I was always the good boy growing up. If someone was kind to me, I followed their lead. When Meredith walked away from her family’s multi-billion-dollar empire and said, “Let’s get married,” I said, “Okay.” When she repeatedly shielded her eccentric young assistant after the wedding, saying, “He’s just young and foolish, let it go,” I said, “Okay.” Only much later did I realize that the person who needed to be best to me was myself. So, I decided to start listening only to my own voice. … The morning I received my job offer from a school two thousand miles away, Meredith was getting ready to head out. She looked at me casually and said, “Zack said your soup was great. Make some more tomorrow.” “Hell no,” I said. Meredith paused, her fingers freezing on the silver thread of her sleeve. “What?” I looked up, keeping my voice gentle. “I said, I know.” She frowned slightly, then looked back down to finish adjusting her diamond cufflinks, which caught the morning light. “Don’t overthink it,” she added, her voice flat. “My stomach was acting up yesterday, and I didn’t want the soup to go to waste, so I let him have it. It wasn’t some deliberate provocation. He’s too simple-minded for those kinds of games.” I nodded. “Right. Okay.” Meredith looked at me, a faint, mocking smile playing at the edge of her lips. “They call you Mr. Putty, and honestly, they aren’t wrong.” Mr. Putty. That was the nickname her assistant, Zack, had given me. How did I find out? Once, I went to the office to bring her lunch. Zack stopped me at the door, saying he needed to announce me first. The office door wasn’t fully closed, and his loud, careless voice drifted out: “Hey, Miss Harrington, Mr. Putty is here to see you.” Meredith asked, “Who’s Mr. Putty?” “You know, the guy you can mold, stretch, and bend however you want, and he never snaps. Hahaha…” I stood outside, waiting for her to reprimand him. But she only let out a soft, helpless laugh, her tone full of indulgence. “Stop it.” Zack was a “different” kind of assistant. He refused to wear suits, claiming that only loose clothing allowed the brain to breathe, while stiff collars made people stupid. Once, when they were stuck in traffic on the way to a charity gala, he leaped out of the car, rented a Lime scooter, and forced Meredith—in her thousands-of-dollars designer gown—to sit on the back while he threaded through the congested city streets. During a high-level board meeting, he replaced the premium loose-leaf Oolong tea with McDonald’s sweet tea. When the exasperated director told him that the boardroom had always served imported tea, Zack tilted his head, genuinely curious: “Just because it’s always been done that way, does that make it right?” The Harrington Group had always been strict about rules and hierarchy. I once asked Meredith why she didn’t replace him. Meredith was adjusting her hair in the mirror, her eyes distant. “Don’t you find him refreshing? He’s like a wild, energetic little animal, tearing down all those stuffy, hypocritical rules.” I shut my mouth. Because I knew that among those “stuffy, hypocritical rules,” she probably included me. Meredith descended the stairs with an effortless, casual grace. I followed silently behind her. This was a Harrington tradition: the husband must personally see the wife off to work every morning. At the bottom of the stairs, the butler and housekeepers were already waiting, holding trays piled with both hot American and continental breakfasts. Meredith hated eating breakfast. Her father had tried everything to fix this, ordering the staff to present it to her just as she was leaving, hoping she might take a bite or grab a cup on her way out. But Meredith didn’t even look. She kept her long stride steady, walking straight out into the courtyard. A black town car idled by the fountain. The rear window rolled down, revealing Zack sitting in the back seat. He wore a cheap, oversized hoodie, his hair a messy bedhead. He held a greasy breakfast taco in one hand and a paper cup of orange juice in the other, his mouth full as he chewed. Everyone knew Meredith was a neat freak who despised anyone eating in her car. But Zack clearly didn’t care. He saw me and waved casually. “Morning.” I smiled. “Morning.” Meredith slid into the car next to him, immediately scolding, “Zack, are you seriously eating breakfast in my car again? This is a two-hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle. If you spill, can you even afford to clean it?” Zack retorted with mock irritation, “Well, you’re the one who insisted your assistant drive to pick you up. How are we working-class stiffs supposed to find time for breakfast?” I stood outside, quietly watching the scene. The morning sun filtered through the maple leaves, casting shadows across my shoulders, but I felt no warmth from it. The next moment, Meredith reached over, snatched the remaining half of the taco from his hand, and stuffed it into her own mouth. As the car pulled away, I could hear Zack’s dramatic wailing through the open window. “Hey! Give me back my taco!” “I want a raise!” The butler approached, saying Mr. Harrington wanted to see me. I looked up at the bright, clear sky, turned, and walked toward the east wing. Soft classical music drifted through the air. Mr. Harrington sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows, elegantly preparing an expensive tea set. The leaves had been flown in that morning, still damp with dew. I greeted him respectfully. He didn’t look at me, using a bamboo tong to shift a few leaves. “When I agreed to let you move into the estate, I did so hoping you’d be able to anchor Meredith’s heart. It seems I overcalculated your abilities… You started as an assistant yourself. How is it that you’re being outshone by a street pup?” I kept my head slightly bowed, just as I always did. Quiet, obedient, offering no defense. He set the tongs down and finally turned his gaze toward me. “Still, your behavior over these past three years has been acceptable. You passed the test. I spoke with some of the family elders a couple of days ago. The second of next month is a good date. Go get your marriage license registered.” “After that, settle down, focus on what matters, and help Meredith carry the weight of the family enterprise.” My eyes remained fixed on the discarded tea leaves on the table. They were fresh, green, and had barely begun to unfurl before being pushed aside. What a waste, I thought. A sudden wave of nostalgia washed over me. Four years ago— Meredith had a massive blowout with her father, packed her bags, and started her own small boutique agency out of spite. I had just graduated from college and stumbled into an assistant role there through a job board. She was pampered, cynical, and spent her time either sleeping in or drag racing. I was green, eager to please, and knew absolutely nothing. We were two of a kind. We nearly burned down the office kitchen, broke the copy machine, lost crucial client files, and spent an entire afternoon searching through a dumpster to find them. Once, we accidentally took a wrong turn into a dark, rural cemetery at night; we were so terrified we huddled together in the car, too scared to step outside. Having always been the obedient child, I had never caused so much trouble in my life. My face would constantly flush red with panic. She, on the other hand, was always nonchalant. Whenever she saw me on the verge of tears, she’d tease me mercilessly, only offering a “raise” to stop my crying. In less than a year, she gave me fifteen raises. Then, imperceptibly, the way she looked at me changed. Her eyes would dart away when our gazes met. She’d flinch if our hands brushed while passing paperwork, and she began taking the long way around the office just to avoid my desk. I honestly thought I was about to be fired. Instead, Meredith confessed her feelings to me. I was so shocked that I turned her down. Seeing her usually carefree expression freeze, I felt terrible. I gently explained that my ideal partner was a mature, grounded woman—someone very different from her. So, she fired me. I went home and cried my eyes out, considering my salary had reached an impressive monthly sum by then. Fortunately, I soon landed a job at a larger firm. Just as I was preparing to restart my life, I was walking home late after overtime and ran into a group of local thugs. Out of nowhere, Meredith appeared, throwing herself into the fray with her fists flying. It was a brutal fight. Everyone ended up in the emergency room, and Meredith remained unconscious for several days. When she finally woke, I was sitting by her bedside, sobbing uncontrollably. She stared at me, her voice hoarse and dry. “Ian, if I pay you ten times your old salary, will you come back to me?” I nodded desperately. Her eyes brightened slightly, and she whispered, so softly I could barely hear, “I’ll try to be more mature… Will you be my boyfriend… please?” Through tears and laughter, I replied, “Okay.” I had always been the obedient boy. I listened to my parents at home, and my teachers at school. I knew they wanted what was best for me, and I never felt trapped or suffocated by it. Because of my compliance, my life had been smooth sailing. And Meredith had nearly risked her life for me. She was so good to me. What reason did I have to ever say no to her? Shortly after we started dating, she brought me to the Harrington estate. That was when I realized the staggering scale of her family’s wealth. Unsurprisingly, her entire family opposed our relationship. But Meredith was unyielding. When her father threatened to disinherit her if she didn’t break up with me, she signed the forfeiture papers without a single second of hesitation. I was terrified, unable to comprehend how a simple romance had dragged me into a high-stakes family war. But back in our cramped rented apartment, when Meredith held me tight and swore that I was the only one she would ever love, I couldn’t help but weep with gratitude. Eventually, the Harringtons relented. They allowed Meredith to marry me and agreed to host a lavish wedding, but on one condition: we had to wait three years before signing the legal marriage certificate. I knew they doubted her judgment and wanted to test me. Back then, I thought: As long as we love each other, what does a piece of paper matter? I am marrying Meredith, not her family. Meredith didn’t come home until past midnight, smelling faintly of whiskey. I got up to run her a bath, but she suddenly threw her weight against me. Her hot breath brushed my ear as she blindly bit down on my earlobe. Wincing from the sharp pain, I pushed her off. She stared at me through the darkness for a couple of seconds, then leaned back in, pinning my arms down, her breathing ragged. “Meredith, your dad mentioned you’re still on your medication. He reminded me several times. We shouldn’t,” I said softly, but firmly, turning my face away. She froze. After a tense silence, she rolled off me. A moment later, a quiet, bitter scoff cut through the dark room. “You really are the good boy, Ian.” I said nothing, quietly getting up to go to the bathroom. Her mocking voice followed me. “But being too good… gets incredibly boring.” There was a time when she would hold me in this very room, her skin hot against mine, whispering “I love you” over and over. Now, she found me boring. It felt almost comedic. When I finished preparing the bath and stepped out, Meredith was leaning against the headboard, her collar half-open, casually chatting on the phone. In the quiet of the night, every word from the receiver was crystal clear. “Stupid corporate greed! I’m suffering over here, having to listen to my boss yell at me in the middle of the night!” Zack’s loud, vibrant voice crackled on the other end, full of life. Meredith’s chest rumbled with a quiet laugh. I kept my voice neutral. “The bath is ready. You should go wash up.” Without looking at me, she took the phone into the bathroom, switching it to speakerphone. The sound of running water mixed with the young man’s animated complaints, echoing through the heavy silence of the mansion. Once the Harringtons accepted me, they threw us a spectacular wedding that was the talk of the town. People whispered that a commoner had struck gold. During the three years that followed, I did everything to be the perfect son-in-law. I studied high society etiquette, learned to appreciate art and tea, figured out how to smile politely at charity galas, and kept her parents happy. Everyone assumed I was desperate to pass their three-year trial, clawing to stay in this golden cage. Their looks were filled with mockery, condescension, and pity. I didn’t care. I believed that if I did everything right, just like I had my whole life, I would earn their approval and save Meredith from being caught in the middle. But I never expected Meredith to think the same way. About a year ago, the way she looked at me changed. Her gaze grew heavy, weighed down by a complex, conflicting suspicion. One night, when she was drunk, she stared at me with bloodshot eyes and asked, “Ian, did you only agree to be with me in the hospital because you found out who my family was?” I told her no, I hadn’t known then. She let out a self-deprecating laugh and dropped the subject. But after that night, she drifted further and further away. She began staying out, accompanied by a rotating door of male “friends,” all of whom she dismissed as just pals. I was miserable. I asked her, tears in my eyes, if she had stopped loving me. She only looked at me with cold irony. “And you, Ian? Do you love me?” Her male companions changed constantly, none lasting more than a month. Until Zack arrived. He was her assistant, but after getting into a massive argument with one of her male friends, he quit in a fit of rage—only for Meredith to offer him a massive raise to bring him back. Since then, Zack was the only one who remained by her side. Laughter echoed from the bathroom again. Whatever Zack said, it had Meredith laughing out loud. I closed my eyes. It’s okay, Ian, I whispered to myself. It will all be over soon. When I woke the next morning, Meredith was already gone. My phone buzzed with a transaction alert. Meredith had sent me $50,000. The memo read: Household expenses. No matter how cold she grew, her monthly transfers were never late. She was always incredibly generous with money. I tapped accept. The butler informed me she had left early for a five-day business trip. I let out a long, slow breath. The sheer relief that washed over me was so sudden it felt almost absurd. Yesterday, the dealership had called to let me know the paperwork for my car was complete. By the time she returned in five days, I would already be driving toward that quiet, rainy town on the Oregon coast. We didn’t need a formal goodbye. This was better. That night, the old burn scar on my right leg began to ache, a dull throb brought on by the damp weather. I crept downstairs in the dark to grab an ice pack from the kitchen. The house was dead silent; everyone had gone to sleep. I switched on a single floor lamp in the living room, sat on the sofa, and rolled up my pajama pant leg, slowly pressing the ice pack against the aching skin. A sudden rustle behind me made me jump, and the ice pack slipped from my grip, rolling onto the floor. Standing in the dim entryway was a tall, elegant silhouette. “It’s just me,” a calm, even voice murmured. I blinked. It was Victoria Harrington, Meredith’s older half-sister. Victoria’s late mother had been the sole heiress to an even wealthier dynasty. Today, Victoria’s personal assets dwarfed the entire Harrington Group several times over. Her father was terrified of her. He often complained to me that Victoria lived abroad permanently, expressing paranoid fears about why she had started returning to the country so frequently over the past year, convinced she was planning to usurp Meredith’s inheritance. Right now, Victoria was holding a small leather duffel bag. She had clearly just arrived from the airport. She walked over with measured, quiet steps, bent down, picked up the ice pack, and handed it to me. Her eyes swept briefly over my bare leg. I pulled my pant leg down, stood up, and asked politely, “Welcome home, Victoria. Should I wake the butler?” “No need,” she replied softly. I had always kept my distance from Meredith’s formidable older sister. When the family opposed our marriage, she had been part of that front. I would never forget standing nervously in her grand, imposing study years ago. She had sat in a high-backed leather chair, looking at me as if I were a piece of cheap furniture. “I’ve seen plenty of men like you,” she had said, her voice freezing. “Meredith has been spoiled her whole life; the more we object, the harder she’ll cling to you. I hope you know what you’re doing, because the consequences are not something you can handle.” The air conditioning in her office had been blasting that day. I was so cold my entire body shook, and it took everything I had to keep my hands from trembling. Since then, I avoided her whenever possible. We had barely spoken more than a handful of words, save for two unusual encounters. The first was when I first moved into the estate. I used to go to the back garden every morning to pick fresh flowers for Mr. Harrington. It was the only place where no one bothered me, the only time I could breathe and be myself. Only much later did I learn that the window overlooking that quiet corner belonged to Victoria’s private suite. She had been recovering from a minor leg injury at the time, spending her days in that room. The second was a year ago, when Meredith took me on a trip to England and we stopped by her sister’s estate. Victoria lived in a historic castle with a small army of staff—a world entirely alien to me. One night, Meredith and I had too much to drink and ended up stumbling into the wrong wing of the castle. After a messy, passionate hour, I stepped out onto the balcony to catch my breath, only to find Victoria sitting quietly in the dark of the adjoining balcony, sipping whiskey. I had turned red, slipped back inside, and pretended I hadn’t seen her. Now, in the semi-darkness of the Harrington mansion, Victoria stood silent. I didn’t know what she wanted. But since neither she nor Meredith would be part of my future anymore, I felt the weight of my usual caution slip away. “Goodnight,” I said simply. She gave a small nod. “Goodnight.” I turned and walked upstairs without looking back. Three days later, as I was driving through a highway toll booth, my phone buzzed with a text from Meredith. I’ll be back tomorrow at noon. Pick me up at the airport. We’ll go register the marriage in the afternoon. A second later, another text arrived, dripping with sarcasm. Your dream is finally coming true, Ian. Are you happy? I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and pressed down on the gas pedal. The open highway stretched out before me, the asphalt gleaming under the bright afternoon sun. The Harrington estate, the family, the rules… I was leaving it all behind. I was incredibly happy.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “521161”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After we finished eating, I went up to the register to pay, just like I always did. The cellular signal inside the restaurant was terrible, which delayed the transaction for a few minutes. By the time the payment finally went through and I turned around, my girlfriend and my best friend were nowhere to be found. I called her a dozen times before she finally picked up. “You were taking forever, so we headed out,” she said, her voice breezy and unbothered. “We’re down at the Perler bead craft shop on the first floor. Hurry up and get down here.” It was Memorial Day weekend, and the mall was packed to the gills. I waited through two rounds of elevators, but they were both completely jammed with families and teenagers. Frustrated and feeling a low throb of anxiety in my chest, I gave up and headed for the escalators instead. When I finally reached the shop, there wasn’t a single open seat left. My girlfriend, Nina, and my best friend, Tyler, were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at a small crafting table. They were deep in conversation, mapping out their next ten years—from heading to Columbia University together in September, to their grad school plans, all the way to their PhDs. It was a grand, sweeping blueprint for a future that I had absolutely no place in. Back in May, they had both received early admission letters with full academic scholarships. Meanwhile, I had completely tanked my SATs, and I was currently trying to figure out how to navigate a gap year just to catch up to them. As I stood frozen by the doorway, Nina glanced up and let out a soft, irritated sigh. “You’re always so slow,” she said, not even looking up from her colorful plastic beads. “Just wait outside for a bit.” I stared at their backs. A sudden, heavy wave of physical and emotional exhaustion washed over me. Nina, this time, I don’t think I want to keep chasing after you anymore. … Once I got home, I did what I always did: I took a photo of the receipt—it came out to $145—and posted it to our three-person group chat. Nina’s profile picture popped up almost instantly. [@Luther, let me cover this one. Don’t worry about Venmoing me.] [Your family’s budget is tight right now. Save your money for the fall.] Tyler wouldn’t have it. He insisted on paying his share. The two of them started bickering back and forth in the chat, exchanging quick, witty paragraphs. From beginning to end, neither of them asked where I had gone. Or why they hadn’t waited for me at the restaurant. Ten minutes later, Nina sent me a direct message. [Next time, let’s not pick such an expensive place. You know how tight Tyler’s family is on money right now.] I stared at the screen, a bitter taste in my mouth, and typed back: [He was the one who chose the restaurant.] At the time, I had even subtly hinted that the trendy spot was overpriced, suggesting we go somewhere else. Nina had just wrapped her arm through mine, laughing off my concern in front of him. ‘Look at you, barely scraping a 500 on your math SAT, but suddenly you’re an accountant when it comes to the bill.’ It took her a few seconds to reply to my text. [But you’re always the one who eats the most anyway.] Then, as if realizing she’d crossed a line, another message quickly followed. [Don’t be so sensitive. He has a lot of pride. Just try to be a little more considerate of his feelings.] But splitting the bill had been Tyler’s idea in the first place. I stared at the screen for a long time, the blue light reflecting in the dimness of my bedroom. Every time the three of us hung out, they would drift into conversations about advanced calculus, European history, or deep philosophical questions about the meaning of life. I was always left in the dust, with nothing to do but stuff my face to keep myself occupied. She noticed how much I ate, but she never noticed the sheer embarrassment and alienation that drove me to do it. I stared until my eyes burned, then finally tapped out a reply: [Got it.] Ten minutes later, Tyler posted a photo of the food on his Instagram feed. He also included a screenshot of Nina’s message telling him she’d cover the bill. ‘Shoutout to a certain someone for the free five-star meal today,’ his caption read. Nina liked the post within seconds. At around five that evening, Nina knocked on my door. Her eyes swept over my tense expression, and she let out a soft sigh, playfully nudging my arm. “You’re the one who pulled a vanishing act at the mall, and now you’re giving me the silent treatment?” I wanted to pull away from her touch, but my body instinctively leaned into her warmth out of sheer habit. Loving Nina had been the bravest thing I’d ever done, even if none of our classmates thought we made sense together. Her family lived in the apartment directly above mine. She was brilliant. From elementary school through high school, she was always top of the class—the golden child everyone’s parents compared them to. I was the cautionary tale. Honestly, if Tyler hadn’t tutored me before high school, I probably wouldn’t have even made it into the same school district as her. My throat felt tight. “What’s up?” “Here, this is for you.” Nina slipped a Perler bead keychain of Snoopy into my hand. “I made it with that glitter finish you like.” I didn’t take it. My gaze fell on her phone, where a pink Sailor Moon Perler bead keychain was dangling from her case. For her last birthday, I had spent a week meticulously crafting a cute, customized mini-portrait of the two of us for her key ring. She had laughed, called it childish, and tossed it into a drawer. I had never seen it since. Noticing where I was looking, Nina waved her phone in the air with a grin. “Tyler made this for me as a thank-you for lunch. It’s actually pretty cute, right?” She pressed the Snoopy keychain into my palm. “Anyway, I gotta run. Tyler sent me another brain-teaser today, and I am not letting him beat me.” I reached out, wanting to pull her back, to finally say the words—we need to break up. But my hand caught only empty air. Nina was already halfway down the stairs. The echo of her voice floated back up as she answered a call from Tyler. “Deal! If you lose, you have to do ten princess-carry squats with me!” I stood frozen in the hallway, the silence pressing in around me like a physical weight. When my mom came home a little later and asked if I was okay, I opened my mouth, but it took a long, painful moment for my voice to work. “Mom,” I whispered, “I don’t want to take a gap year to reapply anymore.” Mom pulled me into the living room, her eyes wide with concern. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Just a few days ago, you were swearing up and down that you’d do whatever it took to follow Nina to New York.” I hung my head, fighting desperately to keep the tears from spilling over, but a choked sob escaped my throat anyway. “I’m just so tired, Mom. I don’t want to chase her anymore.” Ever since high school started, I had lived like a spinning top constantly whipped into motion. I knew Nina’s heart was set on Columbia. It was a goal she could reach without even trying. I hadn’t been greedy; I just wanted to be in the same city as her. But to make that tiny dream a reality, I had to work a thousand times harder than everyone else. If my brain couldn’t retain the information, I wrote it down. If ten times wasn’t enough, I wrote it a hundred times. I lost fifteen pounds during senior year alone. But when my practice scores came back, my world shattered anyway. I had cried hysterically, mourning the long-distance relationship that felt inevitable. Nina had only smiled, wrapping her arm around mine as if I were being dramatic. “Why are you crying? You just didn’t prepare the right way. Honestly, Luther, you need to study like Tyler. Just memorizing things blindly doesn’t work.” Once I let go of the idea of reapplying, I started looking into standard admission offers from other colleges. For the first time in months, I slept without an overwhelming tightness in my chest. The next morning, I woke up early for my summer job at the local boba shop. Tyler was already there when I arrived. During our lunch break, he slid over to me, holding his phone out. “Yo, Luther, you gotta go like my Instagram story right now. Nina is insane.” I opened my phone with numb fingers. It was a ten-second video. Tyler was holding Nina in a princess carry, doing squats. In the sticky heat of summer, he was in a tank top, and she was in a short denim skirt. Every moment of physical contact felt suffocatingly intimate through the screen. I silently tapped the heart icon to like it, then went back to picking at my lunch. Tyler let out a dry laugh. “Not even mad?” I looked up at him, feeling a strange, new detachment. “Do you want me to be?” His shoulders dropped, and he scratched his head before grinning into his phone on speaker. “See, Nina? You lost again!” Nina’s voice drifted through the speaker, crisp and amused. “Wow, look at him. He’s finally stopped being so incredibly possessive and dramatic. Maybe there’s hope for his gap year after all.” The two of them immediately started arguing over what the next forfeit should be. I gripped my chopsticks, a heavy, suffocating pressure settling over my chest. They used to make bets over practice exams all the time in high school to keep things interesting. Back then, the punishments were silly things—like yelling “I’m an idiot” in the school hallway. But now, it felt like my reactions had become their favorite game. I stood up, dumped the rest of my lunch into the trash, and pulled out my phone. I texted Nina: [Let’s break up.] Within seconds, her name flashed on my screen. I didn’t answer, simply flipping the switch to silent. A moment later, Tyler’s phone rang. This time, he didn’t put it on speaker. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pop in his AirPods, and they talked for a long time. It was just like our group hangouts—they always had an endless stream of things to say to each other. It wasn’t until our shift ended that Tyler crept over, looking apologetic. “Hey, that video was just a stupid filter app prank. Seriously, if you don’t believe me, I can show you the chat logs.” I glanced down at my phone. I had exactly one missed call from Nina. Meanwhile, Tyler had been on the phone with her almost the entire afternoon without hanging up once. I looked at him. “Do you honestly think the filter is the problem here, Tyler?” Even if it was just some silly app, was I not allowed to expect my girlfriend to respect my boundaries? Or did my feelings simply carry zero weight in their world? “Oh, come on. Why are you explaining yourself to him? It’s not the first time he’s thrown a tantrum like a spoiled child.” Nina suddenly appeared at the shop entrance. She clearly thought my breakup text was just me acting out for attention. With a cold expression, she grabbed Tyler’s arm and pulled him out. The passenger seat of the moped—a spot that had always belonged exclusively to me—was occupied by someone else today. I quietly finished handing over my shift to my coworker. Then, I asked the manager to transfer me to the closing shifts. Even though we lived right on top of each other, Nina and I might as well have lived in parallel universes. I didn’t bump into her in our building once. I figured she was giving me the silent treatment to teach me a lesson, but this time, I didn’t crawl back to ask what I’d done wrong. When my final transcript and placement results came in, I quietly submitted my applications to state schools down South. One afternoon, Tyler tagged me in our group chat. [@Luther, I spent the last week compiling my old AP prep and study guides for you. Can I drop them off tomorrow?] I typed out my reply: [No need, I won’t be using them.] Nina instantly popped up. [Luther, do you even have a heart?] [Tyler worked his closing shifts and stayed up all night putting those guides together for you. He worked himself to the bone, and you won’t even look at them?] [Do you honestly think the entire world revolves around you?] We hadn’t spoken in nearly two weeks, and when we finally did, it was nothing but accusations. Tyler tried to play the peacemaker. [Nina, don’t talk to Luther like that.] I was about to type out that I wasn’t taking a gap year after all, but before I could press send, a notification popped up: Nina has removed you from the group chat. I stared at the screen for a second, then calmly deleted the conversation thread entirely. When the afternoon shift change came around, Tyler caught me by the arm, searching my face. “Luther, are you still mad?” he asked quietly. “I deleted that Instagram post days ago. I swear we won’t play pranks like that anymore, okay?” I looked at the guy who had been my best friend for over a decade, and a sudden wave of alienation hit me. When had he and Nina become this inseparable “we”? I was the one who had introduced them in the first place. I pulled my arm back, suddenly uncomfortable with his touch. “Is there anything else? I need to get back to work.” His face fell. “Tyler!” Nina called out, pulling her moped up to the curb outside. She didn’t even look at me; her eyes were as cold as ice. Tyler gathered his things, then paused, trying to explain. “Luther, don’t get the wrong idea. We’re just going to visit our old guidance counselor to thank her. We planned this a while ago.” There it was again. We. I let out a dry, humorless laugh but didn’t say a word. The shop was exceptionally busy that day. By the time my shift ended at ten, my legs were shaking from exhaustion. After counting the inventory and sweeping up with my coworker, I walked out to an empty, quiet street. For some reason, after I got off the bus, a cold shiver ran down my spine. I gripped the straps of my backpack tightly, my pace quickening. Just as I was about to turn the corner into my apartment complex, a dark figure lunged from the shadows, covering my mouth and nose, dragging me into a dark alleyway. In the depths of my panic, a loud, piercing police siren suddenly cut through the night. The heavy grip on me loosened instantly. Without looking back, I scrambled to my feet and ran toward the streetlights. My heart was still hammering against my ribs by the time I slammed my apartment door shut. Before I could even catch my breath, a furious pounding rattled the door. Nina was standing on the threshold, her eyes blazing with anger. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the hallway. I stumbled, nearly tripping down the concrete stairs, but her voice cut through the air like ice water, freezing me in my tracks. “Luther! How could you just run off and leave Tyler behind like that?” she screamed. “Do you have any idea he got hurt trying to save you?” By the time she dragged me to the hospital, Tyler was still in the ER. I stared blankly at his mother, who was sobbing hysterically, a dark dread settling deep in my stomach. “Are you happy now, Luther?” Nina spat. I was entirely lost. “What are you talking about?” She let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “If you hadn’t thrown a tantrum and switched to the night shift, Tyler wouldn’t have been waiting outside to make sure you got home safe. And he wouldn’t have been cornered by that mugger trying to protect you!” My mind spun. The siren I had heard—it hadn’t been a police car. It had been Tyler, playing a siren sound effect on his phone to scare the attacker away. The mugger had let me go only because he spotted Tyler in the shadows and turned on him instead. Guilt and horror washed over me, heavy enough to drown me. I lowered my head, my eyes burning. “I didn’t know…” I whispered. I had genuinely thought a real patrol car had happened to pass by. Nina scoffed, her voice dripping with contempt. “You didn’t know? Of course you didn’t, Luther. Because you’re too busy throwing tantrums, expecting everyone to coddle you and bend to your every whim!” I went completely pale, my hands trembling uncontrollably. I stopped hearing her words. My mind could only hold one thought: Please, let Tyler be okay. Thankfully, thirty minutes later, the doctor stepped out of the ER. “The patient is going to be fine. He has about a dozen stitches in his arm, but with some rest, he’ll make a full recovery.” Nina’s posture slumped with relief. Perhaps realizing she had crossed a line in her panic, her tone softened when she turned back to me. “Just… don’t be so reckless next time, okay?” She reached out, trying to wrap her arms around my shaking shoulders. But I instinctively stepped back, avoiding her touch. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice quiet but steady. “We’re broken up. Please don’t touch me.” Without waiting for a response, I pushed past her to go see Tyler. Nina’s hand remained frozen in mid-air. She let out a sharp, angry laugh behind me. “Fine, Luther! Don’t you dare come crawling back to me when you realize what you threw away.” Over the next few days, both Tyler and I quit our jobs at the boba shop. The police came by several times to take our statements. But as the days passed, rumors began to spread through our small neighborhood. Every time I stepped outside, the neighbors would stare and whisper. “Imagine doing something like that. How does he even look at himself in the mirror?” “I heard he did it on purpose—set his own best friend up just because he was jealous. Why else would he suddenly switch to closing shifts?” “Doesn’t matter if it was voluntary or not. The boy’s character is rotten. No decent girl is ever going to want him.” Every single whisper stung. One afternoon, my patience snapped. I balled my hands into fists and yelled at a group of gossiping neighbors, “Do you have any idea that spreading lies like this is defamation?” They exchanged uneasy glances and fell silent. But in the quiet that followed, one older woman muttered under her breath, “Who’s lying? Your best friend is the one who told the local paper!” I froze, the breath knocked out of me. It took me several seconds to process her words before I spun on my heel and ran straight to the hospital. I marched into Tyler’s room. “Why would you say that about me?” I demanded, my voice trembling with betrayal. “You know damn well I had no idea what was happening that night!” Tyler’s eyes darted away, avoiding mine. He reached out to grab my hand. “Luther, I’m so sorry. I was just so scared when the reporter asked…” Before he could finish, Nina stepped into the room, placing herself firmly between us. “It’s not even a big deal, Luther. Why are you overreacting?” she said defensively. “If we didn’t give them that narrative, the town would have started whispering about Tyler being involved in something shady.” A cold, sharp pain pierced my chest. “And what about me?” I whispered. “My reputation? My life? Does none of that matter to you?” Nina’s expression hardened. “If it weren’t for you, Tyler wouldn’t have been in that alleyway in the first place. He saved your life. Is taking a little heat for him really too much to ask? Why can’t you just grow up and be a little more mature for once?” I stared at her, completely numb. A hollow laugh escaped my lips. What was I even hoping for? Did I really expect her to protect me over Tyler? Without saying another word, I turned and walked out. To shield me from the neighborhood gossip, my mother sent me to stay with my aunt in the next town over for the rest of the summer. Nina sent me countless messages over those weeks. [Luther, the police caught the mugger, and the rumors have cleared up.] [Summer is almost over. Do you want to meet up? I don’t want you crying because you didn’t get to say goodbye before I leave for New York.] I didn’t reply to a single one. On the morning of college move-in day, Nina stood outside my apartment door, her suitcases packed. Months ago, she had promised she would accompany me to register for my gap-year prep classes before heading to the train station. But no matter how hard she knocked, the apartment remained silent. Finally, our neighbor popped her head out. “Stop knocking, honey. They left for the station early this morning.” Nina blinked, confused. “The station? But Luther is taking his gap year. Registration doesn’t start until next week.” “Oh, he changed his mind,” the neighbor shrugged. “He decided not to take a gap year. He got into a university down South and left today.” Nina’s face went completely pale.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “521160”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On our fifth anniversary, my boyfriend Carter stood me up at the last minute, claiming there was a critical security breach at his tech company. Seeing my disappointment, my best friend, Harper, and my younger sister, Lily, immediately offered to take me to the amusement park. All day long, they were overly attentive. They bought me cotton candy, stood in endless lines for the rollercoasters, and cracked jokes. I thought they were just trying to cheer me up. That was until I went to buy water and overheard them whispering in a quiet corner behind the vending machines. Harper lowered her voice. “Carter literally ditched their five-year anniversary just to take Chloe to see the Northern Lights.” Lily brushed it off. “So what? He’s just helping his first love fulfill a bucket-list dream. He’s still going to come back and marry my sister anyway.” Harper chuckled softly. “We just need to keep her distracted until tonight so she doesn’t check his location.” Standing behind the vending machine, I felt a wave of absolute irony wash over me. The comfort I thought I was receiving was nothing but a coordinated cover-up. The people I trusted most in this world had teamed up to protect Carter’s lie. I tossed my unopened water bottle into the trash, turned around, and walked out of the park. I sent Carter one final text: “Watch the Northern Lights with her. You can give the rest of your life to her, too.” Then, I blocked his number and exited every group chat I shared with Harper and Lily. If my closest people were going to put on a show and make me the only fool left in the dark, I was done playing along. 1 Less than ten minutes after I left the park, Lily chased me down the sidewalk. She grabbed my wrist. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt in her voice—only annoyance. “Maya, why did you just walk off? Harper spent an hour in line to get us VIP tickets for the fireworks show.” Harper hurried over, hastily shoving her phone into her purse. “We were just chatting, Maya. Why do you always listen to half a conversation and jump to conclusions?” I looked at them. “So what’s the other half?” Lily choked for a second, then frowned. “Chloe has had severe PTSD ever since she got caught in that avalanche in Aspen two years ago. Her therapist said returning to a snowy environment to see the auroras would help her trauma. What’s the big deal if Carter goes with her?” “So there was no security breach at the company.” “Carter just didn’t want you to overthink it!” Harper softened her tone. “Maya, he’s planning to propose as soon as he gets back. Why are you making things so ugly over a tiny misunderstanding after five years together?” I suddenly laughed. They had meticulously planned my entire day—when I would eat, when I would watch the fireworks—just to keep me in the dark. The only thing they didn’t calculate was that I’d hear the truth early. My phone vibrated in my palm. Carter was calling from an unknown number. I answered. His first sentence was: “Take me off your blocked list.” I could hear the howling wind in the background. And then, Chloe’s voice. “Carter, hurry! The sky is lighting up!” Carter covered the receiver. His voice was muffled for a second, and when he returned, his tone was as calm as ever. “The security breach was real. I just handled it and decided to accompany her on this trip since it was on the way.” “On the way? From Silicon Valley to Iceland?” Silence stretched across the line. “Maya, don’t fixate on one sentence.” “I’m not fixating on anything. I’m letting it go.” “I saw the text you sent.” His tone grew colder. “You can be disappointed, and you can be angry. But don’t test me with threats of a breakup.” Harper immediately leaned in to advise me. “Maya, let him finish Chloe’s therapy trip. You guys can talk it out when he gets back.” Lily chimed in, “If Carter actually liked Chloe, do you really think you would’ve lasted five years?” That sentence pierced my eardrums like a needle. Carter must have heard it, because his tone softened slightly. “I’ll be back in three days. The launch event for Project Aurora is on that exact day. Make sure the final presentation deck is ready.” Project Aurora was a risk-prediction AI software I had spent four years developing. During the hardest months, I slept under my desk at the office for ninety days straight. Carter had once placed an Aurora snow globe on my desk, promising that when the system officially launched, he would take me to see the real Northern Lights. Now, the system was about to launch, and he was watching them with someone else. “Carter, we are broken up.” He let out a low sigh. “You’re just emotional right now. Maya, don’t make me come back and clean up your temper tantrums.” The call ended. Lily rubbed her nose and reached out to link her arm through mine. “See? Carter explained everything. Let’s go, the fireworks are about to start.” I sidestepped her touch and hailed a cab home alone. In the entryway of my apartment sat the designer bridal heels Carter had sent me two months ago. Tucked beneath the shoebox was a travel brochure for Iceland. I used to think it was a hint about his proposal. Now I realized it was just a page that had slipped out of Chloe’s itinerary. In the study, the iMac was still on. Carter’s corporate email was logged in. A flight confirmation sat right in the center of the screen. The tickets were booked half a month ago. The hotel was a luxury glass-igloo suite. The guests listed: Carter Hayes and Chloe Sinclair. The so-called “sudden security breach” was a premeditated lie crafted specifically for me. I was about to close the window when a new email popped up. The sender was Harper Davis. Subject: [Crisis PR Protocol Regarding Maya Evans’ Potential Exit from Project Aurora] Sent: Three days ago. I clicked the attachment. The first line read: If Maya discovers the Iceland trip, her sister Lily will handle emotional pacification, while Harper will manage delay tactics. And on the final page, Carter had personally replied with two words: [Approved. Proceed.] The next morning, Carter’s assistant dropped off a necklace at my apartment. He placed the velvet box on my coffee table and smiled. “Mr. Hayes said this is your anniversary gift. He hopes you aren’t mad anymore and that you’ll be at the press conference rehearsal this afternoon on time.” The pendant was a silver snowflake. It was identical to the one he had given me for my birthday three years ago. I flipped the box over and saw the duty-free receipt tucked inside. Location: Keflavík Airport, Iceland. Quantity: 2. I pushed the box back across the table. “Please thank Mr. Hayes for me, but tell him to save this for someone more suitable.” The assistant looked awkward. “Ms. Evans, Mr. Hayes also mentioned that Project Aurora is at a critical stage. He highly recommends that you don’t bring personal feelings into your professional work.” I looked up at him. “Pass along a message for me too. Tell him not to use someone else’s blood, sweat, and tears to impress his first love.” That afternoon, I went to the corporate office. A massive promotional poster stood outside the auditorium. Carter’s name was at the top. Chloe was standing right beside him, labeled as the “Creative Visionary” of Project Aurora. My name was completely gone. Harper was directing the staff to arrange the seating cards. When she saw me, she immediately pulled me aside. “Why are you here so early?” “If I wasn’t early, how would I know someone else had taken my seat?” She lowered her voice. “It’s just a marketing strategy. Chloe is an avalanche survivor. The media will eat up a narrative about trauma and tech saving lives.” “So you erased my name.” “Carter said true innovators don’t need to bicker over vanity credits.” I stared at the woman I had called my best friend for twelve years. When her previous company wrongfully terminated her, I brought her to Hayes Tech and practically begged Carter to give her the PR Director role. When she got her first bonus, she hugged me, crying, swearing she would never betray me in this lifetime. Now, she was using the crisis management tactics I taught her to manage me. The giant screen on stage lit up. Carter joined the video conference from Iceland. He was wearing a black windbreaker. Behind him was a snow-covered wooden cabin. Chloe sat by the fireplace, bundled in his scarf. “Let’s start the rehearsal,” Carter said. I stepped in front of the camera. “Who approved the promotional poster?” Seeing me, Carter furrowed his brows. “Chloe’s story brings more media value. After the launch, I’ll send out an internal memo acknowledging your contributions.” “I don’t want an internal memo.” Chloe stood up from the sofa and interjected with her soft, delicate voice. “Maya, please don’t blame Carter. I just thought the name ‘Aurora’ sounded so warm, so I agreed to help him promote it.” She reached up to adjust her scarf, revealing a braided string bracelet on her wrist. It was the bracelet I had woven for Carter. Tucked inside the knot was an old, burnt-out microchip—the processor that fried during Project Aurora’s very first successful run. Carter used to say it was the ultimate proof of how hard we had fought together. I asked, “Who gave you the bracelet on your wrist?” Chloe instinctively looked at Carter. Carter said flatly, “It’s just an old piece of string. She liked it, so I let her have it.” “That was mine.” “Maya.” He emphasized his tone. “Don’t make a scene in front of the employees. You’re embarrassing yourself.” The staff below the stage were already whispering. Lily had slipped into the room at some point. She stood in the front row, waving at me. “Maya, just come down! Chloe is just borrowing it. You don’t need to be so petty over a piece of string.” I didn’t move. “The core module of Project Aurora belongs to me. As of today, I am revoking my authorization.” The auditorium plunged into dead silence. Carter’s eyes darkened. “All your development was done at Hayes Tech. The intellectual property belongs to the company.” “The initial build was coded before I joined Hayes Tech. I hold the original source code and the copyright registration under my own name.” Harper’s face paled. Lily rushed onto the stage and grabbed my arm. “Maya, are you crazy? The company invested hundreds of millions into this project! Are you threatening to pull the plug just to force Carter to come back and coax you?” I pulled my arm free. “I am simply taking back what is mine.” Carter stared at me through the screen for a moment, then suddenly chuckled. “You won’t do it.” “Excuse me?” “You stayed up for four years building this. Aurora is like your child. You would never actually destroy it.” He was so certain. Certain that I couldn’t let go of the project, and certain I couldn’t let go of him. “Continue the rehearsal,” Carter ordered his assistant. “Suspend Maya’s backend access for now. Restore it when she calms down.” The screen went black. Security guards walked up to me and politely escorted me out of the hall. Right before the elevator doors closed, I saw two staff members carrying cardboard boxes out of the R&D department. Inside the boxes were my original handwritten calculation notes. Slapped on the top box was an international shipping label. Destination: The glass-igloo hotel in Iceland. I intercepted the boxes. The assistant blocked my way. “Ms. Evans, these are Mr. Hayes’s orders.” “Those notes are my personal property.” “Mr. Hayes said Ms. Sinclair needs to recount the development story during the press conference. She needs to familiarize herself with the process.” I ripped the shipping label off and pulled the box into my arms. “If she wants to tell a story, she can tell her own.” The assistant tried to stop me, but Lily rushed out of the elevator and aggressively snatched the box from my grip. “Maya, stop causing trouble!” She yanked it so hard that the bottom of the cardboard box gave out. Hundreds of pages of handwritten notes spilled across the floor. A passing employee bumped into us, spilling a full cup of coffee. The hot brown liquid soaked straight into the oldest stack of calculation sheets. I dropped to my knees to gather them. The edges of the paper were sticking together. When I touched them, they tore. Those were the last sets of data my father helped me run before he died. He didn’t understand programming, so he had put on his reading glasses and verified the numbers for me, line by line. Seeing the handwriting on the soaked pages, Lily’s expression froze. “It’s just a bunch of scrap paper. It’s all backed up on the computer anyway.” I looked up at her. “This is Dad’s handwriting.” Her lips parted, but she quickly looked away. “If Dad were still here, he wouldn’t want to see you destroy Carter’s company either.” Harper crouched down to help me pick up the papers, whispering, “Maya, once Aurora launches successfully, Carter will give you a five-percent profit share. Just cooperate now, and everyone wins.” “You guys knew he was going to give the visionary credit to Chloe all along, didn’t you?” Her hands stopped moving. I asked again, “The trip to Iceland, the project… what else don’t I know?” Lily answered impatiently, “Carter just owes Chloe some closure! They only broke up back then because she went on that mountain expedition in Aspen for him and got caught in the avalanche.” “And?” “And so, Project Aurora was always built for her.” Lily stared at me. “You were just the tool he used to make it a reality.” Four years of development. Over seven hundred days and nights. In my sister’s mouth, I was reduced to a mere tool. I gathered the unsoaked pages, stood up, and turned to leave. Carter video-called the assistant’s phone. “Put her on.” The assistant handed me the phone. It was late at night where Carter was. Chloe had fallen asleep, resting her head on his shoulder. He didn’t push her away. He just lowered his voice and said, “Chloe has an interview tomorrow morning. Give her the notes.” “No.” “Maya, stop being immature.” “Carter, do you have any idea that my dead father’s handwriting is on those pages?” He went silent for a moment. “I’ll hire a restoration expert to fix them.” “Some things can’t be fixed.” “Then rewrite them,” he said, his tone laced with exhaustion. “You’re a professional engineer. You don’t need to make things difficult for a recovering patient over a few pieces of old paper.” Harper leaned into the frame. “Mr. Hayes, the media already knows Chloe is the visionary. If we don’t send the notes, she’ll be exposed during the interview.” Hearing that, Carter gave the final order. “Take the notes from her.” The assistant stepped forward. As I stepped back, my back hit the wall, and the papers slipped from my grasp again. Lily seized the opportunity to grab the box, while Harper stood firmly in front of me, blocking my path. Harper whispered, “Once the launch is over, I promise I’ll personally get them back for you.” “What makes you think you have any right to promise me anything?” Harper avoided my eyes. On the phone, Carter finalized everything, as he always did. “Once the project wraps up, I’ll go stay with you at your family estate for a few days, and we’ll restore your dad’s study to exactly how it was.” “What happened to the family estate?” The hallway suddenly fell dead silent. Lily’s face turned ashen. I stared at her. “What did you do to the house?” “The company had a cash flow problem last year. Carter used the house as collateral for a loan,” her voice shrank to a whisper. “It was just a temporary fix.” That house was the only inheritance our father left us. Lily and I owned the deed 50/50. My signature was never on any mortgage documents. “Who signed my name?” Lily gripped the cardboard box tightly. “Maya, Carter promised to buy me a new condo. I just thought… the old house was sitting empty anyway.” “I asked you, who signed my name?” She looked up, her eyes red. “I forged your signature. But Carter said as soon as Aurora launches, the loan will be paid off immediately!” Carter didn’t deny it. He remained entirely calm. “Maya, I will explain everything when I get back. Just sign the IP authorization transfer for now. If you don’t, the bank will recall the loan early, and we’ll lose the estate.” The assistant opportunistically handed me a legal document. A “Sign Here” sticky tab was already placed on the final page. I looked at my sister. I looked at my best friend. And I looked at the screen—at the man who once promised he would protect everything I held dear. Then, I took the pen. Carter’s brows finally relaxed. But what he didn’t see was that in the “Authorization Duration” box, I didn’t write Permanent. I wrote 72 Hours. Carter didn’t contact me the day he returned to the US. Paparazzi photos of them at the airport hit trending news first. In the photos, he was pushing Chloe’s luggage with one hand, while his other hand rested protectively on the small of her back. They were wearing matching red string bracelets on their wrists. The headline read: [A Promise Under the Auroras, Ten Years in the Making.] Harper called me, demanding I rush to the office. “The media dug up your relationship with Carter. They’re calling Chloe a homewrecker. You have to step up and explain.” “Explain what?” “Just say you guys had an amicable breakup a long time ago and that the Iceland trip had nothing to do with you.” I hung up the phone. Half an hour later, Lily showed up at my apartment with two security guards. “Maya, Carter is waiting for you at the family estate. The bank representatives are there too. If you don’t sign the permanent authorization today, the house is getting foreclosed.” I went with her. The gates to our childhood home were wide open. The dogwood tree my father had planted in the yard had been dug up by construction workers and tossed against the wall. The vintage furniture in the living room had been completely cleared out. Chloe was standing in the center of the room, holding a blueprint roll, smiling as she discussed it with Carter. “Let’s turn the study into a nursery. It’ll be perfect for when we get married and have kids.” I stopped in the doorway. Carter followed her gaze, saw me, and stiffened slightly. “She’s just brainstorming.” “This is my house.” The smile faded from Chloe’s face. Lily rushed to explain. “Maya, Carter bought out my half of the deed! Once you marry him, this will still be your home! Chloe is just helping him design the renovations!” I walked over to the uprooted dogwood tree and traced the crooked notches carved into the trunk. They were the height measurements my dad used to track for me and Lily. Now, a deep axe wound sat perfectly across the final line my father had ever carved. Carter walked up behind me. “The roots were rotting. It was a safety hazard. I’ll have them plant a new one.” “Where are my handwritten notes?” He retrieved a box from his car. The top few pages had already been cut out and placed into a PR scrapbook for Chloe. Next to my father’s handwriting was Chloe’s forged signature. “The media needed physical props,” Carter said. “I’ll give them back after the launch.” I pulled those specific pages out of the scrapbook. Chloe reached out to stop me, and her sleeve knocked the Aurora snow globe off the table. The glass hit the tile floor and shattered instantly. Green glitter and water spilled across the ground. When Carter first gave it to me, he recorded a voice message in the base. “When Aurora is successful, we get married.” Now, the base was cracked in half, and the recording glitched on a terrifying loop. “We get… we get… we get…” Chloe turned pale with fright. “I’m so sorry, Maya. I didn’t mean to.” Carter pulled her behind him protectively and quietly instructed his assistant to clean up the mess. I bent down to pick up the broken base. He grabbed my wrist. “There’s glass. Don’t touch it.” “Let go.” “It’s just an old trinket. I’ll buy you a new one.” I stared at him and suddenly asked, “Carter, when you first chased me, was it because of this too?” He didn’t understand. But Chloe’s expression shifted. I pulled an old, wrinkled checklist out of the PR scrapbook. On it was written: See the Northern Lights. Build a risk-prediction software. Get proposed to under a dogwood tree. The signature at the bottom belonged to a teenage Chloe Sinclair, dated ten years ago. Everything Carter and I had ever done together… was just a checklist he was completing for her. Harper hurried into the room. Seeing the list in my hand, she immediately said, “Why hold onto the past? Carter actually did those things with you. Doesn’t that prove you’re the one he chose?” Chloe’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Carter just missed me so much back then. That’s why he found someone with a similar personality to keep him company. But he hasn’t treated you badly, Maya. Don’t force him to admit it.” I looked at Carter. This was the very last chance I would ever give him. “Is what she said true?” Carter didn’t answer. He simply slid a public statement in front of me. “The press conference is about to start. Sign this first.” The statement read that I admitted to never participating in Aurora’s core development and apologized to Chloe for maliciously trying to steal her credit. Beneath that was an Incident Liability Waiver. While in Iceland, Chloe had remotely altered the system’s testing parameters, nearly causing a catastrophic hardware overload for a major corporate partner. They wanted me to take the legal fall for it. Lily whispered, “Maya, Chloe has a medical history. She can’t handle a corporate investigation. You’re a professional; they’ll just suspend you for a few months.” Harper added, “Once the statement is out, the PR nightmare will blow over. You’ve loved Carter for five years. You’re not actually going to watch his company fail its IPO, are you?” Carter handed me a pen. “Maya, sign it. I will immediately pay off the mortgage on the estate. Once all this blows over, we will get married as planned.” I didn’t take the pen. He grabbed my hand and forced the pen into my palm. “Stop being stubborn. You’re not going to leave me.” In that exact moment, I finally stopped hurting. Because when the pain hits its absolute peak, there are no tears left. I signed my name at the bottom of the PR statement. Then, I slid the second document out from under it and handed them both back to him. Carter only glanced at the signature before handing it to his assistant to publish. He didn’t notice that the second document was not the permanent IP release. At the exact second the statement went live, the giant screens at the press conference venue went black. Carter’s phone blared with a piercing, high-level system alarm. The assistant rushed into the living room, his face paper-white. “Mr. Hayes… the Aurora system authorization just expired.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “521159”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Chapter 1 Three years after our divorce, my ex-wife, Olivia Vance, showed up with a bouquet of red roses. She smiled with absolute confidence. “Hey, honey. I kept my word. I’m right on time for us to get back together.” Three years ago, during a game of Truth or Dare, she lost to her childhood best friend, Liam. Liam’s dare was simple, and venomous. “I want to see if you and Liam are really ‘true love’.” “So, you guys get a divorce, and you can’t see each other for three years.” “If he still wants to remarry you after three years, I’ll admit you guys are the real deal.” She and Liam never had any boundaries. Their relationship was a constant, thinly veiled flirtation. We fought about it all the time. I honestly thought she would refuse. Instead, she agreed without hesitation. “Deal! A bet is a bet!” Her friends tried to stop her. “Are you crazy? Divorce isn’t a joke!” But Olivia just looked at me with absolute certainty. “I trust our relationship. My husband only has eyes for me.” “He’ll definitely marry me again!” I didn’t say a word. She had no idea that was the last chance I was ever going to give her. Snapping back to the present, she tried to press the flowers into my chest. I didn’t take them. I took a step back and said calmly, “My wife doesn’t let me accept flowers from other women.” Olivia’s lips curled into a confident, dismissive smirk. “Are you mad?” “Okay, okay, I’m here now, aren’t I?” “Come on, don’t be mad.” Her tone was patronizingly sweet. She genuinely thought I was just throwing a tantrum. She walked toward me, arms outstretched for a hug, just like she used to. I took another step back, my face hardening. “Ms. Vance, please keep your distance.” Her hands froze mid-air, but her eyes remained fixed on my face, soft and indulgent. “Wow, you’re really mad this time.” “Tell me how to make it up to you. I’ll do whatever you want.” She still arrogantly believed that a few sweet words would fix everything, just like the old days. She took another step closer. For every step she took, I retreated one. The look in her eyes only grew more predatory, fueled by the thrill of the chase. “Olivia, three years is a long time. A lot of things change.” She nodded in agreement. “True.” I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall. I had nowhere else to go. She planted both hands on the wall beside my head, trapping me. It was a move she used to pull all the time when we were dating, usually before kissing me under the moonlight. “I heard there’s a kid around you now. Adopted, right? A boy or a girl?” She reached out, gently stroking my cheek. Thinking of that child sent a sharp, agonizing pain through my chest. Three years ago, she was pregnant with our baby. But because she lost a stupid dare to Liam, she actually got an abortion and divorced me. And for three years, she vanished. Not a single text, not a single call. And now she waltzed back into my life, completely convinced I’d just been sitting here, waiting like a good dog for her to take me back! A mocking smile formed on my lips. Before I could speak, Olivia’s phone rang. She pulled it out. The caller ID flashed: My Little Trouble. It was her nickname for Liam. I had seen it a million times. I’d seen her affectionately ruffle his hair, calling him her “little trouble” since they were kids. She never gave a damn about how it made me, her actual husband, feel. She answered immediately. “Olivia, you gotta come… my stomach is killing me, it hurts so bad.” Liam’s voice came through the speaker, thick with fake tears. Olivia’s eyes instantly filled with panic. “Don’t worry, I’m heading back right now.” She hung up. She hastily patted the top of my head, like she was soothing a docile pet. “I have to go check on Liam. I’ll come find you later tonight.” And with that, she ran off. Liam was back to his usual routine, showing off on Instagram. It was basically him flexing their relationship. The photo showed him looking pale and sweaty, resting his head in Olivia’s lap. Olivia was gently rubbing his stomach. The caption read: Since we were kids, she’s always loved me the most. No matter how important her other plans are, or how important other people think they are. Whenever I’m sick, she’s always by my side in a heartbeat. Giving me all her love and care. She really is the best woman in the world!!! I casually double-tapped the photo. It wasn’t just one like. For three years, Liam had posted these little flexes every single day. Three years, 1,095 posts. I had liked every single one of them. He found new ways to show off every day. Like how he didn’t work, so Olivia gave him a platinum Amex card with no limit. How he practically lived in the house Olivia and I used to share. How he used my old things, or threw them away, whenever he felt like it. For three years, he and Olivia had done everything a couple would do. I knew he posted them specifically for me to see. Every “like” I left was a symbol of my absolute contempt and indifference. But Liam? He thought it was jealousy. He thought I was going crazy, desperately trying to stay relevant in their lives. The next time I saw Olivia, she and Liam came into my coffee shop together. They were wearing matching beige outfits. Olivia, who always wore sharp business suits, was in a trendy, casual dress. I used to suggest matching outfits when we were married. She always shot me down, saying she was used to formal wear and didn’t want to change her style. Liam looked around the coffee shop I owned, his eyes full of surprise. Olivia looked at me, confused. “I gave you so much money in the settlement. Why are you working such a tiring job?” When we divorced, I asked for half of our assets. She gave it to me without hesitation. I paused making the espresso and looked at her, my face completely blank. “Because I want to. And it’s none of your business.” Olivia’s expression didn’t change. She still thought I was just acting out because I was mad at her. Liam greeted me with fake politeness. “Hey, Arthur. It’s been three years. How have you been?” “I’ve been great.” Liam looked genuinely surprised by how calm I was. Olivia’s phone rang, and she stepped outside to take it. The second it was just me and Liam, he dropped the act. His polite smile twisted into a smug, arrogant sneer. “Cut the ‘hard to get’ crap. But don’t get your hopes up, either.” He looked down his nose at me, a nasty smirk playing on his lips. “Even if you manage to remarry Olivia this time, so what?!” “Mrs. Vance hates you. I’ve always been the son-in-law she actually wanted.” “Olivia is only remarrying you out of a sense of duty.” “Hell, she even asked for my permission before coming to see you today.” “And you’re going to sign a prenup.” “Oh, by the way, I drafted it myself.” He pulled a thick document from his briefcase and slapped it on the counter in front of me. I glanced down at it with utter disdain. The very first line stated that I would have zero claim to any of the Vance family assets. After the marriage, I was forbidden from calling Olivia’s mother “Mom.” I had to call her “Mrs. Vance.” In public, I wasn’t allowed to claim I was a part of the Vance family. I was to introduce myself merely as the “ex-husband.” The sheer audacity of the document actually made me laugh. I slid the prenup back to him. “If her mother loves you so much, why are you still just the ‘best friend’?” “Three years, and Olivia still treats you like a disposable toy. That’s pretty pathetic.” Liam flushed with anger. He instinctively raised his hand to slap me. Just then, the sound of Olivia’s heels clicking toward us echoed from the entrance. Liam’s face morphed faster than a chameleon. His eyes instantly went red, his voice broke, and he put on a masterful display of aggrieved, selfless martyrdom. “Arthur, I really just want you and Olivia to be happy.” “As her best friend, I just want her to have a good life.” “This prenup is just a formality. Please don’t be mad, okay?” He was just as good an actor as he was three years ago. The second Olivia saw him looking like a kicked puppy, her brain turned to mush. She completely lost any ability to judge the situation objectively. “Liam, what happened?” Olivia immediately pulled him behind her defensively, her eyes filled with concern. Liam shook his head, playing the noble victim. “It’s nothing. It’s my fault. Please don’t be mad at Arthur.” The more he acted like that, the more Olivia was convinced I was bullying him. “Arthur!” She glared at me, her voice cold. “Apologize!” Her tone left no room for argument. It was the same tone she used to command her employees. A cold smile crept onto my face. She frowned, clearly displeased with my reaction. “Liam and I grew up together! He’s like a little brother to me!” “He’s my family! Could you please stop being so hostile to him every time you see him?!” “Just for my sake, be nice to him for once, okay?!” My expression remained unchanged. I had seen this exact performance a hundred times three years ago. I was sick of it. Just as I was about to kick them out, a FaceTime call popped up on my iPad sitting on the counter. The caller ID read: My Baby Boy. When Olivia saw the name, her eyes lit up. Before I could reach it, she slammed her finger on the ‘Accept’ button. I quickly grabbed the iPad. The face of an adorable two-year-old boy appeared on the screen. “Daddy, I miss you!” Hearing him call me “Daddy,” Olivia practically vibrated with excitement. She was absolutely convinced that I had adopted a child because I was still mourning the baby she aborted. I quickly exchanged a few words with my son. Just as Olivia lunged to grab the iPad to talk to him, I ended the call. “I want to see my son!” She was grinning from ear to ear, all her previous anger completely forgotten, as if nothing had happened. Liam’s face darkened instantly. “He is not your son!” I glared at her, my voice turning deadly serious. “Stop bothering me. You two are complete psychos!” She didn’t get mad. Instead, she tried to coax me, still trapped in her own delusion. “Okay, okay, stop being mad.” “I really missed you and our son so much.” In that moment, I realized something. People as self-absorbed as her would never believe I didn’t love them anymore unless they saw it with their own eyes. Suddenly, she said, “My mom’s birthday is in a few days.” “You’re a good cook. Make a few of her favorite dishes.” “Use this opportunity to fix your relationship with her.” “I’ll tell her this is our actual son. Once she knows she has a grandson, she won’t make things hard for you anymore.” So she did know. She knew that for the three years we were married, her mother treated me like dirt. Mrs. Vance always looked down on me because I came from a working-class background. Even though I was Olivia’s legal husband, Mrs. Vance banned me from all family events. If she was present, I wasn’t even allowed to sit at the same dinner table. I hated her, too. Our relationship was practically non-existent. We just ignored each other. And throughout all of that toxic abuse, Olivia had always stayed silent. A mocking smile curved my lips. I asked deliberately, “Olivia, hypothetically speaking.” “If I cook a five-star meal, and your mother still refuses to let me sit at the table. Then what?” She hesitated for a second before answering. “You’re the younger generation. Just say a few nice things and coax her a bit.” “You know how my mom is. She has a sharp tongue but a soft heart.” Liam deliberately chimed in, “Arthur, there’s no shame in apologizing to an elder. Mrs. Vance has a soft spot for people who grovel at her feet.” He was passive-aggressively telling me to get on my knees. I let out a harsh laugh. I stared dead into Olivia’s dark eyes and said with absolute, grave sincerity, “Olivia, it’s been three years. Everything has changed!” “I am married. And that child is not yours.” I turned to Liam. “You should probably practice groveling yourself. Maybe you’ll finally be allowed to officially enter the Vance family.” Liam looked devastated, his eyes welling up. “I shouldn’t have spoken.” He turned and walked away. Olivia’s face turned ugly. She glared at me. “How long are you going to keep up this stubborn act?!” Then, she hurried after Liam. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my wife: [Hey honey, the project wrapped up. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.] I let out a long sigh of relief. I figured once Olivia finally met Eleanor Sterling in person, she’d snap out of her delusions. The next day, I had just arrived at the coffee shop. The director of my son’s daycare suddenly called me. They said my son had been picked up by a woman claiming to be his biological mother, and a man claiming to be his godfather. My heart leaped into my throat. I raced to the Vance family estate. When I burst through the gates, I saw Liam placing my son inside a doghouse, surrounded by a large dog and a black cat. My son was severely allergic to animal dander. Dogs, cats—he couldn’t be near any of them. My son was screaming in terror, his face flushed bright red down to his neck. Hives were already breaking out on his throat. Liam completely ignored my son’s hysterical crying. Instead, he shoved the black cat closer to my son’s face. “Don’t be scared, Leo. This kitty is three years old, so she’s basically your big sister.” “She’s your godfather’s favorite kitty! Give her a hug. Don’t be rude, you’re crying so loud you’re scaring the kitty.” My son threw his hands up in terror, trying to hide. The black cat lashed out with sharp claws, leaving several bloody scratches across my son’s face. My son’s screams grew louder. Liam said softly, “See? You scared the kitty.” But his eyes held a vicious, threatening glare as he stared at my child. “Get your hands off my son!” I roared, charging toward them. I was inches away from grabbing my boy. Suddenly, Olivia appeared from the side. She threw her arms around my arm, using her entire body weight to drag me backward. “Liam is just trying to be nice! He wants the boy to have some playmates!” My eyes were bloodshot. Furious, I violently yanked my arm free and slapped her across the face. “My son is allergic to animal dander!” “His playmates are not animals!” I turned to grab my son again, but Olivia recklessly threw herself at me again, clinging to me. Liam looked up at me, the picture of innocence. “Today is the kitty’s 3rd birthday. She loves playing with kids.” “I just figured since Leo is joining the Vance family, they should get to know each other.” While he spoke, his black cat was thrashing in my son’s lap. It left a mess of bloody scratches on my son’s arms, neck, and face. Liam deliberately added, “Don’t worry, my dog and cat are fully vaccinated. They’re very clean.” “I sleep with my kitty every night.” Watching my son crying so hard he was gasping for air, I was frantic. I struggled with everything I had. Olivia held onto me tight, trying to soothe me. “He’s a boy! He can’t be raised to be this fragile.” “He’s going to inherit the Vance family business one day. He needs to build some courage. He can’t be terrified of a cat.” Suddenly, my son’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. I screamed like a madman, “He’s going into anaphylactic shock!” Only then did Olivia realize how serious it was. I broke free, scooped up my son, and sprinted toward my car to get to the hospital. Olivia and Liam followed close behind. While my son was in the emergency room being treated, the doctor handed over a consent form for emergency procedures. “I need the child’s father or mother to sign this.” Olivia immediately jumped in. “I am the child’s mother. I’ll sign it!” Just as she reached out to take the clipboard, a cold, authoritative voice rang out from behind her. “Since when did my son become yours?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “521158”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Chapter 1 My coworker, Mia, walked up to me, cradling her slightly rounded belly. “Chloe, could you let me crash at your place near the office for a few months?” she asked, her voice soft and pleading. “Commuting across the city every day while pregnant is just too much. I can barely hold on. I promise I’ll move out the second the baby is born.” I was just about to nod when a line of glowing text suddenly materialized in the air right in front of my eyes. [Don’t nod.] The next second, a dense stream of floating text drifted across my vision like a holographic live chat. [The fetus in her belly lost its heartbeat three days ago.] [The baby belongs to your boyfriend, Julian.] [Tonight, Mia will collapse in your apartment. She’ll cry and tell everyone that you found out the truth, went crazy with jealousy, and pushed her.] [At that exact same time, your home network will leak the bottom-line pricing of our company’s sealed bid.] [You will be suspended, dragged across social media, sued by the company, and condemned by everyone as a corporate traitor who killed a pregnant woman’s baby.] I stared at those words, the blood in my veins turning to ice, inch by inch. Mia was still waiting for my answer. I looked at her slightly bulging stomach. Then, I calmly closed my laptop. “I’m sorry,” I said flatly. “I don’t lend out my personal home.” The conference room fell dead silent for a few seconds. Mia’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Did I put you in a tough spot? I’m so sorry, I just wanted to be closer to the office so it’d be easier to handle late-night revisions.” The product manager sitting next to me muttered, “Chloe, your place is usually empty anyway.” Another coworker chimed in: “It’s just for a few months. Mia is working so hard while pregnant. Cut her some slack.” David Sterling, our VP, sat at the head of the table and tapped his knuckles against the wood. “Chloe, the project is at a critical stage. Supporting your teammates isn’t a bad thing.” I looked right at him. “Mr. Sterling, if this involves an employee using my private residence, do we need to file a formal housing accommodation request with HR and Compliance?” David frowned. “There’s no need to make it that complicated.” “Then it’s even less appropriate,” I said, capping my pen. “My home is my private property, not a corporate project resource. If Mia needs to rent a place, the company can apply for a temporary housing stipend according to our HR policies. I’d be happy to sign off on the approval.” Mia bit her lip, a tear perfectly catching on her eyelashes. “But it’s so hard to find a short-term lease right now, and anything near the office is incredibly expensive. Chloe, we’ve grinded on this project together for so long… I thought we were friends.” The moment that sentence hung in the air, the atmosphere in the room turned suffocating. I didn’t take the emotional bait. “Even friends need boundaries.” Someone whispered under their breath, “That’s so cold-blooded.” “She’s probably just paranoid Mia is going to steal her credit.” “Being pregnant isn’t a crime. Does she really need to be this defensive?” The floating text drifted across my vision again. [She’s holding your feet to the fire.] [Don’t explain. The more you defend yourself, the guiltier you look.] [Julian will call you in ten minutes.] Less than ten minutes after the meeting adjourned, my phone buzzed. “Hey, Chloe. I heard you turned Mia down today?” I stood in the emergency stairwell, staring at the gray sky through the window. “Word travels fast.” Julian chuckled softly. “You know how it is. A lot of people from our two companies went to college together; the group chats are talking. Don’t be mad, I’m just worried people are going to misunderstand you.” “And?” “She’s pregnant. There’s no need to ruin your working relationship over this. It’s just a temporary stay. You can have her sign a liability waiver if you’re worried.” The holographic text drifted by coldly. [Look how considerate he sounds.] [He even remembers your backup smart-lock passcode.] [He sent photos of your living room to Mia last week.] My grip on the phone tightened. “Julian, do you know Mia?” A brief pause on the other end. “I’ve heard the name. We aren’t close.” I let out a soft laugh. “Not close, huh.” “Of course not. Chloe, are you just exhausted lately? Don’t overthink things.” I hung up. No accusations. The floating text was right. Tearing off the mask now would only warn them to change their tactics. I walked back to my desk and messaged Harper, our in-house legal counsel. “Are you free tonight? I need you to help me with a formal evidence preservation.” She replied instantly. “What happened?” I glanced across the room at Mia, who was currently wiping away tears with her head bowed. “Someone wants to borrow my apartment.” “And take my life while they’re at it.” Chapter 2 After work, I went straight to my apartment on Willow Street. Behind the front door, there was a very faint pencil mark on the frame. Next to it, in crooked handwriting, it read: “Chloe, age 20. Even when you grow up, remember to come home.” It was the last height measurement my dad took of me before he passed away. I stood at the door looking at it for a long time. Then, I got to work. By the time Harper arrived with a certified notary, I had turned on the lights in every single room. Living room, bedroom, office, kitchen, balcony, bathroom. Every corner was recorded on continuous video. The locks, window latches, the router, my desktop, the bookshelves, the tamper-evident seals on the drawers—all clearly documented. Harper gave me a hard look. “Who exactly are you defending against?” “A pregnant woman.” She froze. “You can’t joke about things like that.” “I know. That’s why I’m only leaving hard evidence.” In front of the notary, I changed the admin password to my smart lock and wiped all temporary access codes. Julian’s guest PIN was permanently deleted. System prompt: Access removed successfully. I took a screenshot and uploaded it to a secure cloud drive. Next, I factory-reset my old router and had Marcus, the head of our IT Security team, remote in. When Marcus heard my request, he was silent for a long time. “Are you absolutely sure you want to scrub the real bid proposal from all your personal devices?” “Positive.” “Then what are we leaving on your home computer?” “A fake one.” “How fake?” “Fake enough to look identical to the real one, but rigged so that every single action taken on it leaves a digital footprint.” Marcus chuckled. “You got it.” At 1:00 AM, Julian texted me. “Still working? I ordered some hot milk for you. I had it left at the front reception desk.” Right after, Mia sent a message to the main project group chat. “It’s my fault today. I put Chloe in a tough spot. Please don’t blame her. I’ll come in early tomorrow, and even though I live far away, I promise I won’t delay the project timeline.” The chat immediately flooded with sympathy. “You’re already working so hard!” “Don’t cry, Mia. Your health comes first.” “Some people get a little bit of authority and forget how hard life is for the rest of us.” I didn’t reply. The text floated into my vision. [Do not touch the manila envelope at the reception desk.] [There is a USB drive inside. If you plug it into your computer, it will install remote-access malware.] I checked my phone. The receptionist had just texted me. “Hey Chloe, someone dropped off some late-night snacks for you, along with a document folder. They said it was project materials.” I replied: “Don’t open it. Leave it right under the security camera. I’ll have IT Security pick it up tomorrow.” The next morning, Marcus came to my office holding a static-proof bag. “You’re psychic,” he said. “The USB drive had a trojan horse disguised as a PDF reader plugin. If you had plugged it in, they could have remotely pulled files from your hard drive.” I stared at the black flash drive. “Can you trace the source?” “Wiped clean of fingerprints, but I can trace the casing batch number. Also, the delivery guy wore a mask, but the lobby camera caught a clear shot of his side profile.” Harper stood next to us, her expression darkening. “Chloe, from this second on, do not handle any physical documents by yourself.” I nodded. “I also need to file a formal conflict of interest report with Compliance.” “About what?” “My boyfriend, Julian. He is the lead project manager for the company competing against us for this bid.” Harper swore under her breath. “Why are you just saying this now?” I lowered my voice. “Because I only realized today that he might be more than just my boyfriend.” Chapter 3 The night before the sealed bid was due, David suddenly ordered me to visit a client site on the East Side. “The client has a clarification memo that needs to be signed by the lead PM in person. It’ll take thirty minutes round trip.” I looked at the email chain. Julian was also in the client communication loop. The floating text frantically updated. [Luring the tiger out of the mountain.] [They are going to enter your apartment.] [Do not go alone. Take Legal. Turn on your GPS location tracking.] I turned to Harper. “Come with me.” David looked annoyed. “Why are you bringing Legal? The client is going to think we don’t trust them.” Harper flashed her corporate badge. “During a sealed-bid period, any offline confirmation requires Compliance presence. Company policy.” David didn’t argue further. On the drive to the East Side, I turned on continuous audio recording and shared my live location with Marcus. When we arrived at the client’s building, the receptionist told us the project lead had just left. When I called the client’s assistant, they gave a vague excuse: “Ah, maybe the time got mixed up.” Harper and I locked eyes. We instantly turned around and sped back. Halfway back to my apartment, my phone rang. It was Gary, my building manager. His voice was trembling. “Chloe! You need to get back here right now! Something terrible happened at your place!” My blood ran cold. “Who is in my apartment?” “A pregnant woman! She said she was your coworker. She collapsed in your living room, there’s blood on the floor… the ambulance is already here!” Harper grabbed my hand tightly. “Don’t panic. Say nothing else.” I stared at the streetlights blurring past the window. The floating text was dense. [She’s starting her performance.] [Photos are already being leaked in the group chat.] [The company’s security system is about to trip.] Right on cue, the project group chat exploded. Someone posted a photo. My living room. Mia was lying on the hardwood floor, her face deathly pale, clutching her stomach. There was blood on the hem of her dress. The caption read: “Emergency at Chloe’s place! I think Mia is having a miscarriage!” Immediately after, a critical IT Security alert popped up on my phone. WARNING: Suspected exfiltration of core corporate data. Source IP: Unit 6, Willow Street. Residential network of Chloe. The group chat descended into chaos. “Her home network?! Are you kidding me?” “Why is Mia at her house?” “She rejected her yesterday and today she almost dies there? That’s too much of a coincidence.” “The bid leaked from her house?! Wait, isn’t her boyfriend the PM for the rival company?” My fingertips were freezing. Julian called. I answered. “Chloe, where are you?! Mia said you guys got into a massive fight and she fell!” “What else did she say?” I asked flatly. A slight pause. “She said you found out about the baby.” “What baby?” “Chloe…” He lowered his voice, playing the peacemaker. “Now is not the time to point fingers. Just come back, show some remorse. I’ll help you find a good defense lawyer.” I actually laughed. “You? Help me?” “I’m doing this for your own good.” “Then wait for me at the scene.” I hung up. Ten minutes later, I sprinted up to the sixth floor. The hallway was packed with people. Paramedics were wheeling a stretcher out. Mia was on it, her forehead slick with sweat. When she saw me, tears immediately rolled down her face. “Chloe, I just wanted to live closer to work so we could finish the project,” she sobbed. “Even if you found out the baby was Julian’s, you didn’t have to do this to me!” Her voice wasn’t loud. But it was loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear perfectly. Chapter 4 The hallway erupted into a frenzy of whispers. “The baby is Julian’s?” “Isn’t Julian Chloe’s boyfriend?” “So she caught the mistress and pushed her? Caused a miscarriage?” “Wait, they aren’t even married yet! That’s so vicious, taking it out on a pregnant woman…” The paramedics pushed the stretcher toward the elevator. Mia gripped the side rails, crying so hard she was practically hyperventilating. “I never wanted to steal anything from you! I was already planning to leave him! Why couldn’t you just spare my child?!” I looked at her. Incredible. She twisted “borrowing an apartment,” “infidelity,” and “miscarriage” into one seamless narrative. My refusal to let her move in was painted as bitter jealousy. Her illegal break-in was painted as me inviting her over. And a fetus she had lost days ago was painted as a murder at my hands. David and a few other coworkers rushed out of the stairwell. David’s face was livid. “Chloe, what the hell is going on?!” I didn’t answer him. Instead, I looked at Gary, the building manager. “Who opened my door?” Gary stammered nervously. “She… she had an authorization letter from you! And screenshots of your texts! She said you agreed to let her move in tonight!” “She’s pregnant, and she said her stomach was cramping really badly. We didn’t want a medical emergency on our hands, so we called a locksmith…” I held out my hand. “Give me the authorization letter.” Gary handed me a printed sheet of paper. It had my signature at the bottom. A very good forgery. Attached was a printed screenshot of a text exchange. “Mia, babe, you can crash at my place tonight. I’ll tell property management to give you the keys.” The profile picture was mine. But the tone wasn’t. I never call my coworkers “babe.” Someone in the group chat then posted a screenshot of Mia’s banking app. A transfer of $500. Memo: Willow Street Rent Deposit. I calmly opened my own banking app. That money had indeed been transferred to my account last night. But I had refunded it exactly one minute later. My refund memo read: Did not agree to rent, lend, or grant access to my property. I took a screenshot and dropped it into the company group chat. The chat went dead silent for a second. Then someone typed: “You could have just changed your mind.” “Yeah, Mia was already inside your apartment. It’s not like she picked the lock herself.” “A baby just died! Can we focus on saving her first? You’re obsessing over legal loopholes, you’re terrifying.” Julian ran up the stairs from the lobby, looking more disheveled and frantic than anyone else. “Chloe, please stop triggering her!” I looked at him. “She said the baby is yours.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Talking about this right now is pointless.” “Whether it’s pointless or not isn’t up to you.” He took a step closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Calm down. The company system flagged the leak from your IP address, and Mia was injured inside your home.” “The best thing you can do right now is cooperate. Don’t blow this up into a bigger scandal.” I stared at his familiar face. For the past year, I thought he was gentle, restrained, and respectful. Now I knew those traits were just tools. [Do not argue.] [Do not beg them to believe you.] [Follow procedure.] I pulled out my phone, went to the company-wide chat, and typed exactly two sentences: “I am calling the police. I formally request the sealing of my residence and the corporate servers.” Then, I dialed 911. “I need to report a crime.” “Someone has illegally trespassed into my home using forged authorization documents, in an attempt to frame me for a crime.” “Simultaneously, my company’s sealed-bid project is currently the victim of corporate espionage. I am requesting immediate crime scene protection and digital forensics.” Chapter 5 The police arrived quickly. The lead officer was a woman named Officer Bennett. As soon as she got off the elevator, she cleared the area. The coworkers taking photos by the door were escorted down to the lobby. Property management, the locksmith, myself, Harper, Julian, and David were separated to give statements. Mia was already at the hospital, and an officer was dispatched to meet her there to collect her statement and medical evidence. I stood in the hallway, refusing to step foot inside my apartment. “Why aren’t you going in?” Officer Bennett asked. “I don’t want to contaminate the crime scene.” She gave me an assessing look. “You’re very familiar with protocol.” “I manage major tech projects. I know what maintaining an original state means.” Harper systematically AirDropped the notary video from the night before, the smart-lock access logs, the refunded deposit screenshot, and the conflict-of-interest email to the police. David’s face grew uglier by the minute. “Chloe, if you thought there was a risk, why didn’t you warn the company in advance?” I turned to him. “I filed a formal report with Compliance this morning regarding my relationship status and a compromised USB drive delivery. I CC’d you on the email.” He choked. “I was in back-to-back meetings.” “You not reading it doesn’t mean I didn’t report it.” Julian spoke up, his voice heavy. “Chloe, did you suspect me from the very beginning?” I looked back at him. “What do you want me to say?” A flash of cold calculation crossed his eyes, quickly masked by deep concern. “I just feel terrible for Mia. She lost a child tonight.” Officer Bennett looked up from her notepad. “The state of the fetus will be determined by the hospital’s medical report. Do not jump to conclusions.” Julian went silent. The crime scene investigators began sweeping the apartment. There was blood on the living room floor, but the spread was minimal. The coffee table had been deliberately pushed askew, and the corner of the rug was flipped up—staged to look like a physical struggle. But my living room security camera was pointed directly at the entryway and the living space. “Why didn’t the camera catch anything?” Officer Bennett asked. Gary wiped his forehead. “Ms. Mia said a pregnant woman needs privacy to move in, so she unplugged the living room camera.” I sneered. “She wasn’t even living there yet. What privacy?” Harper added, “In the notary video from last night, the camera was fully functional. The cloud logs show the device went offline today at exactly 2:00 PM.” The floating text drifted by slowly. [The telecom box.] [A micro-router is taped behind the fiber modem.] I pointed to the wall. “Officer Bennett, could you have your team check the telecom box by the door?” Julian’s head snapped toward me. It was a micro-expression, incredibly fast. But I caught it. An officer opened the white metal panel. Tucked behind the modem was a black device the size of a thumb drive. It had a cellular IoT SIM card slotted into it, and its indicator light was blinking rapidly. Marcus, who had just rushed over with the Apex Tech security team, took one look and swore out loud. “A 4G bypass router. It can spoof a local network exit node and act as a remote forwarding proxy.” David turned deathly pale. “So… the leaked file didn’t actually come from Chloe’s computer?” Marcus didn’t answer immediately. He hooked up his forensic tablet to the network. A few minutes later, he looked up at me. “Chloe, the file that was exfiltrated is the honeypot document you had me plant last night.” Dead silence fell over the hallway. “Digital watermark ID?” I asked. “Y-07.” “Receiving endpoint?” Marcus glanced at Officer Bennett. She nodded. “State the facts.” Marcus’s voice turned ice-cold. “First hop was an offshore cloud server. Second hop routed directly into the corporate subnet of Vanguard Solutions.” For the first time all night, Julian looked completely drained of blood. Chapter 6 Officer Bennett ordered her team to bag the black router. Julian recovered his composure remarkably fast. “A ping to the Vanguard subnet doesn’t prove I was involved. There are thousands of network proxies out there; someone could easily be framing me.” I nodded. “You’re absolutely right.” He gave me a weird look, clearly not expecting me to agree with him. “Which is why,” I continued, “we also need to find out exactly who installed that device.” The police pulled the hallway security footage. At 2:06 PM, a man in a gray jacket and baseball cap came up to the sixth floor. He was carrying a toolkit and lingered outside my door for exactly four minutes. His face was obscured by the cap. But as he turned to leave, his sleeve slipped, revealing a company lanyard. Blue and white. The corporate colors of Vanguard Solutions. “You can buy lanyards like that anywhere online,” Julian said stiffly. Officer Bennett ignored him, turning back to Gary. “Who exactly called the locksmith?” Gary was sweating profusely now. “Ms. Mia called us! She said Chloe gave her authorization to move in but she forgot her keys, and she was having severe stomach cramps! We were terrified of a medical emergency, so we…” “Who gave you the authorization letter?” “Ms. Mia emailed a PDF copy.” The police checked Gary’s phone. The sender’s email address was a spoofed version of my personal email. It was off by a single letter. Harper let out a cold laugh. “Very detail-oriented.” I turned to Officer Bennett. “Can you request a search of Mia’s personal handbag? She might be carrying her original medical records.” Julian immediately interjected. “She is in the ER fighting for her life, and you’re worried about digging through her purse?!” I stared at him. “Why are you so nervous?” “I just think you lack basic human empathy.” Before I could respond, Harper stepped squarely in front of me. “Mr. Julian, empathy does not supersede evidence. Since Mia is claiming she suffered a miscarriage due to an altercation in Chloe’s apartment tonight, her original prenatal records are critical forensic evidence.” Officer Bennett radioed her colleague at the hospital. Half an hour later, the call came back. Inside Mia’s purse, they found a torn-up medical report. When the pieces were taped back together, the doctor’s diagnosis was crystal clear. Three days ago. Intrauterine fetal demise. Recommendation: Immediate hospitalization for surgical removal. The hallway was so quiet you could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights. David’s lips parted in shock. “Wait… you mean… the baby didn’t die tonight?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “521157”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My daughter was dying. The donor heart meant for her life-saving surgery was gone. And my wife, the chief surgeon who was supposed to perform the operation, had run off to another city to care for her ex-boyfriend’s daughter. While I was frantically searching for the heart, I discovered the brutal truth: my wife had personally transferred our daughter’s heart to her ex’s kid. Furious, I called her over and over until she finally picked up. But she didn’t care. She just gave me a cold, irritated warning. “Arthur, I’m warning you, stop using Lily’s illness to get attention. Her condition is stable enough for another five years. But Julian’s daughter only has two years left. This heart goes to her first!” And so, my daughter died in absolute despair. Yet, when my wife finally saw Lily’s cold body and the real medical charts, she fell to her knees, sobbing and begging me not to divorce her. During dinner, my daughter’s heart condition suddenly took a turn for the worse. The ambulance rushed her to the ER. I called my wife frantically, hoping she would rush back to perform the emergency surgery. But the only response I got was a text saying she was away in another city for a medical seminar. After I pressed her repeatedly, I found out the truth. She wasn’t at a seminar. She was at a hospital out of town, caring for her ex-boyfriend’s daughter. Then, a doctor approached me with devastating news. The donor heart we had secured for Lily had already been used. My daughter’s surgery couldn’t happen. There was no heart left for her. Panic seized me. I pushed through the crowd of doctors and ran to Lily’s bedside. I grabbed her tiny, cold hand, whispering that everything would be okay, telling her not to be afraid. She looked at me with pure terror in her eyes, her lips already turning a pale blue. “Daddy… where is Mommy?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Why won’t Mommy come see me? Does she… does she not love me anymore?” “Daddy, tell Mommy I promise I’ll be good. I won’t get jealous of Chloe anymore. I won’t cry when Mommy hugs her. Can you please tell Mommy to come see me?” “Daddy, I’m so tired… I don’t think I’ll get to see Mommy again.” My heart shattered into a million pieces. Tears soaked my face. I grabbed a nearby doctor, demanding to know why the heart I had spent millions to secure was given to someone else. The doctor reluctantly showed me the authorization form. It was signed by my wife, Clara. She had personally approved the transfer of that heart to another patient. It felt like a lightning strike. I couldn’t comprehend it. Why? Why would she do this? This was our daughter! How could she be so heartless? How could she give Lily’s life-saving heart to someone else’s child? I fell to my knees, begging the doctors to do something, anything, to save her. I told them I’d pay whatever it took. She was only six years old. She had her whole life ahead of her. But the heart monitor was already flatlining, emitting a sharp, agonizing beep. The doctors rushed past me, desperately performing CPR on my little girl. Lily’s breathing became shallow and ragged. Her face was completely blue, and her tiny body convulsed in pain. It looked like pure torture. I collapsed in the corner of the room, burying my face in my hands, sobbing hysterically. I dialed Clara’s number over and over until she finally answered. Her voice was dripping with impatience. “Are you insane, Arthur?” she snapped. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stop using Lily’s condition as an excuse to drag me home. Act like a man for once. All this crying and whining is pathetic. It’s why I can’t stand you!” “Shut up! Shut up! Just shut the hell up!” I screamed into the phone, my voice raw. “Lily is dead! Lily is dead because of you!” “How could you give her heart to someone else?!” I roared. On the other end, Clara’s voice turned to pure disgust. “Enough, Arthur. Did you have too much to drink? You’re actually lying about our daughter being dead just to trick me into coming back?” “Lily’s condition is stable enough to last another ten years. As a doctor, when I see another child in immediate danger, why shouldn’t I use the heart? Should I really let a perfect donor heart sit around for ten years?” “Who did you give it to? Tell me! Who did you steal my daughter’s life for?!” But Clara just hung up on me. I had to use my own hands to gently close my daughter’s eyes—eyes that had died wide open, filled with confusion and pain. I watched as they covered her with a white sheet and wheeled her into the morgue. My entire world felt blurred, like I was trapped under a thick sheet of ice. Lily was dead. And she was killed by the mother she loved the most.

The next morning, Clara came home. She was holding the hand of a young girl. It was Chloe, the daughter of her ex-boyfriend, Julian. I sat on the couch, surrounded by empty liquor bottles, staring blankly ahead. I didn’t even look at them. Clara took one look at the mess and sneered. “This dramatic act of yours is honestly repulsive. I was only gone for two days to take care of Chloe.” “You’re acting like I committed some ultimate betrayal, putting on this pathetic display of grief!” “Chloe, sweetheart, watch your step. Let’s go to the guest room.” Looking at her, a cold laugh bubbled up in my chest. Clara was so incredibly gentle. She was always so attentive when it came to her ex’s child. When Lily was alive, there was an incident where a glass broke on the floor. Shards were scattered everywhere. Clara never once told Lily to “watch her step” in that gentle voice. Instead, she had screamed at her, calling her blind, useless, and saying she would grow up to be a pathetic failure just like her father. I used to think she just didn’t like kids, that she lacked patience. So, I raised Lily mostly on my own. But now I realized the truth. She didn’t hate kids. She just hated our daughter. Since Lily’s death felt suspicious, I now looked at everyone entering my house with intense distrust. Seeing Chloe, who had been staying at our place on and off, filled me with sudden, uncontrollable rage. “Get out! Both of you, get the hell out of my house! Who gave you permission to bring her here?!” My sudden outburst startled both of them. Chloe instantly teared up, looking terrified. A flash of pain crossed Clara’s face. She rushed forward, stepping between me and Chloe, her voice dripping with anger. “Arthur! Chloe has a severe heart condition! Do you want to trigger her? If you scare her into an attack, I will make you pay!” Hearing the words “heart condition” made my eyes burn with rage. She truly had no soul. Her ex’s daughter had a heart condition, so she kept her close, treating her constantly. But what about Lily? She ignored Lily entirely, and then stole the heart I had begged dozens of people to secure, giving it away to someone else. Did she really not notice anything wrong? Usually, the second Clara walked through the door, Lily would run out, shouting “Mommy!” But today, there was only silence. Yet, Clara only cared about defending her ex’s child. “Chloe, honey, are you okay? Did he scare you? You just had surgery, you need to keep your heart rate down. Tell me, do you feel any discomfort?” Hearing the word “surgery,” I snapped my head up. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. I glared at them and asked in a low, dangerous voice: “Where did Chloe get the heart for her surgery?” Chloe whimpered, completely terrified, and burst into tears. Clara’s face hardened further. “Arthur, what is wrong with you?!” “I already told you, she has a heart condition and just got out of surgery! She is in recovery! Stop shouting!” I lost all control. I pointed at her and roared, “Really? I didn’t know you cared so much about heart patients! Lily’s heart was failing too, but I never saw you give a single damn about her!” “Did you give Lily’s heart to Chloe?!” Before Clara could answer, Chloe sobbed and spoke up in a shaky voice. “Uncle Arthur… I’m sorry. I didn’t know that heart belonged to Lily. I was just really sick. The doctors said I wouldn’t survive another two years, so Aunt Clara switched it for me…” My hands shook with violent rage. How dare they? I had begged, pleaded, and literally knelt on the cold floor in front of donors and hospital boards to get that heart to save my daughter. How could they just take it and put it in this girl? My eyes bloodshot, my expression twisted into something monstrous. At that moment, I wanted to rip that heart right out of Chloe’s chest. But Clara stepped in front of her, shielding her. “Arthur, have you lost your mind? Chloe was going to die within two years. She needed that heart immediately. What’s wrong with me signing off on it?” “Yes, that heart was hard to get. But Lily had ten years to find another one. Chloe couldn’t wait! “I gave it to the one who needed it first. Isn’t that normal? Why are you being so incredibly selfish?” “No wonder I want a divorce. Living with a selfish, small-minded bastard like you is suffocating!” I felt my chest tightening, my voice trembling as I forced out each word: “Who… is… your… actual… daughter?!” Clara remained stubborn. “You can’t even see the bigger picture. I told you, Chloe was my patient first. Lily still has ten years. Do you really think we can’t find another match in ten years?” “Stop yelling at me! You’re so useless!” My heart went completely cold. The last spark of affection I had for this woman died. I reached into my bag and threw the pre-prepared divorce papers onto the coffee table. “Sign it. I have nothing left to say to you.” Clara’s jaw dropped. She looked at the papers in disbelief. “I told you, Chloe is just my patient! Don’t assume I’m sleeping with Julian just because I helped his daughter. We are completely clean!” “Julian saved my life once. Helping his daughter is just me paying him back. Why do you have to make everything so dramatic?!”

The “life-saving debt” Clara kept talking about happened over ten years ago. She was still in college back then. One night, she was cornered in an alley by thugs who wanted to rob and assault her. Julian stepped in to save her, losing the use of his left arm in the process. Because of that, Clara stayed with him for five years. The only reason she married me was because her family went bankrupt shortly after. Her father developed a severe heart condition and needed an expensive surgery immediately. She couldn’t borrow the money anywhere. Eventually, she came to me, her childhood friend. She knew I loved her. She told me that if I paid for her father’s surgery, she would marry me. I didn’t want to take advantage of her situation. I refused her proposal but planned to anonymously transfer the money to her anyway. But she misunderstood my refusal. That night, she set me up. She got me drunk, made it look like we slept together, and used the guilt to pressure me into marriage. And so, we got married. Though her father’s surgery was successful, he didn’t survive long. He passed away three years into our marriage. I didn’t care about her past. I had married the woman of my dreams, and I pampered her, giving in to her every whim. But after her father died, her heart began to wander. Somehow, she reconnected with Julian. By then, Julian was divorced and raising a daughter on his own. Clara treated Julian’s daughter like her own, keeping her by her side constantly. Lily loved Clara so much. She constantly starved for her mother’s affection. To keep Lily from being sad, I turned a blind eye to a lot of things. I tolerated it all, just so Lily could occasionally hear a kind word from her “Mommy.” But it was all just my delusion. Clara didn’t care about Lily at all. After reconnecting with Julian, she grew to despise me more each day, constantly sighing about her “horrible fate” and how she was stuck in an unhappy marriage with me. Now that Lily was gone, I had no reason to stay. I was going to end this marriage once and for all. Beside me, Clara was carefully checking Chloe’s vitals with a worried frown. Anyone watching would think Chloe was her biological child. “Chloe, sweetie, you look a little pale. I’m worried. Let’s go down to the clinic and get you checked out.” Without looking back, she carried Chloe out the door. I watched her go, realizing she was completely beyond saving. When Lily’s heart was failing, she had told her mother she felt sick. Clara had dismissed it, calling Lily a liar who was just trying to steal attention from Chloe. Yet now, just because Chloe looked a little pale, Clara rushed her to the clinic without a second thought. Did she even have a heart? No. She just didn’t love the child she had with me. I called my parents and told them the news of Lily’s passing. They packed their bags immediately and drove through the night, arriving exhausted and pale. When my mother walked through the door and saw the empty house, she couldn’t accept it. “Where… where is my little Lily?” I stood there in silence, nodding slowly, unable to voice the words. My father’s eyes turned red instantly. “How? We had the donor heart secured! We had the money ready! The surgery could have happened anytime! How is she gone?!” I calmly told them the truth. It was Clara. She had transferred Lily’s heart to Julian’s daughter three days before the scheduled surgery. My father trembled with pure rage, cursing Clara’s name. I quickly helped them sit down, worried their high blood pressure would act up. I told them I was divorcing Clara and begged them not to ruin their own health over her. My parents wept, scolding me for my stubbornness in marrying her in the first place, saying this tragedy would have never happened if I hadn’t been blinded by love. I nodded, admitting my mistake. I was wrong from the very beginning. After a long time, my parents managed to calm down. My father looked around the empty living room, recalling the sweet moments he had shared with Lily. “Let’s bring Lily home,” my father said quietly, his voice cracking. “It’s cold in the morgue.” Just then, Clara walked back in. She overheard my father’s words. A look of complete confusion crossed her face, followed by irritation as she glared at me. “Arthur, what is wrong with you? What are you trying to pull now? Why did you drag your parents all the way here?” “I was only gone for two days to take care of Chloe. Was this really necessary?” “And Lily… she is always so difficult. Always throwing tantrums and acting out. If she weren’t so exhausting, maybe I would actually like her.” Lily was already dead, and here she was, still spitting venom. The rage inside me boiled over. I roared at her. “Lily is dead! Do you understand me?!” “You killed her! You gave her heart to Chloe and killed your own daughter!” Clara’s face twisted into utter contempt. She clearly didn’t believe a word. “You are completely insane. You’ll say anything at this point. Chloe was sick too. I helped her because I’m a doctor, not just because of Julian! Get that through your head!” “There is nothing going on between Julian and me!” “You don’t need to scream at me and make up sick lies about Lily being dead just to guilt-trip me. I know finding that heart wasn’t easy, but like I said, Lily had ten years. Chloe didn’t! Was I supposed to just watch Chloe die?” I didn’t want to waste another breath arguing with this wretched woman. Marrying her was the single greatest mistake of my life. I looked at her coldly. “You think I’m exaggerating? You think I’m lying? Fine. Come with me. Let’s go bring Lily home together.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “445079”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our third anniversary, I planned to surprise Chloe with a proposal and take her straight to City Hall to get married. I even took a grueling red-eye flight back to the country just to make it in time. I had been scrolling through social media looking for proposal ideas when a viral video with tens of millions of views caught my eye. Under a stunning sky of artificial northern lights and a canopy of stars, thousands of pink roses swayed in the wind. In the center of it all, a man was down on one knee. The comment section was flooded with congratulations, everyone envying the rich guy’s “financial superpower.” My grip tightened on my phone. With trembling fingers, I uploaded the video of my own engagement party from a year ago. Because the woman receiving the grand proposal in that viral video was Chloe—my fiancée. 00 The moment I posted the video, it blew up. “What is going on here? A proposal on one side, and an engagement on the other?” “Look at the timestamp in the photos! The engagement was a year ago. Bro, your green hat is brighter than those artificial northern lights.” “Run, bro! She’s a textbook gold digger!” Right then, Chloe called to check in, just like she did every day. She clearly had no idea she had just become an internet sensation. “Hey babe, I’m still out of town on this business trip. I might have a business dinner tonight, so I won’t be able to FaceTime. Miss me, okay? Mua!” she chirped, blowing a quick kiss into the receiver. Through the phone, I could hear loud music and people cheering in the background. I even faintly heard someone shouting, “Kiss her! Kiss her!” But Chloe didn’t bother to explain. She was always like this, never caring about my feelings. To make it back for our third anniversary, I had spent over ten hours on connecting flights. I had pulled three all-nighters straight to cram a week’s worth of business meetings into three days. She always claimed she was an introvert who hated big, flashy crowds. So, I spent hours decorating our cozy apartment with her favorite pink roses. But now I realized she didn’t hate grand gestures. She just hated them with me. “You can’t make it back again?” My voice cracked. For three years, she had bailed on every single anniversary with the exact same excuse. “It’s not even a big deal, Ethan. If I rush back now, I’ll have to drive for two hours. Do you know how tiring that is?” she whined, trying to act cute. Right. A two-hour drive was too tiring for her. But my ten-hour flight and three days of no sleep meant absolutely nothing. “It must be exhausting. After all, you’ve been busy getting proposed to all day. How could you possibly find the time to come back?” The line went dead silent for a moment. Then, Chloe burst into defensive tears. “What the hell are you talking about? We aren’t even married yet, and you’re already spying on me? I work so hard every day for what? For our future! For our home!” “If I don’t work, do you think we can survive on your pathetic salary?” I let out a cold laugh and forwarded her the viral proposal video on Snapchat. “Are the artificial northern lights beautiful? The roses look great too. And that diamond ring—so big and shiny.” “Since when did your job description change to ‘stand-in fiancée’? How much do they pay you per day for that?” For a long time, there was no sound from the other end of the line, only her rapid, panicked breathing. She must have finally opened TikTok and seen the comment section. “Ethan Miller! We aren’t married yet, and you’re already tracking my every move? Delete that video right now!” Chloe screamed, her voice shaking with rage. “Julian and I were classmates in college! He has a girlfriend. He just asked me to help him test out the venue today!” “Do you have to make such a big deal out of nothing? We’ve been together for three years. Don’t you have any trust in me?” “Besides, Julian has several major projects tied to our company right now. How could I dare offend a VIP client? You’re just insecure because of your own lack of ability, you coward!” As always, she turned it around to attack my competence, comparing me to Julian. “Then what about the ring?” I asked. A rock that size on her finger was hard to miss. “My ring size is similar to his fiancée’s! He was nervous, so he asked me to try it on to see how it looked. It was just a rehearsal to calm his nerves!” Chloe only dared to lie so shamelessly because she knew how much I loved her. But this lie was too ridiculous even for a toddler. She was only comforting her own guilt. I was too exhausted to argue. Summoning every ounce of courage I had left, I said, “Return the $50,000 wedding fund I gave your family. The wedding is off.” ###0

I hung up, feeling completely hollowed out. I tore down all the pink roses, threw them in the trash, and booked a professional cleaning service on the app. I had them pack up every single piece of Chloe’s clothing and belongings and dump them outside the building. Looking at the empty apartment, my body finally relaxed. The exhaustion of three days without sleep caught up to me, and I collapsed onto the floor, losing consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The nurse told me the cleaning crew had found me and called an ambulance. They had prepaid the fee and requested a refund through the platform. I nodded, opened my phone to pay them back, and was immediately bombarded with Snapchat notifications from Chloe. “Babe, I was a bit harsh last night. But if you hadn’t accused me first, I wouldn’t have gotten so angry.” “Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” Seeing that I didn’t reply, her tone quickly shifted back to arrogance. “Ethan, you were the one who begged me to be with you in the first place. I already explained everything about Julian. Stop acting like a dramatic, whiny child over nothing!” Even now, she still thought I was the one making a scene. I opened the video I had posted. It was still trending, but the comment section had split into two opposing sides. — *They aren’t even married yet. It’s the 21st century, why can’t a girl choose a guy with better financial prospects?* — *Why is everyone blaming the girl? Maybe the guy is just too broke to afford a wedding after all these years?* As the video gained traction overnight, Chloe’s parents had somehow seen it. They had actually liked those comments and even replied publicly: — *When did Julian get back? Bring him over for dinner tomorrow night.* — *It’s been so long. Bring him over quickly! Arthur has been talking about having a drink with him for years. He hasn’t had a good drink since Julian left.* I stared at their comments, feeling a cold numbness wash over me. So, Chloe had already brought Julian home back when they were in college. Judging by her parents’ warm attitude, they loved Julian. What did that make me? For the past three years, every time I visited her parents, they treated me like garbage. Our engagement had been a nightmare to arrange. Her parents looked down on me because I was just an entry-level employee making peanuts back then. They despised the fact that I wasn’t a local and didn’t own a house or a car. They did everything they could to tear us apart. To prove myself, I worked myself to the bone. I drank so much at business dinners that I ended up with stomach bleeding, all because I wanted to build a life in this city and prove to her parents that Chloe hadn’t made a mistake. Finally, I made manager. Then, luck struck, and I was promoted to General Manager. In just two years, I saved up enough for the wedding fund and the down payment on a condo. Only then did her parents reluctantly agree to our engagement. Over the years, I didn’t just work; I had to constantly cater to her parents. I sent them a monthly allowance of $1,000 to cover their mortgage and bills. Following her parents’ demands, the deed to our condo was registered solely under Chloe’s name. I worked overtime constantly to pay off that mortgage. The moment it was paid off, her parents claimed the condo was too small and demanded I buy another house under her younger brother Leo’s name for them to live in. And like a fool, I agreed to that too. Yet, they still treated me like a second-class citizen. They looked down on my small-town upbringing, thinking I lacked class. I quietly closed the app. Another Snapchat notification popped up from Chloe: *Julian is coming over to my parents’ place for dinner tonight. Are you coming?* Before I could even type “No,” her next message popped up: *My dad said he wants a luxury watch, and Leo wants the new iPhone. My mom has her eye on a Hermes bag. Don’t forget to buy them and bring them over.* *Julian prepared very expensive gifts for tonight. Do not make me look bad in front of him.* I looked at the screen and let out a bitter, mocking laugh. Did they honestly think I was the Jenkins family’s personal, bottomless ATM? I immediately called my assistant and told her to prepare a lawsuit. I wanted every single cent I had spent on them back. If they refused to pay, I would drag them to court. When I arrived at the Jenkins’ house, I saw Julian sitting on the sofa, laughing and chatting with Chloe’s parents like they were one big happy family. Seeing my empty hands, Chloe’s face darkened instantly. She rushed over, grabbed my arm, and pinched my waist hard. “Where are the things I asked you to buy?” “Ethan, are you trying to humiliate me on purpose?” Mrs. Jenkins was even worse. In the past, she at least ignored me while grabbing the expensive gifts from my hands. Now, she looked right through me as if I were invisible. Right then, Julian started showcasing his gifts. “Arthur, Helen, I bought this premium red ginseng for you both. It’s great for your health.” “And I got this iPad and MacBook for Leo. I heard he’s in college now, so these should be useful.” “I came back in a hurry, so I didn’t have time to prepare much. I hope you don’t mind.” I knew Julian was doing this on purpose. I had bought them far more expensive electronics over the years, but they had never treated me with even a fraction of this warmth. The parents beamed as they accepted the gifts, throwing a disdainful glance at me. “What are you standing there for?” Mrs. Jenkins snapped. “A grown man coming to eat for free. Go to the kitchen and help bring out the dishes!” ###0

They still expected me to play the submissive servant, just like always. If this were the past, I would have gone straight to the kitchen without a word. But now, I stood by the door, completely still. Chloe pinched me again, but I shoved her hand away coldly. “Ethan! What the hell is wrong with you? If you didn’t want to come, you shouldn’t have! I didn’t force you!” “Do you have to ruin everyone’s mood to be satisfied?” Leo chimed in from the couch, “Exactly! Chloe said you were going to bring me the new iPhone. Instead, you showed up empty-handed. Julian was the one who actually got me gifts. How do you even have the face to stand there?” Looking at this family of parasites, I realized how pathetic I had been. Every word they said was a reminder of how I had let them treat me like a dog for three years. “Are you all paralyzed? If you want expensive things, why don’t you get off your asses, get a job, and buy them yourselves?” Chloe’s eyes widened in fury. “Ethan! How dare you talk to my family like that? Where are your manners?” “I told you from day one he was just a classless boy from a small town!” Mrs. Jenkins added, sneering. “He has no breeding. We aren’t even married yet, and he’s already disrespecting us. Imagine what he’ll be like after the wedding!” “Ethan, are you still throwing a tantrum over that video from last night?” Arthur Jenkins, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke up. “Chloe explained everything to us. It was just a misunderstanding.” “Since she explained it, you should drop it. You know our families come from different social backgrounds. Why are you being so petty over a silly internet rumor?” Julian smiled politely and joined in. “Yes, Ethan. It was just a misunderstanding. Even if you don’t trust me, you should trust Chloe. She’s such a good girl, she would never jeopardize her reputation. How is she supposed to face the neighbors if you keep making a scene?” “As a man, your job is to work hard and give her a better life, not to restrict her social circle.” Julian’s words were so smooth. If he cared so much about her, why didn’t he buy Chloe and her brother a house? “This is what real class looks like,” Mrs. Jenkins sneered, looking at Julian before turning back to me. “If our family hadn’t gone through that financial crisis back then, do you honestly think a loser like you would have ever had a chance with my daughter?” She was referring to the time their family business went bankrupt due to fraud and cutting corners. Chloe and Julian had been dating in college. They had planned to move abroad together, but after the bankruptcy, Chloe was forced to stay behind. She didn’t even finish her degree and had to start working. Unable to survive the long-distance relationship, she and Julian broke up. When I first started dating Chloe, she constantly begged me for money to support her family. At first, she didn’t tell me about their bankruptcy. It was only after I pressed her that she admitted they owed a massive debt. I didn’t care about the money back then. I just felt incredibly sorry for her, thinking she was a brilliant girl whose future had been ruined by her family’s misfortune. So, I worked harder. In the end, I was the one who paid off their entire $500,000 debt. But the Jenkins family never showed a shred of gratitude. They took it all for granted. To them, Julian and Chloe were the perfect match. If I hadn’t interfered, they would have been together long ago. With Julian’s wealthy background, they wouldn’t have had to suffer for so many years. “Since you love Julian so much, perfect,” I said coldly. “Return all the money I’ve spent on your family over the past three years. The wedding is off. I’m stepping aside to let them be together.” Arthur and Helen Jenkins stared at me in disbelief. I had spent three years acting like a loyal golden retriever, doing whatever Chloe asked. This was the first time they had ever seen me stand up for myself. “Ethan, have you no shame?” Leo yelled. “My sister gave you three of her best years without even asking for a marriage certificate, and now you want your money back?” Mrs. Jenkins pointed a finger at my face, her voice screeching. “What do you think my daughter is? A toy? You got to sleep with her for three years for free! If you want to call off the wedding, fine! But that money is what she deserves. You won’t get a single dime back!” For three years, I had never actually slept with Chloe. She insisted on saving herself for our wedding night, claiming she wanted our first time to be special. If Chloe hadn’t cheated, I would have tolerated her family’s awful behavior. Even after discovering her betrayal, I was initially willing to write off the $500,000 debt and let her keep the condo out of respect for our past. But their utter shamelessness made me want to strip them of everything. “Ethan, I think you’ve really misunderstood,” Julian said, standing up with a sigh of mock disappointment. “If my presence causes this much trouble, I won’t see Chloe again. Arthur, Helen, I’m so sorry for causing this drama. I should probably leave.” Arthur Jenkins immediately grabbed Julian’s wrist to stop him. “This has nothing to do with you, Julian! It’s just this petty boy being insecure. You are our honored guest. If anyone is leaving, it’s the trash!” By “trash,” he meant me. I pulled out the legal notice and the court summons and tossed them right in front of Chloe. She instantly exploded. “Ethan, are you out of your mind? If you want to get lost, get lost! Don’t use some fake lawsuit to threaten me!” She shoved me out the front door and slammed it in my face. Before the door clicked shut, I heard Leo’s panicked voice from inside. “Chloe, you just kicked him out… but what about the money? Over the years, he really did pay for a lot of our—” “Shut up!” Chloe barked, cutting him off. “What do you know? He’s just upset because of that video. He’s throwing a tantrum to try and gain some leverage over me.” “What is this garbage anyway?” Chloe scoffed. I could hear the sound of paper being ripped to shreds. “Just wait. In a few days, he’ll come crawling back like a dog, begging for my forgiveness!” “You really know how to handle him, Chloe!” Leo laughed. The heavy thud of the door cut off the rest of their conversation. In that exact moment, whatever love I had left for Chloe died.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “445078”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On Valentine’s Day, I posted two beautiful photos of my wife on TikTok. I never expected her young, secret sugar baby to twist the truth and brand me as a creepy stalker online. He even brought a gang of college kids, who called themselves “social justice warriors,” and cornered me right at my company’s entrance. “Hey, old man! You’re in your forties. Still trying to cradle-snatch a young girl?” “Society is trash because of creeps like you. We Gen Zers are going to teach you how to behave today!” They trashed my office and tried to force my face into a puddle of piss to “look at myself.” What he didn’t know was that my wife was actually forty years old. She just looked twenty because of heavy plastic surgery. And he had no idea that every single penny my wife spent on him came directly from my bank account. Now, it was time to take back everything that belonged to me. On my way back to the office after lunch, I happened to scroll into a live stream on TikTok. The title of the stream was: *Watch me hunt down a creepy stalker and teach him a lesson.* Like most netizens, I stayed in the room just to watch the drama unfold. In the video, a row of young college boys stood in a line. They held up signs that read: “Death to Creeps,” “Beat Up the Stalker,” and “Justice Will Be Served.” As I watched, the background behind them started to look incredibly familiar. The next second, a hyped-up voice came through my speaker: “Alright guys! Taking down creeps is risky business. Send some gifts, and your boy will have more courage to face him!” My phone volume was turned up, but that voice sounded like it was coming from right next to me. I froze for a couple of seconds. When I looked up, I realized this crowd was standing right at the front gates of my company. No wonder the background looked familiar. My phone suddenly flashed a “30 seconds to battery shut down” warning. I put it away and decided to watch the scene play out in real life. Right then, the leader was still shouting into his camera: “Look, guys! This is the office where that creep works. Today, I’m going to expose his disgusting face in front of everyone!” As soon as he said that, the live chat went absolutely wild. [Oh my god, that’s my dream company! How did a creep like him get hired there?] [Birds of a feather flock together. Maybe the whole company is trash!] [Support the streamer! Thank you for protecting us girls. Sisters, let’s shower him with gifts!] [A true hero! Justice might be late, but it’s never absent!] With the continuous stream of paid gifts, the viewer count skyrocketed. Seeing my company’s hard-earned reputation dragged through the mud on a live stream made my heart sink. This was bad. Very bad. I would never allow one bad apple to ruin the company I built from scratch. But first, I needed to figure out what exactly was going on. So, I walked up to them. Before I could even open my mouth, the leader aggressively shoved his phone right into my face. The metal case slammed into my forehead. I winced in pain. He yelled at the camera, “Guys, look! This is the man! He looks all decent in his suit, but he’s actually a disgusting creep who takes candid photos of girls!” I was totally dazed. “Are you guys mistaken?” I asked, trying to stay calm. I was a married man. I always kept a respectful distance from other women, and I certainly didn’t have a hobby of secretly taking photos of strangers. I couldn’t understand how this had anything to do with me. However, he had no intention of explaining. He slammed the phone into my face again. This time, I knew it was intentional. He sneered, spitting out insults: “Old man, you must be in your late forties. You’re practically pushing fifty, and you’re still trying to get with young girls?” “Society is dirty because of scum like you. Today, we’re going to teach you a lesson!” Before I could react, he punched me straight in the face. I stumbled back a few steps, my mind going completely blank from the impact. After shaking off the dizziness, I shouted, “Calm down! If you keep being unreasonable, I’m calling the police!”

I usually have a very stern look. Being the CEO of a major company, my presence alone is usually enough to intimidate people. The younger employees in my office usually walked on eggshells around me. I thought raising my voice would make them back down so we could talk. But these kids completely ignored my warning. They crowded around me, spitting and shouting insults. “Your mom might tolerate you, but we won’t! We’re going to teach you how to act!” “People who don’t respect women shouldn’t even exist. If I were your dad, I would’ve suffocated you at birth!” In the chaos, someone spat on my sleeve. The cold moisture made my skin crawl with disgust. I had lived for over forty years, and I never thought I’d see the day where I’d be cornered and bullied by a bunch of college kids at my own office door. It was lunchtime. Many of my employees were returning from their break. But the entrance was completely blocked by these thugs, so nobody could get in. As the crowd of onlookers grew, I swallowed my disgust and looked the leader in the eye. “I am saying this for the last time. You have the wrong person. I am not the creep you’re looking for, and I have never done what you claim!” “Furthermore, I am married. Watch your mouth. If you continue this harassment, I will sue you for defamation!” I figured they were just hot-headed kids who made a mistake. I was willing to give them one chance to back off. As long as they admitted their mistake, I was willing to let it go. But to my surprise, my words only made him laugh louder. “You have the guts to take the photos, but not the guts to admit it? What a coward!” “Hilarious! Do all married men love to cheat? Since your wife can’t control you, we’ll do her a favor and teach you a lesson!” The boy looked at me like I was piece of garbage. “You want to sue us? Are you out of your mind? You took photos of my girlfriend and posted them online. We’re the ones who should sue you!” Wait. My mind raced. When did I ever post photos of someone else’s girlfriend online? I stared at him. “You say I posted photos of your girlfriend. Show me the proof.” I wondered if someone was using my identity to do shady things online. After all, the only photos I had posted recently were of my wife. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Otherwise, why would they be so sure it was me? I betted he couldn’t produce any real proof, or at least, his proof would be a mistake. “Fine! Let’s make sure you go down with no excuses!” The boy tapped on his phone and quickly pulled up a page. He shoved the screen in front of my face and sneered, “The evidence is right here. What do you have to say now?” I looked at the screen, ready to dismiss it. But the moment I saw it, I froze. The page on his phone was my own TikTok account. Specifically, the post I made this morning. Today was Valentine’s Day. I had rarely posted about my personal life, but today I had shared two beautiful photos of my wife. When I checked it earlier, it only had a few likes. But now, the screen showed tens of thousands of likes, and the comment section was overflowing. My brain worked fast. I immediately connected the dots. I looked at the boy standing in the center. He had pale, smooth skin and a cute, boyish face—the exact type people on Snapchat call a “pretty boy.” On closer look, he actually looked a bit familiar. But I didn’t dwell on that. If I recalled correctly, he had just said that the woman in the photos was his girlfriend. There were too many details here, pointing to a dark truth. But I kept my cool. I decided to test him. “Aren’t you guys being a bit too impulsive? What’s wrong with me posting photos of my own wife?” “You claim she’s your girlfriend? Why don’t we call her here right now and clear this up?” The moment I said that, the boys burst into loud, mocking laughter. “Old man! Go look in a mirror. What young girl would ever choose you?” The leader turned to the crowd of onlookers and yelled, “Sisters! Would any of you date an old man twenty years older than you?” Someone in the crowd yelled back, “No way!” A smug grin spread across his face. “If you had to choose, would you date me, or him?” He pointed to himself, then to me. Unsurprisingly, everyone cheered for him. This area was filled with office buildings. I scanned the crowd, hoping to see a familiar face who could speak up for me, but there was no one. Some people even started advising me to delete the photos and apologize so the kids would let me go. I looked at these young, energetic faces, but all I felt from them was pure, unadulterated malice. Suddenly, a realization flashed through my mind. I reached into my briefcase and pulled out a document folder. “This is the physical copy of my marriage certificate with Vanessa. You claim Vanessa is your girlfriend. Where is your proof?” Vanessa had always been insecure and insisted I carry a copy of our marriage certificate in my briefcase for our joint insurance update today. I never expected it to come in handy like this. But before I could even hold it up, one of the boys snatched the document from my hand and ripped it into pieces. “Nice try with the fake document! Do you think we’re stupid? Leo, this guy is shameless. Let’s give him what he deserves!” Leo! Leo Vance?! Hearing that name made my blood run cold. Fragmented memories suddenly rushed back into my head.

I had heard that name from my wife, Vanessa. A few months ago, Vanessa showed me a photo of a young guy on her phone. She told me he was her cousin who had just got into the top university in our city. She said, as his older cousin, she wanted to buy him a nice gift, but didn’t know what he liked. She asked if she could just transfer some cash to him instead. I didn’t mind, of course. Not long after, I heard her on the phone, saying, “Leo, I transferred the money. Study hard, and let me know if you need anything else, okay?” She hung up with a sweet smile on her face. Seeing me staring at her, she hugged my arm and explained, “My cousin’s name is Leo Vance. If you ever meet him, you have to take good care of him for me!” I hadn’t recognized him immediately because that happened last year, and I had completely forgotten what the boy in the photo looked like. The only thing I remembered was that over the past year, Vanessa had transferred a lot of money to this “Leo Vance.” But since that was her allowance, I never questioned how she spent it or who she gave it to. Now, it seemed like it wasn’t her cousin at all. What Leo did next confirmed my worst fears. As if to rub it in my face, he pulled out his phone and started a FaceTime call. When the call connected, he said, “Babe, I have a surprise for you tonight. Let’s celebrate Valentine’s Day together.” The next second, a voice I knew better than my own came through the speaker: “Of course, baby! I can’t wait!” It was Vanessa. Even though it was a hot summer afternoon, I felt like I had been plunged into an icy lake. Vanessa and I were high school sweethearts. I had loved her for years, and we finally got married. We had been married for over a decade. Although we didn’t have kids, we had always enjoyed our life together. Our relationship had only grown stronger over the years. Our friends always teased us for being as clingy as newlyweds. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought she would cheat on me. And I certainly never expected her to be keeping a twenty-year-old college student as her sugar baby. My entire world shattered in that instant. While I stood there frozen, a familiar voice called out, “Mr. Sterling? What’s going on here?” It was my assistant, Justin. His voice snapped me back to reality. “Call the police! Have all of them arrested! And call Vanessa. Tell her to get her ass down here right now!” For years, I had pampered her, spoiled her, and made sure she never had to lift a finger. And this was how she repaid me? Vanessa, how dare you! I clenched my fists, fury burning in my chest. Although Justin was confused, he immediately pulled out his phone to follow my orders. But before he could dial, one of the college kids slapped the phone out of his hand. It shattered on the pavement. “He’s with the creep! He’s probably trying to delete the evidence!” The boy then stomped on the phone, crushing it completely. I stared at them coldly. “What do you want?” Leo sneered. “Don’t think that just because you know my girlfriend’s name and made up a fake marriage story, I’ll be scared of you.” He laughed mockingly. “So, you’re saying this is your company?” “Yes,” I replied coldly. Leo threw his head back and laughed. The boys behind him joined in, howling with laughter. Before I could call them crazy, Leo turned to his gang. “Brothers, go inside and trash the place!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “445077”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Ethan’s girl best friend, Chloe, loved playing “pranks.” The first time we met, she slipped a condom into my pocket and started a rumor that I was cheating on him. At a friend’s party, she sat right on Ethan’s lap in front of my face, asking him who was sexier—her or me. Every single time, I would get angry and confront Ethan. But after a while, Ethan stopped comforting me. He impatiently told me to stop overthinking. He said I had no sense of humor. He told me to just “be the bigger person.” So today, when Ethan invited Chloe over to our house to watch the game, I didn’t scream. I didn’t question their relationship. Even when they hugged each other, I just calmly sipped my juice. But I never expected Chloe to sneak mango juice into my cup. The one thing she knew I was deathly allergic to. The moment I shut the bedroom door, my throat felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. I couldn’t breathe. Red hives erupted all over my skin. I collapsed onto the bed. My phone screen was still glowing. My search history was stuck on: “Can a severe mango allergy kill you?” Ethan’s voice came through the wooden door, sharp and demanding. “Hazel, get out of the master bedroom. It’s pouring rain outside, and Chloe is staying here tonight.” I didn’t move. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. It was because I couldn’t. My body felt like it was filled with lead. Every single muscle was burning hot. I could feel my face swelling up. My eyes were swollen shut, reduced to tiny slits. My lips bloated like sausages. I couldn’t open them, and I couldn’t close them. My throat felt like it was stuffed with burning hot coals. Every breath felt like swallowing blades. “Hazel, did you hear me? It’s a storm out there, she can’t drive home!” Ethan yelled again. Louder this time. I could hear the anger in his voice. He was losing his patience. “Ethan, is she mad at me?” Chloe’s voice drifted in from the living room. She giggled, sounding totally carefree, as if she were talking about some minor joke. “I just added a little splash of mango juice to her cup. I wanted to play a little prank on her.” A little prank. She said it so casually. As if putting mango juice in the drink of someone with a severe allergy was just a fun little experiment. Like dropping Mentos into Coke. “You knew Hazel was allergic to mangoes, and you still put it in?” Ethan’s voice didn’t sound angry. It sounded more like a weary sigh. “I didn’t know her allergy was *that* bad…” Chloe whined, sounding hurt. “I just wanted to add some flavor. I didn’t want her to think the drink I made tasted bad.” “Alright, alright, that’s enough. You did go a bit too far this time,” Ethan cut her off. “Hazel, Chloe knows she messed up. Stop throwing a tantrum. Pack your things and move to the guest room.” I didn’t reply. Not because I was throwing a tantrum. But because I couldn’t speak anymore. My tongue was swollen. My whole mouth was bursting with pressure. I tried to open my mouth, but only a muffled whimper came out. Like a cat with its tail stepped on. Ethan’s voice turned harsh. “Hazel, can you not do this?” After a moment of silence, he sighed and softened his tone. “…Fine, if you want to give me the silent treatment, cool down on your own. I’ll come find you later.” Footsteps faded from the door. The clinking of glasses came from the living room. They went back to watching the game. Just the two of them. Without me. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The crystal chandelier cast a shadow that looked like a butterfly. I remembered when we were newly married. I couldn’t sleep one night and pointed at the shadow, saying it looked like a butterfly. Ethan jumped out of bed, took a photo with his phone, and said he was going to brag to his friends about how creative his wife was. Back then, he was willing to do anything with me. But now? Tears rolled down my swollen cheeks. Breathing became harder and harder. I could hear my own heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like someone knocking on a door that would never open. The phone slipped from my hand. I closed my eyes. Whatever. Let it be. Nobody cared anyway. Outside, the storm raged on, thunder rolling across the sky. I wanted to go to the emergency room. But in this weather, I couldn’t get an Uber. I couldn’t even make it out the front door. When my soul floated out of my body, my first thought was: *So, this is what dying feels like.*

All the pain and agony disappeared in an instant. I floated up to the ceiling, looking down at my own body on the bed. That “Hazel” was lying there with her head tilted to the side. Her face was swollen like a balloon. Her lips were blue. Her arms were covered in red rashes. My phone lay on the floor, the screen still glowing. My search history was stuck on the last thing I looked up before I died: “First aid for anaphylactic shock from mango allergy.” I floated out of the room. Right through the tightly shut door—the door that nobody had bothered to knock on. In the living room, Ethan was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. The coffee table was covered in half-eaten food. Beer, chicken wings, chips, and half a pizza. There was also a half-finished drink sitting right on the edge of the table. Ethan hadn’t cleaned it up. He didn’t know that I would never drink that cup again. Chloe sat on the armchair next to him, her legs crossed, scrolling through her phone. The TV was replaying the goal from earlier. “Is Hazel still not coming out?” Ethan didn’t even look up. He just asked casually. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have messed with her cup.” Chloe kept her eyes on her screen, her thumb swiping up. “I just wanted to make her a nice drink. I didn’t think she’d get this mad.” “Well, it’s not like it’s a big deal, but you know she’s allergic to mangoes.” Ethan’s tone was incredibly flat. No worry. No urgency. It was like he was saying, “The weather is a bit cloudy today.” “Does she hate me? Ever since I came back, I feel like she’s had an issue with me.” Chloe’s voice sounded a little sad. “Back when it was just the two of us, things were so easy. Now, I don’t even know what to do to make her happy.” Watching them, I wanted to laugh. Chloe was trying to be careful? The first time she came to our house after she returned, she filled my expensive skincare bottles with tap water. When I caught her, she just laughed and said she was “testing if they were real.” At the party, she swap-tricked my cocktail with straight tequila, making me embarrass myself in front of everyone. She laughed louder than anyone else. But what broke my heart the most wasn’t Chloe. It was Ethan’s attitude. Before Chloe came back, we were so happy. He remembered every single food I loved. He would park outside my office building on rainy days to wait for me. He would cook hot soup and bring it to my study when I worked late. Back then, I thought marrying him was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to me. But the moment Chloe returned, everything changed. He started talking about her constantly. He talked about how cute she was when they were kids, how close they used to be. He took her out to dinner more times than he took me. The way he looked at her was so much gentler than the way he looked at me. He kept saying they were just childhood friends. But he never told me why childhood friends spoke to each other in that intimate tone. He stopped remembering what I liked to eat. He stopped waiting for me after work. He stopped cooking soup for me. He even started to find me annoying. He said I was making a mountain out of a molehill. He said I was being dramatic. I wasn’t being dramatic. I was terrified. I was terrified that there was no room left for me in his eyes. “Alright, I’ll go check on her.” Ethan finally put his phone down and stood up from the couch. I followed him back to my bedroom door. Ethan pushed the door open just a crack. The room was pitch black. The curtains were drawn. He saw a curled-up figure on the bed. “Hazel, are you coming out or what?” I didn’t move. I was already dead. “Fine, stop pretending.” Ethan’s voice grew even more impatient. “If you don’t want to come out, I don’t care. Clean the guest room yourself.” He waited for a few seconds. The bed remained completely still. “Unbelievable.” Ethan slammed the door shut. His footsteps faded away. He left. He didn’t even step into the room. He didn’t turn on the light to look at my face. If he had, he would have seen my blue lips. He would have realized my hands were ice cold. But he just stood at the door. A few feet away. Said a few words. And walked away. I floated in the living room. Staring at that closed door. “Ethan, why isn’t she out yet?” Chloe finished her last slice of pizza, her lips greasy. She glanced at the tightly shut bedroom door. “Who knows? She’s just throwing another tantrum.” Ethan was cleaning up the coffee table. He threw the leftovers into the trash can. He picked up my drink, looked at it for a second. He hesitated. Then he poured it down the sink. “Is she still mad at me?” Chloe’s tone sounded a little anxious now. “I really only added a tiny bit to give it some flavor… I didn’t know it would turn out like this.” “It’s fine. But you know she’s allergic to mangoes.” Ethan stacked the cups and brought them to the kitchen. “Don’t do that again next time.” Just that one sentence. No anger. No lecture. He didn’t tell her, “You almost killed my wife.” Just a casual, light, “Don’t do that again next time.” The same way he would tell someone, “Don’t leave your socks on the couch next time.” I watched them. I felt a sharp ache in my chest. Even though I was dead and my heart had stopped beating. Why did it still hurt so much?

“Ethan, do you think she’s actually okay?” Chloe’s voice suddenly got quiet. “What could possibly happen to her?” Ethan turned on the kitchen faucet. The rushing water drowned out his words. “She’s been like this since we got married. She plays dead over every little thing.” He paused. “Remember when you put superglue on her chair? She stayed home for days acting like she was traumatized. She was perfectly fine in the end, wasn’t she?” My soul drifted back to the living room. Chloe’s phone lit up. It was a text from her best friend. “Chloe, did you leave yet? How’s the wife doing?” Chloe typed back. “She’s fine. She’s just dramatic. Throws a fit over every little thing.” “Did Ethan yell at you?” “Why would he? Ethan knows exactly what she’s like.” “Lmao good. Next time, let’s try something else.” “For sure. I’ve got a plan for next time.” “Hahaha you’re savage.” I stared at the messages on the screen. I felt something shatter inside my chest. It wasn’t anger. It was something much colder than anger. It was despair. The absolute despair of realizing that, in their eyes, I wasn’t even a human being. To Chloe and her friends, I was just a toy. A toy they could mess with whenever they wanted, without any consequences. After all, Ethan would never get mad. He would always take her side. I turned around and floated away from the living room. I didn’t want to hear their laughter anymore. I didn’t want to know how they mocked me. I was dead. None of this had anything to do with me anymore. But why did it still hurt? Later that night, Ethan came to the door again. This time, he knocked. “Hazel, come out.” No response. “If you don’t say anything, I’m coming in.” Still no response. Ethan pushed the door open. The room was pitch black. He reached for the switch on the wall. The light flicked on. My body was still lying on the bed. In the exact same position as this afternoon. My face was even more swollen now. My lips had turned a dark purple. My fingers were curled up tightly, stiff and pale. Ethan stood at the doorway. He looked at me and frowned. “Are you still pulling this stunt?” He didn’t walk in. He stood by the door, crossing his arms. He was less than three feet away from me. Three feet. His wife was dead. Lying right there, three feet away from him. He looked at me for three seconds. Then he turned around and walked away. “Hazel, I’m telling you, if you don’t get up, I’m freezing your credit cards tomorrow.” His voice boomed from the living room. He didn’t look back. He didn’t hesitate. He just left. I floated above the head of the bed. Looking at my own corpse. Swollen beyond recognition. Even I could barely recognize myself. Ethan. You didn’t recognize me. Because you never actually looked at me. Whenever you looked at me, it was always with impatience. You always thought I was playing victim, being dramatic, pretending. You never once thought. That one day, I would actually die. I was dead, and you still didn’t believe it. The game ended, and the rain outside gradually stopped. Chloe glanced at the closed bedroom door and sighed. “Ethan, she still won’t come out. She clearly doesn’t want me here. Forget it, I should just go home.” “She’s always like this, don’t take it to heart… I’ll drive you.” Ethan grabbed his jacket. “No, it’s fine. You should stay and be with her. She’s still mad.” “It’s pouring. I’m not letting you drive alone.” Ethan was already putting his jacket on. “Let’s go.” The two of them walked out. The lock clicked shut. The entire house fell into complete silence. Only I was left. Lying in the dark room. My phone lay on the floor. One corner of the screen was cracked. Notifications kept popping up. From Ethan. From my manager, Sarah. From coworkers asking about work. None of them knew. The owner of this phone. Would never reply again. Ethan didn’t get back until almost eleven. He came in, took off his shoes, and changed his clothes. As he passed the bedroom door, he paused. “Hazel, seriously…” He cracked the door open and looked inside. The light was still on. I was still lying there, unchanged. He stood at the door and sighed. “You are so frustrating.” Then he reached in, turned off the light, and went to sleep in the guest room. *Click.* The room fell into darkness. My soul stood in the dark. Looking at my own corpse. I suddenly remembered a post I had scrolled past a few days ago. It asked: *If you died alone in your apartment, how long would it take for someone to find you?*

Some said three days. Some said a week. Some said it depended on when the neighbors started smelling the rot. At the time, I thought: *That won’t happen to me.* *I have a husband.* *No matter what, he would find me, right?* Now, I knew the truth. He wouldn’t. He would just think I was throwing a tantrum. Being dramatic. Playing dead. And even when I was actually dead. He still wouldn’t believe it. The next morning, Ethan got up and made breakfast. The sound of eggs sizzling came from the kitchen. The delicious aroma drifted in. It used to be my favorite smell. “Hazel, wake up. You’re going to be late.” Ethan called out from the kitchen. No response. “Hazel!” Still no response. “Seriously, every single day.” Ethan walked out of the kitchen holding a plate of fried eggs. He glanced at the bedroom door. He didn’t walk over. He picked up his phone and sent me a text: “Are you getting up or what? I don’t care if you’re late.” The message was sent. No reply. He sent another one: “Hazel, don’t push me.” Still no reply. He slammed his phone on the table. “Unbelievable.” He packed his things. And went to work. The house fell completely quiet. Only I was left. Lying in the dark room. At ten in the morning. Sarah, my manager, called. Ethan answered. “Ethan, why isn’t Hazel at work today?” “Oh? She’s not there?” “No, she hasn’t showed up.” “That’s…” Ethan’s voice sounded confused. “She was throwing a fit last night and locked herself in the room. I thought she left for work on her own this morning.” “You should go home and check on her right away.” “Okay, I will.” The call ended. But Ethan didn’t go back immediately. He told his coworkers he had an errand to run. Then he kept working on his tasks. It wasn’t until noon. That he finally drove back home. When he walked through the door, he was still complaining. “Hazel, you better come out. We are having this out today.” He walked to the bedroom door. He pushed it open. The lights were off. The curtains were still drawn. It was pitch black. He reached out and flipped the switch. The light came on. I was still lying on the bed. In the exact same position as yesterday. I hadn’t even changed my clothes. The swelling had gone down a bit. But my lips were even darker now. A deep purple, almost black. “Hazel?” Ethan’s voice changed. He realized something was wrong. I would never skip work just to throw a tantrum. No matter how mad I was, I would never skip work. Because I knew the consequences of missing work were serious. So I always got up on time, went to work on time. No matter how miserable I felt. But this time, I hadn’t gotten up. Ethan finally walked closer. He reached the side of the bed. He reached out and pushed my shoulder. “Hazel? Stop scaring me…” My body moved. Stiff, ice cold, like a block of stone. Ethan jerked his hand back. He stared at my face. Stared at my swollen features. My purple lips. My curled fingers. His pupils dilated in sheer terror. “Hazel!!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “445076”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My husband stole my flower shop dream and gave it to his mistress to open. She pointed at my design sketch and bragged: “My husband drew this for me himself. He said I deserved everything.” The husband she was talking about was mine—Dante Moretti, the most dangerous Don in Chicago. Three years ago, when I told him I wanted to open a flower shop, all Dante said was, “Don’t embarrass me with your little-girl fantasies.” Turns out the flower shop wasn’t the embarrassment. I was the one who didn’t deserve it. Later, Dante publicly announced she was his real wife, and forced me—pregnant—to admit I was some deranged nanny, and to apologize to her. I did it. Then I signed the divorce papers, terminated the pregnancy, and left Chicago. Dante thought I was just angry. He was wrong. This time, I wasn’t coming back. … The bell above the flower shop door chimed. Mia hurried forward, beaming. “My husband sent someone to pick up the flowers!” I followed her gaze— It was Carlo. Dante’s most trusted man. The moment Carlo saw me, the color drained from his face. “Donna…” Mia noticed nothing. She reached under the counter and lifted out a dark green velvet box. “Carlo, perfect timing. Can you give this back to Dante for me? He pushed it on me last night, but it’s just too expensive. I can’t accept it.” Carlo reached for it. His hand was trembling. So was mine. Because I recognized that box. Inside was a diamond necklace—the one Dante had flown to Geneva last week to bid on at auction. Our fifth wedding anniversary was only days away. I’d thought it was meant for me. I’d been looking forward to it. How pathetic. “He came so late last night, though,” Mia pouted. “Said something had held him up.” Last night was my birthday. I’d waited for Dante all evening. All I got was one text: “Something’s come up at the club. Don’t wait up. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” Turns out the thing that had “held him up”—was me. On Dante Moretti’s schedule, his wife had been filed under “delays.” If I hadn’t wandered into this flower shop by chance, how much longer would I have gone on living inside this lie? I forced myself to stay calm and told myself it was time to leave. But as I turned, my eyes caught the wall inside the shop—a hand-drawn sketch, framed in warm white. A vine-covered archway. A rose-lined window. An old piano. In the bottom right corner, a ginger cat dozing in a flower basket. My feet froze. Three years ago, one winter afternoon, I’d curled up on the couch and spent hours drawing the flower shop of my dreams. Then I brought it to Dante. “Someday, if I get the chance, I want to open a shop just like this.” He’d barely glanced at it. “You’re the Donna of the Moretti family, not some girl with her head in the clouds. Stop wasting your time on this nonsense.” He’d rolled up the sketch and tossed it into a drawer in his study. Later, the sketch disappeared. Dante said someone had thrown it out as scrap paper while cleaning up the study. That evening, he had Carlo send over a bouquet as an apology. “It’s gone. It was just a piece of paper.” I tried to draw it again afterward, but I could never quite recapture the feeling of that first one. For three years, I’d believed it had really been thrown away. It hadn’t. It had been framed and hung on Mia’s wall. No wonder this place had felt so strangely familiar. Dante had followed my blueprint—stroke by stroke—and built another woman’s dream instead. “Do you like it, ma’am?” Mia’s eyes crinkled with delight. “My husband drew it for me himself. Isn’t he amazing?” “Next time, I’m going to ask him to draw my favorite—lilies. Roses are so tacky…” Her husband. Drawn by his own hand. Dante had stolen my dream, signed his own name to it, and given it to his other wife. He’d said a flower shop would make the Morettis a laughingstock. He’d wanted me quiet. Presentable. Useful. I held things together at The Velvet Room for him, managed the old guard, cleaned up every mess. But the moment I spoke a word out of turn, he’d remind me in front of everyone: “Elena, all you need to do is be a good wife.” Turns out, all along, he’d been doing just one thing: Snuffing out my light—so he could use it to shine on someone else. The reason he’d crushed me and the gift he’d given her were, quite literally, the same piece of paper. A cold went through me. As I stepped out of the shop, Carlo followed. “Donna, I—” I didn’t look at him. I was only thinking one thing. What was stolen from me—it’s time I took it back.

At the family meeting the next day, I finished my report on the previous night’s incident at the casino. What could have turned into a full-blown shootout, I’d shut down. No gunfire. No blood. It was the cleanest job I’d handled since becoming a Moretti. Dante knew that. Then, without warning, Dante shoved the ledger across the table and lit a cigar. “This is what happens when you let a woman get involved in the business.” “Just because nothing blew up doesn’t mean she did the right thing. Letting my wife clean up my mess sends a message to Chicago: that Dante Moretti can’t even hold his own turf.” He never once looked at me. In a room of more than twenty men, all I could hear was my own breathing. “A woman should learn how to be a good wife—not give orders on behalf of her man. Elena, you need to understand that.” “As for the one with the loose mouth—she’ll learn her lesson.” He was telling everyone I’d overstepped, and that someone would pay for my presumption. I knew then—this meeting had no place for me anymore. I walked out of the study and found Grace, the old housemaid, in a corner of the garden. She was crying so quietly she barely dared breathe. Last night, when the casino called the estate, Dante hadn’t been home. So she’d knocked on my door. She wasn’t yet fifty. Her husband was dead. She was raising a son in school on her own, and taking care of a sick mother. An extra ten dollars a month could break her. With a single word, Dante could destroy her life. “Grace, I’ll handle last night. You go home. Spend time with your mother.” I handed her a tissue and tried to keep my voice light. Grace looked up, eyes red-rimmed. “Donna, you were the one who fixed it last night. Why would the Don—” “Don’t.” I gave her a small smile. “Go on home.” After Grace left, I stood there for a long time. I didn’t want to go back to the estate and face Dante, so I went to my mother’s. The living room was full of flowers—lilies, their scent sharp enough to sting. Mom was sitting on the edge of the couch, clutching a tissue. Her nose was red, her eyes swollen. “Where did all these come from?” “Dante ordered them for me. Twice a week.” Her smile was thin. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? You’ve always loved flowers.” “I’m fine. Don’t stir up trouble with Dante over a few bouquets. I’m fine.” My hands slowly clenched. The last time she’d had a reaction, it was because Dante had filled the house with lilies. She’d toughed it out until she couldn’t breathe, and had to be rushed to the ER by 911. Four days in the hospital. I’d told Dante. He said he’d remember. Turns out the way he “remembered” was to have flowers delivered twice a week. I looked down. Every bouquet had the same little card attached: Mia’s Blooms. The audacity. Dante didn’t remember that my mother had nearly died from a pollen allergy. But he remembered to send business Mia’s way. I threw every one of the bouquets out. That evening, I got back to the estate, pushed open the door—and stopped dead. The whole house was full of flowers. The foyer, the dining table, beside the fireplace—everywhere, the white lilies I hated most. I looked out at the garden. The rose bushes I’d planted with my own hands had been ripped out. In the freshly turned soil, rows upon rows of white lilies stood at attention. Dante came out of his study, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “Do you like it? You said you wanted to wake up to flowers every day.” I had said that. But I’d never imagined every bouquet would come from his other wife. My fingertips started to go numb. He’d torn out the flowers I’d planted myself, and filled my home with Mia’s favorite bloom. He’d turned me into his other wife’s biggest customer—and I was supposed to thank him for the romance. “What is it? You don’t like them?” Dante crossed to me and slid an arm around my waist. He bent to kiss me. In my head, a single image flashed— The vine-covered archway. The rose window. The old piano. Mia’s voice, smiling: “My husband drew this for me himself.” My stomach heaved. I shoved Dante off and clapped a hand over my mouth as I bolted for the bathroom. I threw up until I was crying. Dante followed me in and handed me a warm towel. “Bad food?” I shook my head, bracing myself against the sink, gasping. The face in the mirror was ghost-white. He frowned. Then something seemed to occur to him, and his gaze dropped. “Elena—are you pregnant?”

I’d meant to save the news of the pregnancy for our fifth wedding anniversary. Seven years together. I’d imagined the moment more times than I could count— Sliding the ultrasound across the table, watching him freeze, then break into a smile. Now, in the wake of Dante’s “something’s come up at the club,” and the framed sketch on Mia’s wall, that “surprise” had turned into a punchline. Dante looked at the report. He was pleased. He helped me up from the bathroom floor and crouched, pressing his cheek against my stomach. “I was too harsh at the meeting.” “It won’t happen again. You just focus on the baby.” He also said he’d make it up to me publicly, in front of everyone. On the night of our anniversary, I put on the cashmere coat I’d worn the first time I met Dante, clasped on the jewelry set he’d given me at our wedding, and arrived at the private ballroom. Dante had spared no expense for our fifth anniversary dinner. But my blood was turning colder by the second. The entire room was drowning in white lilies—the long table, the fireplace, the flower wall behind the head seats—all white, the scent so thick I could barely breathe. Beside my place setting sat a dark green velvet box. The diamond necklace. The very thing Mia hadn’t dared accept had become Dante’s anniversary gift to me. A few of the wives were murmuring not far off. “Donna Moretti has such unusual taste. For a second I thought I’d wandered into someone’s wake.” “Mia’s Blooms again. Every Moretti event lately. You don’t suppose the owner is the Don’s mistress, do you?” “If I were her, I certainly wouldn’t be smiling…” But I did. I smiled. I just kept smiling—until my eyes began to burn. My fifth wedding anniversary with Dante—every flower, every gift—belonged to another woman. I didn’t wait for Dante to arrive. I stood up and walked out. I went to Mia’s Blooms. Mia was behind the counter looking over some sketches. When she saw me, she set down her pen and hurried over. “Ma’am, perfect timing! My husband said he’s opening a second location for me. Soon all of Chicago will know Mia’s Blooms!” Her face was radiant with joy. I said nothing. I walked to the wall and stared at the framed sketch. “Are you planning to steal someone else’s design for the second one too?” Mia went still. “What?” “This drawing—I spent an entire afternoon on it, three winters ago.” I turned to face her. “The cat in the bottom right corner? He was mine as a child. I lost him when I was eight. I put him in the sketch on purpose.” “You said roses were tacky. So why the rose window?” Mia’s face went white. “You know I’m his wife.” My voice was calm. “You know the money for this shop came from my husband. You know that’s my drawing on your wall. You know this shop was my dream. And still, you had the nerve to call my husband yours.” A woman in the shop hurled her bouquet to the floor. “A shop opened by the mistress? That’s disgusting.” Half a dozen phones went up at once. Mia stumbled backward, knocking over a flower stand. Glass shattered across the floor. “Please, stop filming, please…” She crouched down amid the broken flowers and shards of glass, her voice shaking. Suddenly, I found the whole thing unbearably pointless. I was turning to leave when Dante burst in. Smack. The hand with the wedding ring struck me hard across the face. I staggered back, crashing into a flower stand behind me. Broken glass drove into my palm. Blood welled up fast. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. The color drained from my face. Dante didn’t look at me. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Mia, pulling her against his chest, murmuring gently. “It’s all right. I’m here. No one’s going to touch you.” Once Mia was calm, Dante came over and crouched down in front of me. On the surface, it looked like he was inspecting the wound. What he said was: “Apologize to Mia. Then we can put this behind us.” I clutched my bleeding hand, staring at him in disbelief. “Dante—have you lost your mind?” “You’re carrying a child.” His voice was low, meant only for my ears. “Don’t blow this up.” Cold flooded through me. “And if I don’t apologize?” Dante looked at me. His tone was terrifyingly even. “Suit yourself. But tonight, Grace disappears from the estate. Her life is over.” “Elena. You know I can do it.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260721AvZkr2GAVD 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni302469”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix