1 After we married, my wife took my paycheck, claiming it was to save for a house. On my phone, she activated a “Family Link” allowance. She called it my spending money, insisting she covered all household expenses. But the $1,500 monthly limit barely covered my living and commuting costs. By month-end, I often found myself struggling to afford a meal. Every single purchase triggered her interrogation: “What did you buy now? You’re over your limit today. Don’t come crying to me when you’re broke by month-end.” “You took a cab to work today? Do you really think you’re a millionaire?” I once believed Victoria’s obsessive saving was for our future. Then, I got a promotion and a raise. To celebrate, I treated my colleagues to bubble tea. She logged into the delivery app and requested a full refund, no return. The furious merchant, to vent his rage, threw the prepared drinks in my face, then publicly cursed and hit me. As I cried and paid for the damage, I found my Family Link allowance completely shut off. Moments later, my wife’s junior assistant posted a picture on social media, cradling a luxury handbag, with the caption: [One moment in the cart, the next in my arms! My boss-lady spoils me rotten!] It was at that exact moment I understood: where the money went, that’s where the love truly lay. Flushed with the news of my promotion and raise, I excitedly treated my colleagues to bubble tea. I’d barely finished paying with my Family Link allowance, still on the app, when a voice call from my wife popped up. The next second, Victoria’s icy voice cut through: “$307 for bubble tea? Aaron Caldwell, have you lost your mind? Refund it, now!” Her voice, sharp and cold, echoed from the receiver, filling the office. My colleagues, who’d just placed their orders, shifted uncomfortably, their gazes turning to me. My face burned crimson. I stammered, trying to explain. “No, babe, it’s not like that. I got a raise, and my colleagues helped me out a lot, so I just wanted to treat everyone…” She scoffed, a venomous sound. “Three hundred bucks for bubble tea today, what, a thousand for dinner tomorrow? Do you have any idea how much you make? Keep splurging like this, are we ever buying a house? Paying rent? How are you going to last the next two weeks? You’re just an employee, don’t you dare act like a big shot! Refund it, now!” Her impatient words hammered at my skull, dazing me. The joy I’d felt, eager to share, was instantly doused, leaving me cold to the bone. The office fell silent. I sat hunched at my desk, unable to lift my head, avoiding the pity in my colleagues’ eyes. My own eyes burned, dry and stinging. I couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or sheer helplessness. I could only plead, my voice raw: “It’s already paid for, please, just this once? The merchant already started making them; I can’t refund it. I only ordered the cheapest lemonades. Please, don’t make a scene in front of my colleagues, okay?” Her mocking chuckle filtered through the phone. “You can’t refund it? I’ll do it for you.” Then she hung up. An unsettling dread swelled in my chest, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. I was still awkwardly trying to explain to my colleagues when a man with a dark scowl suddenly barged through the office entrance. He carried a dozen or so prepared bubble teas, his gaze zeroing in on me with deadly precision. 2 I pushed myself up, taking a hesitant step towards him. The next second, scalding bubble tea, laced with furious curses, splattered all over me. “Only a partial refund, huh? You’re threatening me? You work in a fancy office building but you can’t even pay for your own damn bubble tea? If you can afford it, drink it. If not, go to hell!” Cup after cup, the hot, sticky liquid drenched me, stinging my face and skin. My colleagues made a move to intervene, but the merchant’s next words nailed them to their spots: “You scam me out of perfectly good bubble tea? This isn’t over!” The sheer, burning humiliation made me tremble. I fumbled for my phone, my voice shaking as I tried to call for help. “I’m calling the police! This is defamation…” As I tapped open the delivery app, I saw a notification: my account had been logged in from another location. I logged back in, only to find Victoria’s chat history with the merchant, ending with her last message: “If you don’t refund, I’ll report you to the consumer protection agency! Why can’t I refund bubble tea I haven’t even drunk? Try shutting down your business if you dare!” The order page blared “Partial Refund Successful.” The merchant let out a cold, chilling laugh. He landed a brutal punch square on my face, roaring, “Call the cops! I’ve got nothing to lose, buddy! Even if my shop closes today, I’ll make you pay!” The blow sent me sprawling to the floor, my mouth instantly filling with the coppery taste of blood, my ears ringing violently. All eyes in the office were on me. A deathly silence stretched, then whispers erupted. “Freeloading on bubble tea? That’s so embarrassing…” “I swear, I knew Aaron was cheap, but I never thought a grown man could have such terrible character!” “Someone like that deserves a promotion and a raise? What a joke! He’s a total embarrassment to the company!” The swirling accusations made me feel naked, every contemptuous word piercing me. I swallowed the blood in my mouth, my face pale, and apologized to the merchant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about the partial refund. I’ll transfer you the money for the bubble tea.” “I’m truly sorry.” The merchant gave me a cold once-over, then pulled out his payment QR code. My face was tight with shame as I scanned it. But after several attempts at inputting my password, the screen kept flashing “Insufficient Balance.” Just then, a message from Victoria popped up. “Did the bubble tea taste good? (smile smile)” My Family Link allowance showed zero. I stood frozen, staring at the “payment failed” screen, my heart sinking into a freezing abyss. “What? No money to pay? Damn it, if you can’t pay, just die!” “Used to freeloading, are you? Think I’m running a charity?” Amidst the merchant’s impatient curses, I numbly opened a loan app, borrowed four hundred dollars, and transferred it to him. He received the money, spat on me, and then stalked off, muttering insults. Looking at the ninety dollars left in my balance, I suddenly felt utterly pointless. I don’t know how I walked back to my desk. My mind was blank, countless gazes burning into me. Each one stung like a needle. Victoria sent another message: “Happy about your promotion? Still celebrating?” For the first time, I didn’t reply. I just sat there, my expression empty. My suit shirt was soaked through with bubble tea, clinging to my skin, cold and sticky. 3 The feeling was nauseating, disgusting. After an eternity, I pushed myself up and stumbled to the restroom, desperate to wash the sticky, milky residue from my skin. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was Noah, Victoria’s junior assistant, who had just posted on social media. The photo showed him lounging casually in a brand-new sports car, a luxury watch glinting on his wrist, a triumphant grin on his face. “One second at the dealership, the next it’s mine. Mwah! My boss-lady spoils me rotten!” The photo was cleverly taken, subtly revealing a flash of lingerie in the backseat… the very lingerie I’d helped Victoria pick out that morning. I stood frozen, my gaze locked on that photograph. My breath caught in my throat, a panicked flutter in my chest. My hand trembled, my finger accidentally brushing the screen, “liking” Noah’s post. Before I could even react, Victoria’s call came through, her voice heavy with accusation: “Aaron Caldwell, are you never going to stop? Is it really that interesting to constantly invade my privacy? You want to see so badly? Fine! Come over now, I’ll give you an eyeful!” I stood, ashen-faced, in the corner. A thousand tiny ants of pain gnawed at my heart, suffocating me. Soon, the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth again. The sheer absurdity and unbelievable nature of it all left me numb, my head throbbing with a dull ache. Five years of marriage, in this moment, felt like a cruel, elaborate joke. My throat burned. I swallowed the blood, my voice hoarse. “Victoria, what am I to you, really?” The person on the other end paused, her breathing rasping into the receiver. After a long silence, she, uncharacteristically, offered an explanation: “I just refunded a couple of bubble teas. Do you really need to be so dramatic, like your life is ending? Fine, I’ve restored your allowance. Just stop bothering me with these petty issues!” Petty issues? So, in Victoria’s eyes, my humiliation and ridicule by colleagues was a petty issue. Being assaulted and doused with bubble tea by a furious merchant was also a petty issue. Was only Noah’s well-being considered important? Hearing her dismissive placation, I squeezed my eyes shut, suppressing every emotion. Then I asked her: “Victoria, I was so humiliated at work today. I want to resign and find a new job. Is that okay?” Victoria’s voice instantly shot up, her tone laced with unbearable irritation as she accused me: “Are you threatening me? Is it because I didn’t let you spend money however you pleased? Aaron Caldwell, have I spoiled you too much? Can’t you think about our future?” I blinked, my dry, aching eyes burning. The irony was suffocating. How could she so righteously accuse me of squandering money, yet without a flicker of hesitation, spend hundreds of thousands on a luxury car for Noah? Was it because I never fought, never demanded, simply devoted myself to her for five years? The glowing screen of my phone, displaying that pathetic $1,500 Family Link allowance, felt like a series of stinging slaps across my face. Mocking. Absurd. I had been working overtime for a solid week, so utterly exhausted that my vision blurred, as if I might collapse at any second. Pain pulsed in my chest. I asked her: “Did you ever truly consider our future? Victoria, in your eyes, am I truly that stupid?” Perhaps the despair in my voice was too obvious, or perhaps my choked sob reached her ears. Victoria paused, took a breath, and, suppressing her impatience, spoke to me: 4 “What nonsense are you talking about? I’m just worried about money, darling. Don’t overthink it. How about I take you out for dinner when I get back from overtime, okay?” “Alright, I’m hanging up. You reflect on what happened today.” I remained silent on my end of the call. Victoria coughed, then cooed softly. “Honey, if you feel tired, just hold on for a few more years, then you won’t have to work. I’ll take care of you after that, okay? Be good.” She hung up abruptly. Just before the call disconnected, Noah’s mocking laugh filtered through: “What are you going to support him with? That fifteen-hundred-dollar monthly allowance? Even a dog costs more than he does!” His voice dripped with scorn. “I’m dying laughing! Is Aaron that idiot, weeping tears of gratitude right now? Sister, isn’t this what you call playing good cop, bad cop? You’ve got him so obedient and docile!” His grating laughter slammed into my heart, a dull, aching thud. I squatted on the floor, my throat tight with pain. The agony made me curl into a tight ball, my hands pressed hard against my chest, the only way to alleviate the bone-deep torment. I had never imagined that the person who swore to love me forever, to stay by my side always, would unleash such a calculated, deadly blow. This blade, she had plunged it with precision and cruelty, leaving me barely an inch of breathing room. It was only at this moment that I finally understood where Noah’s naked aggression and animosity towards me had truly stemmed from. I wanted to cry, but my eyes were bone-dry, not a single tear left to shed. I sat there all night, numb and aching. Victoria didn’t contact me. She simply didn’t care if I stayed out all night. She never once bothered to ask about my overtime or work dinners. Before, I thought it was trust. Now, I understood: it was indifference. On my phone, a picture message from Noah: a provocative bedroom shot. He’d captioned it: “The person you stayed up all night thinking about? I was with her all night long.” He added another jab: “Aaron Caldwell, are you getting old? Not performing anymore?” If this had been before today, seeing these photos, I might have lost my mind. I would have stormed to Victoria’s office, screaming and fighting. But now, as I pulled at the corners of my lips, my heart was eerily calm, not a ripple. No. I don’t want Victoria anymore. This marriage, which had consumed me and left me broken, I don’t want it either. First thing in the morning, I called in sick to work and went to the bank to report my payroll card lost and request a new one. Even though there wasn’t a single cent left in it, I clutched the card tightly in my palm until a thin film of sweat formed. From this day forward, I would never again hand my destiny so easily to anyone. After printing out the divorce papers, I took a cab to Victoria’s office. Bad luck would have it, I ran into Noah just as I arrived. Victoria must have told him about yesterday’s events, because the moment he saw me, he walked over, feigning apology. “Aaron, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I was just messing around on my sister’s phone and accidentally refunded your bubble tea.” He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “I heard you two argued? Seriously, you’re a grown man, fighting with her over a few bucks? You should have just appeased her.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “But don’t worry, I really comforted her yesterday. I’ll convince her to come home.” Noah gave me a triumphant grin, his eyes openly mocking. It was at this moment I finally realized: my feelings for Victoria had long been eroded by her relentless, daily emotional manipulation. The provocation from the man in front of me didn’t even stir a flicker of anger within me. All I wanted was to quickly dissolve this misguided marriage. 5 I looked at Noah and smiled. “Victoria and I are still legally married. Spouses argue; it’s perfectly normal. Why would outsiders need to mediate?” I paused, letting my words sink in. “As for you, so young, yet content to be a homewrecker… that must be hard on your conscience, isn’t it?” My voice sharpened. “Do you truly believe Victoria will support you for life? Stop dreaming. Boys like you, she just plays with.” Noah’s face cycled through shades of dark fury. He glared at me, the dark circles under his eyes stubbornly visible even through heavy concealer. He seemed to have an idea, suddenly leaning in, reaching to grab my arm. His voice dropped to a whisper, audible only to us. “Aaron Caldwell, you don’t know, do you? Victoria… she’s pregnant.” He paused, then added, “It’s mine.” I froze. Victoria’s recent unusual behavior suddenly clicked into place. A wave of nausea surged in my stomach, and I couldn’t stop myself from dry-heaving. I instinctively tried to pull away from Noah’s grasp, but in my haste, my arm swung out and accidentally hit his face. Noah’s eyes instantly welled with tears. He snatched up his bag and swung it at me like a madman, shrieking, “Aaron Caldwell, I already apologized! Why are you still hitting me? The unloved one is the homewrecker, you’re the third wheel in this love story! I’m not!” He used all his strength, the blow sending a ringing shockwave through my head. I hadn’t been prepared. He struck me, breaking my skin, and warm blood trickled down my cheek, splattering onto the floor. Watching Noah’s hysterical outburst, I trembled with fury, my hand already raised to strike back. But before I could touch him, someone grabbed my wrist from behind. Victoria suddenly appeared, forcefully stopping my movement, her voice a cold warning: “Aaron Caldwell, try hitting him, I dare you!” Just then, Noah lunged, slamming his fist hard into my stomach. I crashed to the ground, my back hitting a desk, the pain draining the color from my face. Victoria’s gaze swept over me. Seeing the blood on my face, she hesitated, then frowned, turning to Noah. “You hit him?” Noah glared back defiantly, his eyes burning with resentment. “Victoria, he insulted me first, calling me a leech, and then he hit me. When I dodged, my bag accidentally hit him. I didn’t mean to, but if you’re upset, I’m willing to apologize to Aaron!” As he spoke, he made to kneel. At Noah’s willingness to swallow his pride for her, Victoria’s heart softened. She pulled him back behind her, pursed her lips, and softened her voice towards me. “Noah is young and impulsive; he didn’t mean it. What’s the point of coming to the office and making a scene first thing in the morning?” She looked at me, her gaze hardening. “Aaron Caldwell, when did you become so unreasonable?” I lay sprawled on the floor, and then, slowly, a bitter laugh escaped me. I pushed myself up, struggling to my feet. Meeting Victoria’s gaze, I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. SMACK! The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the office, drawing gasps and turning many heads. A clear red imprint quickly bloomed on Victoria’s cheek. Her face cold, her eyes glacial, she glared at me, gritting her teeth as she hissed, “Feel better now? Had your little tantrum? Can you stop acting like a lunatic and embarrassing yourself at the office?!” I pulled at the corner of my lips, meeting her gaze without flinching. Then I threw the divorce papers directly at her face. “Even now, you still think I’m just having a tantrum with you?” My voice was clear, unwavering. “No, Victoria. I’m divorcing you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392646”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During the fan sing-along segment of the concert, the roving camera suddenly stopped on me. I quickly got up, waving my hands. “Excuse me, I don’t really know your songs. I’m just here with a friend.” The fans in the crowd immediately booed. “Not even an Asher fan and sitting front row?! What a waste of good seats!” He, however, just stared at me blankly, his eyes visibly reddening on the close-up shot. “There’s one song, I’m sure you’ll know.” That night, the hashtag “Pop Ballad King Asher Vance’s First Love” trended on social media… 1 Just moments before, my best friend, Riley, had been sobbing hysterically over not getting front-row tickets to Pop Ballad King Asher Vance’s concert. The next minute, someone in a fan group added her on a messaging app and offered two tickets for free. She leaped up, hugging me, laughing and crying as she invited me along. Hearing that familiar name, I stiffened slightly. “No thanks, Riley, I’m not really into pop stars.” She pulled my hand, her face beaming. “Trust me, Skylar! You just need to see one show, you’ll fall in love with him, I swear!” Now, I sat less than five yards from the stage, hiding behind Riley’s enormous fan light stick, covertly watching the guy on stage, strumming his guitar and singing ballads. His eyes held a gentle smile, seemingly gazing off into the distance, yet his focus felt as intense as if he were looking only at me. Lost in thought, Riley suddenly grabbed my shoulder, shaking me wildly. “Ah!! Skylar, what are you spacing out for?! You got picked to sing on stage! Go, go!” Only then did I realize the camera had somehow landed on me. The girl on the giant screen snapped back to reality, staring blankly, waving her hands. “Sorry, I don’t really know your songs. I’m just here with a friend.” The surrounding fans immediately erupted. “Seriously, sis! If you’re not an Ash fan, why are you in the front row? What a waste of a spot!” “Don’t waste our time! Pick another fan!” Then, rabid fans like Riley shrieked, “Ah!! I’m her friend! Can I go up instead?!” Amidst the fan commotion, they didn’t notice the man on stage drop his guitar, only staring blankly at me, his eyes visibly reddening on the close-up shot. “You’re fine, miss. Don’t worry, there’s one song you’ll definitely know.” Riley pushed me onto the stage, my legs moving towards him before my mind caught up. The camera zoomed in on us. I stood there, stiff, nervously twisting the hem of my dress, but his smile was as warm as a spring breeze. “May I ask your name?” I took a deep breath, calming my hammering heart. “Skylar Hayes.” “Can you play the piano?” “Yes.” He led me to the piano and sat down. “For the next song, I’d like to play my breakthrough hit, ‘That Summer.’ ” Then he leaned in, his voice low. “Just follow my melody with simple chords.” The stage lights dimmed suddenly, leaving only a single spotlight on us. Silence enveloped the arena. It felt like the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of us. The faint, elusive scent of lavender from Asher clung to the air, and my scattered thoughts slowly calmed. The opening notes began, and the chords, etched deep in my memory, flowed naturally from my fingertips. Every harmony, every duet, his voice rich and deep, mine clear and bright—we were so in sync, it was as if we’d sung it a thousand times before. Until the last lyric faded, and the song’s lingering notes died down. The quiet crowd erupted in cheers. “That song! It’s the title track from Asher’s first album! They say it’s about his high school sweetheart, but he’s never sung it at a concert before! Talk about a throwback!” “The male-female duet version is so beautiful! Good thing I recorded it! Love it, love it!” “A total stranger can sing that well?! My ears have ascended! I swear you guys were lip-syncing, boo hoo!” Before I stepped off the stage, he suddenly hugged me, whispering in a voice only I could hear: “Skylar, long time no see.” The embrace was fleeting. He smoothly slipped a signed poster into my arms. “Thanks for your amazing performance, Skylar.” I stumbled off the stage, still a bit dazed. Riley threw her arms around me, practically rubbing herself on me. “You hugged my idol, and I hugged you. By extension, I hugged my idol!” Then she eyed me suspiciously. “That song’s from his early album. It’s not very well-known, only old fans would know it. Skylar, you’ve got hidden depths! And you said you weren’t an Asher fan.” I didn’t explain—I wasn’t Asher Vance’s fan. I knew that song because we wrote it together in high school. 2 Back home, the faint, familiar scent of lavender still clung to me. I abandoned the idea of a shower, collapsing onto the couch instead. With practiced ease, I opened my social media search history and clicked on Asher Vance’s profile. It had been my nightly ritual for years. The irony wasn’t lost on me: I didn’t even have the courage to follow him. Ten minutes earlier, he’d posted an update: “She came to my concert.” The caption was accompanied by a photo. In the picture, a girl in an Evergreen High uniform—a simple white uniform, neatly pressed—stood with a high ponytail falling to her shoulders. Though her face wasn’t visible, her silhouette alone hinted at a graceful, blossoming figure. A pang shot through me. She? Was he talking about me? Just then, my phone rang. “My heart is shattered, Skylar! My Ash just went public! I’m dying!” Riley’s wails poured from the phone. “Huh? Where did you see him ‘go public’?” I was confused, but a flush crept onto my cheeks. That post, while a little suggestive, wasn’t that clear, was it? Riley abruptly hung up, leaving a hurried, “Check the trending topics!” Only then did I see it: a female singer named Cassidy Bell had retweeted Asher’s post. “From junior to fellow artist, finally waited for this day.” I clicked on her attached photos. One showed her holding a bouquet of flowers, standing beside Asher on a stage, both smiling brightly. Coincidentally, she was wearing an Evergreen High uniform, her long hair tied in a high ponytail, perfectly matching the silhouette in Asher’s post. The other was a selfie taken from the audience at today’s concert, where she wore a baseball cap, skillfully angled to look like she was kissing Asher’s cheek. The fans exploded. “What a perfect couple! I just went to a concert, and ended up with a mouthful of dog food!” “The golden couple of the music industry, they’re made for each other!” “Raising the ‘AshCid’ banner high! My ship has finally sailed!” A slow, sickening realization dawned on me. She in Asher’s post, was Cassidy Bell. The red heart emoji after her text seemed to burn into my eyes. I rubbed my aching eyes and drifted off to sleep, fully dressed. In my dream, I was back in high school. I encouraged Asher to join the school singing competition with me. But on the day of the finals, I lost my voice due to a cold and cough, forced to withdraw. It was his first time winning. As I took pictures to commemorate the moment, the girl who took second place, her face flushed, handed him a bouquet. “Hello, senior. I’m Cassidy Bell from freshman class 3. Your singing is beautiful. Can I take a picture with you?” When I woke, my eyes were damp. So, Cassidy Bell was that freshman girl who used to constantly trail after us in school. That photo of her holding flowers on her social media? I was the one who took it. But what right did I have to be upset? I once thought I was a golden girl, destined for greatness, and that Asher and I were inseparable. Even though Asher, after my “makeover,” was always surrounded by girls, I still believed our feelings for each other simply remained unspoken. Turns out, I was the clown all along. I hadn’t slept well, and by the time I dragged my luggage onto the school bus, swaying all the way to Willow Creek Elementary in the rural county, I thought I was hallucinating. I saw Asher Vance. I rubbed my eyes three times, finally confirming I wasn’t mistaken. Despite the surge of wild joy, my face remained calm as still water. “What are you doing here?” He offered a cautious, placating smile. “I was afraid you might misunderstand what’s trending, so I came specifically to explain.” 3 My face remained cold, unyielding. He followed me docilely, trailing behind as I taught the children, ate meals with them. In the evening, we lay side-by-side on the hillside, watching the sunset. He told a few exaggerated jokes, making the children burst into peals of laughter. Finally, I let out a soft chuckle too. “Alright, kids, head back to school. I have something to discuss with your Ms. Hayes.” Whether it was the glow of the sunset or something else, his face was a little flushed. The children giggled, scampering down the hill, leaving me alone on the grass. Sigh. These innocent kids, bought over by this seemingly harmless, handsome guy in just one day. We lay shoulder to shoulder, neither of us speaking. The silence stretched, a little awkward. I broke it first. “You’ve changed a lot. You used to be so brooding and quiet. In all the years I’ve known you, this is the first time I’ve heard you tell jokes. It’s good.” But he wouldn’t let me change the subject. “Skylar, the person I was referring to on my social media was you. I don’t know why Cassidy would post something so misleading, but I don’t want you to misunderstand my relationship with her.” “If you didn’t give her the wrong idea, why would she be so desperate to go public with you?” I was a firm believer that it takes two to tango. Remembering the fans’ unearthed “sweet interactions” between them from yesterday, my heart felt like it was being pricked by needles, a sharp, insistent ache. “Skylar, do you know how much effort I put into finding you? You just vanished for so many years without a word. If I hadn’t secretly followed your car home right after the concert last night and sat outside your apartment building all night, then followed you to this charity school early this morning, I don’t know how long you would have kept hiding from me. All these years, do you have any idea what I’ve been through?!” I looked at his bloodshot eyes, and my heart, despite everything, ached for him. I raised my hand, intending to gently caress his cheek, but his phone rang at an inconvenient moment. Seeing “Cassidy” on the screen, my hand froze, then slid down his shoulder as I pretended to brush off some grass. “Go on, answer it. If you’re not guilty, why won’t you?” The incessant ringing was grating on my nerves. He patted my head reassuringly and answered. “Asher, please don’t be mad, okay? I was wrong last night. I shouldn’t have posted that without your permission. But… that was my dad’s idea too!” “You posted such a suggestive message without the company’s approval, not only violating your contract, but did you even consider how your fans would react?!” The voice through the earpiece was tearful, but soft and pleading, almost like a whine. After hanging up, he rubbed his temples, explaining helplessly. “Cassidy and I are both artists under Starbound Entertainment. Starbound Entertainment’s boss is her father. Skylar, please give me some time to sort all this out. One month, I just need one month…” “No need, Asher. We’re not that kind of relationship anyway. You don’t owe me an explanation.” I cut him off, my words cold and detached. “The wind’s picking up. Let’s go.” Asher left. He was a busy man; it was already a miracle he’d spent this day with me. Listening to the rumble of his car engine fading away, I hid in my room, biting my pillow to muffle my sobs. The once confident Skylar, who never truly saw other girls as a threat, had finally been worn down by years of successive upheavals, consumed by anxiety and fear of loss. Perhaps it was because I’d cried for Asher for so long, that his figure filled my dreams. 4 Freshman year, I was obsessed with music, spending every spare moment in the school’s piano room. There was always someone hiding outside the door, secretly listening to me play. One day, I played a recording on my phone, then quietly opened the door and caught the lurking figure red-handed. He wore a pair of comically oversized, nerdy glasses. His washed-out uniform looked ancient, and his sneakers were even coming unglued. I eyed him curiously, watching his face redden until he was bright scarlet, before I finally chuckled. “Hey, if you like piano, why don’t you join me every day? Don’t just listen from outside.” “I… I really like listening to you play, but I’ve never learned piano…” he stammered in explanation. That was my first meeting with Asher Vance. He was in my grade but a different class, even a different building, because I was in the Honors Program, and he was in the lowest-ranked regular class. But at my earnest invitation, he started coming to the piano room with me every day. I also learned from him that his parents sold vegetables at the farmers’ market near the school; he was one of the few low-income students. “I love music so much. I want to study performing arts and audition for college, but my family can’t afford it,” he confessed once we grew closer. He was sixteen, just like me, should have been carefree, but instead he was meek and quiet due to his insecurity. “That’s easy! I’ll find you a music teacher right now!” I slapped his shoulder, declaring grandly. I led him to the office. “Mr. Hayes, I found an incredibly talented student for you. Would you give him some free lessons?” That’s when he realized my father was the school’s music teacher. My dad, true to his word, began giving Asher free vocal lessons and teaching him guitar. He progressed rapidly. Even my dad, who rarely praised anyone, raved about Asher’s talent and diligence. In sophomore year, Asher won the school singing competition. I excitedly grabbed my dad’s hand, jumping up and down. “I told you he’d be your best student!” My dad just gave me a knowing, teasing glance that instantly made my face flush. I tutored him in academics, my dad taught him music. Three years later, he successfully auditioned and got into the best music conservatory in the country… After a night filled with dreams, I woke up with two massive dark circles under my eyes. As I shuffled to the bathroom to brush my teeth, Asher Vance stood in front of me, dragging a suitcase. “Skylar, I went back yesterday and sorted out my work. I plan to stay by your side from today onwards.” He grinned at me. After that, no matter how cold I was, he clung to me, refusing to leave. With his sunny, energetic personality, he quickly replaced me as the children’s favorite teacher. We seemed to have returned to our high school days. Though we hadn’t seen each other for years, our interactions were so familiar, it felt as if we’d been living together for a lifetime. When I uploaded the demo I’d spent half a year perfecting, I immediately received countless messages from fans: “Echo is finally back! A once-in-a-millennium event!” Even famous singers reached out: “What about that song you promised? This one should be mine, right?” Below, fans immediately jumped in to tease: “Don’t even think about it! Echo never writes a song that isn’t tailor-made for Pop King Asher! I strongly suspect she’s his ultimate fangirl!” Then, a sharp-eared fan asked, “Could Echo be in love? The entire track has such a joyful vibe, pink bubbles practically overflowing from the screen. This isn’t the usual Echo style!” When I saw that comment, I choked on a mouthful of water, coughing uncontrollably. Was it that obvious? Though I had to admit, ever since Asher started staying by my side, that tight string in my mind, stretched for years, had finally relaxed. 5 One morning, the youngest child in our class, who should have been at school, didn’t show up. A frantic panic seized me. The child was a day student, leaving home before dawn every morning, crossing a mountain to get to school. I was terrified she might have met with some danger on her way. I immediately asked the principal to watch the other children, then ran out of the school gates to look for her. Asher followed close behind me. We walked, calling her name. Finally, halfway up the mountain, we heard a faint cry. The girl had fallen into a ravine, soaked through, having been there for an unknown amount of time. My eyes welled up, and I started to rush down, but Asher pulled me back. “There’s no stable footing here, it’s too easy to slip. I’ll go. You wait for me on the slope.” Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he ran down. He carefully checked the girl’s oddly twisted foot, then wrapped her in his jacket and carried her on his back. He climbed back up, drenched in sweat. “The ambulance can’t get here. Her leg is broken. We need to drive her to the hospital now.” We rushed the girl to the nearest hospital. Thankfully, the treatment was prompt. Aside from a broken right leg, the girl was otherwise fine. After the surgery, the doctor immediately recognized Asher, his face lighting up with excitement. “Asher, hi! I’m a huge fan! Can I get your autograph?” I instinctively tried to pull away, afraid the fans would misunderstand our relationship. But he grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “Of course!” The girl’s parents were migrant workers in the city, so she lived with her elderly grandmother. To spare the grandmother worry, we hired a nurse for the girl, then drove back to the village and found her home. As I watched Asher, kneeling on the ground, gently holding the trembling old woman’s hand, reassuring her: “It’s alright, ma’am, the child is doing very well. You don’t need to worry about the surgery or hospital fees; I’ve already taken care of it…” A sudden warmth spread through my heart. I thought, this, just being together every day like this, feels really good. Walking back to the school dormitory, side-by-side, I took a deep breath, took his hand, and said, “Asher, how about we…” “Senior, long time no see.” A cold voice cut off my confession.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392645”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My father, Mr. Dawson, had pressed charges against Ashley Hayes, the company’s financial controller, for embezzlement. She was staring down a life sentence, and her future, as far as we knew, was sealed. My fiancé, Dex Vance, was on his knees, begging my father to spare her. His desperate plea ignited my father’s fury, who then threatened to send Dex straight to prison alongside her. In my previous life, I had shielded Dex. I’d defied my father, knocked Dex out, and dragged him away, ensuring his freedom. Ashley, however, had been sent to prison and took her own life within those walls. When Dex woke, he thanked me profusely for saving his future, showering me with even more tenderness and affection. We married soon after, and I quickly became pregnant. But on the very night I gave birth, he colluded with my father’s rivals, severing our company’s financial lifelines and forcing my father into bankruptcy and suicide. As for me, he imprisoned me in our home, then sliced me open, tearing the life from my womb. While I lay in agony, teetering on the edge of consciousness, he smiled—a chilling, hollow smile—and drowned our tiny, gasping baby in the toilet bowl. “Did you ever consider this day,” he’d whispered, “when you murdered Ashley and the child I carried within her?” “I want you to live through every moment of this – watching your father leap to his death, seeing your child flushed into the sewers, and finally… watching your very being torn apart, piece by agonizing piece.” The world spun, then snapped back into focus. I was back. Back to the day Dex Vance knelt outside Dawson Industries. This time, I decided to let him have his way. 1 “Mr. Dawson, Ashley really just made a mistake, a momentary lapse. Please, just this once, forgive her.” The words were the first thing I registered upon opening my eyes. Dex Vance, kneeling on the pavement outside Dawson Industries. He was a man who prided himself on his aloof dignity, yet here he was, prostrate, for Ashley. My father’s assistant, a kind man, nudged me. “Miss Dawson, please, talk some sense into Mr. Vance. What Ms. Hayes did is too serious. Besides, Mr. Dawson has irrefutable evidence that she’s a spy sent by a rival company. He simply cannot let this go.” I lifted my gaze to Dex, his face etched with earnest desperation. In my past life, it was this very scene, this fear of his entanglement, that had driven me to knock him out and drag him away. I never imagined it would lead to my utter ruin. Reborn into this life, I decided to stay out of it. “It’s his choice,” I stated, turning away. “But… if he keeps kneeling, Mr. Dawson said he’d send him to prison right along with Ashley!” The assistant’s voice rose, the warning clear, inevitably reaching Dex’s ears. He turned his head to me, his eyes blazing with disgust. “Olivia Dawson, satisfied now?” Dex’s voice was as cold as ice, as if I were the architect of his misery. I simply watched him, a sudden surge of absurdity washing over me. “Satisfied with what? Ashley’s the one who made a mistake. What does that have to do with me?” His face contorted, eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion, before quickly settling into a facade of righteous indignation. “What are you talking about? Ashley is innocent! She was just used!” “Innocent?” I let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Embezzling thirty million dollars, with undeniable evidence. Where exactly is her innocence? Or do you think my father conspired with the courts and police to frame her?” His face instantly darkened, a hint of viciousness flashing in his eyes. “Isn’t that exactly what he did? Olivia, do you really think your father can control everything?” The assistant quickly intervened, his voice urgent. “Mr. Vance, you can’t just say things like that! Be careful Mr. Dawson doesn’t hear you and terminates your position!” Dex’s face went through several rapid changes, as if the reality of his position as a future son-in-law, dependent on our family’s good graces, finally registered. He seemed on the verge of speaking, then bit back the words, glaring at me before abruptly standing and walking away. I knew he was going to find Ashley. As long as he stayed out of my way, I couldn’t care less. I stepped into the Dawson Industries building. Leaving my father’s office, a profound sense of relief washed over me. Just moments ago, I had successfully persuaded him to dissolve my engagement to Dex. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” my father sighed, his expression complex. “I held onto that old family arrangement your mother made, unwilling to break it. I never imagined this young man would turn out to be such a disappointment.” “In three days, I’ll announce it to everyone. For now, get some rest.” I nodded, but then my father’s assistant rushed in, looking distraught. “Miss Dawson! Ashley Hayes tried to kill herself!” My father had only just filed the lawsuit against Ashley; her case was still in the evidence review phase. She was temporarily confined to the basement of her own villa. This time, perhaps because I hadn’t intervened in Dex’s pleas, her suicide attempt had happened even sooner. When I arrived, the scene was chaotic. Ashley was clutched tightly in Dex’s arms, a bandage wrapped around her slender wrist, her face ashen. Seeing me enter, she instantly recoiled, burrowing deeper into Dex’s embrace like a startled rabbit. “Dex… I really don’t want to live… this feeling of being framed is just too unbearable…” Her voice was a faint, tearful whisper. Dex stroked her hair with tender concern, but when he looked at me, his eyes were piercingly cold—exactly like they were in my past life when he’d murdered me to avenge “Ashley.” “Olivia Dawson, are you and your father really so determined to wipe her out? Ashley has already proven her innocence by trying to take her own life! What more do you want?” A security guard, who had been watching her, quietly explained, “Miss Hayes sharpened a toothbrush and tried to… luckily, we found her in time…” Dex looked down at the trembling Ashley in his arms, his voice instantly softening. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here…” Ashley leaned weakly into his embrace, but through Dex’s shoulder, she cast me a triumphant smile. My fists clenched. In my previous life, I had been completely deceived by such theatrics, ultimately leading to my family’s ruin. But Dex, precisely, fell for her every act. “If she didn’t have a guilty conscience, why would she stage a suicide attempt?” I demanded, glaring at Dex. “And you, Dex Vance, do you remember who you are? What right do you have to speak to me like that?” At my words, Ashley’s tears streamed down her face. “Miss Dawson, I’m so sorry… please, don’t take it out on Dex…” She trembled, clutching at Dex’s sleeve. “Dex, go… don’t mind me… I don’t want to drag you down…” Dex’s head snapped up, his eyes burning with furious rage. He pulled Ashley even tighter, then swept her into his arms. “Ashley, I won’t abandon you!” “Don’t listen to this crazy woman. We’re going straight to the hospital!” He hurried away with Ashley. As he passed me, he lowered his voice, cold and menacing. “Olivia, if anything happens to Ashley, I swear I’ll make your family pay!” I watched their retreating backs, slowly unclenching my whitened fingertips. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t touched in years. “Noah, I’ll agree to our engagement.” My voice was steady, despite the turmoil within. “But first, could you… do me a favor?” 2 That evening, just as I stepped into my apartment, the door violently crashed open. The jarring slam, kicked open by Dex, made my ears ache. His usually composed and dignified face was now a mask of twisted rage, his eyes swirling with an almost unbearable hatred. “Olivia, you almost killed Ashley’s baby!” Baby? I froze, a horrific scene from my past life flashing through my mind. Tied to a delivery bed, I watched, helpless, as Dex, in rubber gloves, wielded a scalpel and sliced open my abdomen. Blood gushed, and I screamed, a raw, primal sound of agony, but he merely smiled—a gentle, terrifying smile. “Don’t be afraid, it’ll be over soon.” He’d ripped my barely formed fetus from my womb, then… right before my eyes, he’d pressed that tiny, curled-up life into the toilet. Flush! The sound of the water, rushing and swirling, had felt like my very soul being torn to shreds. “Ashley’s pregnant?” I forced myself to remain calm, pretending to be unaffected. Dex seized my jaw, his grip so fierce it felt like my bones would shatter. “What are you playing dumb for?” He sneered, then flung a stack of papers from his briefcase onto the floor. “Sign it.” I looked down. It was a confession. It clearly stated that I admitted to framing Ashley for embezzlement. He wanted me to take the fall for her! “Just sign it, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” His voice softened, his thumb tracing a path along my cheek. “We can still get married, just like before. I’ll keep spoiling you, keep loving you.” My stomach churned. This man truly thought I was a child he could fool! In my previous life, he had used that same tender tone to coax me into drinking drugged milk, then personally sliced open my belly. “Dex,” I said, my voice cold. “I’ve already told my father to break off our engagement.” My gaze hardened. “I am the daughter of the Dawson family. Marrying me is your privilege, not mine. What right do you have to threaten me with it?” His expression twisted instantly. The next second, a searing pain tore through my scalp. He yanked my hair, slamming my head hard against the coffee table! “Bitch!” Warm liquid trickled down my forehead. I curled into a ball on the floor, his gleaming leather shoe pressing down on my hand. The pain made my vision swim, but I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to make a sound. Dex leaned over, his fingers tightening around my throat, his voice chilling, as if pulled from the depths of hell. “Are you going to sign, or not?” “Never… in your dreams!” I choked out, each word a struggle. A cold glint flashed in his eyes. He suddenly snatched the fruit knife from the coffee table and plunged it fiercely into my palm! “Ah!” Blood splattered onto his pristine white shirt, blooming like crimson roses. My body convulsed with agony, but he held my wrist down, his grip unyielding. “This is just the beginning.” He raised the knife again, this time pointing the blade at my stomach. “I imagine you wouldn’t want to experience being cut open again, would you?” In that instant, his sinister face merged with the one from my past. Seeing the ruthless glint in his eyes, my heart seized with a sudden, panicked beat. He remembered too. He had been reborn. The memory of that searing, soul-shattering pain made me tremble uncontrollably. “I’ll sign…” I stammered, extending my uninjured left hand. Dex’s face broke into a satisfied smile. He pressed a pen into my fingers. Blood dripped onto the paper, blurring as I scrawled my name, intentionally tearing the paper on the last stroke. “Do you really think this will save Ashley?” I whispered, a weak, mocking laugh escaping my lips. “Even if you force me to sign, can you silence me? Dex, we’ll meet in court. I’ll expose every single one of your crimes right there.” This time, my father was alive. As long as he was here, I feared nothing. His expression instantly became savage, and he clamped his hand around my throat. “You worthless bitch!” But just as quickly, he let out a cold chuckle and released me. I clutched my throat, gasping for air, and looked up to see his chilling, malicious smile. “This is your choice. I have plenty of ways to shut you up.” He snarled, then turned and left without another glance. A wave of dread washed over me, a strong premonition of disaster. Soon enough, that premonition proved true. “Miss Dawson! You have to come quickly! The warehouse is on fire!” 3 That afternoon, a phone call from the assistant made my heart leap into my throat. When I arrived at the warehouse, the sight before me turned my blood to ice. This massive storage facility, holding hundreds of millions of dollars worth of imported raw materials, was now engulfed in a roaring inferno. Thick plumes of smoke billowed skyward, and the wail of fire truck sirens grew closer. Amidst the raging blaze, my father was inside, desperately trying to salvage goods alone. “Dad!” I screamed, a raw, tearing sound, and rushed in, heedless of the danger. The thick smoke choked me, blurring my vision, and the heat seared my skin. I stumbled forward, my hands outstretched, finally finding my father behind a collapsed shelf. “Olivia, what are you…” He was covered in blood, his voice a mere whisper. “Get out… quickly…” “I’ll get you out! We’ll go together!” I gritted my teeth, helping him to his feet. But the next second, what I saw made my eyes widen in horror. At the warehouse’s only emergency exit, Dex Vance was slowly closing the fire door. He stood there in his impeccable suit, a chillingly elegant smile on his lips, as if admiring a meticulously staged artistic performance. “Dex!” I shrieked, a desperate, gut-wrenching sound. “Open the door!” He tilted his head, his long fingers pressing a silent ‘shush’ to his lips. “Shhh…” The fire door closed inch by agonizing inch, sealing us off completely from any hope of escape. “No!!” I dragged my father, frantic, towards the door, but at the last possible second, a collapsing shelf blocked our path with a deafening crash. Thick smoke flooded my lungs, and my consciousness began to waver. In a haze, I saw Dex through the glass door, his lips forming a silent message. “This is your fault.” In the final moments before darkness consumed me, I stared at that blurry figure, pouring all my remaining strength into a curse. “Dex Vance, even as a ghost… I won’t let you go…” At that moment, Dex’s assistant, standing beside him, spoke up, a hint of fear in his voice. “Mr. Vance, are we really just going to let them burn to death in there? What if the police investigate…?” But Dex merely chuckled, shaking the signed confession in his hand. “What’s there to be afraid of? They’ll be dead, completely gone, turned to ash. What could the police possibly find?” He flashed an utterly brutal smile, one that sent shivers down the spine of the person next to him. The next day, Dex Vance strode into Dawson Industries, radiating confidence. On the large screen outside the building, news of the Dawson Industries fire was playing. Dex paused for a moment, seeming to admire his triumphant handiwork. In his mind, the Dawson family father and daughter were dead, and the signed confession was in his grasp. Everything had gone so smoothly. “Olivia, what good was a second chance at life? This time, I still won!” He carried the documents into the CEO’s office, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. “Mr. Dawson, the Dawson father and daughter have perished in the fire. Regarding our partnership…” He respectfully placed the documents on the desk. “Excellent. You’ve gone to great lengths.” Mr. Dawson flipped through the documents, then suddenly looked up and subtly gestured to his secretary. The secretary immediately understood, turned, left the room, and locked the door behind her. As Dex watched, bewildered, Mr. Dawson suddenly stood up and bowed deeply to a figure behind a large screen. “Mr. Blackwood, sir, the person you requested has arrived.” “The evidence of his arson and corporate espionage has also been submitted to the police.” “Before the police arrive, is there anything you wish to say to him?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392644”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My A-list actress wife, Seraphina Sterling, had always maintained strict boundaries: no man other than me was permitted to touch her. Even in group photos with male co-stars, she kept a discreet arm’s length. Until my birthday. That day, her new co-star, Sebastian Reed, posted an update. The photo showed Seraphina allowing Sebastian Reed to embrace her from behind, his arm circling her waist. The caption read: 【Eight years a fan, now sharing the screen with my idol? Manifest that dream, Sebastian Reed! Keep chasing your light (fist emoji)!】 I commented with a single question mark: 【Is that your wife you’re clutching onto?】 Seraphina’s call came through almost instantly. “My co-star, he’s like a little brother, just got carried away with the excitement of working with an idol. Don’t be so narrow-minded. Be a good husband, delete the comment.” The internet crowd swiftly condemned me for being overly possessive. Sebastian swiftly updated his post: 【The path to dreams is often paved with misunderstanding, but my guiding star reminds me not to lose heart.】 Watching the overwhelming wave of positive comments drown out any dissent, I made a call. By the next day, Sebastian’s lead role was gone. 1 “Do you know how important this role was to Sebastian? He prepared for two years just to nail that audition! And you, with some bogus charge, you’re just going to ruin all his hard work?!” This was Seraphina’s first real fight with me, and it was over a fresh face in Hollywood. I let out a cold laugh. “The power to greenlight or axe projects rests with me. Since I possess that power, why shouldn’t I use it?” This particular production held immense commercial potential. The director had secured Seraphina, an A-list actress, and had then brought me in as an investor. At least within the confines of this project, my word was law. Why would I forfeit my advantage, to “fairly compete” with some rookie who dared to post pictures embracing my wife? The internet mob might be unaware, but this young man, whose career I had funded and supported, knew exactly who my wife truly was. “Seraphina, listen closely.” I rose, cupping her face in my hands. “I am your husband. And while ours might be a marriage of convenience, that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from giving me even the most basic respect.” Besides, our union wasn’t entirely devoid of genuine emotion… “I told you, there’s genuinely nothing going on between us,” Seraphina insisted, pushing me away, a sharp, decisive gesture. “We’re playing a couple on screen. Am I not even allowed to act with him? Why do you always jump to the worst conclusions?” “Nothing at all?” I took out my phone and showed her the barrage of online comments. Under Sebastian’s post, countless netizens were wildly celebrating: 【Oh my gosh! That scene wasn’t in the script! His hand was practically wrapped around her waist! If that’s not love, what is?!】 【So sweet, I could die. Everyone knows Seraphina never lets men touch her, and Sebastian practically had her in his arms!】 【Rumors floated around that the A-list actress had a secret marriage. Thank god I didn’t fall for that!】 … Seraphina frowned. “The internet mob always twists things. You can’t take any of that seriously!” “And you, Seraphina?” I pressed, stepping closer. “You’ve navigated Hollywood for years. Are you really unaware of the impact that post would have?” She faltered. I let out a cold laugh. “You knew exactly how people would interpret that, you knew I had a possessive streak, yet you let it happen!” “Julian Thorne, for such a trivial matter, are you really going to be this unreasonable?!” CRASH! The vase shattered on the floor. Seraphina looked at me, startled. “Why do you get to define my ‘trivial matters’?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. For five years, we had lived in respectful harmony. Though our union began as a business arrangement, countless moments of shared intimacy had forged a genuine bond over time. She had even told me she only allowed me to touch her. This was our first real fight, the first time I’d ever laid a hand on her. All because of a boy I’d once sponsored. “Just calm down,” Seraphina snapped, snatching her bag, and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her with a sickening thud. In the living room, my birthday cake sat on the coffee table, still untouched, its box pristine. 2 The very next day, a new trending topic exploded online: Seraphina Sterling walked off the set. Trolls mocked me mercilessly: 【Seriously, though. That leech thinks he’s so rich he can just axe Sebastian? The A-list actress just put her foot down and walked off!】 【Who does he think he is, anyway, hahaha!】 【Does this confirm it? Seraphina and Sebastian are actually a thing?!】 【Still asking? Seraphina never lets men touch her, and Sebastian practically had her in his arms! I’m melting…】 The entire internet condemned me. Due to the nature of our arranged marriage, our families had agreed to keep our union private. This led many netizens to mistakenly believe I was Seraphina’s “delusional fan,” even dragging my name through the mud on social media for days. Each time, Seraphina had them taken down. But I knew her true colors—this was her defiant way of showing me. The director called me, practically in tears, begging me to persuade Seraphina to return. But honestly, I had no idea where she was. She’d vanished after her announcement, wouldn’t even pick up my calls. Just then, my phone buzzed. Sebastian had a new post. In the photo, he was perched in a helicopter, sunglasses on, a skydiving pack strapped to his back, his hand firmly clasped with another. Seraphina, who typically shunned extreme sports, had a faint smile playing on her lips. Her gaze wasn’t on the camera, but on Sebastian. The caption read: 【They say hearts beat truer under pressure. Will my guiding light feel the same pulse for me, in this very moment?】 I replied to the director. “Sebastian just posted something. The photo should give you a clue where he is.” “Huh? Mr. Thorne… no, he hasn’t.” “What?” My mind went blank. The director sent a screenshot. Sebastian’s last public post was three days ago. I quickly messaged a few mutual friends. Sure enough, only I could see that particular post. Sebastian had set it to “viewable only by me”… Seraphina couldn’t possibly be unaware of the photo’s implication. Yet she simply smiled at him, letting him capture the moment. It was a deliberate provocation from both of them. Two years prior, I could have just cut off his sponsorship allowance. But now he was self-sufficient, and my financial backing had shifted to resource allocation, which was no longer effective in controlling him. My assistant cautiously asked, “Mr. Thorne, are you… alright?” “Of course.” I let out a cold, dismissive laugh. In business, taking a hit or being double-crossed was just part of the game. If I couldn’t handle that, I wouldn’t be where I am today. The director was still wailing on the phone. My brow furrowed. “Alright! Enough dramatics. This afternoon, I’ll personally bring you the new lead!” 3 After a week of playing hide-and-seek, Seraphina finally deigned to return. But what greeted her was not a frantic production team and a hysterical me. Instead, she found a set already in full swing, and a young woman meticulously attending to me. The director, beaming, rushed to my side. “Thank god, Mr. Thorne, for finding such a perfect fit! Otherwise, this whole production would have gone down the drain!” Seraphina saw Willow Greene delicately lighting my cigarette. In a flash, she snatched the cigarette from my lips and flung it to the ground. “Julian Thorne.” I merely glanced up. Trailing behind her was Sebastian. Seeing another woman by my side, a flicker of triumph, quickly masked, entered his eyes. “Yes?” I replied with a detached air, gesturing for Willow to bring me another drink. Seraphina’s temple pulsed. “What do you mean ‘yes’? Shouldn’t you be explaining yourself?!” “Explain what?” I asked, a genuine question. “When two leads abandon a project, I naturally have to find replacements.” “Do new actors need you to personally supervise them?! Where do you find the time for that?!” Seraphina, her face ablaze with anger, pointed accusingly at Willow. Willow recoiled two steps. I moved to shield her. “Don’t frighten her. She’s new to the industry; she needs guidance.” “Heh…” Seraphina looked as if she hadn’t heard me right. “Guidance from you? Julian Thorne, what kind of impression do you think this gives others?” My patience wore thin. “I sponsored her career. What’s wrong with me teaching her?!” “Sponsored?” Seraphina froze. Seeing Willow cower behind me, her anger flared. “Does sponsorship require such… intimate service? Are you truly blind to her intentions?!” “Mr. Thorne, I didn’t…” Willow quickly tried to explain to me. I smiled reassuringly at her, nodding slightly. Then I turned, frowning at Seraphina. “I sponsor her, and she’s kind to me. Is that not normal? Or are you expecting everyone to be like the man behind you—accepting my patronage, getting promoted to a major production, then openly posting pictures embracing my wife?” Seraphina and Sebastian froze, as if struck by lightning. Seraphina cast a complex, unreadable glance at Sebastian. “You… sponsored him?” Willow spoke up. “Mr. Thorne has sponsored many talented individuals, not just me and Sebastian.” “Shut up!” Seraphina glared fiercely at Willow. I pulled Willow firmly behind me. “I told you, don’t bully my people!” Seraphina was not one to make a scene in public. Even at her breaking point, she still suppressed her fury, then took Sebastian by the arm and walked away, leading him out of my sight. That evening, I returned home. The first thing I saw was Seraphina, her eyes distinctly red-rimmed. I frowned. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” “Julian.” Her voice was a little rough. “I was wrong. Let’s make peace.” 4 I hadn’t expected such a drastic shift in Seraphina. “Why the sudden change of heart?” “Seeing you with Willow today… it made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. But there’s genuinely nothing going on between us.” “I know, and I believe you.” She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. “But it was enough to drive me insane. I imagine that’s how you felt, watching me and Sebastian. I’m so sorry, I was completely out of line before.” I opened her phone. It was Sebastian’s message history. He was still relentlessly messaging her. 【Seraphina? Why suddenly ghost me? We had so much fun out there, didn’t we?】 【??? Answer me! Seraphina! Did Julian say something to you? I swear, I only see you as an idol, a beacon of inspiration!】 【Seraphina, you have to believe me. I’ve been your fan for eight years; you’re my guiding light. I would never do anything to jeopardize your marriage… please, just talk to me…】 … Messages continued to pop up. Seraphina snatched the phone back and instantly blocked him. The phone finally fell silent. “I’m so sorry…” She tentatively moved closer to me. When I didn’t pull away, she gently embraced me. “I just wanted to get a reaction from you, to needle you. It wasn’t until I stood in your shoes, watching you and another woman, that I truly understood how much I hurt you… Julian.” She looked up, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Can we please stop fighting?” “Okay.” This marriage was, at its core, a business arrangement. I wouldn’t sever it lightly. Besides, it wasn’t entirely devoid of emotional connection. This whole incident was simply a matter of her being misguided. Ultimately, the damage wasn’t irreparable. I had only intended to teach her a lesson. A harsh lesson learned, a goal achieved. No need to make a bigger mess than necessary. The very next day, chaos erupted on set. Sebastian returned to the set, blocking my path, his eyes red-rimmed as if he’d cried all night. “I know it was you. Why can’t you believe I’m just a genuine fan pursuing an idol? Do you really believe everyone who gets close to her has ulterior motives?” He finished, then pulled a knife from his sleeve. Willow gasped, attempting to push me out of the way. But he plunged it into his own wrist. Blood welled up, spilling onto the ground, painting a crimson stain. Everyone froze, horror-struck. He held up his bleeding wrist, looking at me with an expression of profound grievance and long-suffering. “Is this enough to prove my innocence, Mr. Thorne?” “Call an ambulance. Don’t let him die on my set.” I turned, my voice calm, giving the order. My eyes met Seraphina’s. She had appeared, silent, at some point. “Seraphina!” Sebastian’s eyes flared with hope. I frowned, watching Seraphina. She cast a cool, dismissive glance at Sebastian. “It was my decision. Don’t bother him again.” Sebastian’s face was a mask of utter disbelief. Seraphina stepped between me and Willow, a deliberate barrier. She took my hand and led me away. She didn’t even spare Sebastian a backward glance. 5 Sebastian became an overnight joke. He had intended to create a scene, to humiliate me. But instead, Seraphina had completely shut him down. After returning home, Seraphina publicly announced our marriage. Sebastian was instantly roasted by the entire internet. He had only reached the spotlight through my patronage. Without my backing, even low-budget web series wouldn’t touch him. What did that have to do with me? He dug his own grave. If he had been half as compliant as Willow, I wouldn’t have abandoned him. Lately, however, Seraphina had often been seen frowning at her phone. She had indeed severed all contact with Sebastian. When she wasn’t looking, I discreetly peeked. It was a mutual friend. They had sent a series of photos and screenshots of Sebastian’s social media posts. In every picture, Sebastian was disheveled, working on small, obscure sets. His eyes would be red-rimmed as he endured verbal abuse. After filming, he would kneel on the ground to scrub the floors. Big-name actors would slap him across the face without hesitation. Another screenshot of his social media read: 【No matter the disgrace, my guiding light taught me not to surrender. Keep moving forward, and hope will always appear.】 The last message in the chat was Seraphina’s: 【Don’t send me these anymore.】 I allowed myself a faint smile. Seems the lesson had taken root. As a reward, the very next day, I visited Seraphina on her set. I even personally cooked her favorite ribs soup. The moment I arrived, Seraphina, her eyes red, confronted me. “Why would you do something like this?” “What?” “Don’t pretend you don’t know!” She swiped her hand, sending the thermal lunchbox I carried flying. It made me stumble. Scalding ribs soup splashed onto my hand and chest, instantly blooming into an angry red rash. “Mr. Thorne!” My assistant cried out, rushing forward. “Ms. Sterling! Mr. Thorne is injured!” “It’s just a little scald, hardly as severe as Sebastian’s injuries!” With that, she yanked a disheveled, dusty young man towards her. 6 I hadn’t expected Sebastian Reed to be an extra on Seraphina’s set. The filming was kept under wraps; most people shouldn’t have known about it. It clicked. Just half an hour before my arrival, Seraphina had stumbled upon Sebastian, acting as a stunt double. He was thrown onto a rooftop, tumbling down, again and again. The director was never satisfied. Thus, he would violently throw himself onto the rooftop, over and over. Seraphina initially had no intention of intervening. But when she saw Sebastian, covered in bruises, still gritting his teeth and throwing himself into the stunt, a wave of empathy washed over her. She remembered her own days as an extra. Those days, repeatedly throwing her body until her bones felt like they were shattering, enduring endless verbal abuse from directors, only to throw herself again and again—it was a past she could never bear to revisit. So she stepped in front of Sebastian, demanding to know whose idea this brutal sequence was. The director, terrified, didn’t dare breathe a word. Seraphina pointed a cold, accusing finger at my name on the investor list. “You don’t have to say it. I know. Julian Thorne, do minor actors deserve this fate?” Now, Seraphina stood over me, looking down, shielding Sebastian securely behind her. “I’ve given you more than enough love and respect. Why must you persist in destroying him completely?” My assistant grew frantic. “Ms. Sterling! Mr. Thorne never…” “Don’t explain!” I pressed a hand on my assistant, enduring the pain, and stood up, looking at her with cold eyes. “If you believe it’s me, then let it be.” Sebastian’s eyes lit up, and he quickly looked at Seraphina. Seraphina’s brow twitched, she let out a cold scoff, then took Sebastian by the arm and walked away. My assistant was frantic. “Mr. Thorne! You didn’t do anything! Why didn’t you explain?!” “Explain?” I let out a cold laugh. “Does she even deserve an explanation?” The director tormenting Sebastian due to his personal biases wasn’t Sebastian’s fault. But Seraphina, without even asking me a single question, instinctively pushed the blame onto me because of a name on an investor list. This showed that she didn’t truly respect me. Explanations often make some people think you’re trying to curry favor. And I wasn’t about to grovel for someone like her. 7 That very day, I became a trending topic, and not in a good way. A mysterious source leaked Sebastian’s stunt double footage, along with a video of Seraphina publicly confronting me on set. The internet erupted in outrage. 【Who does he think he is?! Don’t extras deserve to live?!】 【Seeing this, my heart aches for stunt actors. Honestly, the third take was probably fine, but the director made him do it a dozen more times. Must have been Thorne’s idea.】 【I’m crying, my hands are shaking! What’s the difference between this and attempted murder?!】 The poster was untraceable, but I knew. It was Seraphina’s tacit approval. Only my wife would dare to post such content without fear of my reprisal. When Seraphina returned home, I was already sitting on the sofa, silent. Half an hour later, she finally broke the silence. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” “Yes.” Her expression softened slightly. I slid the divorce papers across the table. “Sign it. All joint marital assets will be split equally. The marriage will be annulled, but it won’t affect the ongoing collaborations between our families.” “You want to divorce me?!” I nodded. “Why?” She moved closer to me. “Don’t tell me it’s because of such a trivial matter!” “Precisely because of this trivial matter.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392643”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Clutching the freshly acquired auction piece, I, Olivia Hayes, a top-tier global operative, was poised for extraction when my world shattered. Across the hall, at another auction, my daughter hung suspended from the dais, her limbs bound by iron chains. The colossal screen behind her blared: “Lot #17: Chloe Hayes – Exclusive Rights.” Her three childhood friends, flanked by a frail-looking girl, closed in, their faces twisted into sneering grins. “What’s wrong, Ms. Hayes? Run out of cash? Why aren’t you bidding?” “Last time, you pushed Tiffany down the stairs over some cheap necklace. Today, it’s your turn to suffer.” The crowd below erupted in jeers, someone maliciously raising the bid. “Take one piece off, I’ll add a million!” “Why not just strip her bare for inspection? What if she’s a fake, hahaha!” “Ms. Hayes, beg me! Beg me, and I’ll buy your night!” Standing on the second floor, my knuckles gleamed white. For years, I’d been on missions, my hands stained with enough blood to fill a river, yet never in my darkest nightmares did I imagine my daughter would be reduced to a commodity, priced and displayed on an auction block. Excellent. They’ve touched my family. I’ll make them understand what it means to wish for death. 1 The auction manager’s breath hitched. “Ms. Hayes, I’ll halt the auction immediately! They will apologize to you!” My gaze, colder than arctic ice, swept over the assembled faces. “Why the rush? Let them keep bidding. The higher the price, the cheaper their lives become.” Not a single one of them would escape. Below, Ethan Miller’s voice cut through the clamor, sharp and cold. “Chloe Hayes, if you apologize to Tiffany, we might just let you off the hook this time.” “Otherwise, we don’t mind letting everyone enjoy a little slideshow.” My daughter, defiant, lifted her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. Ethan watched her pale face, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “Still clinging to that high horse, even with death staring you down? Don’t blame me for getting rough.” The moment his words died, the massive screen flickered to life. Dozens of photos flashed across the display, each showing Chloe disheveled, her eyes glazed and distant. “Whoa, who knew! Ms. Hayes has quite the figure!” “Tsk, that skin, so fair and tender, I’d die happy on it. Don’t you dare outbid me! Another million!” “Only Mr. Miller is generous enough to share such good stuff with us.” Amidst the torrent of vile words, Chloe’s eyes burned crimson. “When I get out of here, I’ll tear every single one of you apart.” Noah Davis, arm draped around the girl named Tiffany, scoffed. “Please, by the time you get out, you’ll be used goods! And then we’ll ship you off to Europe!” “You pushed Tiffany down the stairs over a necklace – why didn’t you think about a day like this?” Tiffany Vance, nestled between the three men, suddenly began to sob. “No, Noah, you’ve got it all wrong. Last time… last time she didn’t mean to push me. I… I just fell.” At her words, Zane Evans’ brow furrowed. “Chloe, Tiffany just wanted to borrow your necklace, and you shoved her down a flight of stairs.” “Now Tiffany’s forgiving you, begging for your release, and you don’t feel any remorse?” My daughter lifted her gaze, her voice raw. “That was my mother’s necklace! She didn’t deserve to wear it! And I didn’t push her, she… she just…” Before she could finish, Zane’s eyes glinted with cold malice. “Tiffany’s trying to help you, and you’re ungrateful? Don’t blame us for what happens next!” He then raised his paddle, declaring loudly: “Five million!” At his bid, the room buzzed, and other paddles rose, quickly driving the price to ten million. Tiffany dabbed at her tears, her voice a tearful whine: “Please, don’t bid anymore. Sister Chloe can barely afford it. She’s so poor now, how could she buy her own night?” “Sister, maybe you should just give up. It’s just one night with a man, it’s no big deal.” Rage surged through me, a hot torrent. My eyes were locked on Tiffany. She was draped in a designer gown, looking like a newly rich socialite, and around her neck hung the limited-edition necklace I’d given my daughter. Then I looked at Chloe. Her clothes were torn and frayed, her exposed skin chafed and bleeding. Years apart, and my daughter, Olivia Hayes’ daughter, had been so utterly humiliated? I quickly made a call, instructing my assistant to investigate everything that had transpired in my absence. As a top-tier operative, I was rarely home. For security, I’d contacted my daughter monthly via encrypted calls, but she’d always insisted she was fine, never breathing a word of this. The full story, the complete chain of events – I had to uncover it. On the auction platform, my daughter’s voice trembled beyond recognition. “We grew up together! Why are you doing this to me?” “That time you said you were celebrating Tiffany’s birthday, but you just drugged me… was that to take those photos?!” Noah didn’t even spare her a glance, instead busying himself wiping away Tiffany’s tears. “Tiffany spent a month in the hospital because of you, and you didn’t even apologize. This is what you deserve.” “If you’re willing to kneel and kowtow three times to Tiffany, and say you’re sorry, we’ll end this auction.” A chorus of jeers erupted from the crowd. “No way, Mr. Davis! We still want a taste of Ms. Hayes!” “Come on, keep bidding! We have to get her!” “I’ll raise it by two million!” “Fifteen million!” The bids came in quick succession. My daughter trembled uncontrollably, her head bowed in silence. Just as the auctioneer prepared to strike the hammer for the third time, my daughter’s head snapped up. “Twenty million!” The entire hall fell silent. 2 The next moment, a roar of mocking laughter erupted from below. “Don’t pretend, lady! It’s just one night with us, you won’t lose anything, hahaha.” “Twenty million requires a financial verification, you got that kind of cash?” My gaze bore into my daughter, a knot tightening in my chest. Twenty million was a mere pittance to me, but judging by Chloe’s current state, she likely couldn’t produce that much. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the auctioneer emerged from backstage and announced the verification results. “Upon review, Ms. Chloe Hayes’ liquid assets do not meet the bidding deposit requirements.” The laughter intensified. Tiffany giggled softly. “Sister Chloe, don’t push yourself! All I wanted was your apology.” Ethan shot a contemptuous glance at the stage. “Chloe Hayes, don’t bite off more than you can chew. If you can’t pay, stop pretending.” “Before we brought you here, I checked your accounts. You only have fifty thousand left.” Zane’s face was etched with disbelief. “Fifty thousand? We spend more than fifty thousand on one dinner with Tiffany! I can’t believe you’re this broke.” “However, if you truly have no money, I can help you out.” With that, he signaled a waiter. The waiter nodded, stepping onto the stage and positioning himself opposite my daughter. Zane’s icy voice echoed through the hall. “One article of clothing equals five million. If you take off four pieces, you’ll have twenty million.” “How about it? Sounds like a good deal, doesn’t it?” As his words finished, the waiter reached out to tear at my daughter’s clothes. The instant his fingers grazed her skin, Chloe struggled violently. “No!” The crowd below went wild again. “Take it off! Hurry up and take it off!” “Nice! Mr. Evans knows how to have fun!” Chloe looked at her three childhood friends below, terror in her eyes, only to see them shedding their own jackets, scrambling to drape them over Tiffany. My heart plummeted. My daughter’s scream tore through the air, hoarse and desperate. “Get away! Don’t touch me!” But the deafening cheers from the crowd below drowned out her voice, shattering it. The sleeve of Chloe’s dress ripped, exposing a large swathe of her skin. Instantly, slimy, sickening gazes lingered on that bare flesh. The waiter, his face devoid of emotion, stated: “Ms. Hayes, it’s just four pieces of clothing. This way, you’ll have enough money.” Chloe desperately clutched her dress, her lips trembling. I was shaking with fury, about to order the auction halted. But at that moment, my daughter removed the bracelet from her wrist and raised it high. “I have money! I’m still in!” The waiter immediately stepped back. My daughter’s trembling hand offered him the bracelet. As the waiter took the bracelet backstage for verification, a wave of laughter erupted. “She’s a real pigheaded one, still trying to play rich when she’s cornered!” Tiffany covered her mouth, a soft laugh escaping. “Sister Chloe, have you lost your mind? What’s a broken bracelet worth?” Tiffany’s confidence stemmed from the fact that she’d long since stripped my daughter of all her valuables. She was certain that cheap bracelet wouldn’t fetch much. But when the waiter announced the bracelet was worth thirty million… Tiffany’s face abruptly contorted. “How is that possible?!” Even the three men beside her looked incredulous. “A worthless bracelet? How could it be worth that much?” 3 I surveyed the bracelet in the waiter’s hand, understanding dawning on me. That bracelet was my daughter’s one-month birthday gift. I’d paid two hundred million for it back then. Now, it was only fetching thirty million. The auction house owner cautiously knelt at my feet, barely daring to breathe. Below, someone with a keen eye gasped. “This… this can’t be the bracelet once worn by the British Queen, can it? The design isn’t modern, but the price is ridiculously high.” “I remember that bracelet was auctioned at Hayes & Hayes back then, wasn’t it bought by the Hayes family? How is it in this woman’s hand?” “The Hayes family?” Someone drew a sharp intake of breath. “You mean that mercenary dynasty? They operate in both legal and illicit circles, rich beyond measure.” “But the Hayes family hasn’t made a public appearance in over a decade. I never thought I’d hear their name at this auction.” The whispers from the crowd reached Tiffany’s ears. She suddenly dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands, sobbing. “All I wanted was an apology from you, Sister! Why do you have to deliberately make things hard for me?” “Ever since Dad recognized me as his adopted daughter, you’ve always hated me, always bullied me. Sister, do you really dislike me that much?” My heart clenched. Adopted daughter? At that moment, my assistant’s call came through, relaying everything that had happened over the past few years. Turns out, Tiffany was the daughter of an escort. Her mother had hooked up with my husband, Robert Hayes. Robert then brought the escort to live in our home and even recognized her daughter as his adopted daughter. Ah, good. While I was away these past few years, Robert had been busy with such despicable affairs. Robert Hayes, Tiffany, and her mother – I wouldn’t spare a single one of them. Ethan gently lifted Tiffany into his arms. Noah soothed her, wiping away her tears. Zane clenched his jaw, furious. “Chloe Hayes, do you really want to drive Tiffany to her death?!” “Do you honestly think we don’t know how much she’s suffered since moving into your family’s home?” Noah’s face was grim, his eyes burning as if they could tear a person apart. “Chloe Hayes, we originally planned to go easy on you, but it seems unnecessary now.” He stood up and yelled to the large crowd of bidders behind him. “Anyone who bids on Chloe Hayes’ exclusive rights tonight will receive a 5% profit share on future collaborations with the Davis Group!” Ethan and Zane chimed in. “The Miller Corporation and Evans Holdings, too!” A sudden burst of excited shouts erupted from the crowd. “The three young masters are truly generous!” “I’ll offer another three million.” “Forty million!” Within seconds, the bidding had skyrocketed to fifty million. Tiffany smiled silently, her face radiating triumph. My daughter’s face grew whiter by the inch. She couldn’t possibly produce that kind of money. Once these people got their hands on her, they would undoubtedly torture her relentlessly. Convinced they would win, the bidders began to openly humiliate my daughter. “Little lady, once you’re mine, I’ll show you exactly what paradise feels like!” Someone threw a wad of cash at the waiter’s chest. “Tear off her clothes! These bills are yours!” Simultaneously, the auctioneer’s booming voice echoed through the hall. “Fifty million, going once.” “Fifty million, going twice.” Amidst his pronouncements, my daughter suddenly looked up, her eyes blazing with fierce resolve. “I’m still in. Eighty million!” The entire hall erupted in chaos. “Is she crazy?! How can she conjure up money while hanging there?!” “Hahaha, she even mortgaged her bracelet! Where would she get the money?” Tiffany, nestled in Ethan’s embrace, feigned a sigh. “Sister, don’t struggle. Where would you get eighty million…” Amidst wave after wave of mocking laughter, my daughter handed a black card to the waiter. The entire hall held its breath as the card reader beeped, processing the data. A moment later, the waiter’s voice rang out loudly. “Ms. Chloe Hayes’ account balance: two hundred million nine hundred thousand dollars. She is qualified to bid!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392642”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was home for the holidays, driving my American-made SUV to a blind date. My date, Isabelle Jones, and her best friend, Sophia, were already there when I pulled up to the restaurant. They were draped in designer labels, dressed to the nines. Seeing my simple clothes, Sophia immediately curled her lip in disdain. “Izzy, your date looks like he just walked off a construction site.” “Look at his cheap suit, probably doesn’t have two nickels to rub together.” Izzy, far from stopping her friend, just sneered. “Tell me about it. In this day and age, who drives an American car? It’s embarrassing.” I didn’t react, just offered a slight smile. My voice was even. “Ladies, ever heard of ‘The Sentinel’?” 1 Had they not been so rude, I wouldn’t have bothered with them. I’d just come home for a rare visit, and my mom, Mrs. Albright, insisted I go on this blind date. She’d said the girl came from a good family and was beautiful. I sized up the woman across from me. Beautiful, yes. But clearly, she wasn’t impressed with me. “It’s just a domestic car; why give it some fancy name? Trying to sound cultured?” Sophia scoffed. “Look at you, so broke you probably can’t even afford this meal. I don’t know why your mom even let you come to a blind date.” “Just get out of my sight. I’m not interested.” I almost thought I misheard her. I’d just sat down, and she was already telling me to leave? They were making a fool of me! I’d driven all this way, hadn’t even had a sip of water, and was already being insulted repeatedly. My patience evaporated. “You must be Isabelle Jones, the blind date Mrs. Albright set me up with, right?” “I haven’t even introduced myself, and you’re already writing me off, telling me to leave.” “Are you two, by any chance, running a scam?” The moment I spoke, Izzy’s face darkened. Her expression strongly suggested I’d hit a nerve. Her eyes darted around, her words stumbling. “A… a scam? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Blind dates are a mutual agreement. It’s perfectly normal for me not to be interested when you’re so poor.” “Did you think just because you came to meet me, I’m obligated to be with you? Take a good look in the mirror, buddy.” The more she spoke, the more agitated she became, almost spitting on me. I couldn’t believe this was the “sweet-natured and gentle” woman my mom had described. “Alright, alright, I’m a pauper, and you’re a princess. Happy now?” “Then could the princess please return the envelope my mother gave you?” “My mom specifically told me before I left that if the date didn’t work out, I had to get the money back.” Truth be told, my mom hadn’t said any such thing. I just couldn’t stand them. As soon as I finished, Sophia immediately stepped forward. “Ethan Stone, right? I’ve seen your profile. You’ve been out of town since high school, and there’s no record of what you actually do.” “We’ve been sitting here waiting for you all this time, why wouldn’t we keep this fee?” “You’ve seen us, you’ve had your drink. Now you want the money back? You’re dreaming.” Hearing Sophia, I was stunned. Was this some kind of model friend? So openly demanding money. Were they here to make a quick buck, or for a blind date? My mom had painstakingly saved up fifteen hundred dollars, and after just meeting them, without even having a proper conversation, it was gone? “So, by your logic, you two are making a lot more than most working girls.” The words were barely out of my mouth before Izzy and Sophia exploded in rage. “Ethan Stone! What is that supposed to mean? Are you calling us prostitutes?!” I just curved my lips into a slight smile. My silence said everything. Seeing me not speak for a long moment, Izzy and Sophia grew desperate. “Ethan Stone! I’m telling you, if you don’t apologize to us right now, I guarantee you won’t be walking out that door!” “Exactly! A poor bumpkin like you, trying to hit above your weight class? Take a look at yourself!” “The money is rightfully ours! We’re not giving it back. If you know what’s good for you, get lost.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at their words. “You keep calling me a pauper, but why don’t you hand over the money then?” “I should take back what I said earlier. Given your behavior, you two are probably worse than even those who hustle for a living.” “At least they put in the effort. You two, on the other hand, are just outright robbing people, aren’t you?!” Then, I casually ticked off my fingers. One blind date, and you pocketed fifteen hundred bucks just for showing up. For those naive enough, you might even get a free meal. This was quite the business. Quicker than hitting a jackpot. Izzy and Sophia were rendered speechless, frozen in place. As the old saying goes, it takes a scoundrel to handle scoundrels. And today, I’d be that scoundrel. 2 “You can’t out-argue me, and you don’t dare lay a hand on me. I suggest you just return the money.” “Two young ladies, why not do something worthwhile instead of trying to scam people? Are you doing your parents proud?” “I have things to do. Hand over the money now, or I’ll call the police.” At the mention of the police, Izzy and Sophia instantly panicked. “No, please, don’t call the police! Your money isn’t with us.” “What?!” “Then where is my money?” I remembered clearly watching my mom hand the envelope to them. “The money… it went up the chain.” Izzy was visibly intimidated by my presence, meek and subservient. Just as I’d suspected, my mom had indeed been swindled. What kind of blind date required a fifteen-hundred-dollar introductory fee? It was clearly a setup to fleece people. Yet, my mom, bless her heart, had actually believed them. “Who did you give the money to?” I narrowed my eyes, my voice devoid of emotion. “To Rex.” Rex? Who the hell was that? But from the name, it sounded like some kind of gangster. “Is this ‘Rex’ you speak of your boss?” Izzy nodded, her eyes filled with reverence. “Yes, Rex is Detroit’s top organized crime boss. We’re just peripheral members, trying to make a living under him.” I almost choked on my water hearing Izzy. “In this day and age, someone still dares to call himself a mob boss? Is he out of his mind?” My comment seemed to push Izzy’s buttons. “Don’t you dare insult Rex! He’s my idol!” Huh? I thought my ears were failing me again. Were young people’s values really this twisted now? Taking a gang leader as an idol. Probably watched too many mob flicks as kids. “Alright, since my money is with this ‘Rex,’ I’ll let you two off for now.” Izzy and Sophia were about to slip away when I abruptly changed my tone, adding, “Call your boss. Tell him to bring my money over here.” “That’s my mom’s hard-earned money. I’m getting it back today.” The moment my words registered, they both froze in shock. “Are you out of your mind?!” Izzy stared at me, wide-eyed. “You want to demand money from Rex? You’re trying to get yourself killed!” “He’s a big shot with connections that run deeper than anyone. He could crush you with a single finger.” I stretched, a slow, deliberate movement. “Who Rex is, has nothing to do with me.” “Right now, I just want my mom’s money back. Understand?” Sophia also stepped forward. “Ethan Stone, I advise you to drop this. If you cross Rex, not even the police can save you.” “In all of Detroit, I’ve never seen anyone get money back from Rex.” I waved my hand dismissively, pulling out my encrypted satellite phone and handing it to them. “Stop dragging your feet. Call him now.” 3 Izzy and Sophia exchanged glances, then tremblingly took the phone. “You’re making us call him. If anything happens to you later, it’s not our fault.” I nodded. Izzy cautiously dialed the number. The moment the call connected, I snatched the phone. “Hello, you must be Rex.” “I hear your people took fifteen hundred dollars from me.” “You have twenty minutes to get to this restaurant. One second late, and you’ll regret it.” Without waiting for a reply, I hung up. My actions left Izzy’s mouth agape. “You… you actually dared to speak to Rex like that? You’re practically asking to die!” “If Rex really shows up, you won’t even have time to regret it.” I casually settled onto the sofa, peeling an orange as if nothing were happening. “Good, I was afraid he wouldn’t show up.” I’d been stationed with my unit for years, rarely coming home. If I hadn’t earned a Silver Star in the All-Forces Combat Trials, my General wouldn’t have personally granted me leave to visit family. I’d probably still be in training right now. “Ethan Stone, when Rex gets here, don’t you dare tell him we called him.” “Rex has a short fuse. If you upset him, all three of us are screwed.” Just the mention of Rex made Izzy’s attitude do a complete 180. It reminded me of when I first met her. It seemed people really shouldn’t be too low-key. Being low-key just made you an easy target. If they hadn’t run into me today, who knew how many more people would have fallen victim to their scam? The thought fueled my sense of justice. When I left the unit, the General had repeatedly warned me not to get into conflicts with civilians. But I believed that a true soldier steps in when they see injustice. I was sure my superiors would understand. Time ticked by. With less than fifteen seconds left on the clock, Rex finally arrived. A dozen brand-new Rolls-Royce Ghosts pulled up, parking perfectly in front of the restaurant. A bald, middle-aged man led the way inside, followed by a throng of black-suited bodyguards. From a distance, it was quite intimidating. Before I could speak, Izzy and Sophia rushed forward. “Rex, this is the guy who called you just now!” “He even said he’d trash your restaurant if you didn’t show up!” “Sophia and I are just girls, we couldn’t stop him, so we had no choice but to call you for help!” It truly took a wicked woman to spin a tale like that. Izzy’s skill at embellishment was truly masterful. But it didn’t matter. Even if she talked until her throat was raw, I was getting that money back today. Rex glanced at me from the corner of his eye, then swaggered over. “You’re Ethan Stone?” I didn’t even raise my head, just gave a slight nod. “That’s right, that’s me.” “I hear my people said you threatened to trash my place?” I looked at my blind date, who was now preening behind Rex, and my lips curled up unconsciously. “While those words weren’t mine, I can tell you… that’s precisely what I had in mind.” “You’ve got a lot of nerve!” The moment I finished, the line of black-suited bodyguards behind Rex instantly surrounded me. I quickly calculated: I could probably take them all out in three minutes. Unfortunately, due to my special status, I couldn’t directly engage. Rex, thinking I was intimidated, looked at me with an arrogant smirk. “What? You were so brave on the phone, weren’t you?” “Now you’re too scared to even utter a word?” 4 I poured myself a cup of tea, took a sip, and cleared my throat. “You’re Rex, right? Your people took fifteen hundred dollars from me. When do you plan on returning it?” As I spoke, the men behind Rex burst into raucous laughter. “Kid, you must have a death wish, trying to shake down our Boss Rex!” “You haven’t done your homework, have you? In all of Detroit, who dares to talk to Rex like that?” “I suggest you get down on your knees and apologize to Rex, unless you want to get roughed up.” I raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oh? What if I insist on having that money back?” Even Rex probably hadn’t expected me to challenge him so openly in front of so many people. His face slowly twisted into a sneer. “Alright! I like people who are stubborn like you.” “You want your money? Fine, you can have it.” “But whether you live to collect it, that’s up to you.” With that, he waved his hand, and his men surged towards me. But they threw a dozen punches, yet couldn’t even graze my clothes. I moved effortlessly among them, occasionally offering a mocking comment. Rex stood on the sidelines, his face livid with rage. “What good are you people?! You can’t even lay a hand on one guy?! Get him! Finish him!” But no matter how he shouted, his subordinates couldn’t touch me. Just then, Izzy, thinking herself clever, stepped forward. She pointed at the Sentinel parked outside, a malicious smirk on her face. “Rex, did you see that domestic car at the entrance? That’s what Ethan Stone drove.” “He likes to dodge, doesn’t he? Why don’t we just smash his car instead?” Rex’s eyes immediately lit up. “Everyone, stop trying to grab him! Follow me! We’re smashing his car!” At his command, everyone rushed towards the parking lot. Each man grabbed a crowbar, and they began to savagely assault my SUV. They smashed it for a good fifteen minutes, but it only suffered minor paint damage; the body itself was perfectly fine. “Damn it! Fine, I can’t catch the guy, but why is smashing a car so damn difficult?!” “Boss, this car is too tough! We’ve been hitting it forever, and it’s not reacting!” I stood with my hands in my pockets, shouting at them. “Hey, are you guys even trying? You’ve been at it for ages, and it’s still not broken!” My taunt instantly ignited Rex’s fury. He snatched a crowbar from one of his men and swung it fiercely a few times. There was a loud clang, and the crowbar flew ten feet away. Rex clutched his hands, his face contorted in pain. “Goddammit! How is this car so tough?!” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Rex, my car isn’t just tough. It’s also bulletproof.” With that, I pulled out my military-grade satellite phone and dialed a secure number. “General, your car just got trashed.” “What did you say?!” A roar erupted from the other end of the line. I briefly explained the situation, the chain of events. Even through the phone, I could feel the General’s fury. “Specialist Stone, report your position immediately!” He barked the order directly into the phone. I hung up and leisurely walked over to Rex, patting his shoulder lightly. “Rex, I think it’s necessary to inform you. That car you just smashed, its name is ‘The Sentinel’.” But to my surprise, Rex didn’t back down; he became even more arrogant. “I don’t give a damn what it’s called! I’m going to smash it to pieces today!” Just then, Izzy screamed. “Look!” Everyone turned their heads. A dozen military Hummers, bearing distinctive red markings, were steadily approaching.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392641”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 At my birthday gala, Lucian suddenly ushered in a young woman, introducing her as an inexperienced intern. She “clumsily” spilled my cake, then “thoughtlessly” adorned herself with my necklace. Yet, Lucian’s only retort was always, “She’s still so young.” It wasn’t until she “naively” climbed into Lucian’s bed, then “innocently” knelt before me, heavily pregnant, saying, “Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne said if you couldn’t give him a child, I would…” I finally gave Lucian two icy choices: “Either she ends the pregnancy, or we end our marriage.” Lucian, his face etched with guilt, explained, “Grandfather Thorne decreed that only a woman who bears an heir can be the Mrs. Thorne. But your uterus is damaged. Skylar’s child… will be formally adopted by you. Eleanor, I only love you too much!” Later, when Lucian joyfully brought their son home to the Thorne estate, he was still trying to reason with me: “Just be understanding, Grandfather Thorne only wants to see them. It won’t affect your standing.” I nodded, obliging, not a tear or protest. The moment he left, I dialed his rival’s number. “I accept your offer. Being a mother to someone else’s child, it’s all the same, isn’t it?” When Lucian walked in, cradling the infant, Skylar and Grandfather Thorne followed close behind. The baby was tiny, swaddled in a blanket embroidered with gold thread. Lucian looked down at the child in his arms, his gaze so tender it stung. “Eleanor.” He looked up, his tone flat, as if announcing something utterly inconsequential, “The baby will live here from now on.” My heart twisted with bitterness, but words failed me. Just three months prior, he had knelt before me, pleading with me not to divorce him, explicitly promising that once Skylar gave birth, she would be transferred to a branch office, never to interfere with our lives. Yet now, he had brazenly brought the mother and child into our marital home. A fragile belief, already teetering on the brink, finally shattered within me. Skylar stood behind Grandfather Thorne, watching me with feigned timidity. For a mother, she was still just as “naive,” unable to even offer a greeting. Finding it tiresome, I turned to go upstairs. She called out, her voice laced with a sob, “Sister, I know you hate me, but the baby is innocent… please, be kind to him in the future.” Lucian frowned, stepping in front of her, his tone tinged with reproach: “Eleanor, don’t frighten Skylar.” I scoffed. How was it that merely standing there made me the villain? Grandfather Thorne hobbled over, tapping the baby’s cheek, his smile indulgent: “This child looks just like Lucian did as a boy. Clearly a Thorne, through and through.” When he turned to me, his eyes turned cold: “You can’t bear a child. We can’t just let the Thorne line end, can we?” I lowered my gaze, my nails digging savagely into my palms, the pain a dull throb. Lucian finally looked at me, his voice softening slightly: “Eleanor, the baby needs breast milk. Once he’s weaned… I’ll arrange for Skylar to move out!” I suddenly felt like laughing. This was his own promise, yet now he delivered it with the tone of a patron? I was about to say it wasn’t necessary, when Skylar interrupted, “Mr. Thorne, quick, look! The baby seems hungry…” Lucian immediately turned, skillfully supporting the baby’s head as he murmured soothing words. I stood there, feeling utterly like an outsider. … Late that night, Lucian finally returned to our room. He carried the faint scent of baby milk and Skylar’s perfume. As the mattress dipped, I turned my back to him. His hand settled on my waist. “Eleanor, don’t be stubborn.” I didn’t move. He sighed, then spoke, seemingly to himself: “Grandfather is old; he just wants a great-grandson… we already agreed, didn’t we? Once the baby is a little older, he’ll be legally adopted by you. You’ll still be Mrs. Thorne!” I opened my eyes, staring at a point in the darkness, and asked softly, “Lucian, do you remember why I can’t have children?” His breath hitched. Three years ago, during that car crash, I lunged to shield him from a fatal blow. When the doctors said I might never conceive again, he swore, his eyes red-rimmed: “Eleanor, all I need is you.” Now, he had secretly gotten another woman pregnant, then used the pretense of adoption to ensure her smooth delivery, and finally… brought the child into our home. All under the guise of wanting to give me a child. … The next morning, Skylar was already seated in my designated chair at the dining table, holding the baby. Lucian sat beside her, gently coaxing the infant, his expression soft. Grandfather Thorne chuckled, saying, “This child is so well-behaved, truly blessed.” Skylar shyly lowered her gaze: “Grandfather, the baby cried all night. Mr. Thorne only managed to get him to sleep past midnight…” Lucian smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair. So this was the picture of a happy, harmonious family of three. I turned to head upstairs, but Grandfather Thorne’s voice, brooking no argument, stopped me: “From today, Skylar and the baby will reside in the master suite.” I froze. No matter how many, or how spacious, the rooms in the mansion, there was only one master suite. Lucian abruptly stood up: “Grandfather!” But Grandfather Thorne sharply rapped his cane: “What? You’d inconvenience my great-grandson for a woman who can’t lay an egg?” Lucian fell silent. Skylar stood behind Grandfather Thorne, cradling the baby, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. Too weary to argue, I turned back to the room, mechanically packing my belongings. Lucian suddenly entered, grabbing my hand. “Eleanor! Don’t do this…” I looked up at him, my eyes utterly devoid of emotion. “Lucian,” I said softly, “If I don’t leave, are we four supposed to squeeze into one bed?” 2 His face faltered slightly. He said nothing, but his grip on my hand loosened. The answer was glaringly obvious. As I carried my suitcase downstairs, Skylar stood in the living room, holding the baby. With a facade of apology, she suggested, “Sister, the guest room is so spacious and comfortable. There’s no need to move out!” She clearly wanted to witness the drama of a wife being demoted to a concubine, but I had no intention of indulging her. “No need. I wish you,” I glanced at the baby in her arms, my voice laced with hidden meaning, “and the Thorne family’s flesh and blood, a long and prosperous life.” I deliberately emphasized “flesh and blood,” watching her feigned smile freeze for a fraction of a second. She was, of course, nowhere near as simple-minded as Lucian claimed. At least in front of me, adjusting her expression was a matter of milliseconds. “Sister, don’t say that. Mr. Thorne still cares about you most deeply…” Before she could finish, I was already at the door. It was a perfect storm; my marriage had ruptured, and the deluge arrived right on cue. I stood there, watching the pouring rain, for a long while. Lucian didn’t come after me. The water streaming down my cheeks—I couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears. My phone suddenly lit up. Lucian, from behind the closed door, sent me a message: [Eleanor, you’re not as understanding as you used to be. Go stay in the executive apartment provided by the company for now. Once you’ve calmed down, I’ll come get you.] I let out a hollow laugh. I calmly stepped into the rain, hailed a cab, and left. Perhaps because I had already made my plans, Lucian’s full immersion into fatherhood didn’t stir much emotion in me anymore. After two days of silence, I returned to the mansion to retrieve the last of my belongings. Skylar sat in the living room, draped in my silk robe. “Sister, you’re back?” She gently patted the baby in her arms, parading him like a prized possession. I headed straight upstairs, unwilling to exchange another word with her. But the moment I pushed open the master bedroom door, my composure shattered. The sheets had been changed to her preferred taupe, and my vanity was laden with skincare products that weren’t mine. The gowns I’d worn to countless meetings and events with him… were haphazardly stuffed into a corner of the closet. In their place hung Skylar’s dresses. Even the wedding photo above the bed had been replaced with their family portrait—Lucian cradling the baby, the woman nestled against his shoulder, her smile dazzling and sickeningly happy. I bit down hard on my lower lip, gasping for breath to keep the stinging tears at bay. It was then I realized that saying goodbye to a relationship didn’t always require a dramatic breakdown. Once calm, I entered the private vault and retrieved my mother’s urn. As I descended the stairs, I heard Skylar on the phone. “Mr. Thorne, the baby misses you…” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “Yes, Eleanor came back for her things. The baby and I will get along just fine with her…” I scoffed. Three days living here, and she already acted more like the lady of the house than I, his wife of three years, ever did. No wonder she’d usurped me. As I walked out, Skylar suddenly called my name: “Sister!” She scurried over, pushing the baby in her arms towards me. Her smile was feigned innocence. “Do you want to hold the baby? Get a head start on feeling like a mother…” Though the infant was innocent, the stain on my marriage turned my stomach. “No, thanks.” I turned and walked away. Behind me, she inexplicably stumbled, shrieking as she fell backward— “Ah!” I instinctively spun around, reaching out to catch her. But she deliberately swung her shoulder, knocking the urn from my grasp. The ceramic urn shattered on the marble floor with a sickening crash, splitting into two halves, grey-white ashes scattering across the tiles. I froze, then heard a furious roar from behind me: “Eleanor! What are you doing?!” Lucian stormed in, roughly shoving me aside. He anxiously helped Skylar up. “Are you alright?” Skylar, her eyes red-rimmed, shook her head: “I’m fine… thankfully, I protected the baby. Mr. Thorne, it’s true I’m an intruder, so Sister Eleanor pushing me to vent her anger is understandable…” Lucian turned to me, his gaze complex: “An intruder? Eleanor, how many times have I told you, it was my idea to have Skylar move in…” I stared blankly at my mother’s ashes, spread across the floor. I knelt, my eyes burning red. “Momma…” But he, mistaking my grief for an excuse for pushing Skylar, irritably loosened his tie: “Every time we argue, you cry and call for your mother. Have you ever considered that your mother, in heaven, would want you to be a proper lady of the house?” Skylar, feigning concern, edged closer: “Sister, I’m so sorry. I broke the baby formula you bought for the baby. How much do I owe you…?” “No need!” Lucian cut her off, glaring coldly at me. “How dare she use anything she bought for the baby? As for you, Skylar, did she do anything to you while I was away?” Watching him dote so carefully on Skylar, I suddenly felt overwhelmingly weary. There was no longer any point in explaining. “Lucian,” I said softly, “Let’s get a divorce.” 3 His face instantly contorted. “What nonsense are you spouting now?!” I produced the divorce papers I’d already prepared and placed them on the coffee table. “Sign them,” I said. “You made your choice a long time ago.” He seized my wrist. “I told you! Skylar and I aren’t what you think! You’re the one I love!” His desperation was suddenly pathetic. “Then make her move out,” I said, enunciating each word. “Immediately. Now.” He froze. Skylar’s timely sob broke the silence: “Mr. Thorne, don’t argue with Sister Eleanor… the baby was just startled and spit up…” Lucian released my hand. “Eleanor! You can be angry with me, but you shouldn’t push a woman holding a baby!” His reprimand was a blunt blade, cruelly severing my last thread of hope. I watched him turn and hurry toward Skylar. I finally had to admit that in Lucian’s heart, I would always come second to that mother and child. Standing on the roadside, I suddenly remembered our wedding day, and Lucian’s vows before the minister: “To love only you, for the rest of my life.” Thinking about it now, his ‘rest of his life’ was remarkably brief. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Lucian: [Just stop being difficult, and you’ll always be Mrs. Thorne.] I smiled faintly and blocked all his contacts. Always? From the moment he secretly got Skylar pregnant, there was no ‘always’ for us. 4 Before leaving Bayview City, I went to the company to complete my resignation handover. As I looked at the company Lucian and I had built from the ground up, a tide of reluctance surged within me. But I knew, there was no place for me here anymore. The glass wall still displayed “Never Give Up,” a motto we’d written together. In the break room, the old coffee maker from our startup days still sat there. But now, his world held things far more important. That child, that woman, that so-called “family.” Ms. Davis, her eyes red-rimmed, helped me clear out my office. “Ms. Sterling, Mr. Thorne certainly wants you to enjoy a life of leisure at home, but if you’re truly leaving, I’ll miss you terribly… Does Mr. Thorne know about your resignation?” Her final question was a probe. She also knew that ever since Lucian had an intern assistant, the Thorne household had been in turmoil. “Of course, it’s all been made clear.” I tucked the last file into a box. The moment I stood up, my vision suddenly swam. I instinctively clutched the desk. Ms. Davis gasped, “Ms. Sterling, you look terrible!” … Hospital lights are always so unsettling. The moment I opened my eyes, Ms. Davis leaned in, her face alight with barely contained joy: “Ms. Sterling, you’re pregnant! Six weeks along!” I froze, my fingers unconsciously tracing my lower abdomen. A child… here? A child who arrived so suddenly, just as I decided to leave… Ms. Davis continued to chatter excitedly, but her words were a dull buzz in my ears. Did Lucian know? Would he, for this child… My phone suddenly vibrated, Lucian’s name flashing on the screen. I answered with a trembling hand, and before I could speak, his enraged roar ripped through the phone: “Eleanor! Why would you do something like this?!” I froze. “What?” “Skylar found a doll under the baby’s crib!” His voice was glacial. “It had pins stuck in it and the baby’s birth date written on it!” I let out a humorless laugh. So that was it. He hadn’t called to check on me after I collapsed; he had called to accuse me. “Lucian,” I said calmly, “Do you remember what today is?” Silence hung on the other end for a beat. “Three years ago today, you were in that car crash. I lunged to shield you.” My voice was barely a whisper. “The doctors said I might never be able to conceive again. But now, I’m…” The sound of something shattering on the other end drowned out the word “pregnant” that left my lips. On his end, Lucian rushed to comfort someone nearby. “There, there, don’t cry. I’ll make this right for you and the baby.” Only then did he ask, “What did you just say? I didn’t hear you!” I suddenly felt there was no point in saying anything more. I hung up. “Ms. Davis,” I said softly, “Don’t tell anyone about my pregnancy yet.” She looked at me, stunned. “But Mr. Thorne…” “Especially not Lucian.” I stroked my flat stomach, and finally, tears fell. “This child… has nothing to do with him anymore.” … The sunset outside the window bled red, like spilled blood. It was like Lucian, three years ago, holding my blood-soaked body, crying out, “Eleanor, it’s okay if we don’t have children. But I can’t lose you!” Now, he had pushed both the child and me away. 5 The moment I managed to push myself up into a sitting position, the hospital room door burst open. Grandfather Thorne hobbled in, leaning on his ebony cane, two bodyguards flanking him. “Eleanor Sterling!” The cane slammed heavily against my bed rail. “You viper! Now the baby is in the ICU, are you satisfied?” I couldn’t stop a bitter laugh from escaping. When Lucian and I had struggled to build the company, he used to affectionately call me “Granddaughter-in-law.” Now that someone else had borne him a great-grandson, I was a viper. My voice was hoarse. “If the baby is in the ICU, perhaps you should be waiting by the operating room door.” Enraged, the old man swung his cane, striking hard against the back of my hand where the IV drip was inserted. The needle was ripped out. Beads of blood welled up and rolled down the back of my hand. “Still feigning innocence!” he raged. “I consulted a spiritual master! It was that cursed doll of yours! Now the baby’s lungs are filled with blood, you—” He choked on his words, nearly collapsing. The bodyguards immediately steadied him. I looked at the raving old man and felt only sorrow. He didn’t know that the child in my womb was his only great-grandchild. I looked at him, incredulous: “You think I would curse an infant?” Lucian stood just behind Grandfather Thorne, but he made no move to speak. “Stop making excuses!” Grandfather Thorne gasped, straightening up. “The master said this is a ‘matriarchal curse.’ To break it, the matriarch who cast it must have her head shaved clean.” He didn’t give me time to process the absurd demand, instead gesturing to the bodyguards, “Hold her down.” I was so weak; did they even need to hold me? Yet I still looked at the figure behind him, suddenly desperate to know: who would Lucian choose this time? As the bodyguard produced the scissors, Lucian finally moved— He took a step back. That single step brought tears of laughter to my eyes. He averted his gaze, his voice trembling: “Eleanor, just for the sake of the baby…” My heart turned to ice. As the razor touched my scalp, I smiled. “Do you remember three years ago, when I had to shave my head after my injury?” The blade already sliced through the first strand of hair. Black strands floated silently onto the stark white sheets. “Back then, I thought I was ugly, hiding in my room for three months, refusing to see you. You stood outside my door for three months, speaking through it every day—” Lucian’s body suddenly convulsed. “—saying that once my hair grew back, you’d comb it for me every day, buy me the best hair oil, and promise I’d never grow a single grey strand.” Memories flooded back like a tide—how could we not have been in love? Back then, he’d bring me different hair growth recipes every day, nurturing my hair with endless care. And now… for a baseless accusation, they were simply shaving it all away… Lucian suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the bodyguard’s hand, his voice raw: “Stop!” But it was too late. Amidst the grief, warm liquid began to stream down my thighs. I looked down and saw beads of blood hitting the floor, one by agonizing one. Lucian’s gaze followed mine, and his face instantly turned ashen: “Eleanor?!” He trembled as he pulled back the blanket, his whole body swaying the moment he saw the blood. “This is…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392640”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Dr. Bethany Vance, in a desperate attempt to please her lover, brazenly carved “E.T. I’m sorry” into my grandfather’s liver. Then, she abandoned him on the operating table, leaving him to suffocate. In a furious rage, I dragged her to court, only to discover my own husband, a forensic pathologist, had falsified the autopsy report, fabricating evidence for the murderer. Even more horrifying, to cover up the inscription on Grandpa’s liver, he had mutilated it beyond recognition, a bloody, gruesome mess. My fury simmered, unyielding, my spirit refusing to break. It wasn’t until I was brutally beaten that the chilling truth dawned on me: Dr. Adrian Fairchild, my husband, was the lover who had indirectly caused Grandpa’s death. Later, to coerce me into dropping the charges, Bethany barged into my comatose mother’s hospital room and threatened: “You keep fighting me over that old man. I was kind enough to let your mother cling to life a few more days, but you’re so ungrateful! Guess your husband will just have to deal with another body~” I fought with all my might, but they brutally broke my limbs. Desperate, I found Grandpa Hayes’ handwritten letter at home. He was alive, it turned out, and now the head of a top-secret research facility. Bloodied and broken, clutching the ashes of my family and my parents’ commendations, I dialed Grandpa Hayes, my hand shaking violently: “Grandpa, Mom… she’s gone. Our entire family, laden with honors… now, all tortured to death by the Vance family! Eleanor only asks that you investigate, bring them justice…” … In the courtroom, I clutched the autopsy report, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably. Beneath dozens of horrifying slashes on Grandpa’s liver, the faint, scorched letters “E.T. I’m sorry” were visible. My pupils constricted. I dared not dwell on whether “E.T.” stood for Adrian Fairchild. Adrian rose, and in his capacity as a forensic pathologist, declared in court that Grandpa’s death had nothing to do with Bethany Vance. Fat tears splattered the report, and a storm of rage churned in my chest. My eyes blazing, I slammed my hand on the table. “Adrian Fairchild! Grandpa treated you like his own grandson, yet you’re covering for this incompetent doctor who killed him, falsifying autopsy reports, even mutilating Grandpa’s liver to hide evidence! Have you no humanity left?!” Adrian shielded Bethany behind him, blocking my furious gaze, his expression impatient. “Eleanor Hayes, you need evidence when you speak. How can you pin your grandfather’s death on Bethany? I won’t allow you to ruin Dr. Vance’s reputation like this!” “Besides, mutilating the liver is a necessary part of an autopsy! Your grandfather was good to me, but I am a forensic pathologist. I cannot compromise my integrity and help you extort money!” Before his words faded, he fiercely clasped Bethany’s hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone slander you.” My body stiffened—the wedding ring on his hand was a different style, perfectly matching Bethany’s. Adrian noticed my gaze, frowned slightly, but tightened his grip. Whispers rippled through the gallery: “Dr. Vance’s family are all esteemed physicians! Her father’s a hospital CEO, her mother a university professor. She herself is respected for her exceptional medical skill and unwavering ethics, she’s helped countless people! Eleanor Hayes has clearly lost her conscience, daring to sue Dr. Vance!” “She’s just trying to cash in! Eleanor Hayes comes from a blue-collar background, and her mom’s been in a coma for years. Any crumbs from the Vance family would be more than enough for her.” “Good thing Dr. Thorne is impartial. But with his background, why did he marry such a belligerent woman? Everyone used to say he and Dr. Vance were the perfect match!” Adrian’s lips curved into a sneering arc at the comments. He looked down at me. “Eleanor Hayes, you claim to be suing Bethany, yet you can’t produce any evidence. I suggest you get lost.” Evidence? He had already tricked me into handing it over and destroyed it. Even Grandpa’s body had been held under his authority, citing case requirements. My nails bit deep into my palms, blood oozing, my entire body trembling from the pain. “Are you truly going to disregard our marriage vows and shield the murderer of my grandfather?” Adrian’s face twisted with disgust and anger: “Are you done with your theatrics? Bethany has nothing to do with your grandfather’s death! I testify as his grandson-in-law that your grandfather was already on his last legs. Your family is just trying to extort money! Since that’s how it is, don’t blame me for being ruthless!” With that, without waiting for my reply, Adrian submitted an audio recording. In it, my voice could be heard “conspiring” to slander Bethany Vance, then “furious” arguing after he supposedly stopped me. My chest heaved with rage. I screamed at the judge: “That recording is falsified! I demand an investigation!” But no one believed me. The judge immediately dismissed the request, giving a subtle nod to Bethany before ruling against me on the spot. He even stripped me of all my assets, deeming them compensation for Bethany Vance’s emotional distress. When the trial concluded, I refused to accept the verdict. As I shrieked my innocence, someone suddenly pulled out a commendation plaque and thrust it into Bethany’s arms, deliberately looking at me: “Dr. Vance has a kind heart! You saved my son’s life! We all support you! Don’t let this trash upset you!” “Anyone who dares touch you has to answer to us, the families you’ve helped!” Bethany’s face wore a mask of feigned serenity. As she turned away from the crowd, she mouthed a malicious taunt: “Your grandfather got what he deserved. Who are you to fight me?” Rage, like wildfire, ignited from my feet and blazed to my head. I shrieked, lunged at Bethany, tore the commendation plaque from her arms, and violently slapped it across her face. Bethany clutched her face, crying out in pain. Adrian’s hand swung, connecting with my cheek, then he grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it into my head. Blood streamed from my scalp into my eyes, painting my world crimson. “You shrew! Don’t think I won’t hit a woman! Are you done acting out?!” He didn’t spare me another glance. He scooped Bethany into a bridal carry and rushed her to the hospital. The patients’ families left behind glared at me, fists and feet raining down like a storm. “I don’t hit women, but I hit animals! You dare lay a hand on Dr. Vance, you have a death wish!” “Your grandfather deserved to die! Your whole family belongs in hell!” Security arrived much later to disperse the enraged families. As they left, they didn’t forget to spit at me. I lay in a pool of my own blood, clutching the torn report, tears streaming down my face. 2 Time blurred. A torrential downpour began. I stumbled to my feet, limping, each step a wince, to the forensics department. I refused to believe Adrian Fairchild could control everything there. Grandpa hadn’t been cremated yet. I had to get his body and demand a new autopsy. As I crept inside, behind a one-way mirror, two figures writhed, intertwined. I froze, stunned. So “E.T.” was Adrian Fairchild. The lover Bethany Vance had charmed was my own husband. And Adrian, who had inadvertently caused Grandpa’s death, as an impartial forensic pathologist, was actually providing false testimony for Bethany! Adrian’s face was flushed, his body moving with a ruthless rhythm, eliciting breathless moans from Bethany. And Grandpa’s remains lay on the slab nearby. Rage engulfed me. Just as I was about to burst in, two bodyguards appeared from the shadows, pinning me to the ground. To prevent my cries from attracting attention, they clamped a hand over my mouth. Bethany’s gaze met mine through the one-way mirror, a smirk twisting her lips. “Adrian, don’t be mad at me. I promise I’ll spend my next birthday with you. And now you’ve helped me again. How can I ever thank you enough?” Adrian gasped for breath. “Baby, I want you to unlock more intimate experiences with me. I want to try everything with you. It’s all Eleanor Hayes’ fault, clinging to you so stubbornly. I haven’t been able to be close to you these past few days, I’ve missed you so much…” Bethany let out a melodious moan. “Only me? Is your wife no good?” A flicker of contempt crossed Adrian’s features. “Her? She’s obsessed with her dead-end grandpa and her mom on life support. In bed, she’s cold, lifeless, completely unresponsive.” Vile words forced their way into my ears, and tears of humiliation streamed unchecked down my face. Dusk fell slowly, and the bodyguards forced me to witness the entire lewd scene. My heart had already died for Adrian when he provided false testimony for a murderer. Now, it was utterly, completely cold. When they were dressed, Bethany waved the bodyguards to release me. Just as I prepared to seize the opportunity to take Grandpa’s body, Adrian’s icy voice drifted from inside. “The case is closed. To avoid any further complications, cremate the old man immediately.” A roar erupted in my ears. The next second, I stumbled, forcing my numb knees to carry me forward, bursting into the room. Adrian’s face flashed with panic when he saw me. He quickly adjusted his clothes, then shielded Grandpa’s body. He spoke first, angrily: “Why are you here, instead of preparing compensation money? Still trying to play your slanderous games against Bethany?!” I articulated each word precisely: “Without family consent, a body cannot be cremated. I am taking Grandpa’s body for a new autopsy!” Adrian burst into laughter, as if I had told the funniest joke. “What if you don’t consent?” he sneered. “You’re so naive. Don’t you understand by now? The Vance family holds immense power in Metropolis. You, a pauper, can’t fight them!” “Let this be the end of it. I can still, out of consideration for our past, continue our life together.” Then he smiled like a demon from hell. “Someone, take the body. Cremate it immediately!” 3 My heart instantly felt constricted by a giant hand, the pain tearing through me. My eyes burned red as I glared at Adrian. Grandpa had given his all for him. In all our years of marriage, I understood his hard work, handling all the chores myself. Grandpa, to help him maintain appearances, had even given him most of his retirement savings to buy high-end watches. How could he, again and again, block every path to justice for Grandpa? Enraged, I slapped him directly across the face. Adrian stood stunned. Bethany frowned and pushed me, and a bodyguard kicked me to the ground. “Do you think you can just hit my man, Eleanor?” I lay sprawled on the floor, my chest aching, unable to speak. Adrian regained his composure, his gaze chillingly cold. “Bethany, she’s beyond reform. Let her watch the old man get cremated herself.” My fury surged, and I screamed, “No!” Then I violently coughed up a mouthful of dark blood. Adrian’s eyes flashed with panic, then were instantly replaced by anger. The bodyguards tossed me into the crematorium like a sack of garbage. Grandpa’s body was right beside me, but I was firmly held down, unable to reach him no matter how I struggled. Tears streamed down my face again as I watched, helpless, as Grandpa’s body was fed into the incinerator. The flames instantly roared to life, tongues of fire ravenously consuming Grandpa’s form. I screamed curses at Adrian and Bethany, who stood beside me, smiling. Adrian grabbed my stained, long hair, and with all his might, slapped me, then forced my head to face the fiery furnace. “Look closely. If you don’t behave, you’ll end up like this too.” Blood filled my mouth, mixing with tears as I swallowed, a grotesque, bitter laugh escaping me: “Impossible… I will make you all pay… I will, I will avenge Grandpa!” Adrian chuckled. “All the evidence has been scrubbed. How will you get revenge?” “Just be a docile housewife, and I’ll continue to provide for you. Don’t let me catch you opposing Bethany again, or I will divorce you. Without me, who would want you, a used woman I’ve tossed aside?” Years ago, when my mother was severely injured and became comatose, Adrian had persuaded me to quit my high-paying job to become a stay-at-home wife, claiming it was to better care for her. To compensate Adrian, I did everything to maintain our home, allowing him to focus on his work. But I never imagined people could change so much… Watching him walk away, the last sliver of affection I held for him slowly vanished. The flames in the incinerator died down. I stifled my tears and collected Grandpa’s ashes. As I prepared to bury him, my phone suddenly rang. “Ms. Hayes, your mother’s condition has improved. Please come to the hospital immediately…” I immediately grabbed the urn and flew to the hospital. The moment I pushed open the door, I froze—Bethany Vance’s hand rested on my mother’s oxygen tube, leisurely playing with it, twisting it. I roared, charging at her, but a bodyguard kicked me to the ground, pinning me. Bethany smiled, then yanked the oxygen tube free. “Your mother should have died ages ago! Your parents, investigating organ trafficking, dared to look into the Vance family? Do you know, your beloved husband, Adrian Fairchild, was the one who leaked their undercover identities?!” “I pitied your father, his organs carved out, so I was kind enough to let your mother cling to life for a few more days! But you’re so ungrateful, aren’t you?” “Well then, your mother can’t stay alive either.” 4 My breath hitched. My parents were undercover police officers, outwardly posing as small shopkeepers. Adrian only learned of their true identities after we married. I never, in my wildest nightmares, imagined that the person who killed my parents would be the man I loved most, my husband! Hatred surged in my chest. I struggled desperately. “You beast! Are you even human?! Stop it, you hear me?! Stop! You’re a disgrace to your profession…” My mother’s face, already pale, turned purple. The EKG monitor shrieked, its urgent beeps echoing the chaos. Bethany sneered, and the EKG line flatlined. My body went limp, my mouth agape, unable to breathe, only tears streaming endlessly. Bethany clapped her hands, casually saying, “Looks like Adrian will have to deal with another body for me. Good thing he’s so practiced~” When Adrian pushed the door open, he hadn’t expected to see me. His footsteps faltered. I glared viciously as he approached my mother’s body, screaming, “Don’t touch my mother! You murderers!” Adrian’s cold gaze swept over me. “Your mother should have died years ago. If I hadn’t paid to keep her on life support all these years, would she be alive now?” “Don’t blame me. Blame her for getting in Bethany’s way.” I refused to let them take my mother’s body again, fighting with all my strength. But the harder I resisted, the more brutally I was beaten. As Adrian left with my mother’s body, he glanced back at me. “Stop struggling. Your mother is dead, so be it. I’ll continue to provide for you from now on.” “As long as you drop all this, we can still be a loving couple.” I forced open my swollen eyelids and spat blood at him. “You’re dreaming!” Bethany laughed, throwing herself into Adrian’s arms. “Brother, why waste words on this foolish woman? If a woman’s disobedient, a beating sets her straight~ Brother, you’re not going soft on her, are you?” Adrian shot a glance at the bodyguards. “Hit her!” Then he turned and left, his face impassive, leaving only the order: “Break her spirit, but don’t kill her.” My mother’s body was taken away. I lay on the floor of the hospital room, my limbs brutally broken, barely clinging to life. I refused to give up, clinging to my last breath after they left, searching for my mother’s body. But all I found, in the end, was a handful of ashes. Numbly, I carried the ashes back to my parents’ old house. Inside, it was a mess. The lock had been pried open, and all my parents’ belongings were strewn outside. A neighbor, unable to bear it, spoke up. “Little Eleanor, why are you shaking them down when you could be living a decent life? Your husband had to sell your house to compensate Dr. Vance just to cover for you. Your husband has been good to your family. From now on, you better serve him well and give him plenty of healthy sons.” Bloodied, I forced a bitter smile. “Serve him? He killed my whole family! I will avenge this, no matter what!” The neighbor stiffened, muttered, “Ungrateful wretch,” and quickly slammed her door shut. I ignored her, despairingly picking up my parents’ belongings piece by piece. Then my phone rang. Adrian’s cold voice came through: “You have nothing now. From now on, you can only rely on me. Want to come back home? Then forget everything that happened. Otherwise, go wander the streets.” I gritted my teeth. “Even if it costs me my life, I will pursue this to the end. I don’t believe you and the Vance family can control everything. I will get justice for my family!” Adrian scoffed. “Stubborn to the very end. I’d like to see who in all of Metropolis dares to help you, risking the Vance family’s wrath!” The call disconnected. I took a deep breath to steady myself. They treated human lives like dirt, persecuted the innocent. I refused to believe there was no justice in this world! I continued to pick up my parents’ belongings, accidentally knocking over a metal box. A yellowed letter fell out. It was Grandpa Hayes’ handwritten letter! Only after reading the letter did my tears finally stop. Grandpa Hayes was alive. And he was now the supreme head of a top-secret research facility. Bloodied and broken, clutching the ashes of my family and my parents’ commendations, I dialed Grandpa Hayes: “Grandpa, Mom… she’s gone. My entire family, laden with honors… now, all tortured to death by the Vance family! Eleanor only asks that you investigate, bring them justice…” The moment I finished, blood trickled from the corner of my mouth onto the urn. The person on the other end of the line paused, stunned. “My daughter… my sweet daughter, how could she be…” After a faint sniffle, Grandpa Hayes’ choked, restrained voice came through: “Officer Lee, go to Metropolis at once. Pick up my granddaughter… and the ashes of my daughter and son-in-law.” “Also, deploy personnel. Conduct a thorough investigation into the Vance family in Metropolis!” A quick response from the other end. Soon after, a dozen military jeeps pulled up downstairs.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392639”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first thing I did after being reborn was to plant a wiretap on my boyfriend. In my previous life, my sister-in-law, Brittany Parker, had invited me to a bar the night before my brother was due home from a business trip. She said it was for one last wild night before he returned. But when I arrived at the bar, Brittany suddenly started crying, accusing me of having someone rape her. And the man who allegedly assaulted her was my boyfriend, Zachary Dean. I tried to explain, but Zachary, in front of everyone, claimed I’d threatened to kill myself if he didn’t do it. He even said I was jealous of Brittany for getting all my brother’s love. I was condemned by everyone, thrown into prison, and eventually died there, consumed by depression. Only after my death did I learn the truth: it had all been a setup by Brittany and Zachary. They had been secretly having an affair for a long time. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Brittany invited me to the bar. 1 I had just finished showering and was about to go to bed when my phone suddenly rang. It was Brittany’s voice on the other end: “Skylar, your brother’s coming home tomorrow. Please, come to the bar with me for one last wild night. It’ll be tough to get out once he’s back.” Hearing her words, I was absolutely certain I had been reborn. In my last life, Brittany invited me to the bar, but when I arrived, she was nowhere to be seen. I called her, and she told me to wait in the private room. But she never showed up, and I grew worried, calling her repeatedly. Just as I was about to call the police, Brittany appeared with Mom, Dad, and my brother, who had returned early. She tearfully accused me: “Honey, Skylar, to force me to divorce you, actually got Zachary Dean to rape me!” Before I could explain, my brother kicked me in the stomach. Mom and Dad immediately called the police. The police quickly arrived. I quickly explained: “She’s the one who invited me to the bar! We never even met! How could I possibly arrange for someone to rape her?” “Besides, I’ve been busy with work lately. I haven’t seen Zachary Dean in nearly a week! When would I have had the chance to plan something like this?” To my shock, my most trusted boyfriend stabbed me in the back right then. He dropped to his knees in front of Brittany with a thud, his voice trembling: “I’m so sorry, Brittany. Skylar forced me. She said if I didn’t agree, she’d kill herself. I had no choice but to…” His words rendered my explanations utterly futile. The police took me away. Mom and Dad, humiliated, cursed me: “How could we raise such a shameless daughter, to do something so vicious to your own brother’s wife?” During the online trial, Brittany clutched her face, crying hysterically: “I was already pregnant with Ethan’s child. But because she set me up to be raped, I lost the baby, and the doctors said I might never be able to conceive again.” Overnight, I was doxxed, and a torrent of online hate rained down on me. After I was incarcerated, due to my brother’s “special attention,” I was beaten black and blue. Day and night, I racked my brain trying to understand Zachary and Brittany’s conspiracy, eventually succumbing to depression and dying in prison. Only after my death did I learn that Brittany and Zachary had been high school sweethearts. After breaking up, they reconnected, reignited their old flame, and orchestrated this elaborate scheme. After my death, they usurped our home. Mom and Dad were literally driven to their deaths by anger, and my brother died in a car accident on his way to work. All our family assets fell into the hands of that despicable couple. In this new life, I absolutely wouldn’t let the tragedy repeat. 2 “Tsk, Skylar, speak up!” Brittany’s voice pulled me back to reality. I reined in my hatred, keeping my tone normal: “Okay, I’ll be right there.” “Yay, long live Skylar! Hurry up, New Moon Bar, private room 3601.” Hanging up, I immediately ordered a mini wiretap through an express delivery service. After receiving it, I called my boyfriend: “Zachary, are you busy? Brittany invited me to a bar, but it’s too late. I’m worried it’ll be unsafe for just us two girls. Will you come with me?” Zachary clearly hesitated: “Didn’t you say you were too tired lately and didn’t want to go out?” I feigned anger: “Are you on a date with another woman and don’t want to go with me? Fine, you do you. I’ll find another handsome guy to go with.” Zachary immediately agreed, saying he’d pick me up in half an hour. He was punctual, appearing at my doorstep exactly thirty minutes later. “Such a grown man, and you don’t even know your collar’s messy.” I used the excuse of straightening his collar to stick the wiretap on the back. Zachary kissed my cheek: “Skylar, you’re so good to me.” My stomach churned, but I forced myself to remain composed for the sake of the bigger picture. Just like in my previous life, when we arrived at the bar, Brittany wasn’t in the agreed-upon private room. Zachary nervously swallowed. “Brittany’s probably stuck in traffic.” I calmly opened a beer. “It’s fine, we’ll start without her.” After a while, Zachary grew restless. “Brittany, why isn’t she here yet? Did something happen?” I ignored him, expertly mixing a drink. “No, Skylar, you drink first. I’ll go look for her.” “I’ll go with you. She’s my sister-in-law, after all. If anything really happened, my brother would kill me.” Zachary immediately stopped me. “Please, darling, don’t add to the chaos. You’ve had so much to drink. If something really happened to Brittany, how could I handle all of it?” Without waiting for me to speak, Zachary rushed out. My lips curved upward slightly. Are you a little too eager? After finishing all the drinks I’d mixed, I contentedly picked up my phone. “Hello, 911? There’s a girl being raped at the New Moon Bar.” After reporting it, my left hand trembled with excitement. Knowing the time was right, I sent messages to Mom, Dad, and my brother, who was still out of town. [Brittany’s in trouble at New Moon Bar! Emergency! Get here fast!] The bar she’d chosen was far from my house, but in less than ten minutes, Mom and Dad, with a group of people, arrived in a frantic rush, each carrying some kind of weapon. My brother also messaged me. [Keep me updated. I’m on my way now.] “Where’s Brittany? What happened to Brittany?” Mom’s face was pale, her voice trembling. I feigned fear. “Sister-in-law… Sister-in-law was taken into a private room. I tried to stop them, but I couldn’t. The man even hurt me.” I exposed my bloodied arm. My relatives flinched in horror. “Forget that for now! Which private room was your sister-in-law taken to?” Dad gripped my injured arm, his eyes filled with concern for Brittany. “3601! Hurry, follow me!” 3 I led the group quickly down the corridor. The eyes of the surrounding guests and staff were practically glued to us. “It’s here!” I pointed to the room number on the door. Dad, without a word, kicked the door open. The scene inside left everyone stunned. Zachary and my sister-in-law were entangled, completely naked. When they saw us, their expressions shifted from intoxicated pleasure to panic. Gasp! My sister-in-law shrieked, quickly grabbing clothes to cover herself. “Mom, Dad, why are you here?!” Zachary frantically scrambled up, trying to find clothes to cover himself, only to realize they were all scattered near the private room door. “What in God’s name is going on here?!” Veins bulged on Dad’s face. My sister-in-law’s tears instantly streamed down like broken pearls. “Skylar invited me here for drinks. I thought she was just stressed from work and wanted to relax, but who knew she’d actually get someone to rape me?!” Zachary, at this point, didn’t care that he was naked. He dropped to his knees with a thud. “Uncle, Auntie, I’m so sorry. I was truly forced into this. I had no other choice.” “Skylar said why didn’t her brother love her like he used to after he got married. She was jealous that Brittany got all her brother’s attention.” “She said that as long as Brittany was defiled, her brother would divorce her. If I didn’t listen to her, she’d jump off a building.” “Nonsense!” I slapped Zachary across the face. Dad instinctively pushed me away. “Skylar Hayes, how can you be so shameless? That’s your own brother’s wife!” He raised his hand, ready to strike me. Mom’s eyes welled up again and again. “How could I have given birth to a daughter like you?” My uncle grabbed Dad’s hand before it could swing at me. “Ethan, cool down!” “And you’re still defending her! Look at what she’s done!” Dad’s hands trembled as he pointed at me. Overnight, he seemed to have aged a decade. The private room was surrounded by a crowd of curious onlookers, their chatter at one point drowning out our voices. “This sister-in-law is truly inhuman. To actually arrange for someone to rape her own sister-in-law.” “How can someone so young be so malicious?” “First time I’ve heard of a sister being jealous of her sister-in-law.” … My sister-in-law, seeing everyone on her side, cried even harder. “Dad, Mom, Ethan’s coming back tomorrow. Now that this has happened, how can I face him?” Zachary echoed her. “Uncle, Auntie, Skylar said her brother is coming back tomorrow, and if we didn’t act now, we wouldn’t have another chance. She threatened to jump from the building if I didn’t do it.” I stared at Zachary. “Are you sure I forced you?” Zachary nodded without a hint of guilt. “Yes, you did. I even have the chat logs on my phone.” “What chat logs?” My brother suddenly appeared. Had he flown back? His six-foot-three frame loomed over Zachary’s five-foot-seven, an intimidating presence. Zachary tremblingly handed over his phone. “These are Skylar Hayes’ messages, forcing me to rape Brittany. I swear, if I’m lying even once, let lightning strike me down five times.” The more my brother read, the darker his face became. “No, it’s not like that, listen to me…” Before I could speak, my brother kicked me against the wall. “Skylar Hayes, when did you become so twisted?” My sister-in-law threw herself into my brother’s arms. “Ethan, my body is defiled. Let’s get a divorce.” My brother held her, his heart aching, his eyes on me filled with murderous hatred. As he moved to strike me again, two police officers rushed in. “We received a report of a rape here. Where is the victim?” My sister-in-law immediately flung herself at the police officers’ feet. “Officers, you must do me justice! My vicious sister-in-law, to force me to divorce her brother, actually hired someone to rape me!” Zachary chimed in at the opportune moment. “I confess, but all of this was forced on me by her. I have proof.” My brother handed the chat logs on his phone to the police. After reviewing them, the police went about their routine. “Who reported the crime?” I calmly raised my hand. “I did.” The atmosphere in the room instantly grew eerie. “You… you reported it?” My brother looked at me, perplexed. He couldn’t understand why I would do such a thing. “She must have a guilty conscience! Officers, quickly arrest her!” The police frowned. “Besides these chat logs, do you have any other evidence to prove that this lady instigated it?” Zachary and my sister-in-law froze simultaneously. Zachary stammered, “Do… do I count?” I scoffed. All eyes turned to me. “A perfect example of dogs eating dogs!” “Since you can’t provide concrete evidence, why don’t you listen to mine?” I pulled out my phone from my pocket and opened the audio file. “Everyone, listen closely!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392638”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I had sunk a quarter of a million dollars into a beauty salon with my college friends. My money, their sweat. But when it came time to split the profits, one of them decided I hadn’t done enough. That I didn’t deserve my share. She wanted to nickel-and-dime me, to force me out. Turn a profit, then cut me loose? Start tallying up every cent? Fine. I stripped that salon bare the very next day. Sent their clients packing. Called the landlord. You want to count? Let’s count. Let’s count it all. 1 The conference call had ended, but the audio feed was still live on their end. I heard them. “Just thinking about transferring her half the money tomorrow makes my blood boil! What for? She barely even steps foot in the place! It’s like we’re working for her! We’re supposed to be partners!” “Brenda, dial it back a bit. We couldn’t find jobs after graduation, remember? Lynn put up all the money, and a 50/50 split was the deal. It was agreed upon.” “She wouldn’t even let me switch out one of our beauty products! Why not? She sits around doing nothing all day, then at the end of the year, she gets seventy-five grand in profit! I’m slaving away, breaking my back, and I only get thirty-seven five! Shelly! Don’t you want to buy her out? We could run this place ourselves.” “Oh no! The call’s still on! Do you think Lynn heard us?” “Hello? Hello? Lynn!” “Shelly, why are you so afraid of her? So what if she heard? She’s coming for her share tomorrow. I’ll tell her to her face.” Shelly and Brenda were my closest friends from college. Back then, they were struggling to find work, and they’d approached me with the idea of opening a beauty salon. I didn’t hesitate. I fully funded the whole operation for them. I found the location, I put up the capital, and I didn’t even interfere with their day-to-day decisions. I even only asked for half the profits. It was, by far, the least profitable of all my investments. But because my partners were my good friends, it was also the one I’d poured the most effort and heart into. In the beginning, they were overflowing with gratitude. Now, over a few extra dollars, they’d turned against me. A chill settled in my chest. The news that I was planning to invest an additional half-million dollars silently retracted itself. 2 I arrived at the salon the next day. “You’re here. Come in.” Brenda’s tone was icy. I followed her into the reception area. It had been a while since I’d last visited. I studied Brenda. When we first met, she’d been so small and thin. Now, she’d filled out significantly, probably pushing 150-155 pounds. She was draped in Gucci, her wrist glittered with a Van Cleef & Arpels Alhambra bracelet, and a Tiffany necklace gleamed at her throat. Her BMW key fob lay casually on the table. She’d clearly been living well these past two years. Shelly, by contrast, looked much the same as she had in college, with very little change. Shelly whispered to me, “Lynn, whatever Brenda says, don’t take it to heart. She’s been a little on edge lately.” “What could be so bad? You look nervous.” Brenda pulled out a wad of cash, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Some people just have it made, huh? Money just drops from the sky while they sit at home.” Thwack! The stack of bills hit the table. It felt less like a payment and more like a humiliating dole. “This year’s profit share. Thirty thousand. Take a look.” I didn’t touch it, just flicked my gaze over the pile. “That’s not the figure we discussed yesterday, Brenda. After rent, utilities, and salaries, the salon profited over one hundred and fifty thousand this year. My share should be at least seventy-five thousand.” “Lynn, you make money way too easily. You haven’t even met a single client, and you just walk away with half our profits! While we’re here, bowing and scraping, our hands practically raw from all the scrubbing, and we only get half to split between Shelly and me! It’s not fair. I want to recalculate the numbers!” I glanced at Shelly, who remained silent. “Do you feel the same way?” “I… I don’t think it’s unfair… It’s just… Brenda, please stop. Lynn’s the one who invested everything into this place.” “Look at you, no backbone!” Brenda stood up abruptly, pulling out a contract. “This is my new profit distribution. From now on, it’s 30/30/30 for the three of us, and the remaining 10% goes back into the business for development.” “Development, you say? How do you plan to develop?” “We’ll run ad campaigns, attract new clients, offer promotional deals.” I propped my chin in my hand. “And then…?” “Then the salon will grow, it’ll be even better! I’ve been wanting to offer a $30 express facial for ages! We need an online presence; we need to hire influencers for marketing. Doesn’t all that cost money?” “Do you realize that, given your location and the high-end decor, your clientele are wealthy? Do you honestly think they’d be interested in discounts? They pay hundreds, even a grand, for a single facial. Do you think they’d want to be seen alongside clients paying thirty dollars?” She was silent. “You drafted this new contract today because you think I haven’t done anything, haven’t you? Have you ever stopped to consider how, since the day you opened, you haven’t handed out a single flyer? How did all these clients find you?” “Oh, please.” Brenda scoffed. “Don’t act like this place can’t function without you.” “This salon was my idea! I found the location! I brought in the clients! Even the exclusive skincare lines you use were arranged by me! You think I’ve done nothing? You haven’t seen the private connections I’ve cultivated, the favors I’ve called in! Honestly, the goodwill and introductions I make every quarter are worth more than that paltry sum! My seventy-five thousand dollars, not a penny less.” My voice rose, each word sharper than the last. “Now, you’re trying to bite the hand that feeds you, all for a few petty gains?” “Okay, Lynn, don’t get upset. I’ll go get the money now!” Shelly started to rise. “Hold on! Who said you could get the money!” Brenda’s voice shot out, stopping her. “Don’t make yourself sound so indispensable. You said it yourself, it was ‘private.’ How am I supposed to know what you did privately? You say you brought in the clients? I say they came because my work is impeccable! Shelly and I earned this money with our own hands, every single dollar! Why should we be grateful to you? We’re all business people here. I’m laying it all out: either you agree to the new profit distribution, or you get out!” Brenda was practically spitting fire. Shelly was wringing her hands, on the verge of tears. “Stop it, Brenda!” Brenda ignored her completely, pointing a finger at me. “How much did you invest in this salon, initially?” “A quarter of a million.” “Next week, come sign the agreement. I’ll give you a quarter of a million dollars, not a cent less. You’re out.” “Brenda! Don’t be ridiculous!” Shelly cried. “Lynn, she’s just kidding.” “Shelly, what’s wrong with you? What’s the difference between this and working for her?” Brenda’s eyes drilled into mine, as if we were sworn enemies. “Friendship? Please. She probably just saw us as two cheap pawns to exploit.” “Is that what you think too, Shelly?” Shelly froze, unable to answer. Suddenly, a wave of weariness washed over me. I had so few genuine friends, and I treasured them. Yet, here they were, turning on me over a few measly dollars. “Fine. I’ll be back next week to sign the papers.” I picked up my bag and left, Shelly’s desperate cries echoing behind me. 3 Back home, the anger simmered, then boiled. How dare they? My money, and they just wanted me out? Many of the salon’s sofas and decorative pieces were high-end designer items, things I’d quietly brought over from my own home. I wasn’t about to let them have them. One phone call to a moving company. “Lynn, what is the meaning of this! You’re having the sofas moved out! Where will the clients sit?” You’re making me divest, aren’t you? These are my things. I’m allowed to take them! If you want them, I can sell them to you for thirty-seven thousand! “Thirty-seven grand for sofas? Who are you kidding?” They’re Hermès, darling. One of my throw pillows alone is twelve hundred dollars. You stained one once, remember? I didn’t charge you for it, out of friendship. Oh, and my diffusers, my coffee table, my rugs, and my Swarovski crystal chandelier. Be careful with that one. I video-called the moving company, directing them as they carefully packed and moved every single item, leaving nothing behind. In an instant, the salon looked significantly larger, and incredibly empty. “Why are you moving today? Are you still open for facials?” A client happened to walk in. Shelly immediately tried to stop her. I recognized the voice – it was Aunt Carol, one of my mom’s best friends. I spoke into the video call. “Aunt Carol! I’m pulling out of this place. We’re moving things out right now.” “What! You’re not investing anymore? Oh… in that case…” Aunt Carol backed away, still talking, then turned and scurried out. “She’s out, but our aestheticians are still here! The results are the same! Don’t go, Aunt Carol!” Brenda lunged forward to grab Aunt Carol, but she was too fast. Brenda was furious, shouting at the video screen. “I hated your tacky stuff anyway! Get it all out! Your taste was dragging down the whole salon’s image!” “Don’t think for a second this place will be empty without you! I’m an artist! My skills speak for themselves! Clients will flock to me!” “Right, right… impressive, impressive.” I replied calmly from my end of the video call. My feigned indifference sent her into a rage. But I wasn’t done. The salon’s skincare products. At first, they’d wanted to cut corners, using ordinary, cheap salon brands. I’d put my foot down, insisting we switch to ODEA, a luxury brand favored by the elite. This brand didn’t even offer a professional line for salons in the country, but my cousin, Caleb, happened to be the regional head for North America. He’d made an exception for me. They had complained about the cost, thinking I was wasting money, and had initially resisted. But once I fronted the costs, they’d tasted the sweet success. It was also the main reason many of the city’s high-society women chose our salon. Now, if I wasn’t important anymore, I called my cousin. “My old beauty salon? No need to supply them anymore.” 4 “Lynn, are you still mad at Brenda? She’s just a little self-centered, but her heart’s not bad.” Shelly had called me. I’d ignored her calls several times, but this morning, half-asleep, I’d accidentally answered. “Didn’t you two want me out?” “I definitely didn’t want you out. But you know Brenda’s personality. If I’d sided with you, she’d feel like the whole world was against her.” “You really think things through. So tell me, why did she suddenly become unhappy with the profit split? It’s been three years. If she was unhappy, she would have said so in the first year.” “She’s dating someone.” Brenda had a new boyfriend. I heard he was a trust fund kid whose family happened to be in the beauty product business. The beauty products I’d refused to use? His family produced them. Brenda had started giving me attitude the moment I rejected his brand. “I refused to use that product because it was sketchy, unregistered, and unsafe! It would have ruined our reputation! And ODEA was our salon’s main selling point! We absolutely couldn’t switch!” “I know, I agree with you. But Brenda’s a total lovesick fool. She thinks you were deliberately trying to spite her. You’re the bigger person, don’t hold a grudge against her.” “I’m not holding a grudge. I just feel betrayed.” … “Shelly! Who are you talking to?!” The voice on the other end of the line changed instantly. “Heh, so it’s you, Lynn! You’re so despicable! You deliberately turned away our clients, didn’t you?” “If clients don’t want to come, should I hold a knife to their throats?” Playing passive-aggressive games? Two can play that game. “You don’t seriously think I can’t survive without your products, without your clients, do you? Sorry to burst your bubble! My business is thriving right now! My boyfriend’s products are just as good!” … I couldn’t be bothered to listen to her bragging. I hung up. The next second, I dialed a friend. “I’ve pulled out of the beauty salon. Hike up the rent on them!” 5 For the past few days, Brenda had been trying to spite me, her social media feed flooded with videos of clients getting facials. Every single client who walked in, she’d post a video, as if declaring war on me. In the videos, Brenda would direct Shelly as she gave clients facials, while Brenda herself, with her chest practically exposed, would introduce her “new” products. “Our new line of products! New clients get 30% off~ Top up your account for more discounts!” She also started posting discount links on various platforms, slashing a $3,999 skincare package down to $999. Several friends from my social circle saw the posts and messaged me, asking if I was planning to go mainstream. I didn’t waste words. I posted a business update. Accompanied by a photo of my entire wall of designer handbags. “Just got kicked out of a beauty salon by a friend recently. Any projects out there looking for an investor? I’ll put up the capital, you put in the work. I only ask for half the profits!” Within minutes, the comments section exploded. “Only half the profits! You’re an angel investor! I need to think about what I can do, right now!” “Interested in luxury resale, big sis? Partner with me! Pretty please!” “Big sis! I’m in beauty too! Heard you pulled out of your salon! Come to our place, the biggest one in Beacon Hill!” Brenda saw all these messages. Like a cornered animal, she immediately posted three updates in a row. “Women need to be independent! Self-reliant!” She was losing it. 6 The day of the contract signing, there was an extra person: Brenda’s boyfriend. A tall, gaunt man, his clothes seemed to hang loosely on his frame. Brenda was known for being shallow in college, so this must be true love, I thought. Before Brenda could even open her mouth, the lanky guy spoke. “We called you here today to sign the divestment agreement, but we’ve changed our minds. We want you to continue investing. But I’ll be managing the operations, and we’ll use my products. Brenda and I will split half, and you and Shelly will split the other half.” “So, what? I won’t even get 25% now?” “You don’t do any work anyway. Getting 25% is already generous!” “Excuse me, and who are you?” This lanky guy had absolutely no manners. Brenda immediately put her hands on her hips, blocking him. “This is my boyfriend, Chad! He speaks for me!” I couldn’t be bothered with either of them. “I came here today for one purpose: to get my money back. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars!” Shelly spoke up, hesitant. “We really don’t have that much… actually, we do have it, but the landlord suddenly raised the rent recently, and Brenda, she…” “Hey! Why are you telling her that! That’s my business!” I looked on, intrigued. They were hiding something from me. “So, I came here today, and you’re telling me you don’t have the money?” Brenda and Chad said nothing. Shelly finally spoke again: “I think we should just stick to the original agreement. Lynn gets half! The three of us split the other half!” “No way!” Brenda, Chad, and I all said it at the same time. Honestly, whether I got 25% or 50% didn’t matter to me. More than money, I valued relationships. What truly crushed me was that I’d considered them friends, and they’d treated me like a tool. “Don’t be like this, Brenda! We used to be the best of friends.” Shelly pulled at Brenda, then at me. “Lynn, how about you stay, and I’ll give you my share? You can just pay me a salary, eight thousand a month! Even five thousand! Couldn’t we just go back to how things were?” I looked at Shelly. Maybe not everything beautiful had completely crumbled. Then, another idea sparked within me. “If we can’t agree, let’s try a different negotiation. I’ll pay you, and you get out!” I pointed at Brenda. “I’ll give you thirty thousand dollars. Consider it compensation for your hard work all these years. You didn’t invest any money upfront. How does that sound?” “Thirty thousand? You think that’s enough to get rid of me?” “You can’t come up with the money, and you won’t accept my proposal. So my only option is to sue. But given that I funded this salon from the start, you’d likely be forced out without a single cent.” “You!” Brenda was so enraged she couldn’t speak. Chad pulled her aside. They whispered a few words. Brenda kissed Chad on the cheek. “It’s just a quarter of a million, right? I don’t have it! But my man does!” Chad, right there in front of me, transferred $250,000 to my account. I didn’t waste any time. I tore up the old contract on the spot. “You’re so hot, honey!” “Baby, I really broke the bank for this. You can see how much I care, right?” Chad looked as though he’d just sealed a momentous deal. “This salon is mine now. And your friend, Shelly, is it? You two will have to iron out your shareholder agreement separately. From now on, it’ll be…” They were already planning Shelly’s future for her. But Shelly, finally, couldn’t hold back. “I’m out! I quit!” “Shelly? Why are you quitting now? This is between her and me! I’d still give you shares, just a bit less. But my boyfriend’s family makes skincare products! Stick with me, we’ll make a fortune!” “Brenda, it’s not about the money! My conscience tells me what you’re doing is wrong!” Shelly took out her phone and transferred $20,000 to me. “Brenda doesn’t understand, but I do. You initially gave us a quarter of a million. Even if you left, you should have gotten at least three hundred thousand back. But I only have this much. More than making money, I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” “You! Are you stupid, Shelly! She’s so rich, why are you giving her money?” I looked at Shelly. She truly was the same as she was in college. I hoped, this time, I wasn’t mistaken about her. I declined her transfer, and immediately transferred $600,000 back to Shelly. “Lynn? What is this?” “You want to open a new salon with me? We’ll use the same exclusive products as before. After all costs, we split the profits 50/50.” “What?! You have money?! Why did you?! You… you…” “You, you, you, I, I, I? What’s wrong, did dating make you stutter? How I choose to invest is none of your business!” I shot back. Shelly stood there, stunned. “You really trust me?” “I do. At least now I’ve seen clearly who my true friend is!” “You two just wait! Running a beauty salon is ultimately a small-time business! My husband and I are going to conquer the entire beauty market! From now on, all beauty salons will use my products! And we won’t supply yours!” Still dreaming, I thought. Her “shady, unregulated product” dominating the beauty market? Utterly ridiculous!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392636”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel