I was secretly married to the movie star for five years. His life was a whirlwind of rumored affairs, yet he never once acknowledged me as his wife. On a variety show, when the others asked if I had ever been in a relationship, even he joined in, smiling. “Professor Thorne, I have plenty of reliable men in my circle. Should I introduce you to one?” In my past life, on this very day, I couldn’t contain my anger and flashed my wedding ring. The rising starlet, Celia White, ran out in tears. On the surface, Damien Sterling said nothing, but afterward, he grew colder and colder towards me. When I was rushed to the operating room, hemorrhaging during my pregnancy, he was at a Michelin-star restaurant, celebrating Celia’s birthday. When I begged him for help after being assaulted by thugs Celia had hired, he just watched, his expression detached. It was only then that I understood. In his heart, I was nothing more than a decoration, something to be kept hidden in the shadows. Reborn into this life, I simply smiled. “I have. He’s not in the industry. We’re getting married at the end of the month.” 1 A chorus of gasps rippled through the room. No one had expected me to announce my relationship on a live show. Damien’s face darkened, the cup in his hand deforming under his grip. He started to speak, but Celia, sitting beside him with a radiant smile, beat him to it, her eyes wide. “Wow, Professor Thorne, you’re so secretive! If you hadn’t lost at Truth or Dare, were you planning on hiding this from us forever?” It was a live variety show, and Celia’s words instantly sent a tidal wave through the online chat. 【Sucks to be Joanna Thorne’s fans! Your idol just ditched you for a relationship!】 【Hehe, at least our Celia is focused on her career! So driven! Men, please step aside!】 【??? Why would we feel ditched? Joanna is an actress. She conquers us with her talent. She’s already won every major award. What’s wrong with her being in a relationship? Unlike a certain someone who still hasn’t made a name for herself!】 【Besides, our Joanna has said for years that she’d find someone when the time was right.】 I smiled faintly. “Secretive or not, at least I’m the main event.” In my past life, I had always believed Celia didn’t know about my relationship with Damien, that she was just another victim of his deception. It wasn’t until I was on my deathbed, and she came to flaunt Damien’s affection for her, that I learned she had known from the very beginning. Celia’s expression flickered, but the other guests didn’t notice. They crowded around me, their curiosity piqued. “Joanna, who is he? Do you have a picture for us?” “He’s not in the industry, but to be worthy of our Joanna, I’m so curious!” I smiled. “He’s a bit camera-shy. I’ll introduce you when I get the chance.” The moment the words left my mouth, a derisive snort cut through the air. Celia raised an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with a challenge. “Professor Thorne, don’t tell me he doesn’t actually exist, and you just made him up. After all, you’re not getting any younger. It would be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t have someone special in your life. Don’t you think so, Mr. Sterling?” Celia batted her eyelashes at Damien, sticking out her tongue playfully. I clenched my fists. The next second, I heard Damien’s clipped, cooperative “Mm.” Celia’s smile grew wider. I mocked myself internally. Just a moment ago, I had still been holding onto a sliver of hope. The other guests tried to smooth things over. “Joanna, don’t be upset. Celia is just joking!” “This is Professor Thorne’s private life. We shouldn’t be prying.” I was about to speak when a man’s voice came from the doorway. “Excuse me, is Joanna here? I’ve come to pick her up.” 2 All heads turned. A young man stood in the doorway, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. His black hair was styled in soft curls that swept across his forehead, his brow as sharp as a chiseled ridge, his face fair and strikingly handsome. When our eyes met, I was taken aback for a moment. He smiled at me. “Joanna, work’s over.” The live chat exploded. 【HOLY CRAP, WHO IS THIS GUY?! HE’S SO HOT! Is this Joanna Thorne’s non-celebrity boyfriend?!】 【Damn, I thought Joanna was lying! But her boyfriend is actually here to pick her up!】 I stood up from my chair and gave a small wave to the others. “I’ll be going then.” From the moment I stood up, I could feel a pair of eyes fixed on me. I didn’t look back. Just as I was about to walk out the door, Damien’s cold voice stopped me. “Joanna Thorne!” I paused and turned to him. “Yes, Mr. Sterling?” His face darkened, his eyes pooling with displeasure. Celia’s lips curved into a smile. “It’s my birthday party tonight. Damien is celebrating with me. Are you coming, Professor Thorne?” I glanced at Damien. He said nothing. “No.” I turned away and walked out. “Happy birthday. I have other plans.” 3 The intense gaze on my back didn’t vanish until I had settled into the backseat of the car. I turned to the man beside me and thanked him. “Thank you, Julian.” Julian Ford replied, “Don’t mention it, Professor. I was watching the live stream and just happened to be passing by.” I smiled faintly, not pressing further. He didn’t ask any more questions either, just said, “Where are you headed? I’ll give you a ride.” I gave him my home address. We arrived quickly. Before I got out, Julian took out his phone and gave it a little shake. “Professor, can I get your number?” I hesitated for a moment. He chuckled softly. “Who knows, maybe one day I’ll need your help with something.” Hearing this, I nodded and took out my phone. “Okay.” After exchanging numbers, Julian drove off. I turned and went inside. This house, the one Damien and I had bought before we got married, wasn’t huge, but it was filled with our memories. Back when we had breaks from work, we used to curl up in this house, playing games and binging TV shows. I hadn’t moved after we got married. But now, Damien rarely came home. The moment I stepped inside, my manager’s call came through. “Joanna, check the trending topics! Now!” 4 【Damien Sterling x Celia White, Official Relationship Announcement!】 【What a perfect match!】 I had thought that in this new life, my heart would be as still as water. But the few short lines on the screen still stung my eyes. 【Damien Sterling V: Let me introduce you all to my girlfriend. My one and only. @CeliaWhite】 【Celia White: Here’s to a long future together, always by Mr. Sterling’s side~】 I had been with Damien for five years, married for five years. I had waited ten years for an official announcement. And now, Damien had given it to someone else so easily. My manager, Kate’s, voice continued. “There are rumors online that Celia White is the other woman! This is Damien’s way of defending her! How could he? But Celia is the other woman, isn’t she? You and him have been married for years, and he never…” “Kate.” I cut her off, my voice soft. “When will the visa be ready?” Kate went silent. “You’ve really decided to quit and go abroad?” I nodded. Ten years ago, I had given up my dream for Damien Sterling. Now, I wouldn’t let him ruin my life a second time. 5 Damien and I were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together. My parents died when I was young, and I was a shy, introverted child living under someone else’s roof, constantly bullied by the other kids. Damien would always stand in front of me, protecting me, fighting my battles. Until we were fifteen. His parents’ business went bankrupt, and they took their own lives, leaving him alone with a mountain of debt. He was devastated, on the verge of suicide several times. I was the one who held him, who comforted him. We were each other’s light in the darkness, depending on one another to survive. When we were eighteen, I received an offer from a prestigious university abroad, the school of my dreams. That day, Damien said nothing. He just held my hand, his eyes red, and stood with me all night. After that night, I rejected the acceptance letter and, instead, accepted an offer from a talent scout, entering the entertainment industry. I was going to pay off Damien’s debt. He was still young, with a long road ahead of him. He couldn’t be dragged down by this. But the entertainment industry wasn’t an easy place. I auditioned and acted day and night, taking on any job I could get. I drank at dinner parties until I vomited blood. Finally, in my fifth year, after a hit show, I managed to clear the Sterling family’s debt. People close to me asked if it was worth it. At the time, watching Damien cook for me every day, staying by my side, I felt it was all worth it. But now… A notification on my phone pulled me from my thoughts. It was a call from Damien. I thought for a moment and answered. His voice was cold. “Quite the actress, aren’t you? Hiring other men to put on a show? Trying to make me jealous? You miscalculated. I know how much you love me. I wasn’t provoked at all.” I held the phone, saying nothing. A familiar female voice came through the line. “Damien, come cut the cake with me!” Damien answered, “Coming.” Then, to me, he said, “You know Celia and I have a new show coming out. Once it’s aired, I’ll break up with her. Don’t overthink it. Be good and wait for me at home tonight. I’ll bring you your favorite dish.” 6 My mind drifted back. Damien had entered the entertainment industry after being spotted by a director while visiting me on set. I had immediately refused on his behalf. Damien’s dream was to be a research scientist. If he started acting, his dream would be over. But I never expected Damien to go see the director privately. Afterward, he had held me, his eyes red. “Joanna, I don’t want you to live a hard life with me. I want to make a lot of money, to make your life better and better.” From then on, Damien gave up his dream for me and focused on his career in entertainment. As we both got busier, we saw each other less and less. The first time a rumor about him surfaced, he took a five-hour flight to be by my side, holding me and apologizing, telling me it was a misunderstanding and he would handle it. He told me not to worry. When I suggested we go public with our marriage, he said it would affect his career and hurt his fans, that it wasn’t the right time. But he promised me that I would be his only wife, the only one by his side. In the end, I thought of his career and let it go. Until later… The appearance of Celia White. She was at a banquet, about to be taken advantage of, when she ran, fell into the water, and was rescued by Damien. She seemed like a delicate white flower, pure and innocent, lying soaked in Damien’s arms. That night, they were all over the trending topics, with gossip accounts running wild. That time, Damien didn’t say a single word.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392949”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother beaned someone on the basketball court and tasked me with delivering his apology note. But curiosity got the better of me. I tore open the envelope, and suddenly, a stream of text filled my vision—like comments on a livestream. 【LMAO, he hits the one girl out of everyone on the court? This dude is so obvious. Does he really think that’s a good way to get the main girl’s attention?】 【Seriously, can these two siblings get a clue? One intentionally injures people on the court, the other is constantly clinging to the male lead. Are they addicted to being the villains in our main couple’s love story?】 【They’re so annoying. Can’t they just disappear and let our leads have their moment?】 【It’s fine, lol. The two of them are just a couple of simps. The brother is the worst—a total coward who’s been crushing on her from the start. This is just for comedic relief. Hahahaha.】 What? I might be a simp, that’s fine. But my brother? The six-foot-two dreamboat with abs, who can play basketball, who’s a total charmer, who’s kind and sunny and has a voice that could melt butter—he’s a simp, too? And he’s got a secret crush? I laughed so hard I almost died. That night, I rewrote the apology note into a full-blown love letter and delivered it to the girl myself. 1 By the time Briar got back from the teacher’s office, I’d already been waiting in the hallway for nearly ten minutes. The hot sun bleached the ends of her hair, and her washed-out school uniform was buttoned meticulously to the very top. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She had the look of someone who was easy to push around. And honestly, she was. She was clutching a packet of competition math problems. Every question was covered in perfect checkmarks, yet next to each one, she’d used a red pen to write out an even more concise solution. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Someone’s cold remarks had clearly gotten to her. I narrowed my eyes and straightened up. My friends fell in line behind me, completely blocking her path. “You’re Briar?” I said, crossing my arms and looking down at her with my prettiest, most intimidating eyes. Students in the hallway started to stare, their whispers buzzing in the air. “What’s going on? How did Briar get on the wrong side of her?” Someone else drawled, “Who knows? Probably because she’s been spending all her time with John for the math competition. You know how jealous she gets.” “That makes sense. Looks like she’s about to get a warning.” The whispers were impossible to ignore. Briar clutched the hem of her uniform, her fingers twisting the fabric. When she looked up, her wide, doe-like eyes were trembling. She was obviously nervous, but she forced her voice to be steady. “Can I help you?” The captions were a torrent of criticism. 【First she harasses the male lead, now she’s bullying the female lead. I’m so sick of her! Does she really think this will make him like her?!】 【Is she starting trouble again? I’m scared. Is our girl gonna get bullied?】 【Don’t worry. If she touches a single hair on her head, the male lead will be here in a second to put her in her place!】 【But I don’t think the main couple even likes each other yet.】 【He’ll still protect her instinctively. They’re soulmates, after all.】 Out of all that text, two words stood out. Bullying? Did I really look like I was here to bully her? Briar kept her expression neutral, watching us without flinching. Her fingers tightened, feeling every fold and crease in the papers she held. It was almost a reminder to herself—reaching for things that don’t belong to you will only bring trouble. Just as she was bracing for whatever nasty thing I was about to say, a rich, floral scent drifted through the air. A love letter appeared right in front of her. “So, here’s the deal,” I said. “My brother has a huge crush on you.” “But he’s a total coward, so he asked me to give you this.” The pink envelope was perfectly square, adorned with a decorative stamp and sealed with a beautiful, pressed flower. Briar stared at it, momentarily stunned. A letter this exquisite seemed completely out of place with her own simple, almost threadbare existence. But there, written clearly on the front, was her name. All of her energy was poured into studying, into winning scholarships just to claw her way out of poverty. She had never, ever imagined a scene like this. She had no idea how to react. Her heartbeat, a beat late, began to thunder in her ears, a frantic rhythm that, combined with the catcalls and whoops from the surrounding students, threatened to swallow her whole. Her eyes were red, her earlobes were red, and her cheeks were even redder. So cute. She was the perfect match for my handsome brother. I placed the envelope in her hand with a grin. The paper, warm from the sun, was so hot it made her fingertips curl. The teasing from the crowd grew louder. Her blush deepened, creeping all the way to her ears. “Is this… is this from the guy on the basketball court the other day?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She sounded uncertain. “Yep! The one who accidentally hit you with the ball.” Suddenly, a flash of bold, passionate red broke through her otherwise drab memories. A boy in a red jersey. His features were sharp, almost fierce, but when he had crouched down to her level, he had apologized, flustered, gently asking if she was okay. It was a stark contrast to John’s cold, detached aura. This boy had smelled of the scorching afternoon sun, sweat still glistening on the lean muscles of his arms. He radiated a vibrant, almost overwhelming life force that was unique to boys his age. But even in that moment, her attention had been drawn to his shoes. Expensive, limited-edition sneakers that silently screamed the chasm between their social classes. He was like John, and yet, completely different. Even though the game was on the line, he’d had a friend take her to the nurse’s office and had even pressed his student ID card into her hand, telling her to use it for any medical fees. As he turned to leave, she saw the name printed on the back of his jersey. Martin. A name that sounded as vibrant and full of life as he was. “Remember now? My brother, Martin. He’s a senior,” I said, giving her a wink. She slowly tightened her grip on the letter, her voice soft and trembling with nerves. “Yeah.” “He really, really likes you. But… he’s a coward.” The morning sun was bright and warm. Her eyelashes fluttered. She couldn’t help but wonder. A boy so dazzling you could hardly look at him directly… Could he really be a coward? 2 For that little stunt, the captions cursed me out for days. 【She just has to mess with the main couple’s story, doesn’t she! So gross!】 【Does she really think the female lead would fall for her brother? Talk about delusional.】 【LMAO, her brother is the classic second male lead. The main guy might be cold, but that’s exactly what the female lead likes about him. That whole ‘cold on the outside, warm on the inside’ thing.】 【Totally. Someone as insecure and sensitive as the female lead would prefer a quiet, steady presence. Someone with a personality that different from hers would just make her uncomfortable. She only accepted the letter to avoid an awkward scene. There’s no way she actually likes him.】 Was that really true? As I walked into the exam hall with my pencils, I saw Briar. Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed distracted, her gaze frequently drifting to a boy sitting in the front left of the room. That was my brother, Martin. My eyes followed hers, and then I froze. My gaze was fixed on the chocolate bar still sitting in Martin’s palm. Wait. He didn’t give it to her? …Or was he rejected? I had seen the exam seating chart ahead of time, and the moment I knew Briar would be in our hall, I told Martin. He had just grunted, a nonchalant “Mm,” but the tips of his ears had turned red. I sensed something was up. “You already knew, didn’t you?” “A friend told me.” “They know you have a crush on Briar, too?! No way, when did you get so bold?” I caught the dark look he shot me. …Oh, right. It was probably because I’d been so over-the-top when I delivered the letter. He’d found out from his friends that same day that I’d swapped his apology for a love letter. But he hadn’t denied it, his excuse being that it would have embarrassed her. I saw right through it. He was clearly happy about it. So, I had given him a special chocolate bar a friend had brought me from abroad and told him to give it to Briar the next day. For the first time, the boy who was always so composed and confident showed a rare flicker of adolescent awkwardness. “Won’t that be… too sudden?” he’d asked, hesitating. “You don’t give a girl gifts when you’re trying to win her over?” I’d asked, confused. “When you’re pursuing a girl, you give her flowers, bags, gifts! If you just talk and don’t spend any money, that’s not called pursuing, that’s called harassing.” I was very self-righteous about it. Martin had agreed. I just never imagined his first attempt at giving a girl a gift would end in a flat-out rejection. I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at him. He was resting his head on one hand, his eyes downcast. A faint blush dusted his pale skin. He looked like he was thinking, or maybe just zoning out. And the chocolate bar between his long fingers was mangled beyond recognition. The captions were a symphony of mockery. 【LMAO, I told you the female lead wouldn’t fall for a side character. He got rejected so hard!】 【He played himself. The clown is him! Hahahaha.】 【They’re all just simps for the main couple anyway. Might as well watch the circus.】 Simps. Haha, I was actually starting to feel a little sorry for us. 3 With a wooden expression, I walked past John’s desk without stopping. I kept going, right past him. The boy, who was usually the picture of indifference, actually flinched, his eyelids twitching. Yes, not only were Briar and my brother in the same exam hall, but John was here, too. Of course. The side characters only exist to ornament the main characters’ love story. My brother was already miserable enough. I couldn’t embarrass myself, too. The seating for the monthly exam wasn’t strict. I easily swapped seats with the boy in front of me and sat down next to Briar. She snapped back to reality, a lock of hair falling beside her ear, hiding her momentarily panicked eyes. The fountain pen at the edge of her desk was knocked off by her elbow, rolling to my feet. The logo on the cap was faded, with only a single letter, L, barely visible. The body of the pen was heavily worn, the plating rubbed away to reveal the base metal underneath. I was about to bend down and pick it up for her, but she was faster. She shot out of her seat, grabbed the pen, and clutched it tightly in her palm. “Thank you,” she said, noticing my intention. Her voice was quiet and quick. For a moment, I let go of my usual spoiled princess act and gave her a friendly smile. “No problem.” Can you even write with a pen like that? I couldn’t help but watch her. When the exam papers were handed out, she took a normal gel pen from her pencil case and neatly wrote her name. The battered fountain pen just sat quietly on her desk. It seemed to be there more for companionship than for use. My mind drifted. Maybe she just didn’t like chocolate. That’s why she rejected Martin. Next time, I’ll have him give her some school supplies. He can’t get rejected for that, right? The chirping of the cicadas outside mingled with the soft scratching of pens inside. I didn’t know how to do any of the problems, so I just spun my pen, rested my chin on my hand, and openly studied her. She wrote slowly, deliberately. She was slightly hunched over, her strokes careful and unhurried. I’d heard she was the first person from her hometown to ever get into this high school. She had fought her way out of a family that favored sons over daughters, enduring everyone’s doubts and pressure to get to where she was today. Like a small white flower blooming from the face of a cliff. Beneath her seemingly fragile exterior was a stubborn and unyielding soul. How could someone who craved love and validation so much fall for someone as cold and almost cruel as John? I couldn’t figure it out. Perhaps my stare was too intense. She turned her head slightly and looked at me. When she saw I had left the last multiple-choice question blank, she pursed her lips and subtly flashed me a ‘C’ with her fingers. My eyes lit up. Way more generous than that cheapskate John! A girl this kind and gentle deserved my brother! So what if we were simps? I’d be her little simp, too! 4 As usual, John finished his exam half an hour early. A wave of cold air washed over me as he walked past my desk. His dark eyes flicked down for a split second, his gaze landing on my long-finished answer sheet. At that moment, I was slumped over my desk, doodling circles on my scratch paper out of sheer boredom. It was obvious I was waiting for someone. But even as he handed in his paper and was about to walk out of the classroom, he heard no sound of a chair scraping behind him. The proctor looked up as the boy returned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, surprised. “Forgot my pen,” John said flatly. The crisp, straight line of his pant leg passed by my desk for a second time. And I was still doodling. I didn’t even look up. All the attention I used to lavish on John was now focused entirely on Briar. I was doodling and fretting. What excuse could I use to get Briar and my brother to have lunch together? 5 With five minutes left, Briar stood up to hand in her paper. Martin and I capped our pens in perfect sync, got up, and followed her out of the classroom, shoulder to shoulder. “How come you didn’t go find John today?” he asked. I pouted. “Don’t want to.” We pretended to be going with the flow of the crowd, but we were actually tailing her all the way to the cafeteria. After getting our food, we both sat down right across from her. When Briar looked up, she was met with two pairs of nearly identical eyes staring at her intently. I chose to ignore the sea of empty tables around us and gave her a wink. “It’s so crowded in here. You don’t mind if we sit here, do you?” She lowered her head. “N-no, it’s fine. Go ahead,” she mumbled. Martin and I rarely ate in the main first-floor cafeteria. I glanced at the sad-looking vegetables on her tray and blurted out, “Is that all you’re eating? There’s no nutrition in that…” As I spoke, I picked up a piece of braised pork, but the moment it hit my tongue, I gagged. “Blech… this is disgusting…” Briar looked startled. “Is it… spoiled?” she asked hesitantly. But the glossy sheen and fragrant aroma suggested otherwise. “It’s nothing, she’s just a picky eater,” Martin explained to her sheepishly, handing me a napkin to wipe my mouth. “Oh, okay.” Briar awkwardly averted her gaze. She was about to say she had an unopened bottle of water in her backpack, but then she saw me stand up. “I’m going to go buy some milk to rinse my mouth out. You guys take your time.” The slender hand that had just touched her backpack zipper quickly retreated. Now, there were only two of them at the table. The atmosphere instantly became tense. Briar ducked her head even lower, her world shrinking to the confines of her tray as she ate, bite by silent bite. Suddenly, she heard the boy across from her speak, his voice tentative. “Are you on a diet?” Her poverty suddenly had a plausible excuse. Briar’s hand paused. “Mm,” she mumbled, the sound barely audible. “You’re under a lot of academic pressure right now, you should eat properly,” Martin said, his eyes downcast. His voice was slow and deep. “She’s probably not coming back. Can you help me finish this meat? It’d be a shame to waste it.” Before she could refuse, he had already picked up his tray and scraped all of his meat onto hers. She was silent for a long time. Martin finally looked up and met her wide, shimmering, red-rimmed eyes. She stared at him, a storm of unreadable emotions swirling in their depths, before she forcibly tucked them away behind a soft, watery gaze. Her expression felt strangely familiar to him, so familiar it made his heart ache. …It made him want to protect her. She looked at him, and then a small smile curved her lips. Quietly, but clearly and firmly, she said, “Thank you, Martin.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392948”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My sugar daddy brought me to a fancy party, and I got into a massive brawl with his childhood sweetheart. When he finally pulled me out of the chaos, I glared at him through my messy hair. “Picking sides, are we?” He said nothing. I ripped the ring off my finger and threw it in his face. “I’m dumping you.” 1 I was Clark Croft’s kept woman. I’d been with him for three years. He was handsome, rich, and incredible in bed. He was generous with me, too. His only rule? No kissing scenes. It cost me a few roles and earned me a reputation for being “stuck-up,” but I didn’t care. I’ve always been the type to play by the rules and never cause him trouble. I just never imagined my first time causing trouble would be this big. I beat up the woman he’d supposedly been in love with his whole life, who had just returned from overseas. 2 It all started when Clark asked me to be his date to a party. I never fit in with his high-society crowd and was tempted to refuse, but I’d been away filming for three months, and the truth was, I missed him. So I went. As expected, I ran into people I’d rather avoid. I tried to steer clear, but they always seemed to find me. I had just stepped out into the garden for a breath of fresh air when Evelyn and Cara followed me. Evelyn was Clark’s childhood friend. Her family had moved abroad a few years ago for business and had only recently returned. Cara was my arch-nemesis, the one who constantly paid for smear campaigns and negative press about me. I never would have guessed they knew each other. I sat on a bench, not wanting to move. Cara, arms crossed, started in with her thinly veiled insults. “Isn’t this Mr. Song’s engagement party? How did they let just anyone in?” Evelyn glanced at me, her tone flat. “Didn’t you drag me out here to talk? Is this it?” Cara shot her a sycophantic smile. “Don’t be in such a rush, Evie. It was so stuffy inside. Let’s get some air, we can chat while we walk.” Evelyn didn’t say anything, just leaned casually against the fountain. “Evie, are you and Clark getting married?” “Mm, it’s more or less decided.” “That’s wonderful! A match made in heaven. Some people should really know when to make a graceful exit.” Evelyn remained silent. Cara kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. I turned to leave, but her next words stopped me in my tracks. “Some people aren’t just trash themselves, their families are a mess, too. That construction project disaster… so many people lost their jobs. If you ask me, the person in charge getting off with just a broken leg was karma.” My steps faltered. I turned, walked right up to her, and slapped her twice. Cara clutched her face, glaring at me. “Ivy, are you crazy?” I scoffed. “Talking behind my back is one thing, but did you really think I wouldn’t dare to hit you to your face?” Evelyn frowned at me. “Miss Shaw, this is the Song family’s home. Have you considered the consequences of your actions?” My gaze was sharp. “Miss Vance, if it were your parents being slandered like that, I hope you’d also have the presence of mind to consider the consequences first.” Evelyn didn’t answer, but Cara lunged, grabbing my hair. We tumbled into a heap, scratching and pulling. I don’t know how Evelyn got involved, but by the time Clark and the others arrived, the three of us were a tangled mess on the ground. Clark’s face was dark as he yanked me out of the fray. I was a complete wreck. Across from me, Evelyn looked much better. I leveled a cold glare at Clark. “Picking sides, are we?” His brow was furrowed, but he said nothing. I ripped the ring off my finger and threw it in his face. “I’m dumping you!” Holding my breath, I ran out of the garden, out of the house, and jumped into a taxi that had just pulled up. But I couldn’t hold back the tears. A wave of overwhelming hurt washed over me. I had just wrapped a shoot yesterday and had come to see him, filled with longing. We barely spoke, and then I get humiliated and he takes her side. My phone buzzed relentlessly. It was Clark. I answered, launching a preemptive strike. “The penthouse is in my name. You have one week to move out!” I hung up and blocked him on everything. That bastard. We were done. 3 I didn’t go back to the penthouse. I found a random hotel and checked in. After a shower, I finally calmed down enough to realize how insane my actions had been. I had to be the first kept woman to ever kick out her sugar daddy. I was getting bolder and bolder with him. In the beginning, I was the one who was timid and subservient. I first met Clark at an industry party. My agent was forcing me to schmooze with directors and investors. My family used to be well-off, but my father’s construction business had gone under. He not only broke his leg, but he also used every penny we had to compensate his workers. We were drowning in debt, and my parents were stressed to their breaking point. I wanted to help, so when a scout offered me a contract, I signed it without thinking. It was a predatory deal. I got no resources and was dragged to parties to drink with powerful men. I couldn’t afford to break the contract, so I dodged a few parties by faking illnesses. Until that night, when I had no choice but to go. I pushed open the door to a private room filled with middle-aged men. At the head of the table, Clark was a breath of fresh air, impossible to miss. But he was just leaving as I arrived. In a panic, I followed him out. “Sir,” I asked, “can I be with you?” He was a head taller than me and looked down. “And why is that? Do I look like the easiest target?” He looked like the hardest target, but I didn’t dare say that. I shook my head earnestly. “You’re the most handsome.” Clark chuckled. “I know.” I could sense his impatience. I wracked my brain. “You look like a good person.” A half-smile played on his lips. “You’re a bad judge of character, then.” And then he left, and my agent dragged me back inside. They forced a lot of alcohol on me. When a fat, greasy director’s hand landed on my thigh, I struggled, knocking over a glass. He slapped me, calling me ungrateful, and started pulling at my clothes. In a moment of desperation, I grabbed a shard of broken glass and stabbed him in the leg. I was sure I was going to jail. Then, the door to the room swung open, and Clark was standing there. He glanced inside, and the director, who had been squealing like a pig, fell silent. “Didn’t you want to be with me? What are you waiting for?” I dropped the glass shard and threw myself into his arms, shaking so hard I could barely stand. He held me until he carried me out of there. 4 Clark took me back to his penthouse on the South Bank. I had showered hours ago but was too scared to leave the bathroom. I could hear him on the phone outside, dealing with the mess from earlier. When the talking stopped, I wrapped a towel around myself and walked out. He was lounging on the sofa, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing a hint of his collarbones. I walked up to him, mustered all my courage, and dropped the towel. I didn’t dare to look up. He stood, picked up the towel, and wrapped it around me again. “Not very old, but you’ve got a lot of tricks,” he teased. My face was burning. “I… I’ve never been with anyone before… I don’t know the… procedure…” “Look at me.” I clutched the towel and forced myself to meet his eyes. His gaze was calm, with a playful glint that was both captivating and dangerous. “You trust me that much? Not afraid I’m worse than them?” A jolt of fear shot through me. I quickly tried to flatter him. “No way. Good-looking people are always kind.” He laughed, pulling me close until our bodies were pressed together. He bent his head and kissed me. It was my first kiss. My head was spinning. His thumb gently caressed my lips. “Go to sleep,” he murmured. “Are you scared to sleep alone?” I nodded dazedly. “Hm? Is that how you treat the person you’re with?” The upward lilt in his voice was a warning. I threw my arms around him. “I’m scared. I want you to hold me.” Satisfied, he tucked me into bed and went back outside to make another call. Half an hour later, he came back and held me as I fell asleep. For the next few days, I obsessively checked the news, but there was nothing about me. A week later, my predatory contract was terminated. Clark set me up with a new agency and a new agent. The director who had tried to assault me vanished from the industry. For three years, Clark gave me the best resources, roles that were perfect for me. I worked my way up from an unknown actress to a solid B-lister. My family’s debts were all paid off. My parents opened a small shop back home. Everything seemed to be getting better. Only I knew that things were getting worse. Because I was falling deeper and deeper for Clark. He was my benefactor, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of him as my lover. I don’t know when it started. Falling in love with Clark was just too easy. 5 The next morning, I woke up to hundreds of missed calls, mostly from my agent, Claire. I had no idea what was going on. I quickly called her back, and her booming voice chased away all my drowsiness. “My dear God, you finally answered your phone! Do you have any idea what’s happening?” “What did you do last night? What is going on?” I was completely bewildered. While still on the phone, I checked the trending topics. #IvyShawAttacksCaraMiller #IvyShawGetOutOfShowbiz #IvyShawRetires A video of my fight with Cara had been leaked, but it was cleverly edited. It cut out everything before and after, showing only the few seconds where I lunged at her. I closed my eyes and explained everything to Claire, including the fact that I had broken up with Clark. After all, I didn’t have a sugar daddy to protect me anymore. Claire was silent for a long moment, then sighed. “Take a few days off. Stay off the internet. I’ll figure something out.” After hanging up, I watched the video again. It was shot from a hidden angle, clearly premeditated. Even Evelyn, who had been standing right there, was cropped out. The frame only showed me and Cara. The comments were a landslide. 【Ivy Shaw looks like such a bitch. And she actually hits people. Someone finally exposed her.】 【I heard she has a powerful sugar daddy. How else could she get so many good roles with her terrible acting?】 【Insider info: she was just a stand-in for his real love. Now that the real one is back, she’s been kicked to the curb.】 I knew from the “stand-in” comments that Cara was behind this, manipulating public opinion. But I felt strangely calm. Let them curse me. It was part of the job. As long as they left my family out of it, I could take it. As for being a stand-in, that was pure nonsense. When Clark and I first got together, he was so good to me it was almost unsettling. One time, he picked me up from a dinner party, and fueled by a bit of liquid courage, I asked him if I looked like someone he knew. He had wrapped his arms around me and flicked my forehead. “Getting a little too into your roles, are we? A stand-in? I don’t do that.” I pushed my luck and asked if there was anyone else. He scoffed. “Do I look like I have the time?” Getting that confirmation made me happy for a long time. Maybe Clark wasn’t deeply in love with me. Maybe it was the novelty, or maybe he was just too lazy to find someone new. It didn’t matter. At least while we were together, there was no one else. I could live without being loved. I could live without being his one and only. But I couldn’t live without that last shred of dignity. 6 Because of the sudden negative press, a variety show I was scheduled to appear on was canceled. Now I was stuck in my hotel room, afraid to go out. I was genuinely scared of anti-fans. Two years ago, I played a crazy, villainous character. The role was beautiful and unhinged, and I portrayed her so well that people said it didn’t seem like I was acting. I just never expected someone to confuse the character with the actor. While I was recovering from a leg injury, someone threw a hornet’s nest at me, trying to disfigure me. Thankfully, Clark arrived quickly. He set his own suit jacket on fire to drive the hornets away. A custom-made suit worth hundreds of thousands, gone just like that. I shook my head, trying to clear the thought of him. I checked my phone for missed calls and messages. Encouragement and comfort from all my friends. But nothing from Clark. Then it hit me. I had blocked him. On everything. I threw my phone down in a fit of pique. He was powerful enough. If he wanted to find me, he could. He just didn’t care. Sitting by the window, I felt so contradictory and dramatic. I knew it was impossible, but I couldn’t help but hold on to a sliver of hope. I always felt like he must like me, at least a little. After all, he was the one who came to me on New Year’s Eve, braving a snowstorm just to be with me. The first New Year I spent with him, I didn’t go home because of a tight schedule. I stayed at the penthouse. On New Year’s Eve, I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the front door open. I shot up in bed, grabbed a lamp, and crept to the door. Clark was standing in the foyer, snowflakes still clinging to his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at the lamp in my hand. “Is this how you welcome me on New Year’s?” I dropped the lamp and jumped on him. I wanted to ask him why he was here, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t want to hear that. So the words that came out were, “How is it that you appear the moment I think of you?” He carried me to the bedroom, his voice a teasing whisper in my ear. “Let me see just how much you were thinking of me.” Outside, the wind howled. Inside, the air was thick with heat. By the time he finished his shower, I was already half-asleep. In a daze, I felt him tuck a red envelope under my pillow and press a kiss to my forehead. “Happy New Year, Ivy.” The first New Year I spent without my parents, I wasn’t alone.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392947”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To prevent my apprentice from falling into a forbidden romance with me, I spent ten years disguised as an old man. Only once, in a desperate attempt to save him, did my illusion fail. After that, he wouldn’t consider marrying anyone but me and nearly succumbed to dark magic. My only choice was to ask my junior, another instructor, to take on my appearance and deceive him. My foolish apprentice believed it. He fell for him, went crazy for him, and would have torn down walls for him. I ignored the flicker of irritation in my heart and continued to play the part of the old man. Until one night, he crept into my bed, loomed over me, and whispered, “Master, you are truly cruel. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that imposter?” 1 The Order of the Celestial Sword had three ironclad rules. One: No romance between master and apprentice. Two: When taking an apprentice, the master must be disguised as an old man to prevent romance. Three: Apprentices must not call their master “My Lord” or any other term of endearment. They must only use the title “Master” to prevent romance. Hence, our order was also known as the Order of the Old Men. I had been a dashing, youthful prodigy for a hundred and thirty-two years before it was finally my time to become an old man. Because this year, I took on an apprentice. His name was Caelus. He came from nothing, but his innate talent for magic was astonishing. I had to fight three of my fellow instructors to claim him. In the Great Hall, Caelus looked around. There was a stereotypical old man with white hair and an air of ancient wisdom. There was a flashy old man dripping in sparkling chains. And there was a rebellious old man with red hair, heavy makeup, and a snake coiled around his arm. Caelus’s face darkened as he asked the million-dollar question: “Why are they all old men?” The only one who wasn’t an old man was my junior, Alistair. Caelus pointed at him. “Can’t he be my master?” I couldn’t blame him. Alistair was a Fae, and when he had chosen his human form, he had, without my permission, used my face as a reference. His skill wasn’t perfect, so he only bore a passing resemblance to me, but among a sea of old men, he was a vision of youthful beauty. Alistair looked flattered. He’d been in the order for so long and still looked like a teenager because he was, frankly, a terrible mage and couldn’t attract a single apprentice. You think he didn’t want to be an old man? He was desperate for it. Alistair shot me a pleading look. “Senior…” I knew how badly he wanted an apprentice. But I whispered a dark threat in his ear. “Junior, are you sure about this? With your power level, are you certain the final trials won’t result in a double fatality?” My turn of phrase, a masterpiece of linguistic terror, must have spooked him. He stumbled back a few steps. “Perhaps… perhaps Senior should be the one to take him,” he stammered. Caelus’s opinion of me soured even further. But I was, arguably, the most normal-looking of the bunch. With no other choice, Caelus knelt before me, his face a stony mask. “Apprentice greets his lord.” That “my lord” was a thunderclap. Every old man in the hall instinctively clenched. I quickly stopped him. “Call me Master. Never ‘my lord’.” Caelus was confused. “But ‘master’ sounds like a blacksmith.” “Master, as in a paternal figure. Once a master, always a father. Can I not be a father to you?” Caelus looked me up and down. “But Master, you look old enough to be my grandfather.” I won’t say who was triggered. Isn’t there a rule that fantasy heroes can be a hundred, or a thousand, but never forty? I was one hundred and thirty-two, still in my prime! It was the first day, and my head was already starting to ache. I scoffed. “What’s wrong with being an old man? Old men get pensions.” 2 I was a renowned sword mage in the Order. Before I took an apprentice, they called me the Sword Saint. After I became an old man, I became “that old guy who’s really good with a sword.” Seeing Caelus still gazing longingly at Alistair’s face, I cleared my throat. “My boy, looks are fleeting. Your junior uncle Alistair may be young, but does he have my level of power? I am known as the Sword Saint. I may be old, but when I ascend to a higher plane, this entire Spire will be yours.” Caelus looked down, his eyes fixed on the gleaming sword in my hand. “Master, when are you ascending?” I was silent for a moment. “No need to ascend. You can have the sword now.” “Thank you, Master.” Caelus looked up, his delicate features set in a grim expression. Not a hint of a smile. It gave me the creeps. I put on a stern face and ordered him to practice three hundred sword swings. Caelus was obedient enough, diligently starting his practice under the hot sun. But he was malnourished and frail. Before he reached one hundred swings, his arms were already aching too much to lift. On the one-hundredth swing, the heavy sword pulled him off balance, and he collapsed. My heart lurched. I almost rushed forward to catch him. No. I can’t spoil him. My own grand-master, he had caught his apprentice when he fell from a tree. The next day, he was seen fleeing his apprentice’s chambers, clutching his rear. I had to be strict with Caelus to prevent any forbidden romance. There was no way I was falling in love with the head of the Disciplinary Council. I crossed my arms, nudged him with the toe of my boot, and taunted, “Is that all you can do? What’s the point of practicing the sword? You might as well go home and sell potatoes.” Caelus panted, glaring up at me with hatred in his eyes. I would later learn that his village was incredibly poor and survived by growing potatoes, but they never got to eat any of them themselves. But Caelus said nothing. He just gritted his teeth, pushed himself up, and continued to swing the sword, his body trembling. I stood there in the sun with him, watching for three long hours. When he finished the last swing, he could barely stand and fell to his knees, looking pathetic and wretched. I fought the urge to help him up and praise him. Instead, I tossed him a vial of priceless, life-restoring elixir. “Mediocre,” I said coolly. “Four hundred swings tomorrow. I’ll be watching.” My junior, Alistair, suddenly rushed over with a pile of things, wiping Caelus’s sweat and cooing, “Caelus, why are you so stubborn? If you’re tired, you just have to ask your uncle for a break.” Caelus leaned weakly against him, still glaring at me. He mustered all his strength to throw the elixir back at me. “Thank you for the gift, Master,” he said stiffly, “but I don’t need it!” You little rebel! I grabbed Caelus and in an instant, refined his spirit! No, I grabbed him and smacked his butt twice with the flat of my scabbard. Alistair tried to intervene. I shot him a sidelong glance. “You want some, too?” Alistair shut up. I forced the elixir into Caelus’s mouth. The pill dissolved instantly. His eyes widened as if to say something, but the immediate effect of the potion left him stunned. “For defying your master,” I said smugly, “one hundred extra swings tomorrow!” Caelus must hate me so much. He probably wants to kill me the moment he graduates. Perfect. Another day with my rear end safe and sound. 3 Under my harsh tutelage, Caelus grew more rebellious. I told him to do five hundred swings a day; he secretly did six hundred. Curious, I started hiding myself nearby to watch him practice. I discovered he had carved a wooden dummy in my likeness. A very handsome old man, I might add. Just as I was admiring my wooden doppelganger, he lopped its head off with one clean strike. Now it was just old. The way he attacked that wooden master… you couldn’t call it respectful, but you could definitely call it patricidal. I was so gratified. This way, even if we became enemies in the future, Caelus would only stab me in the chest, not in the… other place. I thought we could continue our days in mutual animosity, but one day, Caelus stumbled upon my grand-master and his apprentice. My grand-master has been vain since he was young. Also a sword mage, he had his sword encrusted with nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine diamonds. During duels, his opponents would be busy trying to pry the diamonds off his sword. Even after being forced to become an old man, he hadn’t changed. The Order had strict regulations for the old man illusions, down to the number of hairs, eyebrows, and wrinkles. But my grand-master, behind our backs, had secretly removed five wrinkles. Disgusting! At the time, I had cursed him in my heart. Dressing up like that all day, you’d better watch out or your apprentice will pin you down. My curse came true. Caelus was returning from practice and passed by my grand-master’s chambers. He saw my grand-master, disheveled and scowling, with his apprentice, Ronan, his hand resting possessively on his waist. It was too late for me to jump out and cover Caelus’s eyes. It was too late to explain that Ronan was just being a good apprentice and helping the old man. Because Ronan then leaned in and planted a loud kiss on my grand-master’s suspiciously smooth, recently-lifted face. Stop it! I watched as Caelus looked like he’d been struck by lightning, his mind exploding. His face went from green to black to white. I was hoping he’d pretend he saw nothing, that this sordid scene would just slide off his smooth, apprentice-like cerebral cortex. But then Ronan, with a look of pure satisfaction, said in a husky, post-coital voice, “My Lord, was I too rough today? You have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable!” Shut your mouth! Even an idiot like Caelus knew that “rough” didn’t refer to sword practice! His pupils were quaking. He could barely hold his sword. “You… you two!” My grand-master’s face changed, but Ronan was completely unfazed. “What about us? Little brother, this is a normal master-apprentice relationship. Isn’t it like this with you and your master?” “How is this normal?! Normal people don’t kiss their master’s face! And they don’t ask if they were too rough!” I nodded in the shadows. Ronan frowned. “Little brother, do you really need me to spell it out for you? Yes, my lord and I are in love! So what?” My grand-master looked like he wanted to die, hiding his face behind his diamond-studded sword. Caelus was devastated. “Brother,” he stammered, “you must be desperate…” Ronan smirked. “Don’t be so quick to judge, little brother. I hear your master, Lord Faelan, was the greatest beauty in the magical world in his youth. Maybe if you saw a portrait of him from back then, you’d understand.” Caelus held his ground. “I would never fall in love with an old man!” I was halfway through a nod. Then he asked, “My master… that old man… where can I find a portrait of him from when he was young?” My heart skipped a beat. I had a very bad feeling about this. 4 I remembered my younger days, before I was an old man. I was arrogant, proud of my looks. Every time I vanquished a demon, I would have the locals paint my heroic visage. As a result, portraits of me were more common in the Order than cockroaches. Every apprentice had one, not for admiration, but to pray to before exams. After I became an old man, they trusted me even more. They abandoned my youthful, handsome portraits and frantically bought up my old man ones. I really don’t understand young people these days. I checked all the portraits in the apprentices’ possession and confirmed they were all of the old man version of me before I finally relaxed. But then I returned to my own chambers to find the floor littered with portraits, and Caelus holding one up, about to unroll it. Oh, crap. I forgot about my own private collection! I paled, snatched the scroll from his hands, my voice cracking. “You insolent whelp! Did you see everything?” Caelus looked at me with a complicated expression and nodded. My heart sank. I scrutinized his face, terrified he had fallen in love with me. But he seemed perfectly normal, not like someone who had just seen my true face. But then I worried he was hiding his love deep in his heart. I cursed myself. Faelan, Faelan, if you had known this would happen, why did you have to go around telling everyone your grand-master got a facelift? Now his apprentice holds a grudge and lured Caelus into finding my portraits, nearly causing a catastrophe. I shakily picked up the scattered scrolls from the floor. I unrolled one and froze. What the hell is this? It was a white radish beating a tomato with a giant club. It took me a moment to remember. This was what the local villagers had painted: “The Saint Vanquishes the Crimson Fox.” When I told Caelus the title, he asked, confused, “So where is the Saint in this painting?” “The Saint is vanquishing the Crimson Fox.” “So he’s not in the painting?” “Mm, that seems to be the case.” Caelus asked cautiously, “Master, is it possible…” I forced a calm expression and cut him off. “Haha, you don’t think this white radish is me, the club is my sword, and the tomato is the Crimson Fox, do you?” “That would be ridiculous. So, impossible. Absolutely impossible!” Caelus’s expression was complex. He was silent for a long moment before saying, “…If you say so.” I moved on to the next one. The painting that unrolled was stunning: a vast, blue ocean, and a black dragon churning in the waves. It was masterfully done, capturing the ocean’s expanse and the dragon’s majesty. The only problem was, I still couldn’t find myself in the picture. Was it that hard to find a handsome guy like me? Caelus asked, “Master, is the Saint not in this painting either, but is slaying the dragon?” This kid. Can’t he be less obedient at a time like this? He’s even learned to apply logic. The little rebel! I suppressed my anger. “No. This painting is called ‘The Saint’!” “Then where is the Saint?” Yeah, where am I?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392946”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The year I could barely feed myself, I found him in a grimy back alley—a brilliant, scholarship kid who’d been savaged by the world. His eyes were hollow. “Do whatever you want with me.” I did nothing of the sort. I just cleaned him up and helped him into a fresh, white shirt. Then, stammering, I told him, “Just… just live. Please.” Years later, he taught himself everything he needed to get into the country’s top university, eventually becoming its youngest doctoral advisor. One ordinary summer evening, as I was picking him up, he coldly rejected a girl whose smile was as bright as the sun. And for the first time, I heard him ask me, his voice tight with a confusion that terrified me: “What is… liking someone?” When I saw the expensive brooch she had given him clutched in his hand, I knew. It was time for me to leave. 1 As I was packing my last bag, ready to leave, I took one final look at the cramped apartment I’d called home for years. It was small and suffocating. The only good thing about it was the little cactus I’d managed to keep alive on the windowsill. I bent down and placed Nick’s slippers neatly on the top shelf of the shoe rack. With a final, metallic thud, the iron door slammed shut, kicking up a thin cloud of dust in the sunlight. 2 Before Nick left for his lecture, he’d shown me the deed to a property over breakfast. It was a beautiful, spacious new condo right in the heart of downtown. I had no idea how long he must have saved to afford it. “I’ll pay you back,” he’d said. “Slowly.” “You don’t… have to.” The day I saved him, I never expected anything in return. His voice was cool. “Once I’ve paid you back, we’re even.” I silently pushed the plate of stir-fried shrimp and a side of cold vegetables toward him. Nick kept his head down as he ate, but I could still see the sharp, elegant lines of his profile. Looking at him now, I could faintly picture the high school boy he used to be, standing on the auditorium stage, the wind catching his shirt, his silhouette sharp and cool against the light. You don’t always have to announce your love to the world. There’s no rule that says every act of giving must be rewarded. He was finally becoming the person I always knew he could be: brilliant, successful, a distant moon shining brightly. Just having been by his side for so long… that was enough for me. I rested my chin in my palm, watching him, and said, seemingly out of nowhere, “Nick… you have to… keep living well.” It was a shame my stutter had never gotten better. I hoped the men I’d be meeting for blind dates back in my hometown wouldn’t hold it against me. 3 I thought back to that night. “Nick! Wait for me!” A beautiful, vibrant girl waved as she ran toward him. She’d been chasing after him for six months straight. I stood quietly in the shadows of a tree by the gate, admiring her with the same reverence I held for Nick. She was a force of nature, bright as the sun, expressing her love without fear. She came from a perfect, prominent family and had a personality that bubbled with life. Standing together, they looked like they were made for each other. At first, Nick was cold and impatient with her, avoiding her just as he’d always avoided everyone else, including me. But eventually, he began to soften. Only with her would he lower his guard, letting her joke with him, even allowing her casual touches. And then, finally, he came to me, clutching a gift she had pressed into his hands, and asked in a nervous, uncertain voice: “What is… liking someone?” We walked together into the moonlight, his shadow stretching out to cover mine. What did I say to him then? I remember stammering, but my words were earnest. “Liking someone is… I guess… it’s when your heart just… leaps when you see them. When just thinking about them makes you smile.” —”So you’re the one who saved Nick? You’re that pathetic, aren’t you! You like him? Fine, we’ll give you something to like!” The same animals who’d hurt Nick slammed my head into a bucket of filthy water in the girls’ bathroom. “It’s being afraid… of losing everything. It’s feeling every doubt like a knife.” —”Nick! I’m taking you… to the hospital! Don’t you fall asleep! You still have to… pay me back!” In the dead of winter, I screamed until my throat was raw, carrying him on my back—his wrists sliced open, half-unconscious from blood loss—stumbling toward the hospital. “It’s wanting to share… every word, every little thing, with him first.” —”I worked five jobs… I made four hundred dollars. I bought… a cake. Happy birthday, Nick.” I stood in the doorway, holding the cake, so happy I didn’t even take off my shoes, just beaming at him. “It’s… a feeling that’s sour, and frustrating… but also so, so sweet.” The traffic light clicked. I looked up. Nick was looking right into my eyes. 4 Bzzzt! The notification on my phone startled me awake. My cheeks felt itchy. I touched them and realized they were streaked with tears. My dream had been a chaotic blend of past and present, and it took me a long moment to clear my head before I opened the message. It was from Nick. Just two words. [Running late.] I scrolled up. Our entire chat history was just a few sparse, functional messages. Looking at it now, our relationship really was… empty. My stutter made me hate speaking, and Nick’s personality, made worse by what had been done to him, meant he spoke even less. We lived in silence, each lost in our own world. You can’t force someone to like you. And yet, back then, I’d foolishly dreamed that time and persistence could nurture love. It was time to finally let go of that hope. Suddenly, a series of cheerful pings sounded from my phone. [Clara, your advice was amazing! Nick finally agreed to have dinner with me at a real restaurant~] [I was so scared for a second there, I honestly thought you two were together.] [I’ll be sure to bring a gift to thank you in person. And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. He won’t be losing out by being with me.] She ended the message with a cute emoji of a character collapsing in happiness. Her joy was so infectious it even brought a small smile to my lips. I was a ghost from Nick’s past. A piece of wreckage from the mud, a constant reminder of his deepest shame, a symbol of his most broken moments. She was different. She would rise with him. Her love was active and warm, and she could offer him resources and connections I never could. They would meet at the summit. Nick was already softening. The sun would eventually melt the ice. I couldn’t stand in the way of him finding someone so much better than me. But in the next second, a single, fat tear splattered onto the screen. I belatedly raised a hand to wipe it away. Pathetic. I couldn’t even properly wipe away my own tears. 5 After a thirty-hour bus ride, I was back in my hometown. The first thing I did was visit my mother’s grave and leave some incense. I sat there for a while before heading back to the small apartment I’d rented. The landlady told me my gambling, drunkard of a father had his leg broken by debt collectors and had skipped town. I didn’t have much baggage, so I was settled in by noon. As I sat on the bed with my eyes closed, all I could see were Nick’s hopeless, empty eyes from that night, his body covered in a sticky, disgusting fluid. He used to tell me, his voice eerily calm, “I want to die.” In our small town, being smart, good-looking, and an orphan was a sin. Especially for a prodigy like Nick, who stood out like a crane among chickens. The story was a cliché. The girlfriend of the biggest asshole in school had a crush on him. When he rejected her, she falsely accused him of harassment. When a group of them cornered him in an alley, even his attempts to fight back were laughable. In the nights that followed, he’d curl into a ball on the bed, his body wracked with tremors he couldn’t control, his own mind trying to destroy itself. Back then, to support him, I worked five jobs, constantly rushing from one to the next. We lived in a rundown apartment where the water and electricity were always being shut off. I’d eat cheap pickled vegetables that cost pennies just to save a few extra dollars for him. Life got a little better after he started earning a salary, but I never wanted to spend his money. I kept working as a kitchen hand in the restaurant downstairs. It’s strange how you are with someone you love. Pride takes over. You never want to feel like you’re beneath them. That afternoon, I found a job in the kitchen of a local diner. The pay in a small town wasn’t great, but it was enough for me. It wasn’t until I finished my shift that I had a chance to check my phone. There were only two messages from Nick. The first one: [Where are you?] The second was sent at four o’clock this morning: [You’ve abandoned me, haven’t you?] The words made my eyes burn. It’s not abandonment. It’s not wanting to drag each other down anymore. I saved him, and he felt obligated to stay by my side. That kind of relationship was twisted from the start. And besides, I was almost thirty. I really did want to settle down. It all sounded so melodramatic. I typed out a long explanation, then deleted it all and sent just three words: [Take care.] There was no reply. When I clicked on his profile, I saw he’d posted something. It was a picture of two hands, fingers intertwined. The caption read: [My future.] He was making it official. Nick had a girlfriend. I stared at it for a long moment, then liked the post. And silently, in my heart, I wished him: Happy birthday, Nick. May you spend every year from now on with the person you love. 6 On my way home, I saw my neighbor fanning the door to his apartment, a frustrated look on his face. The acrid smell of burnt food wafted out. I recognized him. He was the new teacher, here with a volunteer program. We’d nodded to each other a few times. He was refined and elegant, with a gentle voice that didn’t match his eyes—eyes that were far too charming, the kind that promised love and trouble in equal measure. I felt a bit awkward just walking past. As I put the key in my lock, I offered a polite, casual invitation. “You haven’t… eaten yet, have you? You could… come over to my place…” He looked up, his face filled with gratitude. Before I could finish, he said warmly, “That would be wonderful, thank you.” “…” I hadn’t expected him to be so forward. I managed an awkward smile. There was no backing out now. I opened the door and invited him in. With a guest present, I kept the meal simple. But Leo’s reaction was dramatic. After one bite, he actually started to cry. “I’m so sorry,” he explained. “It’s just been so long since I’ve had a proper home-cooked meal. And this is delicious.” “Thank you.” Remembering the burnt smell from his apartment, I just lowered my head and ate, waiting for him to finish and leave. I never expected him to get up and start washing the dishes. I frowned slightly, watching him put on my Winnie-the-Pooh apron and stand with his back to me at the sink. I could see the faint movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the veins on the back of his hands standing out, straining against the fabric of the apron that was clearly too small for him. “…” I looked away, swallowing reflexively. The sound was loud in the quiet room. Leo paused for a second, then continued washing. When he was done, he cleared his throat, finally revealing his true purpose. “Could I… maybe… eat here from now on?” He saw me frown. “I’ll pay you more than the restaurant does,” he said quickly. “Just to cook for me. I’ll do all the dishes, too.” I hesitated. The landlady had told me about him: “That new teacher, your neighbor? He’s already rescued five stray cats and is paying for two local kids’ schooling out of his own pocket.” A man like that couldn’t be a bad person, could he? And besides… being all alone in this place, so familiar yet so foreign… it was harder than I could bear. 7 From that day on, Leo came over every day after work. First, he started bringing fresh ingredients. Then, he started bringing the stray cats he was fostering. “This one can do a backflip,” he’d say with a perfectly straight face. Meanwhile, Nick went from silence to sending me a message every few days, always in the dead of night. [Where’s the hand cream?] [I can’t find that white shirt.] [Did you take the little ceramic dog we made together?] …And so on. At first, I had the patience to reply: [It’s in the drawer of the TV stand. In the small cabinet above the closet. The ceramic dog broke when we moved…] [You should move into the new condo. This place is too far from the university, and it’s not comfortable. Don’t make Isabelle suffer with you. You’re just used to me being around. You’ll have to learn to live on your own eventually.] He would be silent for a while, then send a cold voice message: [Don’t flatter yourself.] I laid everything out for him, but he ignored it all. Leo asked me once, “Is that a close friend?” Who was he? I lowered my eyes, staring blankly at the dough on the cutting board. “Just… someone unimportant.” Leo’s gaze fell on my phone’s wallpaper. It was a photo of a boy and a girl, sitting side-by-side on a swing set, their expressions neutral. It was clearly taken by a stranger. They weren’t close, almost distant, yet something about it made Leo lose all desire to ask any more questions. Late one night, a video call from Nick came through. On the screen, he was pale, curled tightly on the sofa, his eyes losing focus as he stared into the camera. It felt like I’d been struck from behind. I shot up from my chair, a wave of unspeakable panic washing over me. My fingers trembled so violently I could barely hold the phone. “Nick! What… what stupid thing are you doing!” His lips were white. He struggled to lift his eyelids, but they fell heavily shut. He’d lost the fight. The phone tumbled through the air, and the last thing I saw was a horrifying, blinding splash of red. 8 What if Nick died? If he died, what would I do? My body was shaking uncontrollably. I booked the fastest bus ticket I could find, my insides twisting with a fear so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. Just as I finished packing, my phone rang again. I swiped to answer. It was Isabelle. [He’s out of danger, but he’s still unconscious.] [I thought you were with him. He took time off and was at home. He hasn’t eaten in five days.] [I found antidepressants on his coffee table. The doctor said he’s had a severe depressive relapse.] [What on earth happened to him in the past…] I couldn’t read any further. I just stared at the words “severe depressive relapse,” a dull ache spreading from my stomach to my heart. Eventually, I had to grab onto the sofa as my body started to heave with dry, painful retches. “Mom! Please! I’ll be good, I promise! Dad’s a monster, but you still have me!” “I’ll get you out of here, I swear! Don’t jump! Please! Mom!!!” The blare of car horns, the howl of the wind on the rooftop, all deafening. I was back in the hospital, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning my nostrils. Nick had just woken up, his expression vacant. He clenched his fists so tightly the wounds on his wrists threatened to split open again. They both had severe depression. It seemed that even suffering could be a shared experience. I know it’s foolish to tie one person’s life to another’s. Who would even care? But I had no other choice. I looked up, my eyes red, and said to him, “Nick… just pretend… you’re living for me. You have to pay me back. You have to show me what the world looks like… from the top.” What was I even thinking back then? He had such a brilliant future ahead of him. He was finally climbing out of that darkness, and now, because of a few careless words from someone like me, he had nearly thrown it all away, nearly died. I couldn’t save my mother. And I couldn’t save him. My father was right. I was a curse. Anyone who got close to me was doomed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392945”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am an NPC in a horror game. Beautiful, but utterly useless—nothing more than a background prop. When the new batch of players arrived, I waited with eager anticipation for them to be picked off by the horrors of this place. But then, a message appeared before my eyes. [The little fool is still smiling. She has no idea these three players are monsters. They tear dungeons apart for fun. They’re going to have a field day with her, hehe… The best part is the sandwich.] A jolt of fear shot through me. I belatedly registered the three pairs of hungry, predatory eyes fixed on me. But it was too late. I was already trapped between them. 1 “Time for your shot.” At the stroke of midnight, I pushed my little cart into room 401. Inside were an old man and a girl who looked to be in her early twenties. The old man’s face was a blank mask, his body withered and frail. I slid the needle into his skin and gave him his pills. He didn’t react at all. After him, it was the girl’s turn. The sight of the cold syringe in my hand drained the color from her face. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. With a trembling hand, she pulled a knife from her pocket, her voice shaking. “Get away from me! I’m not taking it!” I stared at her in silence for a moment, then turned and pushed my cart out of the room. Take it or don’t. It’s not my funeral. This new batch of players was painfully stupid. I’d be surprised if they lasted three days. 2 Every room was the same: one NPC and one player. The players in 402 and 403 were more compliant. Scared, but they let me give them their shots. I was in a great mood, humming a little tune as I kicked open the door to room 404. But the scene inside froze the smile on my face. The NPC from room 404… was a mangled heap on the floor, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles. He’d been dead for hours. And the one responsible, the male player from 404, was sitting casually on the bed, his narrow, sinister eyes fixed on me, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Nurse, isn’t it time for my shot?” His voice was a low, magnetic drawl, laced with amusement. A shiver ran down my spine, my vision swimming. This was a real pro. Vicious. He’d only been in the game for one day and had already taken out his roommate. He wouldn’t just kill me too, would he? My hand, holding the syringe, was trembling. My legs felt like jelly as I approached the man on the bed. A glance at his chart confirmed my fears. Kane—Severe Mania. Extremely Dangerous. “Sleeve up, please,” I said, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. Kane raised an eyebrow, studied me for a moment, then obediently rolled up the sleeve of his striped patient gown. His forearm was well-defined, the muscles corded with thick veins. My legs nearly gave out again. He could probably snap my neck with one hand. But what choice did I have? I was a nurse in this asylum. If I refused to give a patient their shot, I’d be erased. I steeled myself and brought the syringe forward, placing one hand on his arm. It was scorching hot. Was a normal person’s body temperature this high? Had he merged with some kind of mutated monster in this dungeon? “Is something wrong, Nurse?” the man asked from above, his voice dripping with mock concern. I tried to ignore the heat radiating from him, a heat that felt like it could melt me. I swallowed hard. “Nothing.” I tried to push the needle into his skin. But his arm was as hard as a rock. The needle bent, but it wouldn’t go in. Had he merged with some kind of stone monster? My vision went black for a second. “Mr. Kane, could you please relax your arm? It’s too hard, I can’t get the needle in.” Kane raised an eyebrow, his tone deliberately teasing. “It’s hard?” I nodded. “Yes!” At that, he relaxed his arm slightly. The needle finally broke the skin, and I was able to administer the shot. I let out a shaky breath, nearly collapsing in relief. 3 But my relief was short-lived. A pair of long, strong hands suddenly clamped around the back of my neck, yanking me backward. My back slammed against Kane’s chest. His searing body heat and the powerful, rapid beat of his heart thudded against me through my uniform, as if we were being fused together. The heat was so intense I almost screamed. My face went bone-white. So this was it. He was done playing games. He was going to kill me. For a top-tier player like him, killing an NPC like me was as easy as squishing a bug. A powerful surge of survival instinct kicked in. Trembling, I held out a small, pink, rubber-band-like item, my voice a choked sob. “Mr. Kane, this is for you. Please don’t kill me. I’ll tell you the clue to clear the dungeon.” [Nurse’s Hair Tie: A hair tie often used by the beautiful but ditzy nurse. When placed on any object, it increases its strength by 20%.] Kane smiled, a slow, meaningful smile. “A nice little toy.” He released me, almost reluctantly, and pocketed the hair tie. “The clue.” Having escaped death, I slumped to the floor, my head bowed. “There’s a door in the morgue,” I mumbled. “It’s the way out.” 4 At my words, a derisive smile touched Kane’s lips. His sharp eyes bored into me, as if he could see right through my lie. “Alright then,” he said lazily. “Lead the way, Nurse.” My heart sank. I couldn’t go. That was a lie. The morgue was a dead end. If I went, I would die. I feigned composure, backing away slowly. “I can’t. I have to give the other patients their shots.” But I quickly ran out of room, my back hitting a hard, unyielding chest. The man behind me wrapped a large hand around my waist, trapping me in his embrace. His voice was a cold, low warning. “Lead the way.” Help me! I’m actually going to cry. When did another person get in the room? I hadn’t heard a thing. Kane clicked his tongue, his eyes flicking impatiently to the man behind me. “Damian, don’t scare her.” The man behind me grunted in displeasure, but the grip on my arm loosened slightly. It still hurt, though! I gritted my teeth, my mind racing, plotting how to lure these two bastards into the morgue and let the monsters finish them off. “If you would be so kind, Nurse,” Kane said, getting up and walking toward me. His tall frame, nearly six-foot-three, completely overshadowed me. He and Damian had me pinned between them. Sob… It seemed I didn’t have a choice. 5 Kane on my left, Damian on my right. One hot, one cold, they squeezed me between them. The faint, metallic smell of blood filled my nostrils. My body was rigid with fear. Ding. The elevator doors opened. The entire second basement level was the morgue. Under the dim, eerie lights, rows and rows of bodies lay under white sheets. I swallowed hard, my voice trembling with nerves. “Gentlemen… this is the morgue. The clue to leave the dungeon is in here. Can I go now?” Kane crossed his arms, looking down at me. “Are you sure there aren’t any traps in here, Nurse?” My heart skipped a beat. I shook my head quickly. “It’s just bodies in here. It’s not dangerous!” The more I said it, the less I believed it myself. This was a horror game dungeon. How could the morgue not be dangerous? The smile on Kane’s face deepened. Damian was silent, his dark, inscrutable eyes fixed on me, revealing nothing. Just when I thought my lie had been exposed, they exchanged a look and, without hesitation, stepped out of the elevator and into the gloomy morgue. I scrambled to hit the “close door” button. In the final second before the doors slid shut, the bodies in the morgue shot up, tearing off their white sheets and letting out bloodcurdling screams as they swarmed toward the two men. Kane turned back, a cold smile on his lips, his voice a chilling whisper. “See you tomorrow, Nurse.” 6 Hehe. See you tomorrow? See you in hell. I’d heard from other NPCs. The monsters in the morgue weren’t strong, but their bites were laced with a deadly corpse poison. Once infected, even the strongest players would be dead within half an hour. The thought of sacrificing my precious little hair tie just to save my own skin… I rubbed my bruised waist, gritting my teeth, and pressed the button for the fifth floor. I’d gotten rid of two powerful players for the Director. I even sacrificed an item. He had to compensate me for that, right? 7 I’d heard the Director of the asylum used to be a player himself. He’d taken out the final boss in this very dungeon, and somehow, in the process, had become the new Director. I didn’t care about any of that. I got to the fifth floor and knocked on his office door. “Director, it’s me, Lily.” A few seconds later, the door clicked open. I smiled and pushed it open. The light in the office was a cold, dim white. The Director, half his face hidden by a mask, sat on a black leather sofa, his long legs crossed, his pale fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the armrest. “What is it?” His voice was hoarse, and the eye behind the mask was as cold and predatory as a snake’s. I ignored all of that, scurrying over to his feet and hugging his leg, pouting. “Director, Lily got rid of two really tough players for you, and I lost my little hair tie.” His cold gaze fell on my neck. He reached out, his pale fingertips tracing a line across my skin. “Did they touch you?” I pouted and nodded. This was a work-related injury! The thought of that poor NPC in room 404, the one Kane had killed so brutally, sent a shiver down my spine. I could have been next! At that thought, I hugged the Director’s leg tighter, my voice a whiny, tearful wail. “Director, sir, they almost killed Lily this time! You have to give me a raise, or at least some better items.” I was confident in my ability to charm anyone with a little bit of a damsel-in-distress act. But the Director just sat there, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me, completely unmoved. My act deflated. A thought suddenly struck me. I remembered another NPC telling me that the Director had been a deeply romantic man in his past life. He had died saving his girlfriend. Oh god, how was my memory getting so bad? I’d forgotten my entire past life, but how could I forget that the Director had a girlfriend? I quickly let go of his leg and scrambled to my feet, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Director! I’ll go clean the rooms right now!” The Director grunted and handed me a set of clothes. “This is for you.” [Pink Nurse’s Uniform: A new uniform from the Director! Wear it to share a sensory link with him! In other words, when you’re in danger, the Director will feel it too~] My eyes widened as I stared at the uniform in my hands. The function was… misleading. A sensory link with the Director. From what I knew, countless NPCs and players had died at his hands. You couldn’t pay me to share a sensory link with a psycho like him. My lip twitched. I hesitated for a long moment before handing the uniform back. “Director, sir, I don’t think this item is very useful for me. Could I maybe have something else?” The Director stared at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “Go change.” Me: Huh? Was this right? I looked at the thin, pink fabric in my hands, feeling truly lost for the first time. Sensing my hesitation and reluctance, the Director pressed his lips together. “It’s a new item I acquired. I need someone to test its effects.” Oh… so I was just a guinea pig. I managed a nod and went into the adjoining break room to change. 8 “Director, sir, it’s a little small.” I came out of the break room, pouting, and self-consciously tugged at the fabric that was squeezing my chest. This stupid uniform was going to suffocate me. The Director narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on me. The white of his knuckles showed how tense he was. It was probably because of the sensory link. He must have been just as uncomfortable as I was. After a long moment, he swallowed, his voice hoarse. “Come here.” He gestured for me to sit next to him. I tugged at my uniform, pouting, and sat down. “Director, when can I take this off? Your item is killing me.” He slowly pulled a small whip from a drawer. “Lie down,” he said calmly. Me: ? What did he mean? Seeing my confused expression, he explained, “The sensory link only works when you’re hurt.” In other words, I had to feel pain… for him to feel it. The Director… was going to whip me?! In that instant, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. I remembered how, when he first took over, he had killed every single NPC in the asylum who dared to defy him. Ruthless, dark, twisted—those words were made for him. If I didn’t do what he said, he would probably kill me too. Sigh… What’s a little humiliation when your life is on the line? I resigned myself to my fate and lay down on the black leather sofa, my face a mask of misery. “Go ahead, Director. But don’t hit me too hard. If you kill me, you won’t have any other little nurses who listen to you like I do.” With my back to him, I didn’t see the slow curve of his lips. The whip landed on my backside, not too hard, not too soft. I heard his voice, strained and hoarse. “My name is Cedric,” he said. “Forget it again… and you die.” 9 I ran out of the Director’s office, my face burning. I thought he was going to hit me really hard, but it just felt like he was scratching an itch. Hehe. But he was still a total psycho. Hitting me was one thing, but what was that about an armpit… He wanted me to smell his armpit! Pure humiliation! At least the dead-eyed bastard had a conscience. He compensated me with a whole pile of new items. Back in my little room, I spread my new loot out on the bed. [Beauty Pill: Can be consumed to eliminate acne, blackheads, and other blemishes.] [White and Purple Gradient Seashell Dress: A dress from the human world. Wearing it has a chance to increase your beauty stat by 10%.] My eyes widened in disbelief. I stared at the pile of useless junk on my bed. My body trembled with rage. Stupid Director! Useless Director! I wasted all that breath for this? A bunch of items that were completely useless in a horror game? My gaze fell on the last item. [Prophetic Message: Receive one hint about the future.] My eyes lit up. I used it without hesitation. Suddenly, a message full of pink, bubbly hearts appeared before me. [The little fool is still smiling~ These three men are monsters. They tear dungeons apart for fun. They’re going to have a field day with her, hehe… The best part is the sandwich.] 10 What was this garbage? I didn’t understand a single word. A message I couldn’t understand was as good as nothing. I rolled my eyes and went to sleep. The next day, I got a new mission. Disguise myself as a human and go undercover among the players. At night, I had to give them their shots and pills. During the day, I had to pretend to be a player and search for clues with them? This was ridiculous. They were working me like a dog. I cursed the Director and all his ancestors in my head. Then, I resigned myself to my fate, took a pill that changed my appearance, put on a striped patient gown, and went to the fourth floor to meet up with the other players. “Aaaahhhh—” A man’s scream echoed through the hallway. The remaining four players rushed over, crowding around the door to room 401. The female player who had refused her shot last night was dead on the bed, her eyes bulging, her death a gruesome sight. “There were nine of us… and it’s only the first day, and there are only six of us left! Three people died in one night! How are we supposed to survive for two more days?” The players’ faces were ashen, their spirits crushed. Everyone knew the success rate for the Asylum dungeon was incredibly low. Almost no one made it out alive. Even a pro like the Director had died here. They were doomed. “What’s all the screaming about so early in the morning? Is everyone dead already?” A lazy, magnetic voice cut through the despair. Kane stood at the corner of the hallway, hands in his pockets, a playful smile on his lips. Beside him, Damian held a blood-soaked longsword, his cold eyes, shadowed by his messy hair, sweeping over the group. My breath hitched, the hairs on my arms standing on end. They were alive! They had been swarmed by a hundred corpses in the morgue, and they had fought their way out. Kane looked completely unscathed, as if he’d just been for a stroll. Damian, on the other hand, radiated a murderous aura. He was definitely going to kill me. Tonight, when I went to give them their shots, they were going to kill me for sure. But I quickly calmed down and came up with a brilliant plan. “You guys… are you players too?” The other players, startled by the sudden appearance of Kane and Damian, were clearly on guard. “What else?” Kane’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Got tricked by an NPC and sent to the morgue last night. Just got out.” The players’ eyes fell on the bloody sword in Damian’s hand, and a collective shiver ran through them. These two were brave. On the first night of the game, instead of staying safely in their rooms, they’d gone looking for trouble in the morgue. “Did you find any clues in there?” Under the hopeful gazes of the other players, Damian frowned, his voice cold. “No.” Of course not. There were only monsters in the morgue. It was a death trap. But the other players didn’t believe him. High risk, high reward. A place as dangerous as the morgue had to have a clue. These two were just being selfish. “We’re all players! Why are you being so selfish? You won’t even share a single clue!” “This is a team-based dungeon! You have to think about the group!” The moral high ground. Classic. Damian was clearly out of patience. His cold eyes shot to the most vocal players, and he slowly drew his sword. That shut them up. They quickly changed the subject, suggesting they split up to find clues.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392944”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The moment I became aware of my role as the “vicious female supporting character,” the male lead—my childhood friend whom I had imprisoned and tortured—was kneeling at my feet, his teeth gritted against the pain, his body trembling. As I fumbled to untie him, my own hands were shaking. He let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Weren’t you going to kill me, Miss Astor?” My hands froze. In the story, I imprison the male lead, Daniel Thorne, torturing him physically and emotionally, subjecting him to every kind of humiliation. In the end, he has me committed to a psychiatric hospital, where I jump to my death. I burst into tears. From my pocket, I pulled out a crumpled, worn-out piece of paper. I handed it to him. It was something Daniel had written for me when we were seven. “A voucher for complete and total forgiveness, no matter what Aria does.” 1 The moment I became aware of my role as the vicious female supporting character, I was holding a blood-stained whip, frozen to the spot. The… the vicious female supporting character? My hand trembled as I pointed to myself. Me? A low groan pulled me back to reality. In front of me, a dark, brooding young man was kneeling on the floor. His black hair was a mess, his sharp jawline lost in the damp shadows. His arms were suspended by iron chains, his hands hanging limply. His breathing was shallow, faint. Daniel. The male lead of this redemption story. And the boy I had grown up with. My childhood friend. In the story, I had a secret crush on Daniel for ten years. I was supposed to be the pure, beautiful, innocent girl who followed him around like a shadow. Until the female lead appeared. Then, my “villainy” meter shot through the roof. I didn’t just frame the female lead time and time again; I also kidnapped the male lead, imprisoned him, and subjected him to a litany of cruelties. Daniel became completely disillusioned with me, his disgust absolute. He personally had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. Not long after, I lost my mind and jumped from a window, ending my own life. And right now, Daniel, not yet the powerful tycoon he would become, was kneeling at my feet. The collar of his white shirt was torn open. The horrifying lash marks on his chest were a stark, bloody red. His pale face was slick with a cold sweat, his lips trembling. The moment our eyes met, I knew. My life was probably over. His eyes, like those of a cornered animal, were practically bursting with a raw, feral hatred, fixed on me. I wanted to cry. I, Aria Astor, had lived my life trying to be good, to be kind. I was a coward. I didn’t know how to be a villain. But it wasn’t too late to fix this. My hands shook as I reached for the iron shackles on Daniel’s wrists. My gaze fell on the raw, red marks there. A flash of memory seared through my mind. When I locked him up, I had traced every inch of his skin with a sick fascination, my sharp nails leaving red scratches on his pale face. “Daniel, I’m going to lock you up by my side forever,” I had said. “You can only look at me.” A shiver ran down my spine. The Astor and Thorne families were old friends, our houses practically next door to each other. Our parents had even joked about arranging a marriage for us when we were kids. Daniel was a year older than me. In my memories, I was always trailing behind him, my voice a sweet, soft “Daniel…” He was a cool, reserved person, but he always treated me like a real little sister, spoiling me rotten. But as I grew older, my feelings changed. I was no longer content with being his “sister.” And when the male and female leads started getting closer, I was consumed by jealousy. That’s when I kidnapped him and tried to force him to love me. Clink— The shackle opened, the iron chain falling to the floor, the sound echoing in the dark, empty basement. I forced a placating smile, though I was on the verge of tears. “Dan-Daniel.” “If I told you… I was possessed… would you believe me?” 2 A sharp, derisive laugh. The man’s lips curled. Those beautiful, almond-shaped eyes were cold, merciless. His voice was a hoarse, mocking drawl. “Weren’t you going to kill me, Miss Astor?” My body went rigid. Daniel… he really must hate me. He used to call me Aria. The man narrowed his eyes, a dangerous, angry glint in them. He moved closer, his shadow falling over me, creating an intense, suffocating pressure. “Aria Astor, what new game are you playing now?” Memories flooded in. Three days ago. I had gently tapped his cheek with the whip. I smiled and told him we were going to play a game. I unlocked his shackles. I tossed him a key. I told him that this basement was a maze, with seven secret rooms. But there was only one way out, only one door that led to the outside world. If he could find it, I would let him go. He searched every path of the maze, tried every single door, until he collapsed on the floor, utterly exhausted. Only then did I appear before him, my eyes red and wild. I had questioned him, my voice frantic. “You want to leave that badly? Isn’t it better to just stay with me forever?” “Are you going to see Hannah again?” “Why! Why do you only have eyes for her now?” “Daniel, you’re mine! You can only look at me!” “If you try to run again, I’ll kill you.” Hannah was the female lead of this story. After a falling out with his family in high school, Daniel had gone to a university in the city. In his junior year, he co-founded a company with the equally brilliant female lead. They were in and out of the lab together, competed in competitions together, built their company together. They were inseparable, their feelings for each other growing stronger every day. After overcoming a series of obstacles, they achieved their happy ending. And I… I was the biggest obstacle they were about to overcome. I didn’t just target the female lead at every turn, creating trouble for them both. I also kidnapped Daniel right before he was about to lead his team in a crucial competition. I closed my eyes, wanting to cry but having no tears left. Aria Astor, oh, Aria Astor, you really are something else. You dared to treat the male lead like a dog. How did you end up with such a bold and reckless life? It was a classic “overbearing CEO” trope. Offend the male lead, and you will not have a good end. Seeing me lost in thought, Daniel’s patience finally ran out. He grabbed my shoulders, the pain so sharp I thought I heard bone crack. “Aria Astor, speak.” “What the hell are you trying to do?” “When are you going to let me go?!” Daniel’s face was terrifyingly dark. He looked like he wanted to tear me to pieces, chew me up, and swallow me whole. I was on the verge of tears. After staring at him for two seconds with the resolve of a condemned woman, I took a deep breath. And buried my face in his chest. The wails came out, loud and unrestrained. “Daniel!” “I was wrong! I was so, so wrong!” “I was possessed by a demon!” Sincerity. Sincerity is always the ultimate weapon. If I grovel fast enough, the vicious female supporting character’s ending can’t catch up to me. I sniffled, my tear-filled eyes looking up at him pitifully. “Daniel, I’m only twenty. You have to allow me to make mistakes.” 3 The air seemed to freeze. The man’s body stiffened for a moment. Then, he must have been hit in his wounds. He let out a low gasp of pain. And then he shoved me away. “Aria Astor, you think a single ‘sorry’ can erase everything?” “Who the hell do you think you are?” His eyes were bloodshot. The way he looked at me, he wanted to skin me alive. It was over. It was all over. Daniel still wanted to kill me. Tears streamed down my face. I fumbled in the inner pocket of my dress and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. I carefully unfolded it and held it out to him. It was something Daniel had written for me when we were seven. So many years had passed that the paper had become soft and frayed. The pencil-written words were faded, but still legible. “Aria can do anything, and I’ll still forgive her” voucher. It was over something so small. He had spilled my milk. But I was spoiled, and I cried and cried. Daniel, who was always so mature, panicked for the first time. To soothe me, he wrote this note. Actually, in my previous life, I had used this too. Right before he sent me to the psychiatric hospital. But by then, I had done too many terrible things. It was too late. To be honest, I didn’t hate Daniel for that ending. After all, in the original story, my actions were truly unforgivable. But now, this was my last lifeline. Daniel stared at the crumpled piece of paper, stunned. He probably never thought I still had it. A childish promise, taken seriously in this moment. His cool lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. My tears were still falling. After a long moment, the ice in Daniel’s eyes finally began to thaw. He let go of my shoulders. He stood up and left without a word. Before he walked out the door, he gave me one last, deep look. “Aria Astor,” he said, “don’t ever do anything that disgusts me again.” Disgusts? Yes. This kind of twisted, obsessive emotion… it was disgusting. I collapsed to the floor, feeling like I’d just survived a near-death experience. Tears still clung to my eyelashes. But I quickly pulled out my phone— And let out a dolphin-like shriek. “Mom!” “Send me to study abroad! Now!” “Germany! I want to go to Germany!” Daniel belonged to the female lead. They were a perfect match. I would have to be insane to fight for him again. To get myself killed again. I believed that my three years of undergraduate studies in Germany would be the most unforgettable seven years of my life. And in seven years, the male and female leads would have already settled down. Naturally, I wouldn’t repeat my mistakes. I wouldn’t meet a tragic end. 4 Daniel’s return was a shot of adrenaline for his leaderless team. The competition was a high-profile event. Countless investors had their eyes on it. Rising stars were all vying for a chance to stand out and secure funding. On the first day of the semi-finals, a news notification popped up on my phone. I glanced at it. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, his figure tall and straight, his features sharp. His rimless glasses gave him an air of calm intelligence. He was a world away from the battered, broken man in the basement. On the screen, he looked through the chaotic crowd and met the female lead’s gaze. It was different from the hate-filled look he gave me. In front of her, his eyes were always confident and determined. As if to say, silently, I’ve got this. He was brilliant, invincible. I turned off the screen. In the novel, the basement imprisonment was just an appetizer. Later on, I would turn Daniel from a proud, noble young man into a dark, twisted psycho. I would break every bone of his pride. I would make him lose everything, so he could only look up at me from the gutter, clinging to me for survival. And in the end, my love would turn to hate, and I would try to run him and his family over with a car. I rubbed my throbbing temples. That wasn’t love. That was pure, unadulterated torture. No wonder Daniel hated me. I clutched the study abroad application that needed the dean’s signature, my legs pumping even faster. Daniel. Berlin is 5,300 miles from here, with a seven-hour time difference. That’s the farthest I can get from you. 5 These past few days, I had been running around nonstop, trying to get my study abroad paperwork in order. I was walking down the street, my eyes glued to my phone as I replied to a message from my department head. So I walked right into someone. I rubbed my forehead, about to apologize. A soft chuckle came from in front of me. “Well, if it isn’t Daniel’s little childhood sweetheart.” “What a coincidence, running into our ‘Daniel’ again, huh?” I looked up and met Daniel’s cold, wary gaze. He frowned. His hand, hanging at his side, clenched into a fist. He studied me for a long moment. Besides the resistance and disgust in his eyes, there seemed to be a flicker of something else, something complex and unreadable. His tone was stiff. “What are you doing here?” My heart sank. I opened my mouth, but the name “Daniel” wouldn’t come out. The person next to him hadn’t noticed the change in atmosphere. “What do you mean, coincidence? The way Aria clings to Daniel, she’s probably got a GPS tracker on him. Wherever we go, she follows.” Everyone else took it as a joke. But I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles. The phone in my hand suddenly felt like a hot potato. I nearly threw it away. Because it really did have a tracking system linked to Daniel. Ever since the female lead appeared in his life, they had become partners, walking side-by-side, sharing a world I could never enter. It was like a barrier that shut me out. My anxiety grew stronger and stronger. Driven by a twisted possessiveness, I had installed a tracking app on his phone. I turned every instance of surveillance into a “coincidence.” I stayed by his side, keeping him within my line of sight, a prisoner of my gaze. I even reveled in the teasing from those around me. I deliberately created false intimacy in front of the female lead. It wasn’t just Daniel who was suffocating. I was too. “But how come you didn’t come to watch our competition this time, Aria? Did you two have a fight? You guys can’t hold a grudge overnight, can you?” The group’s eyes, still clueless, continued to drift suggestively between me and Daniel. It was more than just a fight… It was practically attempted murder. I watched as Daniel’s face grew darker and darker. I silently cursed my luck. My eyes instinctively flickered to the female lead. Hannah was as her name suggested: cool and captivating. She heard the teasing, but her expression didn’t change. She even looked at me with a hint of amusement. As expected of the female lead. So calm and composed. She couldn’t be bothered to stoop to my level. But outside of the script, I, Aria Astor, was just a coward. Just as I was wringing my hands, trying to figure out how to escape, a loud, arrogant voice suddenly cut through the air. “Where’s Hannah?” 6 I turned toward the voice. And was nearly blinded by a 24-karat gold glare. The man’s wild, untamed eyes held a fierce glint. He was holding an iron pipe, the veins on his hand bulging. Coupled with his outrageous hair color, he looked like the perfect image of a cool, vicious bully. A pity. I shook my head. Going up against the male and female leads would only lead to a cannon fodder’s end. But this person… he looked a little familiar. Daniel subtly moved to stand in front of the female lead. His eyes were cold, his voice deep. “What do you want with her?” The bully raised a sharp eyebrow. He faced Daniel, not backing down an inch. “Someone asked me to give her a message.” He tapped the iron pipe on the ground for emphasis. He curled his lip, his tone threatening. “Miss Thorne, be careful when you’re walking alone. Watch out for…” Before he could finish, I sprang up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. It was him! I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my arm around the bully’s neck, and clamped my hand over his mouth. I laughed sheepishly. “Sorry, this is my friend. He’s got the wrong person!” “We’re just going to… catch up.” My laugh was hollow. I was about to make a run for it. But Daniel grabbed my wrist. His dark gaze rested for a moment on my arm, wrapped around the bully, then returned to my face. He didn’t look happy. “I didn’t know you had a friend like this.” What was wrong with Daniel? After what I did to him, shouldn’t he hate me? Why was he suddenly so concerned about who I was friends with? I blurted out a lie. “We just met. While you guys were at the competition.” “I haven’t been following you around lately, so you wouldn’t know.” “Daniel, you always used to tell me to make new friends.” “I made a new friend. Aren’t you happy?” I looked at him cautiously. Even Daniel, with his endless patience, could be annoyed. When he couldn’t stand my constant pestering, he would rub his temples, swallow his frustration, and gently persuade me. “Aria, besides me, don’t you think you should have some new friends?” I was leaving. In these last few moments with him, I wanted, more than anything, for him to be happy. Daniel wasn’t happy. He wasn’t angry either. He just pulled his hand from my wrist and let it fall to his side, clenching it into a fist. His dark eyes stared at me, deep and bottomless. Then, in silence, he watched me leave. 7 We were a good distance away before the bully finally broke free. He ruffled his messy hair. “Hey, what was that all about?” he demanded, his voice cold. I feigned composure. “Daniel was right there. I was just trying to keep you from blowing your cover.” That’s right. The bully threatening the female lead was named Cole. I had hired him. I paid, he did the work. He heard my explanation. His cold eyes narrowed, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Don’t worry, I have professional ethics. I took your money, so I won’t sell you out.” He leaned in. His sharp eyes narrowed, studying me with a look of disdain. “What? Are you scared, Miss Astor?” I knew he was provoking me. The frown on his face betrayed his anxiety. He needed the money. Cole’s parents had died young. He was raised by his grandmother in poverty. Now, his grandmother was sick, and the exorbitant medical bills had pushed him to the brink. In the original story, I exploited this. I turned him into my sharpest weapon. The enforcer for the vicious female supporting character. Naturally, he didn’t have a good end either. Cole died on a rainy night. He kidnapped the female lead. During a standoff with the police, he used her as a hostage. He was shot and killed while trying to take her down with him. “I” had bought his morals, his future, and even his life. But in the end, “I” still didn’t help him save his grandmother. A sharp pain shot through my chest. I felt like I had woken from a nightmare, my body weak. I was terrified of that “me.” I pulled a card from my bag. “This is a million dollars.” Cole’s expression changed, a flicker of mockery in his eyes. But his gaze quickly darkened, his voice a low, hoarse whisper, suppressing a twisted, struggling madness. “A million dollars. That’s enough to buy her life.” I frowned, holding up two fingers. “No. Two lives.” He frowned even more. “From now on, I want you to protect Hannah Thorne. Don’t let a single hair on her head be harmed.” As the female lead, Hannah had the standard tragic backstory—a gambling-addicted father, a mother who favored her son, a sick younger brother. A broken home. Consider it money well spent. A bodyguard for her. And a small compensation for all the times I had bullied her. I tucked the card into the pocket of his shirt. I stared at his face, my voice fierce. “As for you, from now on, you’re going to be a good person. Every day, you will silently recite the core values of a decent human being three times.” “Otherwise—” “I’ll tell your grandma that you burn your classmates’ butts with cigarettes at school!” “We’ll see how long your ‘good student’ act lasts then!” I watched as Cole’s arrogant, fierce face turned from red to white, then back again. It felt good. Being a good person felt so much better. I rubbed my chest, which still ached from the sharp pain. My eyes stung. How could I have done so many bad things? 8 The last rays of the setting sun. The afternoon in the city was still hot and humid. I was wearing a white sundress, walking through a remote barbecue street. The stalls had just been set up, with only a few tables occupied. Mostly shirtless men, boasting about politics, their conversations punctuated by crude jokes. I felt a pair of leering eyes following me. I frowned. I quickened my pace. After a few twists and turns into an alley, the sun had completely set. The alley was swallowed by the night. I heard the heavy thud of footsteps behind me, getting closer and closer. I unconsciously started to walk faster. Suddenly, a pair of rough hands landed on my shoulders. A greasy, slurred laugh sounded in my ear. “Hey, little lady, why don’t you have a drink with your big brother?” I turned my head. A drunken, scarred face filled my vision. “Sir, sexual harassment is a crime,” I said calmly. He laughed, the dark red flesh on his face wrinkling. “Don’t be so harsh.” “There are no cameras here.” I curled my lip. “No cameras? That’s great.” “Get him!” A cloth bag descended from above, covering the man’s head. After he was dragged to the ground, Cole’s fists rained down on him without mercy. This was Hannah’s biological father. He not only abused his wife and daughter from a young age, but he was also a gambling addict. He often lurked in this remote alley, preying on students. Pure social garbage. Recently, he had racked up a lot of gambling debt. Soon, he would be coming after the up-and-coming female lead. Forcing her to sell her body to pay off his debts. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I took advantage of the chaos and gave him a swift kick. “Scumbag.” When the man on the ground was completely still, I clapped my hands. “Let’s go,” I said to Cole. Cole glanced at the man on the ground, his eyes cold and empty. He raised his sneaker and ground it into the man’s right hand. This would probably just put him in bed for half a month. But if someone found him and called the police, and they found the drugs on him, then Mr. Thorne’s good days would be over.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392943”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I’m the heroine of this story. But I have a past with the villain. I even bore him a child. When the hero appeared, a “System” wiped my memories and faked my death. It changed my face and tore me away from the villain’s side. But not even two years later, at a gala, I ran into him again. The widowed villain, holding our son. As I met his cold, distant gaze, my own eyes inexplicably welled up, burning with tears I couldn’t understand. That’s when the comments appeared, scrolling across my vision like phantom text— 【Wait… isn’t the villain supposed to be this dark, heartless monster?】 【Since when did he have a kid?】 【And he guards him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Won’t even let anyone look.】 【Is that kid really his? Who’s the mother? Who would dare have a baby with him?】 【Hold on, why is our heroine staring so intensely at the villain?!】 1 Six months into my marriage with Logan, I still flinched at his touch. On Saturday night, he cornered me at my bedroom door again. “I’ve given you six months, Rachel. Are you still not willing to share a room with me?” Logan was handsome, wealthy, and the man I’d supposedly known my whole life—my childhood sweetheart. Even now, his voice was exceptionally gentle as he pleaded with me. But meeting his earnest gaze, I instinctively took a step back. “I’m sorry—” In half a year of marriage, those were the words I’d said to him most. At my words, Logan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “You know that’s not what I want to hear,” he murmured, his voice low. He looked at me again. “You have to at least give me a reason.” I avoided his gaze, my eyes tracing the marble pattern on the floor. “I think… I just need more time.” 2 Four years ago, I went to study abroad. On the flight home, my plane went down. I was in a coma for a full year. Logan never left my side. The moment I woke up, I was rushed into marrying him. For the past six months, he’s been nothing but perfect. We have a shared history, a lifetime of affection. Everyone tells me he loves me. Everyone assumes, as a matter of course, that I love him deeply, too. They say Logan is the only man I’ve ever known. Our marriage is the envy of countless people. Leaning against the headboard, I stared out at the cold sliver of the moon. I subconsciously pressed a hand to my chest, over my heart. But there was always this heavy, hollow feeling inside me. Ever since I opened my eyes in that hospital bed six months ago, I’ve felt like I’ve lost something essential. But no matter how hard I search my memories, I can’t figure out what it is. 3 I had upset Logan again. He left, bottling up his frustration so he wouldn’t show it in front of me. But I knew that later tonight, he’d drink himself into a stupor. Sure enough, his assistant called, stammering on the other end of the line that Logan was drunk again and wasn’t making any sense. He said they couldn’t move him. “Mr. Sterling has an important meeting tomorrow morning…” he asked tentatively. “Mrs. Sterling, what do you think?” I sighed softly. “Send me the address. I’m on my way.” I parked in the underground garage of a downtown club. After double-checking the address, I pushed my door open and stepped out. The moment I did, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I instinctively followed the gaze and met the stare of a small boy, maybe two or three years old. Across from my parking spot was a discreet black luxury van. The boy, neatly dressed with a beautiful, angelic face, was leaning against the half-open door, just watching me. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze full of a pure, direct, and gentle curiosity. 4 My steps faltered. A small child, all alone in a strange, dark parking garage. My first instinct was to go to him, to scoop him into my arms. But before I could move, a man in a black suit stepped out from the van. He shot me a wary glance before swiftly lifting the boy back inside. The door clicked shut. I just barely heard the child’s soft, slurred words: “…Where’s Daddy?” Then, the bodyguard’s low reply, “Mr. Thorne will be down any second.” I couldn’t hear anything else. 5 As I walked away, a strange sense of reluctance washed over me. I glanced back at the van one last time, only to meet the driver’s warning glare in the rearview mirror. His arms were corded with muscle, and his face was set in a fierce scowl, as if one more look from me would have him storming out of the car to deal with me. They guarded that child with an intense, almost frantic protectiveness. They wouldn’t even allow a stranger’s gaze to linger. It must have been an order from his parents. They must cherish him so much to be this vigilant. Finally, I tore my gaze away and walked slowly out of the quiet underground garage. 6 That weekend, Logan took me to my parents’ house for dinner. He played the part of the perfect husband, always making sure we stayed connected with both our families. At the dinner table, my mother casually brought up our neighbor’s new granddaughter. The implication in her voice was painfully obvious. She added that I was already twenty-six and couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Logan, to his credit, smoothed things over for me. I just stared blankly at the plate in front of me, my mind adrift. A pair of bright, dark eyes—a child’s eyes—materialized in my thoughts. I kept thinking about the little boy from the parking garage. Maybe it was because he was so beautiful, or because of the intense way he had looked at me. Sometimes, I even dreamed of him. A hand rested affectionately on my right shoulder, jolting me back to the present. I looked up into Logan’s smiling eyes. I hadn’t heard a word he’d said, but he was clearly waiting for an answer. He had his head tilted slightly, his focus entirely on me. But lately, I couldn’t bear that look. I couldn’t meet his gaze. So I just turned my head away, pushed my plate back, and stood up. “I’m full.” Logan’s hand fell from my shoulder. In my peripheral vision, I saw his fingers curl slightly, closing around an empty palm. As I walked upstairs, I heard my mother complaining to Logan behind me. She said that ever since my accident, my personality had completely changed. Then came Logan’s placid explanation: “She was probably just frightened by the whole ordeal.” 7 That night, Logan had a business gala to attend. He asked me to go with him. “We’ve been married for months, and I’ve never had the chance to properly show you off,” he said, his tone pleading. My first instinct was to refuse. “…You could take your secretary.” Logan shook his head instantly. “It’s not the same.” He held my gaze. “I won’t ask anyone else. If you don’t go, I’ll go alone.” I had been cold enough to him during the day. I didn’t know if I loved Logan, but I was constantly overwhelmed by a sense of guilt. It felt like I could never give him what he wanted. Meeting his burning gaze, I finally relented. I nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Okay.” Logan’s face broke into a radiant smile. 8 The gala was held at a private, secluded mountain estate on the outskirts of the city. We were already running a bit late when we arrived. As we were about to enter, he subtly offered me his arm, an invitation to take it. Since I had already agreed to accompany him, I didn’t make a fuss. I lightly placed my hand in the crook of his elbow. Just as the attendant was about to lead us into the main hall, a commotion erupted behind us. A black Phantom limousine pulled up brazenly to the main entrance of the estate. The car had barely stopped when the host of the evening was already rushing over to greet it. The man, well past fifty, stood by respectfully, ready to open the car door himself. Whoever this was, he was a very big deal. That’s what I thought at the time. 9 The car door finally swung open under the eager watch of the crowd. A black leather shoe hit the pavement, and a man stooped to emerge. What was surprising wasn’t just his chiseled, coldly handsome face, but the small child nestled in the crook of his arm. The gala was a networking event for high-society elites. No one brought a child. The boy’s presence was jarring. He didn’t seem shy at all, his arm draped over the man’s shoulder as he blinked his big, curious eyes, taking in the scene. My gaze froze. I recognized that child—I had seen him that night in the underground garage. 10 The man, dressed in a sharp black suit, had a completely blank expression. He was coolly dealing with the fawning host. The half of his face I could see was a little pale. He was tall, but with a leanness that you couldn’t ignore. The suit, while making him look distinguished, also seemed to hang on him with a kind of weary grace. He wasn’t well. I was almost certain of it. But he held the child securely, his other hand gently supporting the restless boy’s back. He was an experienced father. It was baffling. Just the sight of his back, half-turned to me, made me stare, unable to look away. Perhaps my gaze was too intense. The little boy, perched on his father’s shoulder, turned his head first and noticed me. It had been days, and he probably didn’t remember me, but just like that night, once his eyes met mine, they didn’t move away. He rested his chin on his father’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his neck, and watched me with that same soft, serious curiosity. Meeting his gaze, my heart began to hammer in my chest. My vision blurred. Suddenly, white lines of text scrolled across my eyes— 【Wait… isn’t the villain supposed to be this dark, heartless monster?】 【Since when did he have a kid?】 【And such a beautiful, well-behaved one, too.】 【He guards him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Won’t even let anyone look.】 【Is that kid really his? Who’s the mother? Who would dare have a baby with him?】 【I wouldn’t be surprised about anyone else, but this guy is genuinely cold-blooded. He sent his own father and brother to prison when he was fifteen.】 【His IQ is off the charts and he’s merciless. How could he possibly start a family, let alone raise a child…】 【Wrong, that’s not the point! Hasn’t anyone noticed—】 【Why is our heroine staring so intensely at the villain?!】 11 Villain. Heroine. The dense lines of text flashed past my eyes. I stared at the baffling words, managing to grasp only a few key phrases, slowly connecting them to myself. The villain… was that the cold-faced man holding the child over there? And the heroine… could that be me? I thought about my smooth, fortunate life—the open-minded parents, the wealthy family, and beside me… my childhood-sweetheart husband. Was I really the fortunate heroine? And was that man over there really the inscrutable villain? “Rachel?” Logan squeezed my hand. I snapped back to reality, turning to look at him. His eyes were filled with a faint worry. He followed my gaze toward the lawn, but the crowd was moving, and the father and son from a moment ago had already been respectfully escorted into a private lounge by the host. 12 “What were you looking at?” Logan asked. I suppressed the strange sense of loss in my heart. I noticed that as soon as Logan spoke, the on-screen comments vanished completely. I shook my head, making up a random excuse. “The fountain over there is beautiful.” Logan suddenly reached a hand toward my face. I flinched back instinctively. His thumb brushed my cheekbone in a fleeting motion. He held his hand up for me to see. “Then why are you crying?” I stared at the glint of moisture on his fingertip and finally became aware of the dampness around my own eyes. Why was I crying? I raised a hand to my face, gently touching my eyes. I hadn’t even realized it myself. I was crying. 13 Halfway through the gala, Logan’s gaze remained on me, laced with thought and concern. I didn’t want to be watched so intently, so I excused myself to the restroom. The main hall was a vibrant cacophony, but the hallway leading to the restrooms was exceptionally quiet. As I came out after washing my hands, I saw that a small figure had appeared in the corridor. He was leaning against the opposite wall, his head bowed as he played with a small, diamond-encrusted horse pendant hanging around his neck. I recognized it. It was the final, show-stopping piece from the auction earlier. It had been sold for a staggering price to a mysterious bidder. So, it was bought to be a child’s toy. Perhaps hearing my footsteps, the boy looked up. The light spilled over his face as he blinked at me, a look of innocent confusion in his eyes. The moment our gazes met, my heart melted. I moved toward him without thinking, crouching down to his level. 14 I softened my expression, trying to muster a gentle smile. “What are you doing here all by yourself?” I asked softly. He pressed his lips together, his expression a forced imitation of seriousness. “Daddy said I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” He enunciated each word clearly. But as soon as he finished, he lowered the diamond pony and reached out, his finger gently brushing my earlobe. He seemed shy. The touch was feather-light before he curled his fingers into a fist and quickly pulled his hand back. He looked at me and said earnestly, “My mommy has one of these, too.” The reflection in the window showed the small red mole on the side of my ear. The little boy’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked at me, his gaze so clean, so soft. In that moment, I desperately wanted to hug him. But before I could move, a sound came from the restroom behind me. Someone was approaching with quick, urgent steps. An arm shot out and swept the child off the ground. I looked up, stunned, and met the man’s cold, vigilant eyes. “Don’t touch him,” he said, his voice low and commanding, looking down at me. He spared me only three words. My outstretched hand froze in mid-air, not even having grazed the hem of the child’s clothes. 15 I slowly stood up, only to realize how tall the man in front of me was. I had to tilt my head back to see his face. The moment I saw him clearly, my breath caught. An unstoppable wave of sorrow surged into my sinuses. He had a high-bridged nose, thin lips, and sharp, piercing eyes. His gaze was lowered, all his attention focused on the child in his arms. He expertly smoothed out a wrinkle on the boy’s collar. I found my voice, trying to explain. “He’s so cute. I was just worried… about him being here all alone.” The man finally deigned to look at me. His gaze was once again a mask of indifference, completely devoid of warmth. He was still a man of few words. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Then, holding his son, he turned and strode away. I stood rooted to the spot, watching him disappear down the hall. The child sat in his arms, cupping the man’s face with both his little hands. I heard his small, milky voice ask, “Daddy, does your head still hurt?” The man caught the boy’s hands in his. “Not anymore,” he murmured. And then they were gone, vanished around the corner. I leaned back against the wall where the boy had been standing. I thought about the man’s overly pale face when he’d come out of the restroom. I’d thought he was just anxious then. But now, thinking about it, a man who cherished his child that much would never leave him alone in a hallway just to use the restroom. He must have been sick.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392942”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend lost his memory. And he fell for the one person he’d always despised. He announced it on social media: “Even if I forget the whole world, my heart will remember you.” My friends tried to push me. “Aren’t you going to fight for him? He got that head injury saving your life, after all.” “And before his surgery, he begged you. He said if he came out of it ‘scrambled,’ you had to find a way to make him love you again.” I just shook my head, refusing to speak. In my last life, I endured a year of humiliation to finally make him remember me. In the end, all I got was a cold, dismissive question: “Why not just let this mistake be?” This time, I was determined to walk away. But when I stood with my arm linked through my new boyfriend’s, Evan’s eyes went red, his composure shattering. 1 The moment Evan opened his eyes after the surgery, I knew the script of my past life was replaying. His gaze swept over me, distant and empty, without a flicker of recognition. Evan’s father, overjoyed, seized the opportunity to sever all contact between us. The next time I heard anything about Evan was a month later. He posted a photo on his social media account, an embrace with a woman named Faye. The caption read: “Even if I forget the whole world, my heart will remember you.” Their love story spread like wildfire. They said the heir to the Thorne family was terrifyingly lucid after his amnesia, wary even of his own parents. But the moment he saw Faye, that cold mask cracked. They stared at each other for a long moment before Evan’s hand trembled and pressed against his heart. “Who are you?” Faye leaned against the doorframe, a sweet smile playing on her lips. “We grew up together. I’m your fiancée, silly.” Evan pulled her into his arms. The confusion and terror of his memory loss finally found an anchor. “What took you so long?” he asked, his voice thick with a child-like grievance. 2 Evan’s father had spent three years trying to pry him away from me with threats and bribes, all to no avail. One bout of amnesia, and Evan fell right into the arms of the woman his father had chosen for him. Everything was back on its predetermined track. My friends were furious on my behalf. “Evan cut ties with his family just to be with you and to get out of that arranged marriage with Faye. How could he possibly like her?” “Exactly! Every time Faye tried to get near him before, he looked at her with pure disgust. He must think she’s you!” They urged me to go “save” him, insisting that when his memory returned, he’d be mortified, sickened by what he’d done. I just shook my head at their pleas. Because I knew the truth. Evan wouldn’t be mortified. He would drown himself in Faye’s feigned tenderness and never want to wake up. In my last life, I spent a year enduring his insults and humiliation, all to make him remember me. And when he finally did, he got drunk, scrolling through photos of his sweet moments with Faye over and over. Then he looked up at me, his eyes like chips of ice. “Why not just let this mistake be?” I froze, completely lost. “…But you begged me before the surgery. You lost your memory saving my life.” Evan cut me off. “And for that, I haven’t treated you poorly.” His voice was laced with impatience. “Can’t you just… let me go?” I will never forget the searing pain and humiliation of that moment. Now, facing it all again, I would not walk that same path to ruin. I refused my friends’ advice, packed my things, and left the home I had shared with Evan that very night. 3 But fate had other plans. I was with my best friend, running errands. I fell asleep in the car, and when I woke up, she had parked in front of a bar. The moment we walked in, I realized it was the grand opening of a bar owned by Evan’s friend, Samuel. A jolt of clarity shot through me. The script was still playing out. Inside, Evan was the center of attention, Faye nestled in his arm. He didn’t seem surprised to see me at all. A mocking smile touched his lips, just as I knew it would. “Miss Rhea, is it? They tell me you’re the one I saved.” “That’s right,” I nodded. His brow furrowed. “They also said you intended to repay my kindness with… yourself. I didn’t quite believe it at first.” He sneered. “But seeing as you’ve gone to such lengths to track me down here, you can’t blame me for being blunt.” He shot to his feet, looking down at me, the disdain in his eyes undisguised. “Listen closely, Miss Rhea. You don’t have to repay me for saving your life, but you can’t repay my kindness with this kind of twisted obsession!” He bit off each word, his face a mask of frost. “Do I make myself clear?” It was identical to my last life. Even the wounding words were the same, word for word. That day, in my last life, the bar was filled with Evan and Samuel’s friends. Most of them knew about our history. I naively thought they would stand up for me, confirm our relationship. So when Evan ordered his men to throw me out, I fought back, desperately trying to tell the truth. I know I must have looked pathetic and crazed, but I couldn’t bear to see him deceived, couldn’t accept our love ending like this. I held up my phone, begging him to just look at our photos together. He ordered his men to destroy the “fake pictures” with a look of disgust. In the struggle, my collar was torn, exposing my shoulder. Faye let out a tinkling laugh. She turned to Evan, her voice a playful purr. “Evan, darling, what do you mean a ‘twisted obsession’? I think she has a rather nice figure, don’t you?” Evan ignored my cries, pinching Faye’s cheek with faux affection. “You’re asking for it.” The crowd chuckled knowingly at their exchange. Not a single person spoke up for me. Even Samuel, who had secretly given me the invitation, looked away uncomfortably. As I was dragged out the door, Evan was cradling the back of Faye’s neck, lowering his lips for a deep, passionate kiss… I snapped back to the present. Evan was waiting for my response, his patience wearing thin. “Since you don’t seem to understand, let me be perfectly clear. Your offer to ‘repay me with yourself’ is the last thing I want.” His voice was frigid. “You’re not my type. Even before I lost my memory, I wouldn’t have given you a second glance. So stop fantasizing about me.” The bar fell silent. All eyes were on me. Even those who knew our past were eagerly waiting to see the abandoned woman make a fool of herself. But Evan’s condescending, holier-than-thou act no longer hurt me. Instead, it ignited a deep, simmering hatred. I laughed, my tone exaggerated. “So, Mr. Thorne, you’ve spent all this time dramatically warning me off because you thought I was interested in you?” The crowd stilled, ears perked. Evan scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve been contacting my lawyer, trying to dig up information on me.” Faye burst out laughing again, bending over with the force of it. “Oh, Miss Rhea, just how badly do you want my fiancé? You’re certainly persistent.” The people around them joined in with low, mocking chuckles. I shook my head, my own smile laced with weary amusement. “Of course, I have to be persistent.” I slowly reached into my bag and pulled out a single sheet of paper. As I unfolded it, two large words were visible to everyone: I.O.U. “Because if I’m not, your fiancé might just decide to default on the money he owes me!” 4 The IOU in my hand was from three years ago. Back then, Evan had cut ties with his family for me, and they had frozen all his assets. I gave him my entire life savings to start his own company. His eyes had been red as he wrote it out, stroke by stroke. He’d said, “Rhea, I’ll spend my entire life paying back what I owe you.” I no longer wanted his lifetime. But getting my money back was my right. My declaration sent a shockwave through the bar. First, the idea of Evan Thorne, the sole heir to the Thorne fortune, borrowing money from a humble acupuncturist like me was absurd. But then they remembered he’d been cast out by his family, and looks of dawning comprehension spread across their faces. Second, Evan had just finished publicly berating me for harassing him, loudly warning me to love him less, only for it to turn out he was the one in debt. It was all a self-important fantasy. The crowd’s whispers grew louder. “She’s here to collect a debt? Pfft…” “Not a debt of love, a real, monetary debt!” The grins on their faces were becoming impossible to contain. The mob is always like that; they side with whoever has the upper hand. Evan’s face was a thundercloud. He didn’t even look at the paper in my hand. “Hah. Clever little trick. But it won’t work on me. Get out now, before I really lose my temper.” My own face hardened. I held the IOU up high, making sure everyone could see Evan’s distinctive, sharp handwriting. My voice turned sharp, too. “Take a good look at the signature. It even has your thumbprint on it. If your eyes are failing you, I’d be happy to have a professional verify its authenticity.” “And besides this note, I have the bank transfer records from three years ago.” Evan’s eyes flickered as he stared at the familiar script. For a moment, his rigid composure wavered. He pressed his hand to his temple, his brow furrowed in pain. I let out a cold laugh. “See it clearly now? If you do, then you should understand why I was talking to your lawyer. The legal process is complicated. Perhaps your lawyer understands the basic principle of paying one’s debts better than you do.” The other patrons in the bar were now fully invested. “Is he faking a headache to get out of paying?” “Wow, I actually thought she was harassing him. Turns out he’s a deadbeat who’s trying to flip the script.” “Looks like a gentleman, acts like a scumbag!” Evan’s head seemed to hurt even more. His face darkened, his brow knitting tighter. Faye started to panic. She pulled his hand away from his head. “Evan, darling, if you can’t remember, don’t try! Stop torturing yourself.” Then she whirled around, snatched the IOU from my hand, and ripped it to shreds. “If you spout any more nonsense, I’ll make sure you’re sued for slander. The Thorne family has the resources to make it stick!” I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Why the rush, Miss Faye? Weren’t you cackling like a hen just a minute ago when you heard I was talking to a lawyer? Is a mere eight hundred thousand really enough to give you a headache and make you fly off the handle?” As I spoke, I pulled a second IOU from my bag. “Look closely. I have plenty more, all identical.” I tucked the paper into the breast pocket of Evan’s suit. “Mr. Big Shot, if you want to skip out on your debt, just say so. I’d at least respect you for being a man about it. Slandering your creditor and accusing her of being blindly in love with you is just pathetic.” “You have three days. If I don’t see the money, don’t blame me for what happens next. A person with nothing to lose has no fear of a man in expensive shoes.” 5 The scene that day was ugly. The host, Samuel, finally rushed out, pretending he’d just finished with some urgent business, and tried to smooth things over. I didn’t wait for him to speak. I snatched the invitation from my friend’s hand and threw it in his face. “Samuel, if you’re man enough to covet another man’s fiancée, you should be man enough to fight for her yourself instead of starting wars for others and hiding in the shadows like a coward, waiting to pick up the scraps.” Samuel’s face turned a sickly shade of green. “Ooh, spicy! Does the owner have a thing for the deadbeat’s fiancée?” “That deadbeat’s a pretty good actor, though. Look at the sweat on his forehead.” Humiliated, Samuel started trying to clear the bar, ushering guests out. The room was in chaos. I turned and walked out of the bar without a backward glance. Behind me, Evan’s gaze was fixed on my back, as if held there by some powerful, unseen force. His eyes burned not just with anger, but with a deep, churning confusion and unease. 6 I heard Evan got sick. He collapsed right after leaving Samuel’s bar. He was plagued by headaches for days. As soon as he felt slightly better, he ordered his people to verify the eight-hundred-thousand-dollar debt. In a panic, Faye brought him to a traditional medicine clinic for acupuncture. Her request was simple: relax Evan’s mind, stop him from thinking about the past. In other words, don’t let him regain his memory. As luck would have it, the renowned specialist was my mentor, Dr. Adler. The day they came, I was at her clinic for physical therapy. We were separated by a thin curtain. They waited outside while I received treatment. Dr. Adler stimulated my fingers with the needles, her voice full of concern. “How could you try to bend a sharp steel plate with your bare hands? The tendons in these fingers were nearly severed. Even after therapy, you may never be able to hold a needle properly again.” I managed a bitter smile but said nothing. In this life, when the accident happened, I didn’t have my memories from the last one. When I saw Evan, pinned by a steel plate and barely breathing after saving me, how could I have done nothing? I had gone mad, clawing at that plate, my hands a bloody mess, feeling no pain at all. Evan had cried, weakly trying to pry my fingers away. “Rhea, let go! Your hands… how will you ever hold a needle again if you ruin them?” His blood dripped down, blurring his face. “Please, Rhea, let go. I only ask one thing of you. If… if my brain gets scrambled, promise me you’ll find a way to make me remember… that I love you!” The fine silver needles pricked my fingers, one by one. I remained silent as my eyes began to burn. Dr. Adler administered the last needle with a heavy heart. “What a tragedy. If these hands can’t hold a needle, your career is over.” She shook her head and walked out. Evan was settled onto the treatment bed next to mine. Faye chattered away. “Doctor, was the patient next door also in a car accident?” “She was rescuing her boyfriend from a car crash,” my mentor replied. “Truck drivers these days are the worst,” Faye complained. “If that driver hadn’t been driving fatigued, my fiancé wouldn’t have been in this mess.” She sighed dramatically. “Well, I guess you can’t blame him entirely. There was that other driver, the woman. So stupid, such a terrible driver. If he hadn’t shielded her, this never would have happened.” Her voice took on a tinge of grievance. “Evan, darling, if you could do it all over again, would you still forget me just to save that idiot?” Evan was silent for a long time. Then his voice came, low and firm. “No.” Faye was delighted, planting a loud kiss on his cheek. “Of course not! It was all trouble and no reward. Now we can’t even get rid of her.” Evan said nothing more. Dr. Adler came over to begin his treatment. “Just the head needs acupuncture, correct?” “That’s right. Only his head was seriously injured. We were lucky. He was pinned across the chest, but my fiancé is blessed. That sharp steel plate only broke a few bones.” “The doctors said several ribs were fractured. It barely missed his organs.” … Dr. Adler was quiet for a long moment. She seemed to be looking at their registration form. A moment later, Faye’s voice turned shrill. “Doctor, why are your hands shaking? How can you perform acupuncture like that?” My mentor’s tone was sharp. “If you don’t trust me, you can request a refund. I’m not the right person to treat your fiancé’s condition.” “How dare you! Why you…” Faye was about to argue further, but it seemed Evan stopped her. The voices outside fell silent. After a moment of quiet, there was a sharp swish. The curtain by my bed was ripped open. 7 Evan stood beside my bed, his eyes blazing with fury. “You really are relentless, aren’t you?” “Going to all the trouble of bribing a doctor to stage this little drama for me. Tell me, what will it take to finally get rid of you?” He finished, his gaze falling on my hands, which were bristling with silver needles. He let out a choked laugh. “You really commit to the part, don’t you? You’re certainly not afraid to hurt yourself.” Without warning, he lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. “Today, I’m going to see for myself which of your tendons are ‘severed’!” “Don’t!” Faye shrieked. Too late. The grotesque scars on the inside of my fingers were laid bare for Evan to see. Four fingers, marked with deep scars of varying sizes—all from keeping that steel plate from piercing his chest. Evan froze. Panic flared in his eyes before he snatched my other hand. The same. Four fingers, each one scarred. He looked dazed, a wave of uncontrollable terror washing over him. “This is impossible! Impossible!” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Seeing him press his temples again, Faye had a flash of inspiration. “Evan, darling, he saved you! Isn’t it only right that she helped hold the plate for a second?” “Calm down. Her old tactics of clinging to you didn’t work, so now she’s trying to play the victim. You can’t feel sorry for her.” Just like last time, Faye’s words were the lifeline Evan desperately needed. In my last life, I had humbly used the scars on my hands to prove our love. Evan had been moved at first. I thought that small flicker of emotion would be enough to make him investigate the truth. I was wrong. Perhaps he was too cowardly to seek the truth, or too arrogant to bother. In any case, Faye’s explanation gave him the perfect excuse to run. He deliberately chose to hurt me. “So what if it’s true? I trust my own feelings. Even without my memory, my heart tells me who I love.” He had touched his chest, his smile cruel. “And right here,” he’d said, “I feel nothing for you.” I had cried with such despair that day. I tried to tell myself to give up, but the memory of Evan, his face covered in blood, wouldn’t let me go. The good Evan and the bad Evan tore me apart until I was on the verge of a breakdown. But this time, facing his attitude, my heart was a placid lake. After hearing Faye’s words, the confusion in Evan’s eyes dissipated. He was saved, free to take the easy way out. His brow relaxed; the headache seemed to vanish. But his attitude toward me had shifted slightly. His tone softened, and he avoided looking at my hands. “If you were trying to guilt-trip me, you’ve succeeded.” “Name your price. Anything but my affection, I can give you.” I burst out laughing. I leaned back against the headboard, looking him up and down with open contempt. “Guilt-trip you? Let me tell you something, I wouldn’t stand by and watch a stray dog suffer, let alone a human life, no matter how worthless. And ‘anything I can give’? That’s a big promise. How about you pay back the eight hundred thousand before you start making grand declarations?” Evan’s face flushed a deep red. He opened his mouth to argue but was speechless. Just then, Dr. Adler came to remove my needles. She did one hand, and I did the other myself. As my fingertips closed around a silver needle, Evan flinched back, a conditioned reflex making him hide his hands behind his back. When he realized what he’d done, he froze, his breathing growing ragged. I watched him, a wicked smile playing on my lips as I slowly, deliberately, pulled the needles from my hand, one by one. With each needle, the color drained further from his face. The body’s instincts don’t lie. Three years ago, when I used to practice on him, he developed a fear of my needles. Whenever I held one, he’d hide his hands. Now, he stared at my movements, his expression shifting from shock to pure panic. He grabbed Faye’s hand, his voice fragmented and broken. “We need to… go home. Now.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392941”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

9:00 PM. My husband, his hands slick with oil, was carefully shredding the chicken he’d slow-cooked for me for four hours. His phone rang. I picked it up and put it on speaker for him. “…Professor?” A timid female voice came through the receiver. My heart seized. 1 I held the phone for my husband, Lucas, in silence. “What is it?” he answered coolly, not forgetting to tear off a few of the tenderest strips of chicken and offer them to my lips. “Is our meeting still at the same time tomorrow, in your office?” “…Yes.” Perhaps finding her too long-winded, Lucas impatiently took off his gloves, grabbed the phone, and switched off the speaker. His brow furrowed. “Don’t contact me after work hours again. My personal time is for my family.” After hanging up, he put his arm around me and led me back to the dining room. I watched him arrange the food on the plates, unable to stop myself from asking, “Who was that?” He seemed thoroughly annoyed by the call. “A new assistant at the office. Fresh graduate, still learning the ropes.” I nodded and said no more. … There were two unwritten rules at his company. One: No one was to disturb Lucas after work. Two: No one was to call Lucas “Professor.” These unspoken rules had been passed down for so long that no one dared to break them. Until today. Both were broken by the same person. I lowered my gaze, staring blankly at the thin film of oil on the surface of my chicken soup. 2 In our four years of marriage, Lucas had never been anything but attentive to me. Even if I just needed a tissue, he was there in a second, always putting me first. The rule about not contacting him after hours was because he wanted to be with me. For the past two years, his company had been focused on a major urban renewal project. I was worried about distracting him, so I often insisted we work in separate rooms. He’d be in his study, and I’d be in the bedroom with a book. Usually, it wouldn’t be more than twenty minutes before he’d gently push the door open and lean against the frame, looking at me with a pitiful expression. “Kayla, I haven’t seen you all day. Are you really going to make me stay in there all by myself?” Last year, on his birthday, I went to his office to surprise him. On the way, I swerved to avoid a drunk driver and ended up in a frozen river. Lucas went mad, pushing through the crowd and jumping into the water to find me. His hands were torn to shreds by the ice as he searched for over two hours in the sub-zero water. I had already been rescued and taken to the hospital, but he ended up in the ICU for three days with hypothermia and developed chronic joint pain from it. There were countless stories like this, too many to tell. Because of all this, I had never once doubted Lucas’s love for Kayla. For thousands of days and nights, he had been true to his wedding vows: to love me as he did at the beginning, to love me to the bone. Which is why even the smallest deviation now set off alarm bells. What was strange about that phone call wasn’t her gender or her tone. It was the word “Professor.” That was the one title Lucas despised. He never allowed anyone to call him that. Not even me. 3 When we were in graduate school, despite Lucas having the top academic record in our department, he was passed over for national awards. His spot for the doctoral program was given to someone else. Even his mentor, who had promised him a teaching position, went back on his word. He had spent all his free time running data for his department, only to end up with nothing. Lucas said none of that mattered. The hardest part, he said, was graduating after more than a decade of study and not even having enough money to bury his parents together. Back then, I gave him my spot for a university teaching position. Later, when his research paper was stolen by a senior colleague, when he was denied a promotion, when he was drinking himself sick day and night trying to land a project, I stepped in and got him a job at my uncle’s company. He fought his way to the top, to the position he holds today. I will always remember the look on his face when he talked about how much he hated the word “Professor.” It was a symbol of all his humiliation, his failures, his exploitation. So, no matter how close we were, I never called him that. But the woman on the phone just now had said it so naturally. And Lucas’s response had been so casual. It was as if he didn’t care anymore… or maybe, he only made an exception for certain people. It made my fierce protectiveness of him seem like a fool’s errand, a one-sided joke. 4 Doubt began to fester, and I decided to go to his office. The most corrosive thing in a marriage is baseless suspicion, and I didn’t want to plant a seed of doubt in our happy life. I had only been there a few times, so the receptionist didn’t recognize me. I called Lucas’s secretary, Mark. Mark rushed down with two other employees to greet me. “Mrs. Thorne, why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I would have come down to get you.” He took the dessert box from my hands and held the elevator door for me. I laughed. “Do I need to file a report with you just to pop by the office?” “Of course not, Mrs. Thorne! You’re joking.” The three of them, laden with my things, escorted me past the general administrative office. The door was ajar. It was afternoon tea time, and the sound of cheerful chatter drifted out. I slowed my steps, feigning a casual interest in Lucas’s new assistant. “Has the training for the new hires started yet?” “It began last month.” “How many assistants did you hire?” Mark thought for a moment. “Just one, a woman. Graduated from H University, very capable. Mr. Thorne’s plan is to train her and eventually move her into the secretarial pool.” I lowered my eyes, my mind racing. This matched what Lucas had told me perfectly. Was she really the one? 5 The door behind me suddenly opened, and a group of bright, young women came out, surrounding one in the middle. “Chloe, you’re so lucky! I can’t believe Mr. Thorne didn’t dock your pay.” “I know, right? You have no idea how scared we were that day.” “I was so freaked out I skipped lunch. Now I’m suddenly craving hot pot.” “Hehe… me too!” The slightly younger face in the center blushed, speaking in a coy tone. “Oh, you guys, please, spare me…” Her voice died when she saw me. The women who knew me immediately flocked to my side. “Kayla! What are you doing here?” I smiled and had Mark distribute the desserts to the surrounding colleagues, then led the chattering flock to the break room. The one unfamiliar face stood by the door, hesitant to approach. I beckoned to her. “I’m Kayla Thorne. You must be the new assistant, right?” I handed her a matcha pandan roll. “How are you settling in?” She pursed her lips and took a few quiet steps closer. I kept my smile warm and inviting. Perhaps it was the relaxed atmosphere, or perhaps the dessert was to her liking, but the young woman soon opened up. “Everything’s been great…” she said, her head slightly bowed. “It’s just… I’m still in that student mindset, calling everyone ‘Professor.’ Last month… I slipped up and called Mr. Thorne that. He was furious.” Her eyes welled up, her voice choked. “I really thought I was going to be fired… I’ve been so scared of running into him in the elevator that I’ve been taking the stairs to the 32nd floor every day…” 6 The atmosphere froze. The women exchanged glances, stealing peeks at my expression. I was silent for a few seconds, then stood up and bent down to meet the new assistant’s eyes. “Let me apologize on Lucas’s behalf, okay?” Her eyes widened, and a tear rolled down her cheek. I could imagine Lucas’s anger. He had a reputation for being cold and distant at the office, and she had crossed a major line. How could a fresh graduate handle that? “It’s not your fault if you didn’t know. Lucas won’t hold it against you,” I said, gently stroking her hair with a smile. “I used to take the stairs all the time when I worked here. It was great for losing weight.” The others chimed in. “No wonder you’ve gotten so thin, Chloe!” “I’m starting tomorrow!” The HR manager, whom I knew best, put an arm around her shoulder and winked. “You don’t know, do you? Mr. Thorne is famous for how much he adores Kayla. With her in your corner, you have nothing to worry about.” … I knew in my heart: Chloe wasn’t the one who had called. If she had made that mistake, she would have been gone long ago. Besides, Lucas’s calm demeanor on the phone was nothing like the rage Chloe described. Lucas was a surprisingly good liar. A sense of foreboding washed over me. My intuition told me his relationship with the caller was not so simple… My eyes scanned the room. Several of his most trusted female executives were here. Could it be one of them? 7 “Oh!” A woman near the coffee machine accidentally knocked over a cup. Dark brown liquid streamed down the white cabinet door. “I’ll go get the cleaner.” Soon, a woman in a uniform entered. Her head was bowed low. She didn’t look at anyone as she came in, silently mopped the floor, and then crouched down to meticulously wipe away the remaining stains. After she left, the chatter started up again. “Hey, how did you get her to come?” “I just happened to see her by the elevator and brought her over.” “That’s weird. Last time I asked her to wipe down a cabinet, she didn’t even look up and just said it wasn’t her job.” “But I see her on this floor all the time. If it’s not her job, what is she doing here?” I swirled the cup in my hand, my face impassive, but my heart was sinking. This woman… I knew her. I just never expected to see her here again. 8 Her name was Ivy. Lucas had hired her to clean our home. He said she was a neighbor who had helped him when he was a child. Her family was poor, and she had developed a chronic illness after giving birth that prevented her from doing heavy labor. He thought giving her some light work at our house would help her make ends meet. I readily agreed. Someone had to do the work; why not do a favor for a friend? There was nothing special about Ivy. She was plain, small, and dressed simply, her hair always pulled back in a low ponytail. She was like a blank wall, unremarkable, easy to overlook. She didn’t call me “Mrs. Thorne” like everyone else. Instead, she uniquely called me “Miss Kayla.” What was strange was Lucas’s attitude toward her. He was usually home after she had already left. On the rare occasions they crossed paths, Lucas would act as if he didn’t see her, his expression cold. Ivy would keep her head down, silent, exposing a smooth, white, and fragile-looking nape. Once, as she was crouching to wipe the floor, I caught a glimpse of several faint, brownish scars beneath the half-open collar of her shirt. 9 That night, lying in Lucas’s arms, I broached the subject carefully. “Are you and Ivy not on good terms?” He was silent for a moment, then answered with a question. “Why do you ask? Was she rude to you?” I laughed at his overreaction. “Why so defensive? Isn’t she your neighbor? Why does she look like she’s afraid to even look up at you?” His expression was flat, his fingers toying with a strand of my hair. “We haven’t been in touch for a long time. Besides, seeing her just reminds me of the past. It’s… unpleasant.” I tilted my head to look at him. “But you said she helped you when you were a kid.” “Back then,” he said with a hint of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “she was only a few years older than me. How much could she really help? It was all just trivial, depressing stuff.” I knew he had suffered a lot as a child, often going days without a proper meal. He had been so small in junior high that he was shorter than a fifth-grader. My heart ached for him. “If it makes you uncomfortable, we can find her another job.” “Hah,” he scoffed. “What else can she do besides sweep floors?” He snuggled closer, his voice muffled against my neck. “Kayla, why do you keep bringing her up? I missed you so much…” I smiled and soothed him. Later, I noticed that Ivy would often clean the master bedroom without permission. Lucas was very territorial, and he always took care of the master bedroom himself. I mentioned it to her twice, and she quietly agreed to stop. But every time I returned from a business trip, I would find subtle changes—the creases in the sheets, the angle of the rug, even the arrangement of things in the walk-in closet. At the same time, the housekeeper privately told me she thought Ivy was pregnant. I was planning to arrange for her to take maternity leave. Before I could bring it up, Lucas fired her. When I asked why, his face was a cold, emotionless mask. “Why keep someone who doesn’t know her place?” “I sent her somewhere else.” So, he had sent her to work at his company. 10 Because of my surprise visit, Lucas left work an hour early, saying he wanted to take me to a new fusion restaurant in the suburbs. I leaned against the car window, watching the shadowy trees recede in a blur. I could feel his intense gaze on my back. I changed my expression and turned to look at him. He took my hand and kissed it gently. “How was your visit to the office today?” “It was nice. The people in the admin office are as friendly as ever.” He grinned. “That depends on who they’re talking to. Who would dare to neglect the boss’s wife?” “The new assistant is still young. Don’t be so hard on her all the time.” He sighed in mock exasperation. “Alright, alright. I’m just paying a bunch of divas. You’re so gentle. If you come by more often, you’ll just make me look like an even bigger tyrant.” I lowered my head and smiled, then paused before speaking again. “I… saw Ivy today.” Lucas glanced in the rearview mirror, his expression unchanged as he grunted in acknowledgment. “Did she contact you?” I turned to look at him. “A while ago,” he said, his tone flat as he steered with one hand. “Said she got scammed out of her money and couldn’t make ends meet.” The car turned a corner. He added, “I remembered you telling me to be more lenient with her, so I had Mark find her an easy job.” I felt a twinge of concern. “Does she still… affect your mood?” He didn’t answer. He stopped at a red light and turned to look at me quietly. The soft glow of dusk streamed through the windshield, bathing his handsome face in a mixture of light and shadow. He lowered his head and gently stroked the simple band on my ring finger. Then he looked up, his gaze full of a profound devotion, as if in all of time and space, he could only see me. Then he said, “As long as you’re here, it doesn’t hurt.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392940”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel