depend on the profits from next year’s sales.” Murphy was silent. “When we agreed on the dowry,” I continued, “you didn’t even consult me. But since you agreed, I won’t argue. The simple fact is, we don’t have that kind of money right now. You know how important these pigs are. Why don’t we just postpone the wedding until next year, after the pigs have gone to market…” “Postpone what!” he interrupted, his patience gone. “A man’s word is his bond!” His tone was final, leaving no room for discussion. “I already promised Catherine!” “Besides, Catherine had a psychic do a reading. Our wedding date cannot be moved!” He treated her words as gospel, completely ignoring our financial reality. My heart turned to ice. I tried one last time. “Are you sure about this? Your mortgage payment depends on these pigs.” His expression didn’t change. “Catherine said that after we’re married, she’ll give us the dowry and her daughter’s inheritance. I can use that to pay the mortgage.” His naivete was almost laughable. “After you’re married,” I said with a bitter smile. “Did you not see the message your uncle sent you? I don’t think your Catherine is as simple as you believe.” Mentioning the information my friend Michael had dug up sent another shiver of fear through me. After Catherine had left our house, I’d had a bad feeling. I asked Michael to look into her. What he found was that Catherine was running a pyramid scheme. Her fancy titles and credentials were all things she’d bought for a small price. For years, she had been moving in different circles, building a respectable facade to run her shady dealings. To put it bluntly, she was a con artist. The moment I got the news, I sent it to Murphy. I thought it would be a wake-up call. Instead, it just made him angry with me. I stayed up all night, planning to talk to him in the morning. I never imagined he would think I was just an uncultured hick, making a fuss over nothing. “What do you know?” he’d sneered. “That’s called being savvy! Could you do what she does?” He worshipped her. And he ignored my desperate warnings, showing up at dawn to sell my pigs. In that moment, an immense weariness washed over me. There was nothing more to say. Fine. I had spent my life raising pigs, tied to this small piece of land. I had done it all for Murphy, to give him a better future, to not hold him back. Now, he was throwing it all away himself. In a way, it was a release for me, too. With that thought, I stepped aside and watched coldly as Murphy emptied my farm. The money from the sale was used to fund his and his fiancée, Chloe’s, wedding. It didn’t even cover half of my initial investment. And my farm was finished. The result? I wasn’t even allowed to give a speech at my son’s engagement party. A sour taste filled my mouth, but I spoke to the event coordinator with grim determination. “The money’s been spent, the guests are here. Let’s not waste it. Instead of an engagement party, let’s have a debt settlement ceremony.” The coordinator was stunned. “Ma’am, are you sure?” “I’m sure.” I was surprisingly calm. I met the shocked gazes of the crowd. “Since you’re all here, please do me the favor of witnessing the settlement of debts between myself and my son, Murphy.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393078”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel