My boyfriend of a year suddenly told me I was just a stand-in for his ex-girlfriend. Now that his ex was back, he wanted to break up. Of course, I agreed immediately. Thank God, I could finally stop pretending! 1. Today was my weekly date with Ethan Vance. As usual, I got all dressed up and arrived at the restaurant right on time, only to find, surprisingly, that he was already there. I mean, we’d been together a year, and I was always the one waiting for him. I felt a little uneasy, worried he might chew me out for being late. “Sorry, looks like I’m a bit late. Traffic was just awful,” I offered, making up a lame excuse. Ethan, usually cool and impatient with me, actually smiled gently. “No problem, you’re right on time. You’re not late.” Not only that, but he pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift box and handed it to me. “See if you like it.” This guy suddenly being so nice to me? Who knew what the catch was. “Uh, I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?” I asked cautiously. Ethan paused, then chuckled. “Why so nervous? You’re my girlfriend. Isn’t it normal for me to give you a gift?” Giving your girlfriend a gift is normal, sure, but he’d never really treated me like a girlfriend, and he certainly had never put any thought into getting me a present before. Ethan was suspicious by nature, always thinking women who got close to him were after his money, including me. So he was constantly testing me. I’d managed to stay strong and not get tempted, earning just enough trust to stick around. “Go on, take it. It’s really for you. After all, today’s our one-year anniversary.” I froze. I couldn’t believe he actually remembered our anniversary! I’d completely forgotten! I reacted quickly, glancing at him shyly. “I didn’t think you remembered. I thought you didn’t really care about celebrating things like this, so I didn’t get you anything…” Ethan waved it off. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Let’s eat.” The meal was incredibly pleasant. Ethan kept serving me food himself, refilling my water, even wiping the corner of my mouth – playing the perfect role of a gentle, loving boyfriend. My mind was racing with suspicion. What was this guy up to? Don’t tell me he actually wanted to sleep with me?! The thought sent a jolt of panic through me, and my brain instantly started scrambling for an escape plan. After dinner, I put down my utensils, just about to make an excuse to bolt, when Ethan spoke, his voice gentle yet serious. “Chloe, let’s break up.” I completely forgot to control my expression, my mouth hanging open as I let out a comical, “Huh?” A flicker of guilt crossed Ethan’s eyes. “Actually, the reason I got together with you in the first place was because you look a lot like my ex-girlfriend.” “Later on, it was because you have a great personality – easygoing, no drama. Being with you was comfortable, relaxing. But… she came back recently. I thought about it carefully, and I think I might still be in love with her. So, I’m sorry.” 2 I didn’t say anything. I blinked hard, managing to squeeze out a couple of tears before looking up at him, all pitiful and heartbroken. A bitter smile touched my lips. “It’s okay,” I said sadly. “I always knew you didn’t really love me. All this time, I just hoped I could stay by your side a little longer, just a little bit longer. That would have been enough.” “I was always prepared for you to leave me, but… this still feels pretty sudden.” I sniffled, getting into character, my voice starting to choke up. “Since you’ve made up your mind, I wish you happiness.” No anger, no resentment, no making a scene. My reaction clearly surprised Ethan, but it successfully made him feel guilty and sorry for me. He moved closer, wanting to hug me, offer some comfort, but I sidestepped him. “Since you know where your heart lies, please don’t get close to me anymore. It wouldn’t be fair to… her.” Ethan’s hand froze mid-air, then slowly dropped to his side. “I’m the one who wronged you. I’ll transfer some money to your account, as compensation.” Before I could respond, he added quickly, “I know you don’t care about money, but it’s the only thing I can give you.” With my back to him, a delighted smile spread across my face. When I turned back around, my expression quickly shifted back to grief. I dabbed at the already dry tear tracks on my cheeks and managed a choked, difficult “Okay.” Then I grabbed my purse and walked away with unsteady steps, looking completely devastated. The driver worked for Ethan, so I had to keep the act up in the car. I held a tissue to my face, sobbing quietly the whole way. Even the driver felt bad for me and kept trying to console me. “Miss Chloe, please don’t be too upset. Besides Miss Olivia, you’re the only woman who’s stayed by Mr. Vance’s side this long. It shows you were different in his eyes.” I wailed dramatically, “What good does that do?! The second she comes back, he just throws me away like trash!” The driver chuckled awkwardly and fell silent. Back home, finally, I could let my pent-up emotions out. I collapsed onto the bed, checked my bank account – a nice chunk of change had just landed – and started laughing, louder and louder. 3 Once I’d laughed myself out, I went to the bathroom to take off my makeup, revealing a face quite different from the one I presented when made up. Ethan thought I was deeply in love with him, which was why I was so obedient, considerate, understanding, patient, and never caused any drama. But what he didn’t know was that he was basically just a client. A year ago, I got an order from his mother. She told me her son, Ethan Vance, had fallen apart after a breakup, spending his days smoking and drinking himself sick, ending up in the hospital several times with bleeding ulcers. His mom’s heart ached for him, so she wanted to find someone new to help him heal and move on. But Ethan, back then, only had eyes for his ex. No other woman, no matter how great or beautiful, could catch his attention. I’m a makeup artist. I used to run my own social media account showcasing makeup transformations. That’s how Ethan’s mom found me. She showed me pictures of Ethan’s ex-girlfriend and asked if I could recreate a similar look. It wasn’t hard for me. After applying the makeup, I looked about 70-80% like the other girl. Ethan’s mom was very satisfied and proposed a deal: use the makeup look to get close to her son. If I could become his girlfriend and pull him out of the past to start a new life, she’d pay me a hefty sum. The amount was dozens of times my current annual income. Only a fool would turn that down. So, I signed the contract immediately and deleted my old social media account to avoid Ethan finding out. With a face resembling the girl he loved, getting close to Ethan wasn’t difficult. Besides, this was always just a business transaction. I had zero emotional investment in Ethan, which meant my tolerance level was extremely high. That’s why Ethan could never find fault with me or a reason to break up. The contract I signed with his mother was for one year, but it had a clause: if she wanted to renew at the end of the term, I had to agree to another year unconditionally. Honestly, I really didn’t want to do it anymore. If I continued, I couldn’t guarantee I could keep things from getting physical. If Ethan wanted to keep dating me, he probably wouldn’t keep his hands off me forever. But most importantly, the person I actually liked was back. So, I was genuinely relieved that Ethan broke up with me today. And I even got a substantial compensation payment unexpectedly. This was truly a fantastic turn of events. 4 Recently, the group chat for my old class has been buzzing about organizing a reunion. They asked everyone for their availability. I also knew that the person I’d liked for so long, Liam, was flying back home today. I got up early and spent a long time getting ready. Not imitating anyone, just making myself look good, my kind of pretty. With a heart full of excitement, I went to the airport arrivals area. I scanned the crowd eagerly for what felt like ages until finally, I saw him appear. Liam Carter, you’re finally back. In that instant, my eyes filled with tears. My lips trembled, but I couldn’t manage to call out his name. He seemed to sense my intense gaze, stopped, and turned his head to look my way. I quickly ducked down, letting the bustling crowd hide me. After a moment, I hesitantly stood up again. All I could see was Liam’s back, already walking away into the distance. Another crucial reason I’d agreed to the Ethan job was that he bore a striking resemblance to Liam. I missed Liam so much. But he was halfway across the world, and I couldn’t even sneak a peek at him. Ethan’s face significantly eased my longing for Liam. But their personalities were completely different, so Ethan could never replace my real crush, the one that got away. Maybe, for him, I was the same way. All that effort getting dolled up today, and my crush didn’t even see me. I stamped my foot in frustration. How, after all these years, was I still such a coward?! I’d had a crush on Liam since high school. Even though his family wasn’t well-off, and he always wore clothes and shoes that were faded from washing, he always stood tall and straight, proud like a young tree. He had dignity but wasn’t cold; he was kind and gentle, making people feel comfortable and warm around him. He was brilliant, always top of the class, but remained humble. He had so many wonderful qualities; I couldn’t help but be drawn to him. But on graduation day, I mustered the courage to confess, only to stumble upon him rejecting another girl. He said gently, “I’m sorry, but my current situation doesn’t really allow for dating. My future and earning money are more important right now.” That girl got her heart broken, and so did I, simultaneously. I knew my place. I understood I wouldn’t be the exception that mattered more than his future and money. So, that confession never left my lips. But I never stopped paying attention to Liam. I knew he got a full scholarship to a top university, then went straight to grad school abroad. Later, he landed a good job offer. He was supposed to be assigned to London, but because he lacked connections, someone with influence snatched the spot, and he was sent to a tougher, less desirable overseas post. I felt so bad for him, and miserable that I couldn’t help him in any way. After that, I gradually lost track of him. Oh well, at least I saw him today. Anyway, we’d see each other again soon at the reunion. 5 On the day of the reunion, I spent too much time deciding what to wear and ended up being a little late. I didn’t expect Liam to arrive at the exact same time. There were exactly two empty seats left, right next to each other, meant for us. Sitting beside Liam, my heart pounded like crazy. I was a nervous wreck. This led to a series of blunders: my hand trembled so much I couldn’t pick up food properly, I dropped my chopsticks, I knocked over my water glass. The more mistakes I made, the more flustered I got, and the cycle continued… Liam had impeccable manners. Even when I spilled water on his pants, he didn’t get angry. He helped me get new chopsticks from the server, wiped the table, poured me fresh water, and even put food I wanted onto my plate. And… he didn’t use the serving utensils… I stared blankly at the food in my bowl. Suddenly, I heard Liam’s clear voice, “Sorry, I forgot to use the serving spoon. If you mind, I can get you a new bowl.” I shook my head quickly, popped a piece of rib into my mouth. “Don’t mind, don’t mind at all! No need to be so formal.” It was basically an indirect kiss! How could I possibly mind? I thought I saw Liam’s lips curve into a slight smile. My heart beat even faster. Yep, this feeling was something that no one else, no matter how much they looked like him, could ever give me. I deliberately drank a few extra glasses of wine. Then, using the excuse of needing the restroom, I asked Liam to come with me. He readily agreed. Fueled by liquid courage, I cornered Liam at the end of the hallway. Red-faced but serious, I said, “Liam Carter, I’ve liked you for a long time. If you don’t have a girlfriend or anyone you like right now, would you consider me?” “I actually have a lot of good qualities. I’m loyal, I can cook, I make great soup, I’m good-tempered, I don’t throw tantrums. Oh, and I’m actually pretty well-off now, so I definitely won’t drag you down financially…” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, staring at him nervously. If he rejected me this time, Liam and I would probably never cross paths again… “Okay.” I thought I’d misheard. I tilted my head. “What?” Liam gently took my hand, his gaze incredibly soft. “I said okay.” “I’m sorry, you beat me to it.” His words left me completely dazed. All I could manage was a dumb, “What?” “I came here planning to ask you out too,” Liam said, leaning down slightly to meet my eyes. “My job is stable now, I have some savings, I know how to cook and make soup too, you wouldn’t have to. My relationship history is clean, my social circle is good. Chloe, will you go out with me?” Tears streamed down my face as I nodded vigorously. “Yes! Yes, I will!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392450”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Ethan and I had been married seven years when his old flame came back from overseas. He asked me for a divorce. “I don’t agree,” I said, meeting Ethan’s cold, hard stare. How could I agree? After all, it’s not every day you find a man who looks so much like him. 1. The man I loved most died. He died eight years ago, in a brutal, snow-swept winter. The wind in Upstate New York cut like a knife that day, making my fingers too numb to even try and touch his cheek. I couldn’t accept it. I spent a whole year, practically out of my mind, searching for Leo, before I finally found someone who looked exactly like him. So how could I just leave? I gave Ethan my most gentle, harmless smile. “Honey, what are you talking about? Why would we get divorced?” Ethan grabbed the front of my shirt, his voice tight with menace. “Clara, you better not push your luck.” I hate it when people touch me aggressively like that, but what choice did I have? There was no second substitute waiting in the wings. I had to keep up the act. “Ethan, I really love you. I really, really love you so much.” Tears started streaming down my face. I clutched at his sleeve, bowing my head like some pathetic beggar. “Please, just give me some more time? Just a year… just one more year…” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I’ve never believed a parasite feeding off someone else would leave willingly.” Funny, neither do I. My plan was to play the tragic lover for a while. Maybe whip up a fake cancer diagnosis, drag things out for that year. In the blink of an eye, my acting skills kicked in. My fingers started trembling uncontrollably, like I had some kind of palsy. By the time I looked up at Ethan again, my face was so pale I looked like I was knocking on death’s door. It startled him. He let go, maybe a little less roughly than before, but he still turned and walked out without looking back. 2 Ethan had countless flings; his reputation as a playboy was well-known. When people heard I was determined to marry him, some scoffed, others tried to talk me out of it. But the ones who knew the real reason? They stayed silent. What could they say? Ethan looked so much like Leo, it was like they were cast from the same mold. During that year I spent searching for Leo, I nearly lost my mind. I was a completely different person from the gentle, well-mannered woman I’d been before. If I hadn’t managed to act perfectly normal in public, my friends probably would have tried to get me committed. Obsessive, borderline crazy, highly intelligent… I probably looked like a textbook case for a future psycho killer. The first month Ethan and I were married, they were practically bracing themselves for some shocking headline news. I scoffed at the thought. After finally finding someone who looked so much like him, I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him. How could I possibly lay a hand on him? Now Ethan was gone. I just stared blankly at the table lamp, repeating two words over and over in my head. Leo, Leo, Leo… Memories pulled me back, deep into the past, back to a warm, sunny winter day eight years ago. … “So, what’s our brilliant PhD graduate planning to do after this?” Leo, bathed in the warm winter sun, wore a long, slightly brownish coat and a plaid scarf. The turtleneck sweater underneath made him look even gentler. Winter always suited him. Leo’s hands were big and warm; they could swallow mine whole. Just having him around seemed to make the whole winter feel cozy and natural, wrapping me in a warmth like sunshine. He held out a steaming bag of roasted chestnuts, smiling at me. I answered the question he’d asked a moment before. “Maybe I’ll work at the institute. Or maybe I’ll end up working for some big pharma company that pays well.” “So, our star academic finally admits she might end up just another working stiff?” Leo teased me. “Finally ready to give up being stubborn?” Well, if he was going to put it like that, I couldn’t just back down. I had to be stubborn. I tilted my chin up. “Then I’m going to the institute. It’s settled. I’ll contact them right away.” Leo laughed, and in that moment, I felt totally outmatched, like such a child. “Okay, okay, I was just asking.” Leo ruffled my hair, his expression turning serious, gentle but firm. “I was thinking, wherever you go, I’ll go too.” And just like that, because I was being stubborn, Leo and I ended up like a two-for-one deal, joining the research institute one after the other, becoming the resident golden couple. 3 I’m an orphan, no parents to speak of. The first children’s home that took me in went bankrupt. When I was eleven, I was transferred to St. Jude’s Children’s Home. And there, under the huge old oak tree, I saw a boy in a white shirt, quietly reading a book. The wind lifted the hair on his forehead and the hem of his shirt. That was Leo. The fresh scent of grass and trees filled the air – the smell of early April, when everything starts growing. That first meeting seemed to seal our fate. Two kids with no one else in the world, instantly connected. We held hands, stumbling along life’s path together. It was tough, but we finally made it through, saw the clouds break. But the sun didn’t shine on us. That night, the headlights flashed and swayed. Amidst the screeching metal and shattering glass, I couldn’t reach his warm face anymore. The howling wind and snow of that Upstate New York winter sounded like wolves in the night, battering my ears. I screamed his name, cried until I couldn’t breathe, but he never answered. My world went dark that day. There were no more sunny days after that. The memories are like a beautiful, haunting dream you can never forget. But waking up is like falling into a bottomless pit of dark agony. … The lamp was still on, casting a pale light on the living room sofa. Everything felt cold. I had lost the one person I wanted to keep most in the world. Sometimes, I really envy Ethan. The person he loves is still alive, walking this earth. But me? It’s different for me. Even if I do terrible things, use every trick in the book, all I have is a man wearing the face of the one I loved. What I truly possessed was torn to shreds long ago, scattered across time and space. I can barely recall his familiar smile clearly anymore. Only in dreams do those eyes reappear – eyes that made my heart tremble, flooding me with emotions – only then can I see them distinctly. I know perfectly well that Ethan is just Ethan. But it’s like I need to hold onto even the smallest scrap of Leo, and that makes me want to be near Ethan. Their personalities are completely different. Maybe the only way to recapture that feeling is to dress Ethan in Leo’s old clothes, make him mimic Leo’s mannerisms. As the thought hit me, my fingers tapping on the table stopped. A smile slowly spread across my face, growing wider and wider. Of course. I should have thought of it sooner. Make Ethan imitate Leo, bit by bit, until he becomes a perfect replica. A low chuckle rumbled in my throat, then sharpened. My mind raced, plans clicking into place, one after another. Just then, Ethan appeared in the shadows, watching me silently. I offered him my most harmless, innocent smile. After seven long years, it felt like our story was only just beginning. My eyes shone with a gentle, expectant light as I slowly cupped Ethan’s face. “Honey, you’re back?” 4 Time ticked by, and I kept up the act of the frail, sick woman for Ethan. In the mirror, I saw a pale face, lips the only trace of color – a delicate little thing. Even I felt a pang of pity looking at her. I had already tucked the forged bone cancer diagnosis into my purse. When Ethan would find it was just a matter of luck. Sure enough, about two weeks later, Ethan brought a woman home. Sophia. She was elegant, beautiful, like the moon in the sky, carrying an air of being somehow above the everyday grind. She actually looked a bit like me, but the lower half of her face had its own distinct style, giving her an overall look of refined, cool beauty. I didn’t pay her much mind. She wasn’t my real rival, after all. But I still put on my A-game performance as the pitiful victim. My eyes were slightly red-rimmed, my lips trembled trying to form a smile, a palpable air of weakness clung to me. My eyes crinkled, full of sadness, as I spoke softly to her. “Miss Sophia, you’re back. We’ve been expecting you for a long time.” Women understand women. Seeing me like this, Sophia immediately filled in the blanks, imagining all the abuse and humiliation I must have suffered here. A man who could treat his own wife so cruelly must have a truly rotten character. Step one: accomplished. A real smile touched my lips now. I quickly took Sophia’s arm, leading her into our living room where the soft light from the crystal chandelier fell on her. I opened my mouth to say something, but then I met Ethan’s cold gaze. I flinched, pulling my hand away from Sophia’s. Unlike Ethan, Sophia noticed subtle things. Her heart was sharp. She saw my small movement. She spoke up immediately. “Clara, if you have something to say, just say it. Don’t worry about anything else.” I wrung my hands, then forced a bright, cheerful smile. “Miss Sophia, of course not. I don’t really have anything I wanted to say.” After saying this, I acted like I suddenly had a million things to do. “You two haven’t seen each other in years, you should catch up properly. I’ll go make some snacks, cut up some fruit.” Ethan seemed pleased by my tactfulness. But he didn’t notice Sophia’s gaze turning colder, her eyes filling with disgust as she looked at him. Inside, I was laughing mockingly, but my face remained the picture of the meek, obedient wife as I retreated. This was exactly what I wanted: for Sophia to form a negative impression of Ethan. Ethan’s predatory nature would revolt Sophia, a woman accustomed to high status and respect. Seeing me, someone who resembled her, treated this way would only intensify her disgust. Sophia would realize Ethan saw her as a possession, an object. A desire that was vulgar, cheap, and repulsive. In the reflection from the kitchen window, I watched Sophia’s expression grow increasingly annoyed, as if the very sofa she sat on was coated in something sticky and vile. She couldn’t stand sitting there much longer. I almost burst out laughing. And sure enough, when I brought the fruit platter into the living room, Sophia immediately grabbed her bag and stood up, brushing off her expensive coat as if it had been contaminated by the sofa. It seemed she had only been politely waiting for me before making her escape. “Miss Clara,” she said, her tone clipped, “I should be going. Take care.” With that cold farewell, she turned to leave. Behind her, Ethan’s voice rang out, urgent and pleading. “Sophia, don’t go! We haven’t seen each other in so long…” Smack! With a sharp sound, Sophia threw the coat, worth thousands, onto our floor. It was as if Ethan’s words alone made the coat unbearable to her. I’d done my homework. This woman had serious issues with cleanliness, both physical and emotional. Knowing that, I honestly wondered how Ethan still had the nerve to pursue her. The heartbroken, disbelieving look on Ethan’s face was both pitiful and hilarious. Pitiful because seeing that expression on Leo’s face made me want to hug him, kiss him, just for a second. Hilarious because Ethan was such an idiot. Sophia, now clutching her purse, had shifted into attack mode. She pointed a finger at Ethan, all her previous composure gone. “Look at you! Thinking you’re hot stuff when you’re just… pathetic! Have you even looked in a mirror? Who the hell would be blind enough to fall for you? Fine, fantasize all you want alone, but dragging me into it? Parading around like some desperate clown and expecting applause? You’re disgusting. You have the social grace of a dumpster fire. Your parents are such elegant people; you must be their cosmic punishment!” Finished, she clicked away on her heels, each step sharp yet somehow still graceful, heading straight for the door. Just before opening it, she turned and delivered her final shot. “Ugh. Spits.” (Okay, she didn’t actually spit, but the sound was implied).

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392449”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was just another Tuesday when a consult request popped up from a new client. A guy this time. “Hi there, how can I help you?” I typed back. “Hey. Got a problem. I don’t think my girlfriend loves me at all.” So, a little about me: I’m a relationship counselor, got a bit of a reputation around town, especially with women. My inbox is constantly flooded with emails and messages, mostly from young women tangled up in relationship drama. I started this gig thinking I could be this rational, objective voice, helping people sort through the messiness of love and marriage, maybe even patching things up. But honestly? Nowadays, my main job feels like pulling girls back from the brink of being completely lovesick and losing themselves. Thanks to this job, I have zero illusions about romance. Zilch. All I feel is this bone-deep frustration for all the smart women who get stuck in crappy relationships and just refuse to wake up. It’s been ages since I had a male client. Not sure if my rep is just bigger in female circles or if guys these days genuinely don’t sweat this stuff. Anyway, I was planning on clocking out early today. The team and I had plans for dinner – K-BBQ night. I was just about to shut down my laptop when the notification pinged. New client. Male. Okay, that piqued my interest a little. I fired off a quick reply. “Hi there, how can I help you?” “Hey. Got a problem. I don’t think my girlfriend loves me at all.” A small smile played on my lips. You don’t hear guys say that too often. Based on experience, these types usually fall into two camps: either they’re not exactly God’s gift to women, maybe the persistent ‘nice guy’ who finally wore her down, and now she’s just keeping him around as a placeholder until someone better comes along. Or, they’re just testing the waters, and they’ll bail the second they see my rates. “Can you tell me more about the situation?” I asked. Just then, my assistant, bless her heart, poked her head in. “Annie? You ready? We got the reservation at the K-BBQ place.” “Coming!” I called back, shutting down the computer, grabbing my jacket, and heading out with the crew. Once I hopped in the car, I logged into my work account on my phone. The new guy had sent a wall of text. “She never texts or calls me first. When I reach out, she’s totally hot and cold.” “Her job seems super demanding, but even when she’s free, she’s always grabbing dinner with colleagues or her girlfriends. Hardly ever with me.” “We’ve been together six months, and she hasn’t made us official – like, nothing on social media, hasn’t introduced me to her friends or family. I try to bring her around my friends, but she always says it’s too much hassle and bails. Meeting my family? Forget about it.” “We only see each other maybe four or five times a month. And if it’s her time of the month, she won’t see me then either. I’m starting to suspect… she’s just using me for sex…” 2 Reading that last part, I had to stifle a laugh. Hearing that come out of a guy’s mouth was definitely… interesting. He’d sent all that and then gone quiet, probably because I hadn’t responded yet. “Sorry,” I typed quickly, “Just got stuck in the elevator for a sec. Please, continue.” He replied instantly: “Why were you in an elevator? Are you off work?” Not exactly a typical client question, but maybe he’d just been staring at his screen waiting, and it slipped out. I was in a pretty good mood, and honestly, kind of curious about this rare male client. “Yeah, clocked out. Guess I’m working overtime taking your consult now.” “Are you going to dinner?” “Yep.” “With colleagues?” “Yep.” “What are you eating?” “K-BBQ.” Okay, hold up. This conversation was getting way too casual. Super unprofessional of me to just chat like this. I sat up a little straighter in the car seat. Even off the clock, gotta stay professional. “Sir, perhaps we can get back to the main issue?” “Right. Basically, I just feel really insecure in this relationship.” Everything he was describing – these were usually the complaints I heard from women. Classic case of one person being way more into it than the other, maybe even emotional neglect, but nobody wants to pull the plug, so the relationship just hangs there in limbo. If there wasn’t any major abuse or crazy drama involved, I usually classified these as lower-tier emotional issues. The simplest solution? Tell them to break up. And don’t think that’s easy. Convincing some lovesick girl to ditch a relationship she’s poured her heart into? Seriously tough. Guys, though? They tend to be more pragmatic. Which is why, honestly, they’re not the most lucrative clients in the relationship counseling biz. 3 Just then, my phone pinged again. A notification showing a hefty payment. This guy had just signed up for my premium annual package. Wow. Okay, maybe he wasn’t just kicking tires. “We’re here,” my colleague driving announced. “Okay, you go eat first. We can talk after you’re done,” Liam typed. Huh. Pretty considerate. I’d been bracing myself to juggle work messages throughout dinner. My initial assessment started to shift. This Liam guy didn’t seem like some clueless dude-bro with zero emotional intelligence. And dropping that kind of cash suggested he wasn’t broke either. So, what was the issue? Was he… really unattractive? Too bad I couldn’t just ask for a picture unless the client offered. Professional boundaries and all that. Still, I really wanted to know what this guy looked like. It was weird. I’d become so numb to this job, running on autopilot most days. It had been a long time since a client actually made me genuinely curious. During dinner, I shared the news about the big client win with my team. As we raised our glasses to celebrate, my phone buzzed. I glanced down. It was Liam again. “Don’t drink too much.” My eyebrows furrowed slightly. Okay, that felt… a little over the line. Maybe it was the occupational hazard kicking in, but my immediate thought was that a guy with a girlfriend showing that kind of concern for another woman felt like a red flag. Kind of player-ish. If a female client told me her boyfriend did that? My advice would be: Dump him. Mr. Friendly, maybe? Was his girlfriend maybe turned off because he was too nice to everyone? And maybe he hadn’t realized that was the problem, just assuming she wasn’t into him? I picked at my food, my mind racing, trying to piece together Liam and his girlfriend’s story. God, I’m too dedicated to this job, I thought. After dinner, a colleague dropped me home. On the way, I opened my work chat again, clicking on the conversation with my newly minted, very important VIP annual client. “Liam, I’m done with dinner. Shall we continue?” He replied instantly: “Okay.” “I was thinking about it earlier,” I typed, deciding to test my theory. “Liam, would you say you sometimes lack clear boundaries with other women? I mean, while having a girlfriend, do you still show maybe a bit too much concern or friendliness to other females?” “Absolutely not! Besides my girlfriend, I don’t exchange unnecessary words with any woman. I’d steer clear of a female mosquito!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392448”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The girl next door is dead – jumped from her balcony. Suicide. It wasn’t until later that I learned the real reason— Her own parents pushed her to it, on her birthday, no less. Twenty-two years old. … I lived right next door to her. We were around the same age, both just trying to make it in the city, working whatever jobs we could find. Over time, we got to know each other. She’d sometimes share stories about her messed-up family back home. Every time, she’d end up crying, but then she’d try to pull herself together, saying, “My name’s Willow. You know, like the tree? They bend, but they don’t break easy. I’m gonna be like that. Tough it out, keep moving forward.” Today… that girl who wanted to be like a willow tree, on her twenty-second birthday… she died. I just finished giving my statement down at the police station. Found a random bench outside, just sat down. I still can’t wrap my head around it. That girl… Willow… gone. Just a few days ago, she told me she wanted us to celebrate her birthday together. I never thought… on her actual birthday… I let out a long sigh, couldn’t help remembering the first time I met her. It was my day off. Got back from my evening jog around midnight. The elevator doors opened, and I heard quiet sobbing. Stepped out, confused, and saw a girl huddled by her door, hair all wild, a bruise already forming on her lip. Her head was buried between her knees, and there was a small tear in her shirt. My heart went out to her. I walked over carefully. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” She looked up, startled, quickly wiping away tears. “I… I forgot my keys. Can’t get in,” she mumbled, looking embarrassed. I could tell she wasn’t telling me everything, her eyes darting away. But I just smiled gently. “Hey, don’t cry. I can call a locksmith for you.” She hesitated, like she wanted to say something else, then finally managed, “Um, sis… I don’t have any money right now. Haven’t gotten paid yet…” She said it so quietly, but I heard her. I reached out, smoothed her hair back a bit. “We all hit rough patches. It’s okay, things will get better. Let me call the locksmith first.” A grateful smile flickered across her face. “Thanks, sis. I promise, as soon as I get paid in a couple of days, I’ll pay you back.” “Sounds good,” I said, pointing to my door. “We’re neighbors. Maybe we can hang out sometime.” I always figured, if you can help someone out, especially a neighbor, you should. You know, like they say, sometimes good neighbors are better than family far away. I waited with her until the locksmith came and got her door open, then I headed back to my place. The next day, she brought over a small casserole she’d made. She smiled shyly, telling me not to judge her cooking. I joked, “For a lazy cook like me, free food is the best food. No complaints here!” Maybe it was the joke, but she seemed to relax, and we started chatting about everything and nothing. Honestly, I’ve always been a good listener. I know when to ask the right questions. We ended up having a really nice talk. The next few days flew by. My company sent me overseas for a work trip. Willow and I only texted a bit. Then things got crazy busy, plus the time difference was huge, so we barely talked. When I finally got back from the trip, I’d just finished unpacking when there was this violent banging on my door… 2 I frowned. That knocking was jarring, setting my teeth on edge. I opened the door to find two older strangers, a man and a woman. The woman was holding a small child. Behind them stood a younger guy. He looked like trouble – messy clothes, maybe mid-twenties, hair sticking up, leaning against the doorframe trying to look cool, maybe puffing on a vape. He saw me and gave this sleazy whistle. I felt instantly grossed out. “Can I help you?” I asked, confused. The older woman spoke first. “Honey, don’t you worry. I’m Willow’s mother-in-law, from next door. This here’s her father-in-law, her little boy, and that’s her husband back there.” My jaw almost dropped. Willow was married? I tried to keep my face neutral. “Oh. Uh, is there something I can do for you?” The older woman seemed a bit hesitant, then finally said, “We came by to see our daughter-in-law, but she’s not here. We were just wondering… do you happen to have a way to reach her?” Just as I was about to answer, the elevator dinged open down the hall. The old woman’s head snapped around, and suddenly her face was all smiles. “Well, look who it is! Our busy little bee is finally home. Must be so tired!” It sounded like concern, but the sarcasm dripped off every word. I tightened my grip on the doorknob without realizing it. Something felt off. This didn’t feel like a mother-in-law; it felt more like… a debt collector. I had a bad feeling Willow could be in danger anytime with these people around. Willow seemed used to it. She just mumbled a quiet “Yeah,” then looked over at me, managing a small, tired smile. “Hey, sis. You’re back from your trip.” I nodded. Just then, the old woman started in on Willow, her voice sharp and demanding. “You think you can just run off? Let me tell you, you married into our family, you’re stuck with us! Where’s the money?” I stood there in my doorway, listening to that harsh voice. Willow’s back was turned to me, but I could almost feel the wave of helplessness and loneliness wash over her. … I have a habit of going for a run at night. This one evening, I got back and saw Willow pacing back and forth in the hallway. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she’d been crying. I walked closer, concerned. “Willow? Still up? It’s late.” She forced a smile, pulling her thin cardigan tighter around herself. “Oh, just… looking at the moon.” I glanced towards the windows at the end of the hall. “It’s totally overcast. No moon tonight. It’s getting cold out here, you should go inside.” I figured she must have had a fight with the in-laws, so I just said it casually. Willow just mumbled, “Yeah.” As I closed my door, I heard her sneeze. I took a shower, and when I came out, I heard shouting from the hallway— It was the old woman’s voice, shrill and angry. “You married into our family, you owe us! You’ve got thousands saved up, why should your family get it all? You give us that money, now!” Then Willow’s voice, cold and defiant. “Why should I support all of you? You should be grateful I even let you in today. Tomorrow, pack your bags and get out of my apartment.” “Ha! Try and make me leave! You either give us the money, or you support us. Your choice.” 3 Their shouting got louder and louder. I started to worry about Willow. I pulled out my phone and typed 9-1-1, ready to hit send. I’d never met an old woman like Willow’s supposed mother-in-law— Mean, unreasonable… you could throw almost any negative word at her, and it would stick. It’s the 21st century! How do people like this still exist? I peeked through my peephole. Just then, the guy who’d whistled at me earlier – Cody, I guess – stormed out of Willow’s apartment. He was holding a wooden rolling pin. He raised his hand and slapped Willow hard across the face. Then he swung the rolling pin, bringing it down hard on her back and shoulders! Willow cried out, trying to shield her face, but she couldn’t block the blows to her body. I couldn’t just stand there. I threw open my door and rushed out. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing!” Willow saw me, and a flash of panic crossed her face. “Sis, just go back inside, please.” But I wasn’t backing down. I looked straight at the hateful mother-son duo and pointed up towards the security camera near the ceiling. “You see that camera? It recorded everything you just did. I can call the cops right now!” It was the first time I’d ever really threatened anyone like that. My heart was pounding, and my hand holding my phone was shaking slightly. The guy, Cody, seemed stunned that I’d actually stand up to him. He clenched his fists, his face dark with anger, and started walking towards me. “Looks like you got a death wish today, lady.” My mind went blank for a second, then I found my voice. “You touch me, and that’s assault on top of everything else.” The old woman didn’t want her son getting arrested out here. She pointed a trembling finger at me, furious. “I thought you were a nice girl! Turns out you’re just vicious, trying to get my boy thrown in jail!” With that, she grabbed her son’s arm and pulled him back towards Willow’s apartment. I watched them slam the door shut. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, but my heart was still racing. I quickly helped Willow, who had slumped against the wall, into my apartment. I got her onto my couch, then went to find my first-aid kit. As I sorted through bandages and antiseptic wipes, I looked over at her. “Are you okay? If anything really hurts bad, we need to get you to a hospital.” “No,” she said quietly, her voice flat. “I’m just… used to getting hit, I guess. Doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.” Hearing her say that so calmly broke my heart. Willow tried to joke, though it sounded hollow. “Sis, didn’t expect you to catch the live show tonight.” Talking seemed to pull at the cut on her lip. She winced, then her voice turned cold, laced with self-mockery. “I thought I was done with them. I thought I got away. But they just won’t leave me alone. It’s driving me crazy!” I had her lie face down on the couch so I could put some ointment on the bruises on her back. When I lifted the edge of her shirt, I saw the angry red and purple marks – fresh ones layered over older, faded ones. My stomach clenched. No doubt about it, her so-called family-in-law did this. I tried to be as gentle as possible, afraid of hurting her more. Willow was just staring blankly at the wall. Suddenly, I felt like she desperately needed someone to talk to. “Willow,” I said softly, “if you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.” Keeping things bottled up like that… it’ll destroy you. Willow looked at me, a bitter smile touching her lips. “Sis, I bet you were shocked, huh? Finding out I was ‘married’.” I admitted it. “You’re so young.” Willow’s lip trembled slightly. “I grew up in a small town back country. Real traditional, you know? My parents always favored my brother. When he needed money for something, they pulled me out of school and arranged for me to marry someone.” I saw the disgust flicker in her eyes. She continued, “The guy’s family… the son, Cody… he’s a total lowlife. Bully, womanizer, basically ruled the roost back home. He’d been married before, when he was just a teenager. His wife died in childbirth, left him with a son. I was supposed to marry him and be the kid’s stepmom…” “That sounds awful,” I murmured. Willow lowered her head, her voice barely a whisper. “Awful doesn’t even cover it. I’d actually gone to school for a bit, I had dreams. I didn’t want to marry him. On the day of the wedding… I ran away.” I finished cleaning her cuts. “So what happened? How did they find you here?” “My mom,” she said, her voice flat but certain. “I guess she told them where I was.” Even though it sounded like a question, the certainty in her tone was chilling. I had a feeling there was more to the story…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392447”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My name is Sarah Miller. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life – my wedding day. My groom, Mark, is one of the most respected lawyers in the city. We had a big reception planned, a couple hundred guests. But one man’s arrival shattered the festive mood. My father—Richard Davis. Funny, right? We don’t even share the same last name. Over a decade ago, he dropped fifty thousand dollars on the table, ditched my mom and me, took my brother, and walked out. … “Sarah, honey, this is your father,” Mom said, beaming like nothing was wrong. Richard Davis smiled at me too. “Sarah, I’m your dad. Do you remember me?” “Of course, she remembers her father,” Mom chimed in, then looked pointedly at me. “Right, Sarah?” I stared at the two of them, feeling disgusted and annoyed. A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “Oh, I remember. You didn’t want Mom, and you didn’t want me!” Their smiles froze instantly. “Sarah, how can you talk like that? You’ll make your father angry.” Good. Let him be angry. Seeing them upset was the only thing that could make me feel slightly better right now. I put on an innocent face. “But Mom, isn’t that what you always used to say? Didn’t you say he was the kind of guy who’d use someone and then pretend he didn’t know them?” Richard shot a glare at my mother. His face turned ugly. Mom scrambled to explain. “No, Richard, Sarah’s just trying to provoke you! Why would I ever say anything bad about you?” Truth is, Mom never really bad-mouthed Richard to me. In her eyes, the real villain was always the “homewrecker” who supposedly lured him away. Richard gave her money, bought her things; how could he be wrong? Richard sighed dramatically. “Sarah, it’s okay if you’re angry with me. Your old dad forgives you. I won’t hold it against you.” Then, he turned to Mark, who had just hurried over. “This must be my son-in-law! A fine young man!” Richard’s forced familiarity made my skin crawl. Had they all conveniently forgotten how my brother died eight years ago? 2: Ghosts of the Past When Richard Davis left with my brother, Leo. I was young, and the memories are hazy. I mostly remember Mom constantly cursing, “That damn tramp, that sneaky witch.” Later, when I was older. Mom told me Dad had an affair. He was stolen away by some homewrecker. For that woman, Dad abandoned us, taking only Leo and leaving fifty grand behind. This whole thing messed Mom up badly. She constantly pushed me, telling me I had to succeed, had to give her a good life. While other kids were riding on their dads’ shoulders playing horsey, Mom had me drilling multiplication tables and memorizing state capitals day and night. It went on like that for years. When I got tired, I’d look in the mirror and try to psych myself up. I’d think about my twin brother, Leo—born two minutes after me, but always insisting I call him ‘big bro’. The sharpest memory I have from back then: Once, I accidentally broke Mom’s favorite vase. I was terrified of getting yelled at, or worse. Leo just smirked at me, teasing me for being clumsy. But when Mom came home, he took the blame. He got grounded for a week. I asked him why he did it. He patted my head like a little old man and said, “‘Cause I’m the big brother, gotta protect you. Now, call me ‘big bro’.” Looking in the mirror now, I whispered it with a smile, “Big bro.” I always thought, someday I’d see Leo again, and I’d call him that to his face. But— The next time I saw my brother. He was lying on a cold hospital bed, covered entirely by a white sheet. I stood beside him, sobbing uncontrollably. My brother was only eighteen. How could he just die from an illness? I couldn’t accept it. I cried and demanded answers from Mom. “We just couldn’t scrape together the money in time,” she’d said, wiping tears. “The hospital wouldn’t schedule the surgery without payment upfront. It’s their fault, damn them, treating people like numbers.” She even tried to raise hell at the hospital later, hoping to get some kind of settlement, but failed. Seeing me devastated by Leo’s death, especially with my college entrance exams coming up, Mom tried to comfort me. Tears streamed down her face as she said, “Your brother was such a good kid, always thinking of others. He probably didn’t want the family to go bankrupt trying to pay for his surgery, so he… he just let go.” Then her crying turned into angry muttering. “It’s all because of that homewrecker! If it wasn’t for her, your dad wouldn’t have left us, your brother wouldn’t have grown up without me, his own mother, looking after him, and died so young. It’s all her fault! If he’d just left us more money, maybe we could have afforded the treatment…” Money, money, money! If we’d had enough money for the surgery, would Leo still be alive? Before, all I wanted was a comfortable, simple life. Now I understood: being broke could literally kill someone. I started studying even harder. For kids like me, from families like mine, the only path to making real money seemed to be getting into a top university through sheer hard work. Three months later, I got into a prestigious university. Once enrolled, I balanced intense studying with part-time jobs, sending every penny I earned to Mom. She was thrilled. She bragged to everyone about how smart and responsible I was, already earning good money before even graduating. If people agreed and praised me too, she’d be even happier. If they didn’t, she’d start bad-mouthing them the second they turned their backs. Her mood swings were astonishing. She kept calling me “Sarah, honey,” but she rarely mentioned my brother, Leo, anymore. That struck me as odd. They say losing a child is the hardest grief for a mother to bear, but my mother… she didn’t seem truly heartbroken for long. It wasn’t until that one day that I finally understood what kind of person my mother really was. 3: The Awful Truth One day, I saw Mom at the restaurant where I waitressed. She had no idea I worked there; in fact, she never asked about my jobs – where I worked, if it was tiring. She only cared about how much money I made. Mom was sitting by the window, wearing a silk scarf and oversized sunglasses. If it weren’t for the familiar cheap dress she had on, I might not have recognized her. Across from her sat a woman I didn’t know. She looked polished and expensive – designer trench coat, classic Chanel bag. Clearly loaded. How did Mom know someone like that? Just then, a couple sat down at a nearby table. I went over, my back to Mom’s table, and started taking their order. “I really don’t get it,” the wealthy woman said impatiently. “How can you, the mistress, have the nerve to keep asking for money?” “Why shouldn’t I have the nerve?” Mom shot back. “Did I sleep with your husband for all those years for free? Did I give him two kids for nothing?” My mind went blank for a second. Wēng~~~ a buzzing filled my ears. Mom… was the mistress? Those words echoed in my head. “You already got your payout when you gave up your son. My husband’s barely interested in you now. What leverage do you have left?” the woman sneered. Mom chuckled coldly. “Don’t forget, I still have a daughter. Push me too far, and we can burn it all down! I’ve got nothing left to lose besides her, but you people? Your husband’s company could go under if this gets out. Let’s see where your family ends up then!” “Miss? Miss?” The male customer waved his hand in front of my face, looking concerned. “Are you okay? You look really pale.” I dug my nails into my palm, the sharp pain bringing me back. I shook my head. “Thanks, I’m fine. I’ll go put your order in.” I hurried away, hearing the girl at the table behind me say excitedly, “Wow, she must be totally shocked by what those two were saying! Can you believe a mistress being so shameless…” She was right. I was shocked. All this time, I thought my parents had divorced, and each took a child. The reality was horrifying: Mom was the mistress, shamelessly wrecking someone else’s family. Even worse, the idea that my brother was… sold? Given up for money? I knew Mom loved money. She scrimped and saved on everything, even on me. But I never imagined she could just… trade away her own son! My twin brother! I tried to fight the thought, tried to remember Mom’s grief when we got the news about Leo. But all I could picture was her getting over it quickly, back to playing mahjong with her friends within days. Even when Dad called and forbade us from attending Leo’s funeral, Mom didn’t argue. I begged her to take me. But she just said, “I feel too guilty, not being able to afford his treatment. I can’t face him.” Back then, my heart ached for her. It made me work even harder, earn more money! Thinking back now, piecing things together, a chilling thought surfaced: Was Leo’s death really about not having enough money? Didn’t Dad own a company?! Later, I saw that wealthy woman – Dad’s actual wife – at my workplace again. This time, she was holding a little boy, maybe two or three years old. Did she kill my brother because she finally had a son of her own? The monstrous idea festered in my mind. I desperately wanted to run up and scream at her: “Did you kill my brother? Did you?!” But I knew, deep down, I had no power, no way to uncover the truth like this. And that’s when I realized… this fancy wedding, this unwanted reunion… this was my chance to start digging.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392446”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I got drunk at a reunion with some old coworkers. One of them ended up calling my broke ex-husband. Figures. I was squatting by the curb when a black Bentley pulled up right in front of me. My eyes followed a pair of expensive black dress shoes up a pair of long legs in perfectly tailored slacks. Sharp jawline, neat, no-nonsense haircut. This CEO type looked uncannily like my ex – the nerdy programmer with the awkward haircut and glasses. Liam. I scrambled up and practically threw myself into his arms. 1. A hangover headache is bad enough, but what’s worse is dreaming about that guy last night. Six months after the divorce, I quit my old job. Today, I had an interview at a major tech company, determined to start fresh. Gotta shower, do my makeup, can’t be late. The interview went smoothly. I nailed every question they threw at me. Just as we were wrapping up, a man pushed the door open. Everyone stood up, calling him “Mr. Johnson.” I looked up. Wasn’t that the guy from my dream last night? Liam Johnson, the dork, was a CEO now? So, last night wasn’t a dream? Ha. Looks like he really landed on his feet after I left. Liam’s long fingers casually flipped through the resumes. Each page turn felt like a pluck at my heartstrings. When the hiring manager finally got to introducing me, Liam raised a hand, interrupting him. He pulled my resume from the folder, crumpled it into a ball right there in front of everyone, and tossed it into the nearby trash can. I bit back my anger, glaring daggers at him. Then again, I couldn’t totally blame him. Six months ago, I’d basically thrown him out the same way. After the interview, fuming, I dialed his number. “Park across the street. Now.” I hung up and stormed over to the park. When I saw Liam strolling leisurely towards me, I confronted him. “Your startup took off? Why didn’t you tell me?” He looked at me like I’d asked the stupidest question imaginable. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” he sneered. “Who was it, on the day we signed the divorce papers, who said, ‘Please get out of my life forever’?” He had me there. I couldn’t say a word. Those were my exact words. But how could he understand the desperation of a woman supporting a man for four years with zero prospects in sight? I wasn’t signing up for sainthood. Seeing me speechless, Liam let out a cold laugh and turned to leave. “Who was it that promised to give me a good life, promised I’d never have to struggle?” Desperate for this job, I took a gamble, betting on some lingering shred of feeling he might still have for me. He stopped. Stood there for a long moment without moving. Finally, he turned back. “Come to my office.” I knew right then, I’d won the bet. 2 “Maya, if you want this job, sign this NDA.” Liam had his assistant fish my crumpled resume out of the trash and take it to HR. Looking at the Non-Disclosure Agreement, I had to laugh. Afraid our past relationship getting out would embarrass him in front of the company, huh? Fine by me. Sign it is, as long as I get the job. After signing, I stood up to leave. “And change my contact name in your phone,” Liam added. Me: “…” First day on the job, and there’s this guy practically insisting on carrying my bag. He was another newbie hired from the same interview batch, name’s Ryan Miller. Cute enough, kind of clean-cut, but his personality didn’t quite match – way too friendly, too fast. Today was mostly grunt work. The supervisor had us newbies setting up a conference room for an afternoon magazine interview with the boss. After a busy morning, we finally got it ready. Liam sat on the sofa, doing the interview. We stood off to the side, observing and ready to help if needed. “Mr. Johnson, what was the biggest challenge you faced on your entrepreneurial journey?” the interviewer asked. Liam thought for a moment. “The disappointment and lack of faith from someone I loved most,” he replied, his eyes drifting unconsciously towards me. A chill went down my spine. I quickly looked away. “And what kept you going, ultimately leading to your success?” the interviewer pressed. Liam gave a small, mocking laugh. “Still, her disappointment. It made me determined to push through.” I could feel his eyes fixed on me, hard. I didn’t dare look back. Suddenly, Ryan touched my cheek. I jumped, grabbing his hand. “What are you doing?” He grinned. “You just had a little smudge,” he said, then kept trying to rub my face. Annoyed, I pushed his hand away. “Hey, you! Come over here and help the boss with his tie,” the supervisor suddenly pointed at me. I glanced at Liam, whose face had darkened. This was weird. I walked over and took the tie he was fiddling with. “Hurry up and fix it for him! What are you waiting for? You should thank Mr. Johnson for giving you the chance,” the supervisor urged beside me, full-on brown-nosing mode. I shot the supervisor a look. Seriously? I help him with his tie, and I have to thank him? Ugh. Liam used to rub my feet all the time; by that logic, I should probably thank his entire family tree. Reluctantly, I straightened his tie. Liam grabbed my hand, his voice low, lips barely moving. “First day, and already scouting for guys? That kid’s not your type, Maya. Broke.” I gave the tie a sharp tug, tightening it just enough to shut him up. “Mr. Johnson,” I whispered back, “watch yourself. Remember the NDA.” Liam looked thoroughly pissed off, but with people around, he couldn’t say much more. He just loosened his tie himself. After the interview, everyone else bowed slightly or nodded respectfully as he left. I just stood there awkwardly. Liam glanced at me as he passed. The brown-nosing supervisor pointed. “Hey, you! Didn’t your team lead tell you? You show respect when Mr. Johnson passes.” “She’s never bowed her head to me before,” Liam muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “Sorry, Mr. Johnson? What was that?” The supervisor clearly hadn’t heard. But I had. Me, bow my head to him? Not in this lifetime. 3 Liam always attended the Monday team meetings. “No idea what’s up with Mr. Johnson lately,” Sarah, a colleague from my team, grumbled. “He comes to our team meeting every single week now.” “Is it because our department is particularly important to the company?” I asked her. “Important? Nah,” Sarah scoffed. “Maybe he’s got his eye on someone in our department.” “No way,” I denied instantly, a little spooked. “Well, obviously not you,” Ashley, our department’s resident queen bee, chimed in from the side. “Divorced, not exactly young anymore. Why would Mr. Johnson be interested in you? Me, on the other hand…” Seriously? What’s wrong with being divorced? “I wouldn’t be interested in him either,” I retorted irritably. Just as the words left my mouth, everyone went silent, staring at something behind me. A familiar figure walked past, heading straight into the conference room. His face looked grim. Just my luck, he heard that. “Meeting time,” Sarah said awkwardly, breaking the silence. I picked a seat as far away from Liam as possible. I didn’t dare look up at him the entire meeting. Finally, it ended. Everyone started chatting about the department’s weekend activity: a two-day, one-night camping trip. Sarah mentioned that the CEO rarely joined these things, but we should invite him out of courtesy anyway. This time, Liam actually accepted the courteous invitation. We set off early and didn’t reach the countryside spot until noon. It was a nice rustic lodge setup, with a lawn outside perfect for grilling later and pitching tents for camping. That evening, everyone set up the grills and picnic tables. With the boss present, things felt a bit more restrained than usual. Ryan, however, was as forward as ever, hovering around me the whole time, grilling food for me, putting stuff on my plate, and planting himself right next to me. “No need to move, I’ll just sit here,” Liam announced, plopping down on my other side. I looked at Ryan on my left and Liam on my right. My head started to ache. Could this get any more awkward? Ryan added a garlic parmesan wing to my plate. I sighed. I honestly hadn’t realized a woman pushing thirty could still attract this kind of attention. No clue what Ryan saw in me. “She doesn’t like garlic. I’ll take this wing,” Liam said casually, spearing the chicken wing off my plate with his fork. Ryan looked surprised. “Boss, how’d you know?” “She just said so herself, didn’t you hear?” Liam replied smoothly. For a second, I almost believed him myself. Afraid of getting caught, I quickly told Ryan, “Yeah, I mentioned it earlier, maybe you didn’t catch it.” Just then, Liam brought over a plate of fried chicken and placed it in front of me. “Eat up,” he murmured. “Your favorite.” I stared at the chicken. Yeah, it really was my favorite. More accurately, our favorite. Back in the day, whenever Liam wanted me to stay up late watching the game with him, he’d tempt me with fried chicken from this specific spot. He’d always let me eat first, then finish whatever I left. Thinking about the old Liam, the one I used to boss around, made me smile a little. “Maya, what are you smiling about?” Ryan nudged me, pulling me back to reality. “Nothing. You eat too.” I didn’t dare look at Liam beside me, just kept my head down and ate the chicken. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dark moving near the table leg. I focused. A huge spider. “Ah! Spider!” I shrieked. Spiders are my ultimate phobia. The next second, my feet were off the ground. I was swept up into someone’s arms and carried about ten feet away from the table. This was a rule I’d made for Liam years ago: if he saw a spider, he had to get my feet off the ground immediately, carry me away, put me down somewhere safe, and then go deal with it. “You remembered.” Being held like this by Liam, I actually felt a flicker of warmth. I couldn’t believe he still remembered my silly rules. Liam seemed surprised by his own actions. He quickly put me down, muttering, “You trained me well. Reflex action.” Only then did we both realize the entire department was staring at us, dumbfounded. “Ahem, I’m scared of spiders too,” Liam explained awkwardly. “Just brought her over here with me.” I immediately played along, thanking him profusely. Amazingly, people seemed to buy the lame excuse. Probably because they couldn’t imagine their handsome CEO having any unprofessional interest in someone like me. After all that commotion, I lost my appetite.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392445”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Last time around, my stepmother and stepsister got me killed. I can’t believe I’m back, reborn, with a chance for revenge. My stepsister, Jessica, slung her arm around the guy I used to crush on, basically strutting right in front of me. “Taylor,” she sneered, “you’ll never win against me.” Oh yeah? Back for round two, you think I’m just going to roll over and die again? 1. The Williams’ house. I was locked in a dark storage room, staring blankly at my own hand. Just a second ago, there was a hole here, deep enough to see bone. I’m back. I’ve been reborn. In my past life, after Jessica’s mom, Linda, married my dad, Jessica became my stepsister. I treated her like gold, like a real sister. But Dad always misunderstood, called me a troublemaker, a little menace. One time, Jessica ran away from home. When I went looking for her, I got kidnapped, tortured, and eventually killed. Only before I died did I find out: Jessica planned the whole runaway thing just to lure me out. And she’d been poisoning Dad against me the whole time, trying to steal my inheritance! It was Thanksgiving night. They dumped my body, barely clothed, right on our front lawn. I died with my eyes wide open. And now, somehow, I’m reborn. This is my chance, given by fate, or whatever. This time, I’m exposing Linda and Jessica for the frauds they are. I’m fighting for what’s mine, and I’m going to live, really live, for myself! Just as I was thinking this, the door creaked open again. This time it was Richard Williams, my actual father. But right now, his brow was deeply furrowed. Linda and Jessica hovered behind him like shadows, shooting me mocking little smiles. “Taylor, have you learned your lesson?” Just a little while ago, Jessica smashed Dad’s favorite crystal sculpture. She was scared of getting yelled at, so she pinned it on me. And I was stupid enough to take the fall. I lifted my chin. My stomach cramped from not eating. “What lesson?” I asked slowly. “What did I do wrong?” Richard immediately lost his temper. “Are you telling me you didn’t break that crystal sculpture? You mess up and won’t even admit it? What’s gotten into you, Taylor?!” 2 I snorted, pushing myself up slowly using the wall. “Wrong is wrong. I didn’t do it! Maybe you should ask your little informant exactly how she saw me break it.” “Jessica! You tell me!” Richard was furious now, pulling Jessica forward to explain herself. Jessica jumped, startled. She probably didn’t expect me, the usual doormat, to suddenly find a backbone. She hadn’t rehearsed this part. She stammered for a bit, then tears started welling up. “Dad!” she sobbed to Richard. “Don’t blame Taylor! She didn’t mean to do it!” I rolled my eyes. Why is the air in here suddenly thick with fake sweetness? Oh, right. Jessica’s here. The second Jessica started crying, Linda rushed over, grabbing her hand and dabbing at her own eyes for Richard’s benefit. “Richard, this girl Taylor is just dragging my Jessie’s name through the mud for no reason! You have to stand up for us!” Watching this mother-daughter drama unfold, I felt sick. Richard couldn’t stand Linda’s waterworks. He tried to soothe her while glaring daggers at me. “Taylor! Get over here and apologize to your sister!” Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Getting angry just made me feel strangely calm. Richard saw I wasn’t moving and looked ready to shout again. I beat him to it, looking up, letting two clear tears splash onto the floor. “Dad, do you remember what you promised Mom?” “I…” “You said you’d never, ever treat me badly. But look at you now! You’re condemning me based on Jessica’s word alone. If Mom knew about this, how sad, how heartbroken would she be?” “That’s enough!” Richard’s anger deflated. He looked guilty. He didn’t have much ground to argue on. His biggest regret in life was my mom, who died years ago. She didn’t just support him when he had nothing; she sold her own family heirlooms to fund his business. And Richard? An ungrateful jerk. He actually got back together with his high school sweetheart while married to Mom, cheating on her for over a decade behind her back! Richard mumbled something, clearly remembering how good Mom had been. Linda saw things weren’t going her way and quickly jumped in, “I saw it!” I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall. Only Jessica and I were there when the crystal sculpture shattered. Let’s see what kind of story she cooks up. 3 Linda started explaining, very dramatically, “Taylor brushed against the bookshelf as she walked past, and that’s what knocked the sculpture over and broke it!” Hearing this, I burst out laughing. Richard’s face visibly darkened. Jessica tugged at her mom’s sleeve, whispering, “Mom! The sculpture was on the table!” Linda faltered for a second, then quickly regained her composure. “Well, maybe I remembered wrong, but Taylor definitely broke that crystal sculpture!” “Enough!” Richard finally roared. He couldn’t watch this anymore. He shot Linda a glare. “We’re dropping this.” He turned to leave. I stopped him. “Dad, it’s pretty obvious what happened. Are you still going to pretend you don’t see it?” I pushed, not letting Jessica get off easy. “That crystal sculpture, Mr. Henderson gave it to you, didn’t he? If he found out it was broken, wouldn’t he think you don’t value his gift? Wouldn’t that affect the business deal between our families? Dad, you need to think this through.” I knew how crucial Henderson Corp, our biggest partner, was to Richard. Mentioning Mr. Henderson meant Richard couldn’t just sweep this under the rug. Sure enough, Richard whipped his head around, glared resentfully at me, then yelled at Jessica, “You’re grounded for the rest of the summer! Stay in your room, no going out!” “Dad!” Jessica wailed, chasing after Richard as he stormed out of the dark room. Linda glared at me, teeth clenched. “Taylor, is this you declaring war?” “I’m just taking back what’s mine. What belongs to the Williams bloodline.” Hearing this, Linda’s face changed. “What do you know?!” she demanded frantically. Heh. I know plenty. Like, for instance, whether Jessica is actually my dad’s kid at all. I just don’t have proof yet. I need backup. 4 Summer vacation flew by. With Jessica locked in her room and Linda rarely home, I actually had a pretty peaceful time. After summer, Jessica and I both started Senior year. The day before school started, Richard suddenly announced that my older brother, Stephen, was back from studying abroad. From now on, he’d be driving Jessica and me to and from school. Hearing Stephen’s name brought a handsome, sharp face to mind. He’s my full-blooded brother, but in my last life, we barely spoke. We were practically strangers. He didn’t like me much. Seemed to prefer Jessica, actually. As for the private chauffeuring? That was always for Jessica. When did I ever get a ride? Sighing inwardly, I decided not to bother Stephen. The next morning, when I was ready and went outside, sure enough, not even a shadow of the car. So, I had to lug my twenty-pound backpack and walk to school. My time estimate was off, and I was late. And just my luck, I ran right into Dean Evans doing his rounds. The pot-bellied middle-aged man looked me up and down, took off his glasses, and sighed. “Taylor Williams, now you’re showing up late too? School just started. Are you even planning on applying to college?” “I’m applying to college,” I stated. “What?” Dean Evans looked like he’d heard the funniest joke ever. His tone was exaggerated. “Ranked dead last and aiming for college? What are you gonna rely on, miracles?” Ignoring his mockery, my voice was firm. “Not only am I going to college, I’m getting into Harvard!” “Oh, for crying out loud!” Dean Evans spun around in a circle. “If you get into Harvard, I’ll do anything you ask.” I opened my mouth to respond, but the door suddenly cracked open. A head poked in, looking mischievous. “So, if I get into Harvard too, Dean, will you bark like a dog over the school intercom?” I looked over. It was a boy with sharp features, radiating youthful energy. Dean Evans irritably threw a notebook at him. The boy sidestepped smoothly as he entered and caught it. The Dean asked, “Alex Miller, what are you doing here?” Alex shrugged. “I was late. Homeroom teacher sent me here for punishment.” The Dean looked at Alex, then at me, and sneered. “Three-thousand-word essay. Write it now. You’re not leaving until it’s done!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392444”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

This gold digger, hanging all over some fat-cat exec, was telling me I’d be stuck as a security guard forever. Next thing I know, the exec slaps her right across the face in public, then turns to me, practically bowing, “Mr. Sterling, sir…”

My mother-in-law was in the hospital. That night, while my husband, Jason, was supposedly watching over her, he reached out and pulled off her oxygen mask. He killed his own mother! I saw the whole thing. I’d just stepped out and came right back, standing just outside the door. Pure terror washed over me. Only one thought screamed in my head: Run! Then Jason’s voice, chillingly cold, came from behind me. “So, you saw.” 1. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my face into a look of confusion. “Saw what? I forgot my house keys, just came back for them. How’s Mom doing?” He didn’t say anything, just stared, his eyes bloodshot, searching my face for any sign I was lying. I walked up, patted his shoulder, trying to sound soothing. “Look at you, your eyes are so red. You must be exhausted. Maybe I should stay tonight instead?” As I finished speaking, I pretended to head towards the hospital room. But Jason blocked my way. “No need. Here are the keys.” I let out a tiny, silent sigh of relief. Then his next words sent ice crawling up my spine. “It’s late. Let me drive you home.” My smile froze for a second, but my brain kicked in fast. “No, Mom needs someone here. You stay with her. I’ll just grab a rideshare.” He looked down, his face hidden in the shadows, his expression unreadable. “Don’t worry,” I added. “The nurse does rounds early tomorrow morning.” He gave a noncommittal “Mm-hmm.” Then, “Send me a pic of the license plate when you get a ride. Just to be safe.” “Okay, don’t worry,” I said. I booked a ride home on my phone. The driver arrived quickly. As I got in, I caught a glimpse of a figure flashing past a window up on the hospital floor. Just as I thought. He was still watching me. I screenshotted the car info and sent it to Jason. He texted back, “Let me know when you’re home.” The night was pitch black. The driver and I rode in heavy silence. As we reached a main intersection, I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. “Hey, can you keep driving past this address? Just hit ‘arrived’ when you get there.” A low voice spoke from the front seat. “Why aren’t you going home?” The driver turned his head. It was Jason’s face! 2. A scream ripped through my throat. I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. I was in my pajamas, lying in our master bedroom bed. “You’re awake? Come get some breakfast.” Jason pushed the bedroom door open and pulled back the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, chasing away the shadows. I stared at his face, unable to tell dream from reality. He chuckled softly and tapped my nose. “Still want to sleep in?” His touch felt real, warm. It was him, the same gentle, doting husband. I sat up and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I had a horrible nightmare. It scared me to death.” He stroked my hair. “It’s okay now. Get up, I’m just going out to grab some groceries.” I quickly stopped him. “Doesn’t Mom need someone watching her at the hospital?” “What are you talking about? Mom’s not in the hospital,” Jason said, squeezing my hand affectionately. “Get up, okay? I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, let go, and gave his cheek a quick kiss. My head felt heavy, fuzzy. Only after Jason left did I slowly drag myself out of bed. In the wedding photo on the nightstand, Jason looked suave and gentle. I was smiling ear-to-ear, pure happiness. Sitting on the edge of the bed, possessed by some strange impulse, I called my mother-in-law. If she was okay, then what I saw at the hospital had to be a nightmare. Truthfully, she and I didn’t have the best relationship. It hit rock bottom after she got rid of my cat. We barely spoke day-to-day. The phone rang for a long time. Just as I was about to hang up, thinking no one would answer, a woman’s voice came on the line. “Hello? Who is this?” I immediately hung up and checked the contact again. It was definitely my mother-in-law’s number. But that voice… it wasn’t my mother-in-law at all! Since my father-in-law passed away, she’d always been a loner, rarely had friends over. But I quickly tried to rationalize. Maybe it was some distant relative I didn’t know about visiting. I dialed again. The same woman’s voice answered. I spoke first this time. “Hi, is my mother-in-law there?” There was a long pause, then her tone turned angry. “Jessica? Why are you calling me? What do you mean, ‘is your mother-in-law there’? Oh, I get it. You’re calling just to piss me off, aren’t you!” My mind went blank for a second. Can someone please tell me what is going on? My mother-in-law is seventy. Her voice is old, sharp, shrill. The voice on the phone sounded young! But how did she recognize my voice and know my name? Ignoring her nasty tone, driven by a huge wave of confusion, I blurted out, “Mom? Are you feeling okay?” “You damn bitch! Are you wishing I was sick? My son must have been blind to pick you! I should have fought tooth and nail against it!” That string of curses, that tone… that was exactly how my mother-in-law always talked. But the voice… how could it be…? 3. Another call came in. It was Jason. My head was throbbing from my mother-in-law’s yelling, so I quickly hung up on her and answered Jason’s call. “Hey, honey. Who were you on the phone with?” “Oh, just checking in on Mom. What’s up?” He chuckled lightly on the other end. “You two are like oil and water. Calling her is just asking for an earful, isn’t it? I was calling to ask what you want to eat. I’ll pick something up.” A wave of warmth spread through me. Jason still cared about me. That’s why, despite years of his mom’s disdain and insults, our relationship was still strong. “Anything’s fine, really. I’m not picky. Get what you like. Stop worrying about me all the time.” He spoke gently for a bit longer, making sure his mom hadn’t given me too hard a time, then reluctantly hung up. So far, everything seemed… normal. But something still felt off. I slowly got up and headed to the bathroom to wash my face. The next second, cold sweat prickled all over my body. Jason was standing right behind me. I hadn’t heard him come in. He was staring intently into my eyes through the mirror. 4. Startled, I spun around, backing up half a step until my back hit the sink. “Jason! When did you get back? You scared me half to death.” His gaze shifted to my face. A smile touched his lips, but it felt unfamiliar, alien. His voice was low, chilling. “Why the sudden urge to call Mom?” “No—no reason. I just dreamt she was sick, so I thought I’d call and see how she was.” He didn’t speak, just kept his eyes locked on mine, scrutinizing every flicker of expression. The small, closed-in bathroom felt suffocating. I dug my nails into my palms, forcing myself to stay calm. I tilted my head up, trying to look casual. “What’s wrong?” After a long moment, he finally stepped back out of the bathroom. “Nothing. Come on, I’m taking you out for lunch today.” The knot of tension in my stomach tightened again. A huge question mark formed in my mind. Ever since I’d known him, we never ate out. I remember once, I was really craving sushi and begged Jason to take me. When his mom found out, she chewed him out, poking his forehead, yelling about him having no self-control, eating garbage from outside. After that, I never dared suggest eating out again. Jason called from the living room, urging me to hurry. I didn’t have time to think. I grabbed the nearest clothes, threw them on, and went out. When we ordered, I told the waiter, “Light on the oil, no spicy peppers, please.” Jason stopped me. “No, it’s fine. Make it regular.” His mom was vehemently against us eating anything spicy or heavy. She usually made steamed or boiled dishes, especially vegetables. It made me wonder if she was Buddhist. She used to boast to me that Jason grew up eating her cooking, which is why he was so healthy and smart, and that our future kids would have to follow her personally approved recipes too. I’d always shake my head and argue that we needed to consider the kids’ tastes, not just force her ideas on them. That led to a huge fight, ending with us not speaking. Her favorite line was: “My son must have been blind to pick you!” 5. My eyes drifted to the dishes in front of Jason – Spicy Beef, Frog Legs with Pickled Chilies. The bright red peppers screamed flavor and heat. I was about to swap my plain stir-fried bok choy for his dish when he pressed my hand down. I watched as he picked up several pieces of beef coated in thick Sichuan peppercorns and chili oil, and ate them without batting an eye. “Jason, you…” “Got tired of bland food. Time for a change now and then.” Watching him shovel down spicy food, remembering the nightmare version of him, a chill ran down my spine. Something about Jason felt… different. I shook my head slightly. “If Mom finds out about this,” I whispered, “she’ll say I’m corrupting you again.” His chopsticks paused mid-air. Then he resumed eating, stuffing beef into his mouth. His face flushed slightly from the spice, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. I quickly handed him a glass of water. “When I called earlier, Mom’s voice sounded weird. Since it’s the weekend, maybe we should go visit her?” That strange woman’s voice still echoed in my head. “Visit her? So we can fight again?” Jason took a sip of water and rubbed his temples. “I have things to do this afternoon. Maybe another day.” “Okay…” I noticed a drop of chili oil on his shirt, bright red and shiny. I grabbed a napkin to wipe it. “Look at you, getting food all over your shirt.” He was always so neat, never allowing a single speck of dirt on his clothes. I dabbed at it uselessly. “See? That’s what happens when you eat spicy food, oil drips everywhere. I’ll wash it for you when we get home,” I said helplessly. He stared down at the stain, lost in thought. After lunch, he went off to run his errands, and I started walking home slowly by myself. As I reached the corner, the image of his mom having her oxygen mask removed flashed through my mind. My heart pounded. Thinking it over, I still felt uneasy. I decided to grab a cab and head over to his mom’s place. 6. The cab stopped at the entrance to the alley. I paid and got out, planning to buy some fruit and milk at the corner store. Old Mrs. Henderson at the store saw me arrive alone and looked puzzled, peering behind me. “Coming to see your mother-in-law? Jason didn’t come with you?” I picked through the bananas. “Oh, he had something to do. Are these fresh?” “Fresh as can be, just came in this morning.” Mrs. Henderson sat back down and went back to cracking sunflower seeds. “You know, that Carol really lucked out. Husband died early, but she raised a good son. Nobody around here has a son as filial and obedient as hers.” I managed a small smile, taking the bananas to be weighed, then picked out some apples. Mrs. Henderson put down her seeds to weigh the fruit. “They’ve been through a lot together, just the two of them, all these years. Their bond is really strong. Carol told me Jason used to call her for two hours every single day back in college. Sigh, not like my kids. Wild horses couldn’t drag them home. A call every ten days or half a month is a miracle.” “Well, Mrs. H, everyone’s got their own treasures, right?” I smiled, paid, and picked up my bags. It wasn’t just college. Jason and I had been married for three years, and he still kept up that habit of calling his mom every day, rain or shine, for exactly two hours. Mrs. Henderson followed me to the door. “Oh, Jason’s wife, one more thing! Remind your mother-in-law about the line dancing meet-up this afternoon. She’s so proud, sometimes she needs coaxing.” I chuckled inwardly. Mrs. Henderson seriously overestimated my influence with my mother-in-law. “Sure, I’ll try.” Kids were playing noisily in the alley. One boy wasn’t looking and ran right into me. His mom saw it and yelled, “Mikey! Watch where you’re going! What if that had been Mrs. Evans? You think you could get away with running wild then?” I freed a hand to pat the boy’s head. “It’s okay, kids are just playing.” My mother-in-law was eccentric and proud. Most neighbors avoided interacting with her, and she, in turn, looked down on everyone. There were very few people in the world she actually respected. According to her, me marrying Jason was the result of my ancestors burning incense for eighteen generations. Even though we met through an arranged setup, and she was the one who chose me. Even though my education, looks, and family background were better than Jason’s, it didn’t stop her from disliking me. Lifestyle, eating habits, even ways of thinking – nothing could clash with hers. If it did, she’d condemn you to hell and unleash a torrent of verbal abuse. I often counted my blessings that I was just the daughter-in-law. Growing up under her thumb must have been incredibly tough for Jason.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392443”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Never in a million years. Did I think I’d have a shotgun wedding. Especially not to a guy I’d only met once. Ethan Hayes had a cold look on his face. “As soon as Grandpa’s fully recovered, we’re getting a divorce.” I nodded. Fine by me. Except, later… The road to divorce took a seriously weird detour. 1 When we got back to his place. Grandpa Hayes, who was supposedly knocking on death’s door. Took one look at the marriage certificate. And instantly perked up like he’d mainlined espresso. He downed two whole bowls of rice in one go. Started rambling about how he’d be holding his great-grandchild soon. I was stunned. Was this like, that legendary last burst of energy before the end?! Didn’t look like it, though. The feeling of being totally scammed washed over me. The guy next to me, Ethan, looked like thunderclouds were gathering over his head. After a long silence, he finally ground out, “Grandpa, whose idea was this?” Grandpa Hayes paused, mid-bite, and didn’t hesitate to throw the blame. “Chloe’s grandpa.” Meeting Ethan’s glare, I put on my saddest face. “I had no idea. I’m a victim here.” He put down his chopsticks, looking down at me. “Since Grandpa’s fine, tomorrow, we get divorced.” I nodded quickly. “Okay.” So, I’d been a married woman for less than a day. And I was about to be single again? That was fast. Way too fast. Just then, Grandpa Hayes clutched his chest. Slumped onto the floor. Looking like he couldn’t breathe. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exasperated. “Grandpa, that trick won’t work.” Grandpa Hayes’s face went pale, his expression genuinely pained. He gasped for air, unable to speak. Ethan and I exchanged a look. Was he… not faking it this time? Grandpa Hayes ended up in the hospital. And stayed there. For a whole week. The divorce talk was put on hold. The day before he was discharged, I went to visit him again. Just as I reached the door of the VIP room, I heard him talking to the doctor. The doctor was teasing him, “You’re pretty good at faking it, huh?” Grandpa Hayes laughed heartily. “Good enough to fool ’em, right?” The doctor replied, sounding slightly annoyed, “You almost gave me a heart attack.” Then he added, “Ethan asked me several times about your condition. Almost blew your cover.” What did I just hear??? Faking… sick? For a week? And the doctor helped him fool the family? Can I report this hospital? “Miss Miller, what are you doing just standing there? Come on in.” Mrs. Davis, the housekeeper, called out, totally exposing me. Grandpa Hayes and the doctor both whipped their heads around to look at me. The door, which had been slightly ajar, was now wide open. Our eyes met. Three pairs of them. The atmosphere turned incredibly awkward. Grandpa Hayes pretended to be calm and started chatting with me. From his ‘war buddy’ days with my grandpa, to them starting their own families. Then about setting up a childhood engagement promise, and how my aunt had refused it. None of this was news to me. I practically knew it by heart. Finally, he said, the childhood promise my aunt didn’t fulfill, Ethan and I had to complete it. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I peeled an apple, handed it to him, and stated my opinion clearly. “Grandpa, nobody does arranged marriages or childhood engagements anymore. This isn’t the dark ages. People date freely now. Neither Ethan nor I can accept that kind of thing.” If it hadn’t been because Grandpa Hayes was supposedly dying last time… Ethan and I would absolutely never have gotten that marriage license. Thinking about it now, it was just ridiculously absurd. Like, peak absurdity. 2 But Grandpa Hayes insisted it was a promise between him and my grandpa, their dying wish. They couldn’t wait much longer, being ‘halfway in the grave’ already. If the families couldn’t be joined by marriage, they couldn’t ‘rest in peace’. Talk about dramatic. In the end, I caved. “Okay, we’ll try,” I said. If it really didn’t work out down the line, Ethan and I would split amicably. Grandpa Hayes reluctantly agreed. Then, he immediately told me not to blow his cover. And that I needed to play along when necessary. How was I supposed to play along? My acting skills were nowhere near his Oscar-worthy performance… By the time Ethan showed up, it was pitch black outside. He hadn’t been in the room long. Before Grandpa Hayes shooed him out. Told him to take me home so I could rest. Before I left, he gave me a look full of grandfatherly love. “Chloe, honey, if this boy bullies you, you tell Grandpa. Grandpa will break his legs.” “Grandpa, sounds like you’re feeling much better, so…” Ethan turned to look at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “We can get divorced tomorrow.” Grandpa Hayes’s voice, which had just been booming with energy, instantly became weak. “Ohhh, my leg, it hurts so bad. Ouch, my back, it’s so stiff…” The sudden change was almost comical. I followed Ethan into the elevator. After hesitating for a long time, I cautiously asked, “Divorce tomorrow?” The man beside me lowered his head slightly. His warm breath ghosted across my face. “We’ll wait until the old man chills out a bit, then we’ll divorce.” Chills out? The moment divorce was mentioned, he immediately stopped chilling out. Looks like getting this divorce was going to be tough. After Grandpa was discharged. Ethan started sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. He did this for two nights straight. Then the man snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Stood by the bed. Staring at me menacingly. “Chloe Miller, let’s switch.” I clutched the blankets tightly, shaking my head frantically. “No way.” Next thing I knew, he bundled me up in the blanket and tossed me onto the floor. My temper flared. I rolled up my sleeves. And launched myself at him, wrestling ensued. In the chaos, I… scratched… his… face. To keep the peace, I volunteered to sleep on the floor. And that’s where I slept for the better part of two weeks. Until one day, I overslept. Still groggy, I forgot to put away my bedding on the floor. Result: Mrs. Davis confiscated it. That evening, I looked miserable. I begged Ethan to figure out a way to get me some bedding. The man just looked up, wearing a helpless expression. I asked him darkly, “Are you sure you won’t help?” He didn’t even lift his eyes from his book. I jumped onto the bed, pulled his comforter over myself, covering up completely. “Either we share the bed, half each, or you go sleep in the study.” After two seconds of silence, the man spoke softly. “I’ll sleep in the study.” “Good luck with that,” I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Don’t get kicked back here by Grandpa. Turns out, his luck wasn’t great. Less than an hour later, he was back. Ignoring my stifled laughter, he silently grabbed another blanket. Then warned me fiercely, “Don’t cross the line.” So childish. Should we draw a line down the middle? I declared confidently, “Don’t worry, I sleep like a log. I never cross the line.” When morning came, I discovered I hadn’t just crossed the line. One of my legs was… draped over his stomach. The man was practically hanging off the edge of the bed, about to fall off. Just as I was about to silently retract my wayward leg. He tumbled onto the floor. His eyes, lazy and still heavy with sleep, met mine. Is it too late to start making excuses? “Let me explain…” His deep voice simmered with irritation. “Chloe Miller, does your face hurt?” I gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nope, I’ve got thick skin.” 3 The next day, I worked late, until ten. Grandpa Hayes was worried about me. So he specifically sent Ethan to pick me up. The man, looking thoroughly reluctant, leaned against the car door. The look he gave me was like I was his mortal enemy. “Seriously? I’m still technically your wife, you know.” I reached for the passenger door handle. The jerk pulled me back. “Sit in the back.” I snorted. “Like I care.” On the way, my best friend Riley sent me a voice message. “Chloe! Weekend BBQ, remember? That guy you used to crush on, Ryan? He’s gonna be there! Come early!” The volume was maxed out, crystal clear. Ignoring Ethan completely, I cheerfully replied to the message. “Got it! I’ll be there looking fabulous.” … The night before the weekend BBQ. Ethan specifically informed me that I needed to accompany Grandpa Hayes for a check-up the next day. My hand, applying a face mask, froze. Was he deliberately trying to get back at me? “You go with him. I have plans.” The man slowly drawled, “Grandpa specifically asked for you. If you don’t want to go, you can tell him yourself.” Then he turned and left. Tell Grandpa myself? That I couldn’t go to his check-up because I had plans to see the guy I used to crush on? Ughhh… I couldn’t bring myself to say that. The next day, I ended up going to the hospital with Grandpa. It was supposed to be a check-up. But really, it was just a cover. To fool Ethan. Which was why Grandpa had insisted I come. I sat bored out of my mind on a bench outside. Grandpa was inside the office, chatting happily with that doctor. Looking at the BBQ pictures Riley was sending. My heart was weeping. Ryan looked as handsome as ever. So handsome you could spot him from the back in a crowd… After Grandpa went home. Riley said there were more plans for the evening. I rushed over immediately. Only, before I even got into the private room. I bumped into Ethan right outside the door. We made eye contact. And both chose to completely ignore each other. 4 At the dinner table. The atmosphere was lively. Amidst the clinking glasses, I got a little tipsy. Ryan Walker suddenly asked me, “Chloe, you still remember me?” My mouth, busy with crab legs, mumbled indistinctly, “Ryan, who could forget? Back in the day…” What followed was basically my drunken TED Talk. I could talk for half an hour straight without pausing for breath. In my hazy state, I grabbed his collar, complaining pitifully, “I even wrote you a love letter back then! My first ever love letter, and it just vanished without a trace, like into a black hole…” The more I thought about it, the more aggrieved I felt, tightening my grip on his collar. Everyone started teasing, demanding Ryan give an explanation. Ryan chuckled, reaching out to steady me as I swayed. “So, can I get a chance now?” I patted my head, looking extremely serious. “No chance.” Everyone was surprised. “Why not?” “Because I’m already married…” Riley quickly clamped her hand over my mouth and pulled me next to her. “Chloe’s drunk! Don’t take her drunken ramblings seriously.” I struggled free, pointing a finger at Ryan. “I really am married! My husband is…” I spun around twice. Pointed vaguely east. “He’s right next door!” I don’t remember much after that… When I woke up, my head was pounding. Ten missed calls, all from Riley. My gut told me I was screwed. Sure enough, Riley’s voice on the message was practically vibrating with excitement. “Chloe Miller, last night, you… became… a… LEGEND.” I rubbed my aching temples, asking weakly, “What did I do? I don’t remember?” She calmly told me to watch the video she sent. Oh great, someone filmed the whole thing? Who has that kind of time? The video started when Ryan asked, “Can I get a chance now?” Right up until— I pointed east, “My husband is right next door.” Then, amidst everyone’s doubtful murmurs. I whipped out my phone and furiously tapped away. Called Ethan Hayes. And said, “Honey, come get me, I’m drunk.” Silence on the phone line. Everyone looked at each other. Just as they were about to laugh at me. The man himself knocked on the door of the private room.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392442”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel