The last thing I remembered from my first life was the smell of wet fur and the sound of snapping bone. When the kidnappers took me and my sister, my father was busy celebrating his anniversary with his second wife. Valerie had wanted a romantic getaway, so my father had taken the entire security detail and driven upstate to their private cabin. The burglars, who had been casing our house for weeks, saw their window. My little sister, Zoey, died trying to protect me. She was brutalized by those men, left clinging to a thread of life while I screamed into a dead phone line. I had called my father dozens of times, begging him not to get on that plane, pleading for him to turn the car around. In that life, he eventually came back. We were “saved,” technically. But because he abandoned Valerie to rescue us, she spiraled into a performative depression. Pregnant at the time, she threw herself into the river in a fit of rage—her fate left “unknown” to the public, though her daughter, Crystal, made sure the blame landed squarely on us. Crystal showed my father a forged suicide note, claiming Zoey and I had hired the kidnappers ourselves just to keep him from his anniversary date. My father didn’t act like he believed her at first. He comforted us. He told us not to worry. Then, after legally transferring the entire company to Crystal, he drugged our dinner. He didn’t take us to a hospital. He took us to a remote kennel—a place for fighting dogs. As he locked the cage from the outside, his eyes were as cold as a winter morning in Manhattan. “If it weren’t for you two, Valerie and my unborn child would still be alive,” he said, his voice devoid of any fatherly warmth. “You need to atone for her. I only need one daughter, and Crystal is enough. You two… you’re just dead weight.” The dogs were hungry. I died in agony, my heart breaking long before my body gave out. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in the villa. It was the day of the kidnapping. 1 When the heavy thud sounded at the front door, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I lunged forward, grabbing Zoey’s arm just as she started to get up. “Maddy?” she asked, blinking in confusion. “Is that the DoorDash guy?” I didn’t answer. I dragged her into the walk-in pantry, my hands shaking as I pulled up the security app on my phone. When the feed loaded, Zoey gasped, pressing her hand over her mouth. On the screen, a massive man dressed in black stood under the porch light. He wasn’t carrying a delivery bag. He was gripping a rusted crowbar. “Don’t make a sound,” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Wait for him to leave.” In my last life, Zoey had been too trusting. She’d opened the door, and the nightmare had begun. If my father hadn’t returned when he did back then, we would have… But the memory of the dogs chilled me to the marrow. My father hadn’t saved us because he loved us; he had saved us so he could kill us himself later. “I—I have to call Dad,” Zoey hissed, her eyes wide with terror as she fumbled for her phone. “He just left. He can bring the guards back…” On the screen, the man stopped knocking. My breath hitched. I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d think the house was empty. But then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. “Maddy…” Zoey’s voice broke into a sob. My blood ran cold. He didn’t just have a crowbar; he had a key to the front door. This wasn’t a random hit. We were being targeted. I hit the silent alarm for the police, typing out our coordinates with trembling fingers. Beside me, Zoey’s call connected. “Zoey? What is it now?” Our father’s familiar, annoyed baritone filled the small space. “Dad!” Zoey whispered, her voice thick with fear. “Someone’s in the house. He has a crowbar and a key. Please, you have to bring the security team back. Please help us!” I leaned against her, listening to the silence on the other end. 2 There was a five-second pause. Then, a sharp, irritated sigh. “Zoey, stop the theatrics. I told you, today is my anniversary with Valerie. I don’t have time for these little games you and Maddy play for attention.” On my screen, the man had unlocked the door. The deadbolt slid back with a heavy thwack. I snatched the phone from Zoey. “Dad, this isn’t a game! Look at the cloud footage if you don’t believe us! If you don’t come back right now, you’re going to be coming home to a crime scene!” I expected panic. I expected him to roar into action like he did the first time. Instead, his voice turned arctic. “Maddy, I know you hate Valerie. But faking a home invasion? That’s low, even for you. You two are so desperate to ruin her day that you’d lie about your own safety.” “Dad—” “I’m not falling for it this time. Don’t call me again.” Click. He hung up. Zoey and I stared at each other in the dim light of the pantry. My soul felt like it was being submerged in ice. In my previous life, the moment he heard the word ‘kidnapper,’ he had raced back so fast he nearly totaled his car. This time, his reaction was the opposite. A sickening thought took root: He remembers too. If he had been reborn with the memories of the ‘first’ life, he believed we had faked the first kidnapping to spite Valerie. He thought the trauma we went through—the broken bones, the violation—was all a staged performance. But it had been real. It was real then, and it was real now. “Maddy, what do we do?” Zoey’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Why does he think we’re lying?” Before I could answer, the pantry door groaned. Two violent strikes of metal against wood shattered the lock. “Found you,” the man growled. He swung the door open, his hulking frame blocking out the light. He looked at us with the predatory hunger of a wolf finding two lambs in a pen. 3 The crowbar came down with a sickening crunch, shattering my left tibia. The pain was a white-hot explosion. I screamed, collapsing as the man grabbed Zoey by her hair. She was paralyzed, her eyes rolling back in terror. “I’m gonna give you girls a chance,” the man rasped. “Call your rich daddy. Tell him to pay up for his precious little princesses, or I start taking pieces of you home in Tupperware.” Sweat poured down my face as I clutched my mangled leg. In the last life, he’d said the same thing. But I knew better now. This man wasn’t just a kidnapper; he was a butcher. He had no intention of letting us live. He would break us until there was nothing left to break, then discard the remains. To buy time, I grabbed my phone and redialed my father. He picked up on the third ring, sounding purely murderous. “Maddy? Again? I swear to God—” “Listen to me!” I gasped, glancing at the kidnapper. “Dad, I—” The man snatched the phone from my hand. “One hour,” he barked into the receiver. “Ten million dollars, or I kill them both. Start with the pretty one.” To punctuate his point, he slammed his heavy boot down on Zoey’s shin. “No!” I shrieked. Zoey had been a ballerina since she was five. Her legs were her life, her joy, her entire future. I heard the bone snap—a dry, sharp sound like a branch breaking in winter. Zoey’s scream was a high-pitched wail that seemed to tear the air apart. My heart hammered against my ribs. Surely, even if he hated us, he would hear that scream. He used to love us. He used to be our hero before Valerie moved in and slowly poisoned the well. Then, my father spoke. “Ten million?” he repeated. His voice was flat, bored. “Then kill them.” The world seemed to stop spinning. “They’re ungrateful, manipulative brats,” my father continued. “Maybe if they’re dead, I’ll finally have some peace. Maddy, if you’re listening, your acting has improved, but tell your friend he’s overdoing the sound effects. Don’t call me again, or I’m cutting your trust funds to zero.” The line went dead. He blocked the number a second later. “Son of a bitch,” the kidnapper spat, looking at the phone. He turned to me, his eyes gleaming with a sudden, dark malice. “Looks like Daddy doesn’t want you back. Guess that means I can do whatever I want with you.” I lay on the floor of the pantry, watching in horror as he grabbed Zoey by the hair and began dragging her toward the living room like a sack of laundry. “Leave her alone!” I roared. 4 I dragged my useless, throbbing leg across the hardwood, trying to reach them, but the man backhanded me so hard the world tilted. My left ear erupted in a sharp, ringing pain. “Maddy!” Zoey sobbed, thrashing in his grip. My heart was breaking. I hated him. I hated my father with a ferocity that burned hotter than the pain in my leg. He knew what was happening. He chose to believe a lie because it was more convenient for his perfect life with Valerie. I lunged forward, sinking my teeth into the kidnapper’s wrist. I prayed for the police. I prayed for a miracle. The man howled in rage. He dropped Zoey and pinned me to the floor, raining blows down on my face. I felt a tooth click against the floorboards. Blood filled my mouth, and the world began to gray at the edges. “Stop it! Stop hitting her!” Zoey, usually so fragile, found a heavy crystal ashtray on the coffee table. She swung it with everything she had, catching the man in the temple. He didn’t go down, but he stumbled. He turned on her, his face a mask of pure fury. He grabbed her wrist and twisted. The sound of her joint popping made me want to vomit. “You little bitch!” He threw her onto the sofa, his hand ripping into the collar of her shirt. The sound of tearing fabric sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. “Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare touch her!” Zoey was screaming. I scrambled up, my vision swimming, and grabbed the ashtray. I slammed it into the back of the man’s head with a guttural roar. He slumped, dazed, falling to his knees. “Zoey, run!” I wheezed. I grabbed her hand, snatching a set of car keys off the table. We had to get to the gates. There were security guards at the main entrance a mile away. If we could get to them, we were safe. We made it to the heavy front door, but a massive hand clamped onto my shoulder. A blade flashed in the dim light. “Maddy, go!” Zoey threw her entire weight into the man, knocking him off balance. The knife swiped across her face, leaving a long, jagged red line across her cheek. “No! Zoey, I’m not leaving you!” Her eyes, filled with blood and tears, met mine. “Lock the door! Go to the guards! Get help!” She shoved me out and slammed the door from the inside, locking it. I heard the man roar and the sound of a struggle. My heart was shattering into a million pieces, but I couldn’t stop. I ran for the SUV in the driveway, sobbing as I shifted into gear. 5 The security station was less than a mile down the winding mountain road. I made it there in three minutes, practically falling out of the car before the gate. The guards here were all ex-military, hired by the development to protect the multi-million dollar estates. “Miss? Miss, what happened?” A young guard rushed over to help me up. I grabbed his tactical vest, my voice a jagged mess of sobs. “I’m from Number 15. There’s a man… he’s in the house. My sister is still inside! Please, you have to go now!” I expected them to move. I expected sirens and drawn weapons. Instead, the guard’s expression shifted. He let go of my arms. “You’re Maddy Beckett? From the Beckett estate?” I nodded frantically. “Please! He’s hurting her!” The guard sighed and shook his head. “Miss Beckett, don’t you think this is a bit much? Putting on a show like this?” “What?” “Mr. Jordan called us a few minutes ago. He told us to expect some… ‘dramatic performances’ from you today. He said not to leave our posts if you showed up with a fake story.” Jordan? Jordan Ward. My “fiancé.” Our families had been close since we were kids. He was supposed to be my protector. “It’s not a story! Look at me! Look at my leg!” I screamed, dropping to my knees. “Please! Just go and check! If I’m lying, fire me, sue me, I don’t care! Just save my sister!” The guard looked at my mangled leg, his brow furrowing. He looked at the other guard, who seemed to be wavering. “Maybe we should just take a look—” Before he could finish, a sleek black Porsche pulled up to the gate. Jordan stepped out of the driver’s seat. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for a girl in a pristine white silk dress. Crystal. Valerie’s daughter. When she saw me—bloody, muddied, and broken—she gasped and pressed a delicate hand to her mouth. “Maddy? I know you didn’t want my mom and your dad to have their anniversary, but isn’t this… a little much?” Jordan looked at me, his eyes full of disappointment. “Look at the state of you, Maddy. You really went all out with the special effects makeup, didn’t you?” “Jordan, listen to me,” I rasped. “Your dad told you I was acting, but he’s wrong. There is a man in the house with a knife. Zoey is—” “Richard told me everything,” Jordan interrupted, his voice cold. “He said you hired actors to stage a kidnapping so he’d have to come home. I didn’t want to believe you’d be this pathetic, but here you are.” 6 The world felt like it was tilting on its axis. “My father told you I hired actors?” “Yeah.” Jordan stepped forward and grabbed my arm to pull me up. His touch, once something I craved, made my skin crawl. “Stop this, Maddy. You’re embarrassing yourself.” I shoved him away, my voice cracking. “I didn’t hire anyone! Look at the blood! It’s warm, Jordan! It’s real!” I grabbed his hand, trying to make him feel the heat of my injuries, but Crystal stepped in. “Maddy, did you hire a Hollywood makeup artist? It looks so real. It’s actually kind of creepy how far you’ll go just to be the center of attention.” Something inside me snapped. I reached out and slapped Crystal across her smug, porcelain face. She stumbled back, sobbing instantly. “Maddy! Why would you—” Jordan’s face darkened. He shoved me back, letting me fall onto my broken leg. I screamed as the bone shifted. “That is enough!” Jordan roared, stepping in front of Crystal to shield her. “How am I supposed to marry someone so unstable? So cruel?” He looked at me with pure disgust. “A woman who represents the Ward family needs to have dignity. You have none. Apologize to Crystal. Now.” I looked at him—the man I had loved since I was sixteen. In my last life, he had stayed with me until he found out I’d been ‘ruined’ by the kidnappers. Then, he’d jumped into bed with Crystal the moment she was named heir. He didn’t love me. He loved the status of being a Beckett son-in-law. I looked at the gate, then back at them. I realized no one was coming. “I will never apologize to that snake,” I spat, my voice low and dangerous. “And I will never marry you. I’d rather die.” I dragged myself toward the security office, grabbing a heavy heavy-duty flashlight from the desk. “If you won’t save her, I will.” As I tried to limp back to the car, Jordan yelled, “Stop her! Don’t let her leave until she settles this!” 7 The guards grabbed me, forcing me to turn back around. Jordan walked over, his face a mask of ‘righteous’ frustration. “Maddy, do you have any idea how fragile Crystal’s mental health is? She struggles with depression. You can’t just lash out at her because you’re having a tantrum.” He lowered his voice, trying to sound reasonable. “Just apologize. Then go wash that fake blood off and call your father to tell him you’re sorry for ruining his night. We can still fix this.” I let out a scream of pure, unadulterated agony. “Jordan! You are killing her! If anything happens to Zoey, I will spend every cent I have to ruin you!” He hesitated for a second, seeing the sheer conviction in my eyes. But Crystal leaned into his side. “Jordan, she’s the one who hired the ‘kidnapper.’ She knows exactly how much ‘danger’ Zoey is in. She probably told him to be rough to make it look convincing.” That was all it took. The doubt left Jordan’s eyes. “She’s right.” Crystal gave me a tiny, triumphant smirk from behind Jordan’s shoulder. I fell to the ground, the weight of the betrayal crushing the air from my lungs. “Please… it’s Zoey. It’s her life…” Suddenly, a sharp, wailing siren pierced the air. Two police cruisers tore past the gate, heading straight for Number 15. Hope flared in my chest. The silent alarm. They’d finally made it. Jordan’s face went pale, but not from concern. “You actually called the cops? Maddy, the paperwork for a false report is going to be a nightmare. You’ve gone too far this time.” Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. I answered, putting it on speaker. “Is this Madelyn Beckett? This is Sergeant Miller with the State Police. We’ve apprehended a suspect at your residence.” Jordan scoffed, looking at the guards. “See? They caught her actor.” The Sergeant’s voice continued, crackling with grim urgency. “We need an ambulance at your location immediately. Your sister… she’s in critical condition. It’s a bloodbath in there.” The color drained from Jordan’s face. The silence that followed was deafening. “Maddy…” he whispered, his eyes wide with a dawning, horrific realization. “What happened?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391922”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After his “Perfect Ghost” died, Nate Harrison spent ten years hating me. I spent those years trying to win him back, piece by piece, only to be met with his icy sneer. “If you really want to please me, Evie,” he’d say, his voice a serrated blade, “do the world a favor and stop breathing.” It was a phantom pain, a dull ache I’d learned to live with—until the night the world actually ended. When the burning rafters of our estate came crashing down, Nate didn’t run. He didn’t save himself. He threw his body over mine, absorbing the fire and the weight of the collapsing roof to keep me alive. As he lay dying in my arms, covered in ash and blood, he used the last of his strength to flinch away from my touch. “Evie,” he wheezed, his eyes glassy and distant. “If I could go back… if I could just un-know you… how much better would our lives have been?” At the funeral, Nate’s mother was a ghost of a woman, her voice dissolving into salt and grief. “Nate, my boy… it was my fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to marry her. If I’d just let you be with Serena Blackwell, maybe you’d still be standing here today.” Nate’s father didn’t even look at me. He just stared at the mahogany casket with a simmering rage. “He saved you three times, Evie. Three times he nearly died for a woman who brought him nothing but misery. Why was it him? Why couldn’t it have been you?” Everyone regretted Nate marrying me. Even me. In the end, I climbed to the top of the Sky Deck—the highest point in the city—and let the wind take me. I closed my eyes, praying for an end to the guilt. But instead of the cold embrace of death, I woke up ten years in the past. This time, I’m cutting the ties. I’m letting him go. I’m going to give everyone the happy ending they missed. 1 “You’re really something, aren’t you, Evie? Manipulating my parents until they’re threatening a hunger strike just to force this engagement. Do you actually think a ring on your finger will make me love you?” The voice was low, cold, and achingly familiar. I blinked, my vision blurring as I stared up at Nate Harrison. He was standing in front of me, twenty-two years old and radiating a restless, arrogant energy. He wore a slim-fit navy suit, his tie loosened, looking every bit the Ivy League rebel he was back then. This wasn’t the broken, haunted man who died in the fire. This was Nate at his peak. My heart hammered against my ribs, a painful, frantic rhythm. I was back. I was really back. I forced down the sob rising in my throat and stared at him, greedy for the sight of him alive and breathing. “You don’t want to marry me,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, “because the person you actually want to spend your life with is Serena, right?” Nate let out a harsh, dry laugh. “So what if it is? You going to step aside? We both know you’re too selfish for that.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Actually, I am.” My parents had died in the line of duty, leaving behind a legacy that the city’s elite whispered about in hushed tones. They’d left me with a “Golden Ticket”—a legal trust and a social standing so high that the Mayor himself had offered me any favor within his power. I could have married anyone. I could have had anything. And ten years ago, I’d used that leverage to secure a marriage contract with the Harrisons. He froze, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’ve got the contract. You’ve got my parents in your pocket. It’s a done deal, Evie. Why the sudden act of martyrdom? How exactly are you going to ‘set me free’?” “I’m not playing games, Nate. Not anymore. Go wait for me by the East Gate. I’m going to fix this.” He leaned back against the marble pillar of the gala hall, his expression twisting into a look of pure disgust. The look stung like a physical blow. In my past life, I’d loved Nate Harrison with a desperation that bordered on insanity. He’d saved me from a kidnapping when we were teens, and again from a car wreck. I’d convinced myself his heroism was a sign of secret love. I’d walked into our marriage with a smile, only to find a prison of his making. It wasn’t until Serena died that I realized I wasn’t his partner. I was the person standing in the way of his soulmate. My ten years of devotion were ten years of psychological torture for him. Before I “returned,” an old woman at a roadside shrine had told me: “If you get a second chance, you must resolve his three greatest regrets within twenty-four hours. Once they are gone, you must leave. Only then will the cycle break, and he will live past thirty. But every miracle has a price.” I didn’t care about the price. I just wanted him to live. I went straight to the family lawyers and the city archives. I did what I should have done a decade ago: I tore up the marriage contract and drafted a new one—one that would unite the Harrison and Blackwell interests. I knew Nate’s three regrets by heart. He’d written them in a leather-bound journal I found after the fire: I regret marrying Evelyn Crawford. I regret letting my parents control my life. I regret not saving Serena. The first regret was about to be crossed off. I walked out of the hall and found him waiting by the gate. I handed him the revised document. He looked at the envelope with a sneer, ready to throw it back in my face. I pressed my hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin—real, living skin. I offered him a soft, sad smile. “Don’t open it yet. Wait until tomorrow. Think of it as a parting gift.” Nate scoffed. “You’re being weird, Evie. What, did the idea of being Mrs. Harrison finally break your brain? You’re acting like we’re never going to see each other again.” I smiled, my heart breaking quietly. “I just realized you deserve to be happy, Nate. You’re a good man. Whoever ends up with you… she’ll be the luckiest woman in the world.” “Whatever. I’m going home,” he muttered, turning away. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was flustered. As his car pulled away, I caught the sound of people talking on the sidewalk. “The meteor shower starts tonight at the Observatory! They say if you watch it with the person you love, you’ll stay together for seven lifetimes.” In my previous life, I’d begged Nate to take me there. He’d looked at me with such icy disdain. “Is one lifetime of you not enough, Evie? You want seven? It’s a cheap tourist trap. Go by yourself.” The memory made me shiver, even in the humid night air. I climbed into my own car and pulled the door shut. Suddenly, Nate’s car slowed down. He leaned out the window, his expression unreadable. “You want to go?” I blinked. “What?” “The Observatory. I’ll take you tonight. Consider it a… a pre-wedding tax. I’m busy the rest of the week, so this is it.” I stared at him, caught between shock and a familiar, dangerous hope. That was Nate’s problem. He was mean, but his heart was instinctively soft. He didn’t love me, but he’d still died for me. He’d saved me three times before the fire: once from those kidnappers (he took a knife to the hand, losing his chance at a professional piano career), once from a viral fever where he stayed by my bed for two weeks, and once from the fire that finally took him. Nate Harrison was perfect in every way. Except for the fact that he didn’t want me. I knew that after tonight, we were done. Even if we saw the stars together, there would be no “seven lifetimes.” But I couldn’t say no. “Okay,” I said, leaning into the light. “Let’s go see the stars.” 2 We were halfway there when his phone buzzed. It was Serena’s assistant. Serena had a migraine; she was “spiraling” and needed Nate. Nate’s face hardened instantly. He pulled the car over. “Serena’s sick. I have to go check on her. Take a cab home, okay? I’ll meet you at the Observatory later.” I nodded slowly. “Go. She needs you.” He paused, his hand on the door handle, looking genuinely confused. “Since when are you okay with me seeing her? Usually, you’d be throwing a fit by now.” I opened my mouth to explain, but he beat me to it with a cynical smirk. “Right. I forgot. We’re getting married in a month. I guess you figured she isn’t a threat anymore.” He hopped out and climbed into a waiting car, never seeing the devastating grief in my eyes. I didn’t go home. I went to the courthouse to finalize my exit papers, then I went to the Harrison estate. Diane Harrison had a full dinner waiting for us. She loved me like the daughter she never had. I took off my coat and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s chilly tonight, Diane. You need to stay warm.” She beamed at me, holding my hands. “Oh, Evie, you’re so thoughtful. Tell me, is the contract signed? I’ve waited so long to officially call you my daughter.” Arthur Harrison walked in, scowling when he saw I was alone. “Where’s that boy of mine? He should be with you. I’ll give him a piece of my mind when he gets back.” Their genuine love made my throat tight. After my parents died, the Harrisons were my world. They gave me a home, an education, and their name. I had always been the “perfect girl” for them. But tonight, I was going to disappoint them. “Diane, Arthur,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m not marrying Nate.” The room went silent. “I’m leaving for the West Coast tomorrow. I’m starting over. I won’t be around to take care of you anymore, so please… take care of yourselves.” Diane grabbed my arm, her eyes wide with panic. “Evie, no. This is your home. Where will you go? Is this about that Blackwell girl? Did Nate say something?” “Honey, he loves you,” Arthur added, stepping forward. “He’s saved your life twice! He spends weeks picking out your birthday gifts. I know you love him, too. You’ve learned his favorite recipes, you help him with his hand exercises… you’re perfect together! Don’t let that other girl win.” In my last life, I’d listened to them. We all stayed, we all fought, and in the end, they lost a son and I lost a husband. I wiped a tear from Diane’s cheek. “You can’t force a heart to beat for someone it doesn’t want. Nate doesn’t want me. And I can’t keep pretending that’s okay.” “I had a dream last night,” I whispered, the pain nearly choking me. “I dreamt we got married. He spent every day working until he collapsed just so he wouldn’t have to come home to me. He wouldn’t eat the food I made. He told me I brought him nothing but pain. And then… then he died trying to save me from a fire I started by accident. He died at thirty, Diane. Because of me.” Diane looked stunned. “Evie… it was just a nightmare.” I forced a smile through the tears. “Dreams are warnings. I’d rather he live a hundred years without me than die a hero at thirty in my arms.” I knelt down on the plush carpet—a final gesture of respect to the people who raised me. “My papers are processed. I’m leaving. Thank you for everything.” Arthur sighed, his shoulders sagging, and helped me up. Diane began sobbing, pressing a stack of envelopes into my hand—traveler’s checks and cash. “If this is what you need, we won’t stop you. But remember, Evie: this house is always your home.” I hugged her tight, sobbing into her shoulder. One more regret to go, Nate. I’m almost done. I had twelve hours left to fulfill the third regret: Saving Serena. I went to the Observatory alone. The deck was crowded with couples, all whispering promises under the glowing sky. “Evelyn.” I spun around, my heart leaping, only to see Nate standing there, his face contorted with fury. He grabbed my wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise. “You really couldn’t help yourself, could you? I miss one dinner and you run to my parents to cry? They just called and tore Serena apart over the phone. She’s… she took a handful of pills, Evie. She’s in the ER. Are you happy now?” 3 My wrist felt like it was going to snap. I turned white, the air leaving my lungs. In my last life, Serena had waited until a month after our wedding to attempt suicide. Nate hadn’t been able to find a blood match for a rare complication she had, and he’d watched her die. He blamed me for her death until the moment he breathed his last. But this was happening now. Today. I hadn’t even married him yet, and she was already slipping away. I have to fix this. This is the third regret. I looked at him, ignored the pain in my arm. “You need a donor, don’t you? For the rare antibody treatment?” Nate froze, stunned that I knew. His voice turned lethal. “Don’t act like you care. You drove her to this. You owe her.” He dragged me to the private wing of the hospital. Serena was pale, hooked up to machines. The specialist looked at the labs, then at me. He ran a quick prick on my finger. “It’s a match,” the doctor said, surprised. “But the procedure… to get enough of the concentrated antibodies, we have to do a deep-marrow draw and a high-volume transfusion. It’s incredibly taxing on the donor. You’ll be weak for months. There’s a risk of cardiac stress.” “No,” Nate snapped, his brow furrowed. “She’s too fragile. Is there any other way?” The doctor shook his head. “Without this specific match, Miss Blackwell won’t make it through the night.” Nate looked at Serena, then at me. I saw the raw terror in his eyes—the fear of losing his “Perfect Ghost.” “I’ll do it,” I said. “Start the prep.” “Evie, wait—” Nate started, but I cut him off. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Just save her.” Nate stared at me, his emotions a chaotic wreck. Finally, he took his silk handkerchief and tied it around my eyes, a strange, protective gesture. “I owe you for this, Evie. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He left the room, and the needles went in. The pain was visceral—a deep, hollowing ache that felt like my very soul was being siphoned out. As the world faded, I thought of our history. I was eight when my parents died. The older kids at the prep school used to corner me, telling me I was an interloper, a charity case. Nate, only ten, had pushed them away and patted my head. “Don’t cry, Evie. I’ll look out for you.” He’d kept that promise, even when he hated me. He’d kept it until he died in the fire. I couldn’t help but love him. But I knew that to save him, I had to disappear. As I drifted into unconsciousness, I heard his voice from the future, echoing in the dark: “If I could just un-know you, Evie… how much better would our lives have been?” I whispered into the empty air of the hospital room, “I’m fixing it, Nate. You won’t have to know me anymore.” When I woke up, the sun was streaming through the hospital window. My chest felt like it had been crushed by a lead weight. I was alone in a small recovery room. I checked the clock. It was almost noon. I had to leave. Outside the door, I heard nurses whispering. “Did you see the meteor shower last night? It was incredible.” “I heard if you saw it with your soulmate, you’ll be together forever.” I closed my eyes. I missed it again. A moment later, the door pushed open. Nate walked in carrying a tray. On it was a bowl of the specific seafood chowder from the deli I used to love as a kid. I stared at it, breathless. He remembered. Nate sat by the bed, his voice softer than I’d heard it in years. “How are you feeling? The doctor said you need to stay for a few days. Serena… she’s stable. Because of you.” I nodded weakly. “That’s good.” He looked at my pale face, his jaw tight. “I was out of line yesterday. I shouldn’t have blamed you. Serena told me… she told me my parents came to her on their own. I’m sorry, Evie.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t tell him I’d already broken the engagement. I just smiled. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter now.” Nate tucked the blanket around my legs. “Once you’re out of here, we’ll take that trip to the coast you wanted. I know you love the ocean. We can do the honeymoon early.” I looked at him, my heart breaking for the last time. “No, Nate. You don’t have to compensate me for this. I did it because I wanted to.” His eyes flickered with something like hurt. “I’ve already arranged the car for Friday. We’re going.” I didn’t answer. I just watched his hands. They were shaking—the old injury from the kidnapping. Whenever he was stressed or the weather turned, his nerves misfired. “Nate,” I whispered. “Do you ever regret it? Saving me back then? Losing the piano?” He looked at his hands, his expression neutral. “I don’t regret it. I’d do it for anyone.” For anyone. Not just for me. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thank you. For everything. For being my hero over and over again.” “I was a lonely kid, Nate. I just wanted a family so badly that I tried to force you into being mine. I’m sorry for the pressure I put on you.” He looked startled, like he wanted to say something, but a nurse knocked on the door. “Mr. Harrison? Miss Blackwell is awake. She’s asking for you.” Nate’s face lit up instantly. He stood up. “I’ll be right back. Stay put, okay? We need to talk.” “Nate,” I called out as he reached the door. I gave him the brightest, most genuine smile I had left. “I’m sorry. And… I hope you have a long, beautiful life. I hope you get everything you ever wanted.” He looked confused, an uneasy shadow crossing his face. “You’re acting like this is a goodbye. Just eat your soup. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” He left. I waited until his footsteps faded, then I forced myself out of bed. Every movement was agony, but I dressed and slipped out the side exit. I found the doctor on my way out. “Tell Mr. Harrison I’ve gone to the coast. Tell him… tell him to live well.” When Nate finally returned to the room, it was empty. The soup was cold. “Where is she?” he demanded of a passing orderly. “The girl in 402?” The doctor walked up, handing him a note. “She left, Mr. Harrison. She said she was heading out west. She asked me to tell you: ‘The debt is paid. Be happy.’” Nate felt a chill go down his spine. “She can’t be gone. She’s too weak to drive!” Just then, his head of security ran down the hall, face ashen. “Sir… there’s been an accident on the interstate. A pile-up involving a bus and several cars. We think… we think Miss Crawford’s Uber was in the zone.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391919”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My ex-husband hated me with a vengeance that burned like a fever, all for the sake of the girl who’d been his “forever” dream. I did the only sensible thing: I took the settlement money and disappeared, leaving everything behind—including our child. Six years later, a miniature version of him, a little marshmallow of a boy, knocked on my door. He was wearing a bright yellow backpack, his small face set in a mask of solemnity that was far too old for him. “Dominic doesn’t want me anymore,” he announced, his voice steady despite the slight tremble of his lower lip. “I’m moving in with you.” I froze, the air caught in my lungs. Before I could even find my voice, he tilted his head back and began reciting legal statutes with the precision of a court reporter. “Under the Family Code, parents have a non-delegable duty to support and maintain their minor children…” He didn’t get to finish. I stepped aside, opening the door wide. “Get in here.” … 1 The warm light of the entryway hit his face, and for a split second, his eyes shimmered. Then, with a haughty little huff, he marched inside on his sturdy legs. As soon as the door clicked shut, the boy—Milo, as I knew him from the few photos I’d dared to look at over the years—began surveying my life. He gripped the straps of his backpack tight when he caught me watching him. “I’m Milo,” he said, puffing out his chest. The tone was unmistakable. It was a declaration of war and a plea for recognition all at once. He wanted me to know exactly whose blood ran through his veins. Not that he needed to say it; with that jawline and those piercing dark eyes, he was a carbon copy of Dominic. When I didn’t immediately fall at his feet, he looked slightly deflated. He turned his head away, pouting. I took his backpack, hanging it on the hook by the door, and led him toward the bathroom. “Wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.” He gave a small, obedient nod. By the time I’d set the table, he had already scrambled up into the dining chair, looking tiny against the high back. “Why are you here, Milo? Really?” I asked. He poked at a piece of broccoli with his fork, his head drooping low. His voice came out muffled, thick with unshed tears. “We had a fight. He threw things. He told me to get out, told me never to come back to the estate again.” A runaway. I remembered how fiercely the Thorne family had fought for custody, nearly burying me in lawsuits and threats of jail time just to keep me away from him. He was their crown prince. I figured Dominic was probably tearing the city apart looking for him right now. Watching him eat, a lump formed in my throat. I hadn’t prepared for guests. It was just a simple stir-fry and soup. Milo was clearly a picky eater—he meticulously picked out every sliver of onion and carrot—but eventually, only the greens were left. He stared at them like they were poison, stole a quick glance at me, and then, with the dramatic resolve of a martyr, closed his eyes and swallowed them whole. The arrogant little prince who had walked in ten minutes ago was gone, replaced by a kid who was trying so hard to be “good” that it broke my heart. It seemed he hadn’t been mistreated at the Thorne mansion, but he was certainly disciplined. I cleaned up the dishes, expecting a frantic knock on the door at any moment. But nine-thirty came and went. The hallway remained silent. Six-year-olds can only stay awake so long. Milo’s eyes were drooping. He pulled a pair of dinosaur pajamas out of his bag and looked around my cramped studio apartment. He wrinkled his nose. “Your house is so small. Why is there only one bed?” “Are we… are we sharing?” he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice. I glanced at the clock, wondering where the hell Dominic was. I sighed and nodded. “Yeah. We’ll make it work for tonight.” I expected a tantrum. Compared to the Thorne estate, this place was a glorified closet. Instead, Milo just bit his lip, a flash of something that looked suspiciously like relief crossing his face. He scrubbed his face, changed into his pajamas, and climbed under the covers. Just like at dinner, he was playing the part of the perfect guest. He wiggled around until he was tucked in like a little silkworm, only his big eyes visible. Then, he reached under his pillow—God knows when he’d hidden it there—and pulled out a book of fairy tales. “Aren’t you going to read to me?” The hope in his eyes was so bright it was almost unbearable. 2 After Milo fell asleep, I pulled up the number that had been sitting in my block list for six years. My thumb hovered over the “unblock” button, trembling. I couldn’t do it. Dominic and I… we were a lifetime ago. When my family’s business collapsed, the Thornes decided I was a liability. They arranged a match between Dominic and Becca—the girl everyone said was his “true” soulmate. Dominic fought them. He gave up his inheritance, took a literal beating from his grandfather that left him bedridden for weeks, all for me. I had cried over his bruised body, and he had just smiled, wiping my tears away, promising me we’d be okay. We were young enough to believe love was a shield. We eloped, I got pregnant, and I spent nine months dreaming of our future. Then came the day of the delivery. The pain was agonizing. I called Dominic dozens of times, but he never picked up. A neighbor eventually drove me to the hospital. When I woke up from the C-section, the man standing over me wasn’t my husband. He was a stranger. His eyes were cold, filled with a visceral disgust, as if looking at me made him sick. It was Becca who eventually came to my room to explain the “truth.” She spoke about “narratives” and “destiny,” claiming I was just a glitch in the system. She was the protagonist of his life, and I was a side character who had overstayed her welcome. She told me the “universe” had corrected itself. Dominic’s love for me had been a mistake, and now, it had been inverted into pure, unadulterated loathing. As she left, she looked at me with chilling pity. “Have you thought about what will happen to that child?” I was broken. My parents had died in a car crash on their way to the hospital to see the baby. I was alone, hemorrhaging money I didn’t have, and the man I loved looked at me like I was dirt. I remember standing by the hospital window, thinking about jumping. Then, I heard a cry from the bassinet. I walked over, looking at that wrinkled little life, and a horrific thought took root: If I go, what happens to him? Would Becca hurt him? Would Dominic hate him the way he hated me? Maybe it was better to take him with me. My hands were shaking as I reached for his tiny neck. In that moment, the crying stopped. The baby opened his eyes—red-rimmed and bright—and looked straight at me, as if he were asking for a hug. A nurse burst in a second later, pulling me away. I stared at my hands, cold sweat pouring down my back. I had almost killed my own son. The Thornes heard about the incident. The grandfather came for the child. I didn’t fight. I signed the divorce papers, gave up my rights, and took the two-million-dollar settlement. I needed the money for my parents’ medical debts and funeral, and I needed to get away before I destroyed what was left of my soul. Dominic never showed his face. He hated me too much to even say goodbye. So I moved on. I told myself it was for the best. Milo rolled over in his sleep, his warm little body pressing against mine. His tiny hand gripped the fabric of my t-shirt, as if terrified I’d vanish if he let go. I brushed a stray hair from his forehead, my heart aching. If he knew that his mother had once considered ending his life, would he still be sleeping here? He’d probably run as far away as he could. 3 The next morning, Dominic still hadn’t called. I couldn’t figure out the game he was playing. Milo was six; he couldn’t have found my apartment on his own without help. Had Dominic sent him? I woke Milo up and hailed a cab to take him to his kindergarten. It was across the city, an hour’s ride. Before we got out, he gripped my hand, making me swear on my life that I’d be there to pick him up. As we approached the school gates, his eyes suddenly lit up. He saw a sleek black car idling at the curb. Milo pulled me along, but as we got closer to the car, he slowed his pace. He intentionally stepped in front of a chubby little boy who had just stepped out of a luxury SUV. With a voice loud enough for every parent on the sidewalk to hear, Milo chirped, “Mom, you’re definitely coming to get me after school, right?” It was the first time he’d called me “Mom.” The chubby kid stared, eyes wide. “You have a mom? Why hasn’t she ever dropped you off before?” Milo lifted his chin, his expression pure Thorne arrogance. “My mom is very busy. She runs a massive company. She took a special day off just to be with me today.” He emphasized the word “special” with a bite. He led me toward the door like a victorious little general. But just before he went inside, he turned back, his composure crumbling for a split second. “…You’ll be here?” When I didn’t answer immediately, panic flared in his eyes. “You promised in the car! Adults aren’t allowed to lie to kids!” I knelt down, straightening his collar, and ruffled his soft hair. “I’ll be here. I promise.” He tried to hide his grin, failing miserably. “Fine. I guess I can wait for a little while.” I watched him disappear inside, but a nagging feeling tugged at my gut. I went to the front office and asked to speak with his teacher. The teacher was hesitant at first, but then she sighed, leaning over her desk. “Look, I know the Thorne family is… complicated. But I have to say something.” “No matter how busy parents are, the child should come first. Milo has been here for three years, and not once—not once—has anyone come to a parent-teacher conference. The other kids tease him. They say he’s an orphan. It’s affecting him, Ms. Thorne.” Nobody had ever come? Even if Dominic hated the boy, wouldn’t he send an assistant? A nanny? I felt a surge of rage. For the first time, I wondered if giving up custody had been the right thing. I might have been poor, but I would have given him everything. He was a billionaire’s son, but emotionally, he was a beggar. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. I needed to have it out with Dominic. If he didn’t want the boy, I’d take him. I wasn’t the broken girl I was six years ago. I could raise him. As the phone started to ring, a familiar melody sounded right behind me. My spine turned to ice. I turned around. Standing next to a black Bentley was a tall, imposing figure. Six years hadn’t changed him much. He looked harder, colder, his presence more suffocating than I remembered. He was holding his vibrating phone, his eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “You’ve been hiding for a long time,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Are you finally ready to show your face?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391918”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My daughter fell into a storm drain in our apartment complex, and soon after, a torrential downpour began. I desperately called property management for help. After my repeated pleas, they assured me my daughter had been rescued. But when I finally arrived home, my daughter was nowhere to be seen. When I found her again, she was floating in the icy storm drain, long gone. Grief-stricken, I confronted property management, demanding answers. Instead, they used my status as an influencer against me, twisting the narrative to claim I had deliberately harmed my daughter for publicity. A furious wave of online abuse crashed down on me. Shattered by the loss of my child and the relentless cyberbullying, I drove in a daze, crashing head-on into an oncoming truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment my daughter fell. I quickly realized that the truth was far more sinister than I had ever imagined. 1. My phone suddenly rang, startling me. It was my daughter. I quickly answered. “Mommy, I fell into a drain, and I’m so scared! Please come and save me!” My daughter’s tearful voice came through the phone. In that moment, I knew I had been reborn. “Piper, don’t be scared! It might rain soon, so feel around with your feet for anything you can stand on. Stand there and wait for Mommy. I’m bringing help right away!” In my previous life, after receiving Piper’s call, I immediately dropped everything and rushed home. But my studio was too far from our apartment complex. On the way, a massive downpour caused traffic jams. To make matters worse, there was an accident on my route, and I was stuck, unable to move. I could only call the property management, pleading and urging them to rescue her quickly. They readily promised, “Madam, don’t worry, our team is already on their way and is conducting the rescue.” I felt a slight ease, calling Piper’s smart watch, but it wouldn’t connect. Calling property management again, they told me my daughter had been rescued. I asked to speak to her, but they claimed she was frightened and had fallen asleep. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, never imagining the property manager would lie to me. When I finally got back to the complex, Piper was nowhere to be found. I frantically interrogated the property management, but they all became silent. I had no time for their nonsense and immediately contacted the fire department to search for my daughter. When the firefighters found her, she was floating in the storm drain, lifeless. Grief-stricken, I demanded answers from the property management. They all stuck to the same story, claiming they never received my distress call. I showed them my call logs, but they insisted I had only called to report a faulty motion-sensor light. I only regretted not recording the calls! Afterward, a video of me arguing with the property management was posted online. The property staff collectively accused me of staging the incident for attention, claiming I had deliberately caused my daughter’s death for publicity. The internet mob, eager for drama, believed them and subjected me to a relentless online attack. Some even broke into my home, vandalizing it. My husband, who was away on a business trip, rushed back but also believed the online rumors, insisting on a divorce. Overwhelmed by the loss and the cyberbullying, I was in a daze. While driving to pursue legal action, I crashed head-on into an oncoming truck. Thankfully, fate had given me another chance. This time, I would save my daughter and ensure those heartless people at property management received their just punishment! First, I called the fire department. Then, I called property management and began recording the call. “Is this property management? My daughter fell into the storm drain in the complex. Please send someone to rescue her immediately!” “Alright, we’ll send someone right over.” They agreed readily, but I knew they wouldn’t actually help. This time, I chose a different route home. Although it was longer, it had less traffic and was mostly clear. I called property management again, asking, “Has my daughter been rescued?” “Our people are already working on it. Stop calling and rushing us. It won’t help; rescues have to be done step by step!” They hung up abruptly, clearly annoyed. By now, the rain had started, big drops pelting my car window. Despite the wipers, visibility was very poor. I called Piper again. “Piper, are the property management staff near you?” 2. My daughter’s terrified, tearful voice came through the phone. “No, Mommy, I’m scared.” Just as I suspected. Property management was just fobbing me off. “Don’t be scared, Piper. The firefighters will be there soon, and Mommy is almost there too. Is the rain heavy where you are? Did you find anything to stand on?” “I’m standing on a big rock, Mommy, please hurry. It’s so tiring to stand like this.” “Be a good girl, Piper. Mommy will be there any minute. You have to hold on!” Tears streamed down my face. In my previous life, when Piper fell into the drain, the water initially only reached her waist. But because property management delayed the rescue for so long, all the rainwater flowed into the drain, submerging her and causing her to drown. The pain of losing my daughter was excruciating. I absolutely would not let it happen again in this lifetime. Suddenly, the fire department called me. “Ms. Jones, we arrived at the complex entrance but were blocked by property management. They said the child has already been rescued and told us to leave.” I was furious. “Please don’t go back! My daughter hasn’t been rescued! Property management is lying!” The firefighter hesitated. “Ms. Jones, we understand you’re anxious, but property management wouldn’t lie about a rescue, would they?” “I’m begging you, please go back and check! My daughter is definitely still in that drain! Please, I’m begging you to go back and check!” After my repeated pleas, the fire department finally agreed to go back and verify. I tried calling my daughter again, but her smart watch was unreachable. I was furious. How could property management treat a human life so lightly? Not only did they refuse to help, but they also blocked the firefighters. Was it just because they feared such an incident would affect property values, or was there something else going on? I couldn’t comprehend it. I called property management again. “Did you or did you not rescue my daughter?” “She’s already been rescued.” “Then let me speak to her.” “The child was scared and has fallen asleep.” It was the same excuse as my previous life. I wanted to crawl through the phone and tear them apart! “Then wake her up and let her answer the phone!” They grew impatient. “Don’t think you can order us around just because you’re an influencer. You have no special privileges here!” They slammed the phone down. When I called back, they simply wouldn’t answer. Then the fire department called again. “Ms. Jones, property management took us to the drain, and there was no one inside.” “How is that possible? Our complex has six drains. Did you check all of them?” “We only checked five. One is abandoned, and the opening is completely blocked. No one could possibly be inside.” “My daughter is definitely in there! Please, can you go and check that one too?!” The firefighters were clearly in a difficult position. Before the call even ended, I heard someone shouting in the background. “Why aren’t you firefighters leaving? Do you know how much you’re affecting us by just standing at our complex entrance? People will think there’s a huge emergency. Leave now!” Property management was already trying to drive them away. The firefighter on the phone said, “The property manager is directly blocking the entrance and refusing to let us in. They insist the child has been rescued and sent home. I’m sorry, Ms. Jones, we don’t have the authority to forcibly enter a complex without an emergency.” “No! Property management is lying! I have surveillance at home; my daughter isn’t there! You have to believe me, my child is still in that drain! Please, you have to save her!” By the end, I was openly weeping. 3. “Ms. Jones, I understand how you feel, but property management really has no reason to lie about this. It’s a matter of life and death; if someone isn’t rescued, they would also be held responsible.” I truly didn’t know how to explain the situation to the firefighters. I could only say, “Please, I beg you to go back and check again. I will bear all the costs, including any wasted manpower, resources, and potential losses incurred from this deployment! Please, I’m begging you!” Under my continuous tearful pleas, the fire department finally agreed. But soon, the fire department called again. “Ms. Jones, although we managed to force our way into the complex, property management is refusing to cooperate. We don’t know where the drain is. Do you know where the opening is?” I thought of several locations, but none of them were right. Our complex was huge, with many residential buildings, like a maze. It was easy for someone visiting for the first time to get lost. Time was ticking away. Every minute of delay meant another minute of danger for my daughter. My heart was churning, but thankfully, I was just around the corner from home. When I reached my front door, I saw the firefighters preparing to leave. I quickly stopped them and then led them to the property management office. “Take me to the drain, now!” The property manager was impatient. “Who are you?” “My daughter is still in that drain! Who do you think I am?! Lead the way!” “We already told you your daughter has been rescued. If you go home now, I’m sure she’s there!” “I have surveillance at home! My daughter never came back!” “We already sent her home. If she’s not there, she must have run off again herself. Your daughter is seven or eight years old; there’s nothing we can do if she runs off!” I was shaking with rage. They were murderers, pure and simple. They were treating a human life as dirt! I stopped wasting words and pulled out a fruit knife, pressing it against the property manager’s throat. “Take me there, now!” The property manager was terrified. “This lunatic! Call the police for me!” The firefighters tried to calm me down, but my daughter’s life was on a countdown. I couldn’t calm down. I pressed the knife closer. “If you don’t take me there, I’ll kill you and make you my daughter’s grave mate!” Seeing the killing intent in my eyes, the property manager finally got scared. “Alright, alright, I’ll take you! Just put the knife away. I’m scared, and I’ll walk slowly like this.” I hesitated, then removed the knife. The moment I did, the property manager shoved me away. “Murder! Call the police! There’s a crazy woman here!” I quickly shouted, “Stop him! He refuses to take us to check the drain; there must be something wrong!” The firefighters reacted quickly and caught up to him, but even held by them, he wouldn’t cooperate. “Why are you helping that crazy person? I told you the child was rescued ages ago! You’re letting her threaten me with a knife! I’m going to sue you; you’ll all be facing charges!” The property manager was utterly arrogant. By this point, I had completely lost my rationality. “If I can’t save my daughter, then you can go down and join her!” I charged at the property manager like a madwoman but was pulled back by two firefighters. “If my daughter dies, you’re a murderer! Every single one of you at property management is a murderer!” The property manager sneered, uncaring. “You need proof for those accusations. Where’s your proof? We did rescue your daughter. Everyone at property management can testify to that.” In that moment, I finally realized that all these people were colluding, determined to kill my daughter.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391916”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

For five years, my husband Finn and I kept our finances completely separate. We split the mortgage evenly, divided every utility bill, and took turns buying condoms. Friends joked we acted more like roommates, but I’d always defend it: “Financial independence keeps our love pure.” Whenever I said this, my best friend Ivy would vent about her own husband being a lazy freeloader. On Christmas Eve, Finn’s old phone buzzed at home. I checked it and saw a notification: his company’s year-end bonus had arrived — a million dollars. Just as I was about to celebrate, Finn called. “Honey, no bonus this year. Could you cover the utilities for now?” My heart dropped. After hanging up, I rushed to check his bank records. Rows of transactions appeared, all labeled “Ivy.” As if drawn by a ghost, I opened Ivy’s social media. Her latest post was a screenshot of a million-dollar transfer, captioned: “Hubby’s bonus arrived! Starting a baby fund now!” The sender was Finn’s company. Under the post, our mutual friends were commenting. “Jenny,” one wrote, “How did you find such a successful man?” Ivy replied: “Oh, we’re just dating, nothing serious yet! He got promoted to director — it’s a special bonus.” … I remembered Finn being promoted to director last month. The comments section was full of envious remarks, including two that tagged me from our mutual friends. “@Autumn, look at her man! How much did your Finn get this year?” Ivy replied beneath that comment: “Autumn and Finn keep their finances separate, so it’s different.” Another friend commented: “AA to that extent is rare. Autumn, you’re just too independent.” Ivy sent a face-with-hand-over-mouth emoji: “Yes, Autumn likes it that way. She thinks it’s fair.” Someone else replied, “Can’t wait for the baby! When’s the celebration?” Ivy responded to all: “Thank you, everyone! We’ll definitely have a party once things are stable!” My hands trembling, I scrolled through Ivy’s photos of her “ex-boyfriend.” One back-of-head shot bore an eight-tenths resemblance to Finn. There was also a picture of a pregnant belly, with a hand visible that had a scar on it. Finn had the same scar in the same spot, a mark from a lab accident during an experiment. I had traced that scar countless times; there was no mistaking it. The caption beneath that photo read: “The baby’s dad is so happy, he can’t stop holding me.” My phone clattered to the floor. The screen displayed a photo of the three of us together, and for the first time, it felt like a searing burn. A month ago, Ivy had told me she was pregnant, and the father was her “worthless ex-boyfriend.” She said they’d long broken up, and she was preparing to be a single mother. I had even worriedly accompanied her to the hospital for a check-up, spotting her three thousand dollars for medical fees. “Autumn, you’re the best friend a girl could ask for,” she’d said, her eyes red-rimmed. Now, I realized that three thousand dollars was likely just a fraction of what I was contributing to someone else’s child. I turned off my phone, closed my eyes, but countless images flooded my mind. Last year, for Finn’s birthday, I gave him a two-hundred-dollar pen. He immediately reciprocated with an equally priced scarf. At the time, Ivy stood beside us, saying enviously, “You two are so good together; you don’t even have to worry about the cost when exchanging gifts.” Now, I imagine she was secretly laughing at my foolishness. The year before, my mother was hospitalized, needing eight thousand dollars for surgery. I was short on cash and asked Finn if he could lend it to me. He said, “Our principle is separate finances. This money would be a loan from me to you, accruing interest at the bank rate, to be repaid within three months.” I gritted my teeth and agreed. Later, it was Ivy who lent me five thousand dollars, interest-free. I was incredibly grateful, treating her to three dinners, five hundred dollars each, at a fancy Japanese restaurant. But now, I suspect that five thousand was just pocket change from what Finn had given her. I forced myself to walk home and cooked a Christmas Eve dinner, intending to confront him when he returned. Looking at the carefully prepared feast, all his favorite dishes, I felt a sliver of hope. Five years of marriage, Finn and I lived in respectful harmony; to outsiders, we were an enviable couple. I hoped he would tell me it was a coincidence, that he would offer an explanation. The clock chimed twelve times. Finn’s call came through. “Autumn, I have to work late tonight. I won’t be home for dinner.” In the background, I could faintly hear fireworks. “It might end late, so I’ll just stay at a hotel near the office. I have an early meeting tomorrow.” I gripped my phone, my fingers tightening. “The company is heartless, making you work on Christmas Eve. Which hotel are you at? Maybe I can bring you some dumplings.” Finn’s panic was almost palpable. “No!” Realizing his overly strong reaction, his tone instantly softened. “No need. It’s too cold outside; I couldn’t bear to let you go out in the cold.” “Alright, then don’t drink too much.” The moment the call ended, my heart turned utterly cold. Outside, scattered fireworks burst, and the array of dishes on the table lay untouched, now completely cold. I aimlessly scrolled through social media. My mother-in-law had posted a photo of her Christmas Eve dinner—a lavish spread of all my favorite dishes. The caption read: “Christmas Eve dinner for my daughter-in-law.” Someone commented: “What’s the point of making so much for a daughter-in-law? She’s not even family.” My mother-in-law immediately retorted: “Sons are never as thoughtful as daughters-in-law. In our family, we treat our daughter-in-law better than our son.” A warmth spread through my heart. Regardless of Finn, my mother-in-law was always on my side. I remembered the year Finn and I first got married; she held my hand, her eyes red, and said, “Autumn, Finn was a sickly child. I spoiled him, and he grew up stubborn and difficult. If he ever does anything wrong, tell me, and I’ll scold him.” On Christmas morning, I drove to Finn’s old family home. His parents lived in an older complex in the suburbs. Finn had bought the house two years ago, putting it in their names. He said it was for his mother’s retirement, and I even paid half the down payment. Before leaving, I brought a treasured limited-edition bourbon and picked up his father’s favorite Cuban cigars. For five years, his parents had treated me better than their own son. The first Christmas after we married, my mother-in-law quietly pulled me aside and slipped a thick envelope tied with a ribbon into my coat pocket. “Finn is too proud; he insists on keeping everything separate. Don’t take it to heart. Marriage isn’t always about keeping score.” Once, after an argument with Finn, I stubbornly skipped the holiday gathering at his parents’ house. His father called, not asking for explanations, just saying, “Autumn, Dad sent you some of that maple-glazed bacon you love from the old shop.” I cried when the package arrived that day. I carried the gifts upstairs and was about to knock when I heard a familiar voice from inside: “Mom, don’t bother. She’s not picky.” My hand, holding the gifts, paused. He said he was working late yesterday, didn’t he? But I still smiled softly, a little relieved, thinking, As long as he’s not with Ivy. Just as I reached to push the door open, the next sentence froze me to the spot. “Auntie, these cherries are so sweet,” Ivy’s voice cooed, sickly sweet. “Then eat more, dear. You’re expecting; you need to keep up your strength,” my mother-in-law said, her voice filled with loving tenderness. His father squatted by the coffee table, tidying up a pile of baby clothes and tiger-head shoes, beaming with joy. My stomach began to churn. The gifts in my hand clattered to the floor. Everyone in the living room turned simultaneously. Ivy saw me, immediately rose, then cried out in pain and clutched her stomach, sinking back onto the sofa. Finn, with practiced ease, set down his teacup and went to help her. Ivy put her arm around me intimately. “Autumn, I fell on the way here today. Finn just happened to be passing by and picked me up. Otherwise, I don’t know what I would have done.” I evaded Ivy and stared intently at Finn. “Honey, weren’t you supposed to be working late? Why are you here to see your parents?” He paused, then averted his gaze. “It was canceled at the last minute.” My mother-in-law quickly interjected. “Yes, yes, Finn just arrived. The boy is filial; he rushed over early this morning to see me. Little Ivy just fell on the way, and Finn happened to see her, so he brought her here to rest…” I looked at Ivy. She was wearing soft-soled wool slippers; there wasn’t a speck of dust on her legs. I struggled to control my emotions. “Mom and Dad, I just remembered I have something important to do, so I’ll be going.” No one followed me out. I slowly slid down the cold wall, tears streaming down my face. “Mom, don’t worry. With her brain, she’ll never figure out what I’ve done. Her father was smart, but she’s useless. She didn’t inherit any of his intelligence,” Finn said, a hint of triumph in his voice. I leaned against the icy wall, my heart pounding.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391915”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the third year of my marriage to Arthur Hayes, he died unexpectedly in a car accident. I was inconsolable. It took me five full years to recover, finding solace through the comforting presence of his best friend, Ben Carter. Over time, living in such close proximity, feelings developed between us, and we decided to get married. But at the registrar’s office, the clerk looked at me with a strange expression. “Ma’am, our records indicate you’re already married and your marriage is still active. If you proceed, it could constitute bigamy.” At first, I didn’t believe it. But when I saw “Arthur Hayes” listed in the spouse column, both Ben and I froze. How could my husband, who had passed away five years ago, still be legally married to me? “Excuse me, could there be a system error?” I glanced awkwardly at Ben. “My former husband was indeed Arthur Hayes, but he died five years ago. Legally, a marriage automatically terminates upon the death of a spouse. How could I still be married to him?” The clerk grew impatient, her eyes scrutinizing me. “I’ve checked three times. Your husband, Arthur Hayes, is currently alive, and your marriage is legal and valid. There’s no mistake.” She wasn’t particularly quiet, and hearing her, people nearby shot me disdainful glances. “That woman has some nerve, bringing her lover to get married while her husband is still alive.” “Is she crazy? Does she not know marrying two people is bigamy?” “Can these people stop treating government officials like part of their twisted games?” Seeing the increasingly hostile looks from those around us, Ben quickly pulled me out. Back in the car, I still hadn’t recovered from the shock. Before Ben could offer comfort, I immediately pulled out my phone and called Arthur’s mother. After two rings, her cold voice was piercing. “Why are you calling me? Didn’t I tell you not to contact me again?” “What, you’re marrying Arthur’s best friend now, and you want to invite your former mother-in-law to the wedding?” I ignored her sarcastic tone and immediately asked, “Mom, please tell me, was Arthur truly dead back then? Was he faking his death to deceive me?” On the other end of the line, Arthur’s mother exploded like a sputtering oil pan, roaring at me in anger. “Evelyn Lane, do you have any conscience? Arthur died because of you! If you hadn’t suddenly craved cake in the middle of the night, would he have driven while fatigued and gotten into that accident? You personally identified his body; how dare you ask me such a thing? You have no conscience!” The call was abruptly cut off, but I remained suspicious. After all, though I had rushed to the scene of Arthur’s accident immediately, his body was so mangled from the impact that even his face was unrecognizable. We had identified him by his clothes and car. I took a deep breath, then took Ben to the police station that had handled the accident to check the records. Seeing the 100% DNA match, I froze. The person who died was indeed Arthur Hayes. But a dead man… how could he maintain a five-year marriage with me? Back home, Ben received an urgent call for overtime work. Before leaving, he hugged my shoulders, reassuring me softly. “Don’t be scared.” “I helped with Arthur’s funeral arrangements; he truly was… it couldn’t have been faked.” “Maybe something went wrong when the paperwork was processed. We’ll check again tomorrow; it might be nothing.” “Sweetheart, it’s your birthday today. Be happy.” “When I get back, we’ll celebrate properly.” Looking at Ben’s gentle eyes, my unease lessened considerably, and I nodded at him. After Arthur’s death, I was overcome with grief, on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. If Ben hadn’t canceled so much work to be with me, even using his connections to find me the best psychologist, I doubt I would have recovered so quickly. Although our relationship later wasn’t approved by many, and there were even some unpleasant rumors, I didn’t care. After all, I was living my own life. Sighing, I poured myself a cup of hot water, just about to calm my nerves. The doorbell suddenly rang. I thought it was Ben, having forgotten something. But when I opened the door, it was a smiling delivery man holding a bouquet of flowers. He enthusiastically said, “Is this Ms. Evelyn Lane? These are from your husband.” I took the bouquet, seeing the vibrant red roses, and the gloom in my heart instantly lifted. Just as I was about to snap a photo to send to Ben, the delivery man suddenly smiled and said, “You know, Mr. Hayes is truly thoughtful.” “Our shop had run out of roses, but he specially had the owner air-freight these from a neighboring city.” “Because he said your first meeting was at our shop, he insisted the roses be delivered under our shop’s name. So romantic…” The delivery man continued to chatter, but my face had instantly changed. “Wait.” I gripped the doorframe, my heart feeling like it was trying to leap out of my throat. “My husband, you said. What’s his last name?” The smile on the delivery man’s face froze. He looked at me strangely. “Mr. Hayes, of course. He orders flowers from our shop every year; he’s a regular customer.” Thud. The bouquet in my hand instantly fell to the ground. But I didn’t even bother to pick it up, staring at his face in shock, enunciating each word. “The Mr. Hayes you’re talking about, does he have a red mole between his eyebrows?” Seeing the delivery man nod in surprise, I immediately pulled out my phone, found a photo of Arthur’s ID, and showed it to him. “Is the Mr. Hayes you’re talking about him?” Now the delivery man looked at me even more strangely. “Of course it’s him, Ms. Lane. Are you messing with me? Don’t you know what your own husband looks like?” He scratched his head, gave me a look as if I were an idiot, and walked away. I held onto the doorframe, staring at the blood-red flowers on the ground, and suddenly noticed a greeting card tucked in the bouquet. But in previous years, the bouquets never had one. I picked up the card, and after reading its contents, a chill instantly crawled up my spine. Because the card clearly read: “Dearest wife, happy wedding anniversary. Your loving husband, Arthur Hayes.” I didn’t dare stay home alone. I hailed a taxi and went straight to my office. On the way, I messaged Ben, telling him what had just happened. But the man who always replied instantly didn’t respond. It wasn’t until I entered the office. Just as I was about to call him directly to ask what was going on, Liam, a colleague I was always friendly with, chuckled and came over. “Didn’t you take today off for a romantic day with your husband? Why are you back so soon?” I forced a faint smile, replying evasively, “He’s a bit busy, and I need to catch up on work, so I wanted to come back and organize some project files.” Liam gave me a knowing smile, pointing at a lunch bag on my desk. “Got it, got it. Your husband stood you up today. But he did make you a fancy meal to apologize. You should be gracious and forgive him.” Instantly, the smile on my face froze.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391914”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

As the most talked-about socialite in Beverly Hills, on the eve of my wedding, I announced its cancellation, switched off my phone, and vanished into the Los Angeles night. Back in Los Angeles, I was pinned against a hotel door, kissed until I couldn’t breathe. Alex Holt’s eyes were bloodshot, a vein throbbing in his temple: “Aurora West, who gave you the guts?!” Jackson Mercer, his arm around my waist, chuckled softly, “I did. What about it?” 1 The club’s private room buzzed with noise. The grating music, acrid cigarette smoke mingled with strong perfume, made me feel completely out of place, like a fish out of water. I excused myself to the restroom. When I returned, I heard a man’s voice, laced with amusement, say, “Emily’s figure is absolutely divine.” Alex was on the dance floor, his arm wrapped around Emily Carter’s slender waist, their bodies entwined, inseparable as they moved to the beat. Someone nearby chimed in, “Any woman by Holt’s side is a goddess, aren’t they?” As the dance ended, Alex pulled Emily down beside him, a defiant smirk playing on his lips. “Tsk, I’m saying goodbye to bachelorhood tomorrow. No more days of wild freedom after this, huh?” Someone lit a cigarette for Alex. “What’s there to worry about, Holt? A good girl like Aurora will do whatever you say, won’t she?” Alex took a deep drag, nodding indifferently. “True.” “But Aurora, that woman, she’s utterly boring, like a cold stone. Always so prim and proper.” Someone joked, “How boring? Holt, spill the details?” Alex lifted his chin slightly, a hint of mockery in his voice. “Want to know? Why don’t you try it yourself?” The moment I pushed open the door, the chatter in the room ceased abruptly. The person who had been speaking tried to backtrack, “Mrs. Holt, that was just… a joke…” I stood rooted to the spot, my gaze fixed on Alex. Alex casually flicked his cigarette ash, his eyes calmly meeting mine. “Heard it all?” My hand, gripping the doorknob, tightened then loosened, over and over. It wasn’t until the manicure I’d gotten for the wedding bit into the skin of my palm, sending a sharp pang of pain deep into my brain, that I spoke softly, “Alex, if you don’t want to get married… you could just say so.” Our engagement had been arranged by our families long ago. Since childhood, people had whispered in my ear, “Aurora, wouldn’t you like to marry Alex when you grow up?” Back then, I would shyly lower my head. Later, it felt natural to fall in love with Alex; I’d liked him for many years. Little Alex used to be kind to me, but I don’t know when it started, his aversion to me became blatant, written all over his face. Alex scoffed, “Just say so?” “Then I’m telling you now, I don’t want to marry you. You go tell our families to cancel the wedding.” When he uttered those words without hesitation, an unprecedented weariness washed over me. A wave of sorrow surged within me, leaving me speechless… After a long silence. I slowly released the doorknob, nodding gently, refraining from an argument. “I understand.” I picked up my coat and bag, turning to leave. At the doorway of the private room, I paused, slightly turning to glance at Alex and Emily Carter in his arms. “Then as you wish. I’ll explain everything to our families.” “You two are a perfect match. I wish you both happiness.” Someone reached out to stop me, “Mrs. Holt, please calm down. Holt was just kidding with us…” “Yes, Mrs. Holt, tomorrow is your and Holt’s big day, don’t get upset.” Alex’s face darkened, he extinguished his cigarette, his jaw tight. “Let her go! I’d like to see how long she can keep up this attitude!” The person trying to stop me glanced at Alex’s face and reluctantly withdrew their hand. I curved my lips slightly, a bitter smile, and strode out. He spoke that way because it wasn’t the first time. But every previous time, within a few days, I would swallow my pride, buying Alex a gift. He wouldn’t be too outrageous, accepting the gift and letting the matter drop. As for our parents, they never bothered with our minor spats, as long as appearances were maintained. Perhaps everyone who knew us thought Aurora West would never truly give up on Alex Holt. After leaving the club, one of my close friends called, “Aurora, come back quickly, Alex took Emily to a hotel…” I sat in the car, watching the city lights stream past, and softly said, “Let him be.” With that, I hung up. For over twenty years, I had always been Aurora West, the proud eldest daughter of the West family, a renowned socialite in Los Angeles, never doing anything out of line. Alex had his fair share of scandals, and I always handled them with grace and discretion. Everyone said, Aurora West was not simple. But now, I suddenly wanted to let loose, just this once. At this moment, I just wanted to be myself, without a care in the world. After sending messages to both families, I posted an update on social media—【Wedding cancelled tomorrow, my apologies】—then switched off my phone. Returning to the home Alex and I were to share, I only took my identification and a change of clothes before leaving. At midnight, an hour after canceling the wedding, I sat in the airport waiting lounge. My childhood friend, Lily Mitchell, had settled in San Diego after getting married, and we hadn’t seen each other in ages. Plus, San Diego’s coastal scenery was nationally famous, and I had long wanted to visit. This time, I wanted to try and break free. The next morning, Lily drove me straight to her private ski resort. “Aurora, didn’t you always want to learn to ski? The slopes are huge here, you can really enjoy yourself!” “I’m telling you, skiing is truly exhilarating!” We geared up and walked out of the lounge, spotting two people approaching. Lily winked at me playfully, “Aurora, Alex, that playboy, he’s not good enough for you in any way. I’ve got a prime catch to recommend.” Jackson Mercer walked alongside Lily’s husband, his gaze falling on my face. Even from a distance, I felt the intensity of his stare. Lily whispered in my ear, “Jackson is really great, hundreds of times better than Alex. You’ve got to seize the opportunity!” In the short moment I was distracted, Jackson was already standing before me. Lily’s husband pulled her into his arms, “Wearing so little again? Didn’t you learn your lesson last time, huh?” Lily stuck out her tongue, then nudged me towards Jackson. “Jackson, Aurora hasn’t learned to ski yet, would you teach her?” Jackson’s eyes remained fixed on my face, his undisguised gaze making my cheeks flush. Then, I heard his voice, deep as a cello, “Mm, alright.” Even if I was slow to catch on, I understood their intention. I looked up and smiled politely at Jackson. Before Lily turned to leave, she hooked her arm through mine and whispered, “Aurora, I’m serious, I always thought it would be a shame if you married Alex.” “I fully support you running away from the wedding this time!” “Honey, trust my judgment! Let that scumbag Alex regret it.” The ski resort was high altitude, the temperature very low, but my face remained flushed. Jackson’s features were exquisitely carved, profound yet not harsh. Even dressed in a simple black ski suit, he exuded an extraordinary air. Lily, once pulled away by her husband, didn’t reappear. For the entire day, it was just Jackson and I on the private slopes. He stood behind me, our bodies pressed close. “Bend your knees, a little lower, maintain maximum stability.” “Look up, eyes straight ahead…” “Hands open, hold gently, loosen your grip, don’t hold too tight.” Jackson’s warm breath feathered my ear. “Open your legs a bit wider…” Even though Jackson was diligently teaching me to ski, a strangely romantic thought suddenly bloomed in my mind. Aurora West, what are you thinking?! I silently scolded myself, but lost my balance for a moment, and tumbled abruptly towards the ground. Jackson caught me swiftly, pulling me into his embrace. “Are you alright?” Meeting his anxious gaze, my heart suddenly skipped a beat… Jackson was truly handsome, with deep-set eyes. Perhaps the atmosphere was too intimate, or I was simply swept away. Or perhaps, I genuinely wanted to follow my heart, just this once. I lifted my head, clutching Jackson’s collar, and leaned in… It was meant to be a fleeting kiss, but Jackson’s eyes suddenly darkened. Before I could react, I was scooped up into his arms… 2 Inside the suite. Jackson pressed me against the door, one hand cradling my head, the other around my waist, deepening the kiss… His breath was hot, powerful, making my heart tremble. I felt unsteady, my hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for support. This movement only fueled Jackson further; he lifted me straight into his arms… At the peak of our passion, Jackson suddenly pulled back. I could feel his heavy breathing, but he was restraining himself, looking down at me intently. “Aurora West, have you thought this through?” “You must have heard about our Mercer family rules.” The Mercer family in San Diego, a top-tier dynasty. No breakups, no divorces. Once you commit, it’s for life. As if it were an unconscious illusion, deep, tender affection flickered in Jackson’s eyes, like a burning flame. “Jackson…” I gripped his shirt tightly, calling his name. Jackson gazed at me blankly for a long moment, then a faint smile spread across his lips. I stared at his smile, utterly lost in it. The next moment, the hem of my clothes was lifted, and Jackson lowered his head to kiss me again. His fingertips were cool, making my heart flutter with an exquisite ache… I was dizzy from his kisses, my mind hazy. I didn’t know when the snow started falling outside the window, as Jackson firmly intertwined our fingers. Our heartbeats were like notes, falling and rising in unison. In the end, I didn’t even know when I drifted off to sleep. And so, I missed Jackson’s whispered words, “I’ve waited all these years, and finally, my wish has come true. It wasn’t in vain.” The snow in San Diego fell for an entire half-month. The West family had already rushed to San Diego, determined to drag me back for the wedding. But I was living in Jackson’s mountain estate, and no one could find me. The people from Los Angeles called me countless times, but I had blocked all their numbers. At three in the morning, a text message popped up on my phone: “Mrs. Holt, where are you in San Diego? Mr. Holt has been looking for you this whole time.” Jackson glanced at me, sleeping soundly, and without hesitation, deleted the message, then pulled me closer. At the Holt family estate in Los Angeles. Alex Holt sat on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the phone on the coffee table. Again and again, my calls never went through. No matter whose phone he used, the only thing that came through was a mechanical voice, “The number you have dialed is currently busy…” After a long while, Alex suddenly looked up, grabbed the phone, and hurled it away. The phone struck the television, shattering the screen, and the phone itself broke into several pieces. Michael and Tom, standing nearby, exchanged glances, then carefully spoke, “Holt, Mrs. Holt is just throwing a tantrum.” “She’ll get over it. Don’t all women have their little moods?” Tom nodded in agreement, “That’s right, Holt. Women are like that, just need a little coaxing.” Alex, however, sneered, “Coax her? What is Aurora West, that I should have to coax her?” “If she wants to come back, fine. If not, she can die out there.” With that, Alex turned and stormed upstairs. Back in his bedroom, looking at the things he had acquired for Aurora, his anger intensified. Alex smashed everything in the room. Looking at the utter chaos, Alex still felt a knot of anger in his chest… That woman, Aurora, wouldn’t take the easy way out. She shouldn’t blame him for making things impossible. He’d wait for her to come back and beg him!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391913”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my third miscarriage, I spiraled into severe depression. After a few attempts at consoling me, Alex Holt grew impatient. He outright sent me photos of him kissing his first love, Scarlett Thorne, to provoke me. “Aurora Hayes, if you keep being so melodramatic, I don’t mind getting a new wife!” Under the double blow, I chose to jump from a bridge. At that moment, Alex Holt was driving by with Scarlett. Seeing my figure plunge from the bridge, Scarlett gasped, “Oh my God, someone just jumped!” Alex merely cast a fleeting glance, coldly stating, “Someone so fragile is better off not living.” Then the car sped away. At dinner, Scarlett happily shared anecdotes from her day. But Alex seemed distracted, repeatedly opening and closing our chat window. Seeing no response from me, he suppressed his anger and sent two more messages. “Since you’re like this, sign the divorce papers tomorrow.” “Scarlett is more suited to be Mrs. Holt than you.” But Alex Holt, this “Mrs. Holt,” I had stopped wanting to be long ago. … After I died by jumping into the river, my soul detached and was bound to Alex Holt. Looking at the two messages he had just sent me at the dinner table, I gave a self-deprecating smile. He would probably never know that the figure by the bridge, whom he so casually dismissed as “better off not living,” was me. The screen dimmed then lit up again, Alex Holt’s fingertips hovering over the chat box. A flicker of impatience creased his brow; he eventually shut off his phone and tilted his head back, downing the strong liquor in his glass. He looked at Scarlett beside him, his voice tinged with a subtle irritation. “Scarlett, interested in being the new Mrs. Holt?” Scarlett’s eyes instantly reddened at his words. “Alex, don’t be impulsive… What about Aurora?” Alex curled his lips into a cold sneer. “Her current psychological state isn’t suitable for standing by my side anymore.” “It’s just three miscarriages, and she’s become so fragile.” …Just three miscarriages. My soul trembled violently, and a sharp, suffocating pain shot through my chest. Those years, dismissed by his casual words, were my life’s hopes, repeatedly stripped away. After marrying him, my greatest wish was to have a child of our own. But in the early years, helping him build his business, enduring hardships and meager meals, My body was already overtaxed; doctors said conception would be difficult. I drank countless bitter medicines, received countless injections, and finally, in the third year of our marriage, conceived our first child. But in less than two months, the child left me without warning. Alex held me then, saying he was heartbroken. A year later, I became pregnant again. I was cautious, walking on eggshells, but his business rivals found me. They cornered me in the garage, raining down punches and kicks… I curled up, protecting my belly, but all I could feel was life slowly draining away. I lay in the hospital for a month, my mind on the verge of collapse. Alex’s eyes were bloodshot, holding my hand, saying, “Aurora, I just want you safe.” “The baby doesn’t matter, we have each other, and that’s enough.” It wasn’t until the fifth year that I miraculously became pregnant again. The doctor warned me that another miscarriage might mean losing the chance to be a mother forever. I quit my job, dedicating all my energy to protecting this child. Until I wanted to buy a prenatal book, and as soon as I left the apartment complex, a car sped out of control towards me… When I woke up, I had lost my baby, and I saw Scarlett, tear-eyed, sitting in my hospital room. The driver was Alex’s first love, who had just returned from overseas. Alex stood by the bed, ignoring my despair, his eyes filled with unbearable pity for Scarlett. He held my hand, his voice gentle but cruel. “Aurora, Scarlett didn’t mean it. Her life can’t have a blemish.” “Sign the waiver, even without a child, you’ll always be Mrs. Holt.” I refused, screaming wildly for Scarlett to pay the price. But Alex threatened me with my parents: “Aurora, you wouldn’t want to see them lose everything at their age, would you?” Eventually, I signed the document, watching Scarlett leave safely. But something inside me had shattered completely. I was diagnosed with severe depression, locking myself in my room all day, weeping while clutching a baby’s toy. Alex summarized my five years of hell as “just three miscarriages” and “a fragile psychological state.” The position of Mrs. Holt, I had stopped wanting it long ago. He could finally have his wish, a suitable, healthy replacement. As if to completely sever the last shred of hesitation, Alex directly called his lawyer. “Mr. King, draft a divorce agreement.” “Asset division… give her fifty million, as compensation for her five years of hard work.” Five years, fifty million. My youth, my love, my three lost children. My shattered body and mind, clearly priced. The call ended, and Scarlett immediately embraced him emotionally, her voice choked. “Alex, I knew it. You still care about me.” “All these years, alone overseas, I thought of you every single day…” Alex stiffly endured the hug, his arm hesitating for a moment before finally returning the embrace. His gaze drifted over Scarlett’s shoulder, revealing an unfathomable emptiness within. After dinner, Scarlett naturally followed him back to our home. Pushing open the door, a heavy darkness and chilling emptiness greeted them. Alex irritably flicked on the main lights. He loosened his tie, his voice filled with impatience. “Aurora, how long are you going to keep this up? Making the house look like a haunted mansion!” He strode towards the bedroom, ready to unleash a night’s worth of accumulated anger on me. The door was flung open abruptly, revealing an empty room. His surge of reprimands choked in his throat, and he stood stunned for several seconds. Then he quickly pulled out his phone, his fingers rapidly tapping the screen. 【Where are you?】 After a pause, he added another line. 【The divorce agreement is being drafted. Don’t try to back out now.】 He stared at the screen, his brows tightly furrowed, seemingly waiting for a reassuring response. Scarlett walked into the bedroom, surveying the room filled with memories of Alex and me, a flicker of jealousy in her eyes. She pressed close to Alex, her fingertips lightly tracing his chest, her breath like a soft whisper. “Alex… these past five years, did you miss me?” Alex’s eyes darkened, and he lowered his head, kissing Scarlett fiercely, roughly pressing her onto the large bed behind them. My soul was confined to a corner, forced to witness this passionate encounter. Listening to Scarlett’s seductive gasps and his low moans, it tortured my already dead senses. Just as passion reached its peak, Alex suddenly froze. His gaze shot towards where my soul lingered, a momentary clarity in his eyes, as if he truly saw something. He immediately propped himself up, carefully looking into that empty space. His brows furrowed, holding his breath. “What’s wrong, Alex?” Scarlett discontentedly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him back. Alex pulled his gaze away, rubbing his temples. The passion faded from his face, leaving only deep weariness. “Nothing,” he pushed Scarlett away, his voice somewhat hoarse, “I’m a little tired tonight. Let’s get some rest.” Scarlett’s face flashed with surprise and reluctance. But seeing his expression, she ultimately didn’t press further. Alex leaned against the headboard alone, not touching Scarlett again. He lit a cigarette, the crimson glow flickering in the darkness, illuminating his dim, indistinct profile. His gaze, once again, involuntarily drifted to that empty corner. Only my cold stare was there. The next morning, Alex Holt woke to the sound of a door opening. He seemed to have been sleeping lightly, as he abruptly sat up in bed upon hearing the noise. Alex let out a sigh of relief, muttering under his breath, “Finally came home…” However, the person who walked in was not the figure he expected. It was my mother. She carried a thermos in her hand, looking dishevelled from travel. The moment I saw my mother, a warmth spread through my heart. These past five years, if not for my mother’s patient companionship and comfort, I might have plunged into endless darkness after the first miscarriage. My mother smiled upon seeing Alex, asking with concern: “Has Aurora not woken up yet?” “I stewed some chicken soup to help her recover. Her complexion has been so poor lately.” Alex’s expression was cold; he directly interrupted my mother: “Aurora threw a tantrum and left home yesterday. She’s thirty years old, so immature.” “Left home?” My mother froze, nearly dropping the thermos she was holding. “Impossible! Aurora wouldn’t leave without a word!” My mother’s face instantly paled, her voice tinged with panic. She quickly put down the thermos and walked towards the bedroom. “Aurora? Aurora, are you in there?” She called out, pushing open the slightly ajar bedroom door. I wanted to stop her, wanted to scream “Mother, don’t go in,” but it was no use. Mother still walked in and immediately saw Scarlett, disheveled, on the bed. The air instantly solidified. She pointed at Scarlett, her voice trembling uncontrollably: “Who… who is she? Why is she here?!” Alex followed, and seeing the situation, he decided to just let it all out. “As you can see, I plan to divorce Aurora.” “Scarlett will be my future wife.” My mother seemed to have been struck by a heavy blow. She staggered, then erupted with long-suppressed fury. “Alex Holt! Are you even human?!” “Aurora is this way because of you!” “How much has she sacrificed for you, and now you bring another woman home and want to divorce her?!” Alex looked as if a nerve had been struck, his eyes sharpening. “I gave Aurora the status of Mrs. Holt, and a life of luxury!” “She herself wasn’t content, dwelling on those undeveloped babies day in and day out, turning herself into a wreck!” My mother trembled with rage, tears streaming down her face. “When she was with you, what were you? Nothing but ambition!” “Did she care about your money? It was because she loved you, Alex Holt!” At the word “love,” Alex froze for a moment. An emotion flickered in his eyes, quickly overtaken by deeper irritation. “What good is love?” Scarlett softly interjected. “Alex needs someone who can stand by his side and support him. Aunt, I love Alex too. If my parents hadn’t forced me to go abroad…” She choked up at just the right moment, shifting the blame to fate. These incendiary words completely ignited my mother’s last shred of sanity. “Shut up! You fake vixen!” My mother roared, grabbed the still-warm chicken soup from the table, and splashed it towards Scarlett. Scarlett screamed. Alex’s face changed dramatically, and he forcefully pushed my mother away. My mother, being older, couldn’t keep her balance from his shove and fell heavily to the floor. I cried out in anguish, lunging to embrace my mother, but my spirit merely passed through her body. Seeing her tormented expression, I had never so deeply resented the man I once loved. Alex froze for a moment, looking at my mother on the floor. A sudden, inexplicable chill ran down his spine. He shivered involuntarily, his heart giving an unbidden, heavy thump. Ultimately, Alex forcefully escorted my mother out the door. “If you cause any more trouble, I won’t hesitate to leave Aurora with nothing.” My mother trembled with fury. “Bah! Alex Holt, our Aurora never cared for your dirty money!” I wanted to leave with my mother, but that invisible force still held me tightly. I could only watch helplessly as my mother’s frail figure disappeared into the elevator, my heart aching as if pierced by a knife. Inside the door, the scene instantly changed. Alex returned to Scarlett’s side, the aggression on his face receding. He found a first-aid kit and gently treated her scalded skin. Scarlett’s eyes, glistening with tears, gazed at him piteously. “Alex, do you believe me? If only my parents hadn’t forced me to go abroad, threatening to die…” “I would be the one standing by your side now, bearing your children.” Alex’s hand, applying the ointment, paused slightly. After a few seconds of silence, he said in a low voice, “I believe you.” Those three flimsy words crushed the last vestige of hope within me. He believed this woman who had unhesitatingly left him when he was at his lowest, and now returned adorned in riches, speaking of longing. He had forgotten who had picked him up time and again when he was abandoned and drunk on the streets. Who had stayed with him in his early entrepreneurial days, eating instant noodles, running until her legs ached, and sacrificing her health. At our wedding, he had sworn a solemn oath by the sea. “Aurora Hayes, if I, Alex Holt, ever betray you in this life, I shall perish at the bottom of the ocean, never to rest in peace.” His words still echoed, but the solemn vows had become the most bitter irony. Perhaps, as soon as he reunited with Scarlett, This oath, along with all his affection for me, was cast into the deepest depths of the ocean. After applying the medicine, the lawyer called. He informed Alex that the divorce agreement was ready but that I could not be reached to sign it. Alex hung up the phone, his face grim, and took out his cell phone, repeatedly scrolling through our chat history. The last message was his: “Scarlett is more suited to be Mrs. Holt than you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391912”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I rushed back from out of town to attend my nephew’s parent-teacher conference, only to be mistaken for a kept man by my future brother-in-law. He brought a group of his buddies, smashing classroom furniture, and repeatedly declared that I would pay the price. The moment I stepped through the door, he struck me with a stick, sending me sprawling to my knees. “You lowlife, daring to seduce my wife and trying to mess with my son? If I don’t teach you a lesson today, I’ve lived for nothing!” “Once I cripple you and you’re bedridden for the rest of your life, let’s see how you leech off rich women then!” He, in front of numerous parents, repeatedly struck me with a toilet mop handle. I covered my head, scrambling away like a stray dog, while his laughter grew increasingly maniacal. A second before I lost consciousness, my sister finally burst into the classroom. 1 When I received a call from my nephew’s teacher saying someone claiming to be the child’s father was causing trouble, I floored the gas pedal and sped to the school. My brother-in-law had passed away five years ago, and the more I thought about it, the more frightened I became. I called my sister several times on the way, but all calls went unanswered. Then I remembered, she hadn’t paid much attention to my nephew’s school affairs these past few years, probably didn’t even know which way the classroom door opened. So I headed upstairs myself, phone clutched in hand, ready to call the police at any moment. Before I even reached the classroom, the tumultuous noise already threatened to shake the building apart. A man’s vulgar curses pierced my ears. “Don’t blame me for interrupting the parent-teacher conference. This kept man outside is practically riding over my head!” “He sends my wife harassing messages all day, hotel receipts, expense statements—he’s spent all her dowry money!” “And today, he brazenly wants to attend my son’s parent-teacher conference? How am I supposed to tolerate that?” “Any decent person would be furious!” “I’m a fitness influencer, half a public figure, at least. Today, I’m making him pay for his actions!” Hearing this, I hurriedly quickened my pace. The moment I reached the classroom door, a group of parents were stirred into righteous indignation by his words. “Go ahead, buddy! We’ll pretend we didn’t see anything! The parent-teacher conference can wait; we absolutely can’t let a kept man like that off the hook!” “I despise scum who break up families, born of a mother but raised by no one!” The man, encouraged by the cheers, rolled up his sleeves, eager for a fight. “Thanks for the support, everyone. You don’t mind if I livestream this, do you? Let the whole internet recognize that kept man!” The more I listened, the more something felt wrong. Standing at the door, I craned my neck to look inside, only to lock eyes with a familiar face. Wasn’t that Liam Ellis, my sister’s soon-to-be new husband? I’d been living on my own these past few years after my family kicked me out for not marrying, so I’d only seen his photos on my sister’s social media. My sister had mentioned he was a fitness influencer, and I’d even thought about asking him for some pointers. But my sister said there’d be plenty of opportunities after they got married, and the matter was dropped. Now, looking at his face, red with rage, I quickly pulled out my phone to call my sister. I called three times, still no answer. I sent her a message. 【Did you do something to upset Liam? He’s causing a scene in our nephew’s classroom!】 【Now that your career’s taking off, you can’t be fickle. If there’s a misunderstanding, clear it up with him quickly! Mom and Dad are already angry enough about my situation; if your wedding has any problems, it’ll kill them!】 Just as I sent the second message, a pair of clean athletic shoes suddenly appeared before me. Before I could even look up, my short hair was violently yanked. A powerful force dragged my entire body into the classroom. Then a kick landed squarely on my lower back, sending me sprawling to the ground, out of control. When I looked up, a phone was practically shoved into my mouth. Liam snarled, “Everyone, take a good look! This is the kept man I was talking about!” “He was just hiding by the door, probably heard me talking and didn’t dare come in!” “What, you do something so disgusting, and you’re still afraid to admit it? If I were you, I’d hide my face in my pants when I went out!” With that, he tightened his grip, and the camera directly smacked my lip. A professional fitness enthusiast’s blow was not light; my lip quickly swelled up into a large lump. Seeing my miserable state, not a single person around stepped forward to defend me. Instead, they pointed fingers and cursed at me. My lips were numb for about ten seconds before I recovered, then I looked up at Liam and urgently began: “You’ve misunderstood, I’m not a kept man, I—” Before I could finish, he swung his sports bag, forcefully hitting me in the face. Blood immediately gushed from my nose, and my phone fell to the side, its screen cracking. He snatched it up, clutching it in his hand, and said coldly, “Still saying it’s not you! This is the phone my wife bought! I even screenshotted the payment bill! You just wait for the lawsuit and pay back the money!” 2 I wanted to explain that it was my sister’s birthday gift to me last year, a way for her to encourage me to go home and apologize to Mom and Dad. But the words caught in my throat, replaced by a gush of metallic-tasting liquid. It choked me, and I clutched my chest, coughing. Liam looked up at the surrounding parents, roaring, “See that? I just lightly tapped him, and a grown man can be this weak? What an act!” “No wonder my wife spent her dowry money on him! A man like this is utterly despicable!” My face flushed crimson, my eyes streaked with blood. The parents in the classroom looked at me with venomous, hateful stares. I furrowed my brow, suppressing the indignation, and spoke sternly, “Liam, I told you I’m not a kept man. How exactly did you come to that conclusion?” After all, he was my future brother-in-law, and I wanted to avoid a nasty public spectacle later on. I wanted him to show proof; business dealings often required social graces. If it truly was my sister who had wronged him, I was prepared to apologize on her behalf. But hearing my words, his anger surged. He shoved the camera closer to my face. “See that, everyone? On the verge of death and still won’t admit it!” “If I don’t make you understand what you’re dying for today, I’ve wasted my time coming here!” With that, he put a lit cigarette in his mouth, then pulled out another phone and opened it in front of me. Soon, several photos of me and my nephew at an amusement park appeared. Liam snorted coldly, “What do you have to say now?” “These were found on my wife’s phone! You really hid it well, reaching out to my son to climb up the ladder! I’m warning you today, if you touch a single hair on my son’s head again, I’ll use you as a barbell!” My brows knitted tightly; all my words instantly became powerless. That was just for my nephew’s birthday. My sister didn’t have time to accompany him, so I took him to the amusement park to take photos for her to see, never imagining it would lead to such a misunderstanding. Seeing my silence, he said coldly, “Nothing to say, huh? Brothers, hit him! Just leave him enough breath to speak!” “Ruin his face, let’s see how he leeches off rich women then!” As a group of muscular men rolled up their sleeves, ready to surround me, I quickly propped myself up to explain, but opening my mouth tore at the blood scab on my lip, making me gasp in pain. “You’ve misunderstood, I’m his uncle! Eleanor Carter is my sister, we’re siblings!” Liam glanced at me, scoffing disdainfully. “Siblings? Her own mother doesn’t even know she has a son!” “I’m about to marry my wife, and I’ve never once heard her mention having a brother!” “What kind of brother are you? A lover? Are you trying to fool me like I’m an idiot? If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you really won’t know what kind of trash you are!” His curses stunned me. I never imagined my mother would be so angry as to disown me! Sweating profusely, I frantically asked the surrounding parents to call the police for me. But no one bothered to respond. Everyone merely looked on, enjoying the show. Someone even picked up a pencil from a desk and threw it at my head. The pencil lead lodged in my scalp, and the shaft snapped on impact. My face contorted in pain. Liam’s expression grew even more ominous. Anger burned in his eyes; he was about to step forward and attack me. I quickly spoke, “I’ll call my mom, alright? I’ll put it on speaker, and you listen!” A flicker of suspicion crossed Liam’s eyes, and he tossed my phone back in front of me. “You try to trick me, and you’re dead!” While I was dialing, Liam’s crew of brothers were already flexing their muscles, eyeing me menacingly. The phone rang, and my heart leaped into my throat. The next second, my mom abruptly hung up, then added me to her blacklist. My phone hit the ground, and my face instantly turned ashen. Liam sneered. “My mother-in-law probably thinks you’re making harassing calls. You’re still putting on an act!” Thinking of my nephew, my eyes lit up again. “Wait, where’s my nephew? He can vouch for me. I’m here to attend his parent-teacher conference today!” At that, Liam quickly stepped forward and delivered a hard punch to my face. A wisdom tooth instantly fell from my mouth to the ground, faintly stained with blood. “Enough! I told you you don’t deserve to mention my son! Stay away from him from now on!” 3 From the whispers of the surrounding parents, I gathered that all the students in the class had been taken to the office by the teacher. No wonder the teacher hadn’t shown up yet. She was already overwhelmed just managing those kids. Now, truly, no one could vouch for me. I was sweating profusely in a panic, but Liam gave me no time to think. With a single glance, his group of brothers immediately began trashing the classroom. Their wild, uncontrolled actions forced even the watching parents to retreat from the classroom. This became the muscular men’s personal domain for revenge. Liam aimed his livestream camera at the classroom, panning around. Desks and chairs lay shattered, white paint flaked off the walls. In just five minutes, the perfectly fine classroom was reduced to utter wreckage. The front and back blackboards were splashed with red paint, a terrifying and unsettling sight. He saw this and laughed even more wildly and uncontrollably. Speaking to the camera: “This kept man said he wanted to attend my son’s parent-teacher conference. Today, I’ll give him a memorable one!” “Working out and lifting weights every day, wasn’t it all for this?” Seeing this, I couldn’t help but interject, “If my sister finds out what you’ve done, you’ll regret it!” “Do you know what you’re doing? When my identity is revealed, you’ll be truly finished!” He curled one side of his lip, his face full of mockery. “Folks, this kept man is threatening me! I’m so scared! Stealing my woman and then trying to dominate me!” With that, he stepped forward and raised his bag, striking my head again. After several heavy blows, my head reeled, and I lost the ability to think. He furiously stormed out the door. More and more parents gathered outside; people from adjacent classrooms were drawn in. Now, many had their phones pointed at my face, recording. My weak pleas for help were drowned out by the insults. I couldn’t even manage to crawl to get my phone back and call the police. I forced myself to prop up my upper body, but just as my hand brushed the edge of my phone, a heavy blow landed on my back. Liam stood before me, mop in hand, his face etched with fury. A faint, disgusting yellow stain still clung to it. “Run? Where do you think you’re going to run!” “Today, the only person walking out of here standing is me!” “If I don’t teach you a lesson, my one hundred and fifty pounds were lifted in vain!” I was beaten to the ground, my gaze falling on the onlookers outside the window. Everyone was cheering for Liam. I was the sole culprit. The vast classroom had no clear space left to stand. A moment later, one of his brothers stepped forward and kicked me hard. My body felt weak and limp, like a piece of rotting flesh. My suit was drenched in blood and covered in dust, making me look utterly pathetic. “This is too easy for him! Doesn’t he want to attend a parent-teacher conference? We’ll give him a chance!” In Liam’s bloodthirsty, excited gaze, he said, “Drag him to the broadcast room and make him confess to the whole school that he’s a kept man!” Hearing this, I widened my eyes in terror, shaking my head desperately. Two muscular men grabbed me by my armpits, one on each side, hoisting me up. My lower body dragged on the ground; I was as helpless as a chick. As I struggled, my car keys fell from my pocket. Liam’s eyes instantly turned bloodshot. He angrily picked them up and violently smashed them into my face. The keyring grazed my temple, leaving a fresh red mark. “You kept man! You even had my wife buy you a car! She never even agreed to buy one for me! How dare you!” With that, he glanced at the car model, his gaze growing increasingly vicious. A parent, kindly watching the show, quickly spoke up. “Is it that one downstairs? I think I saw him get out of it just now! He drove it right in, not even worried about hitting a child. That kind of person has no conscience!” The moment the words left his mouth, Liam’s eyes blazed with fury. He immediately leaned over the railing and looked down.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391910”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After my family went bankrupt, my mother’s best friend took me in, bringing me to the Sterling residence. That’s how I ended up entangled with the two Sterling brothers for twenty years. Their relentless pursuit and undeniable favoritism made everyone green with envy. But when I wanted to settle down and start a family, they both turned me down. My older brother, Sterling, said, “My career comes first; I have no time for marriage.” My younger brother, Lance, quipped, “I’m still young, I want to have fun for a few more years. Besides, fleeting romances aren’t meant to be taken seriously.” The very next day, at my birthday party, they both proposed to the housekeeper’s daughter. To cheer her up, they even forced me, despite my stomach condition, to down a high-proof liquor. As I was rushed to the hospital with a stomach hemorrhage, they simultaneously covered her eyes, mocking my dramatics. My heart shattered beyond repair. The day I was discharged, I dialed my mother’s number. “I’ll marry Tim Maxwell.” 1. Stepping out of the hospital, my body hadn’t yet adjusted to the biting autumn chill. My older brother, Sterling, called. His tone was sharp, laced with accusation. “Willow, where have you run off to? Do you think running away will absolve you of responsibility? Get back here and apologize to Melanie Ross.” Lance’s voice chimed in from the background. “It’s all your fault for faking illness and upsetting Melanie. She’s delicate, and you’ve made her lose her appetite these past few days!” I looked at my reflection in the glass. Gaunt and frail, as if a gust of wind could sweep me away. I’d always had a sensitive stomach and a weak constitution. In the past, those two brothers had fussed over me endlessly. I remembered one night, I fell ill in the middle of the night, and Sterling carried me up twenty flights of stairs. Lance scoured the entire city to buy my favorite yam cake to cheer me up. After that, they meticulously monitored my every meal and drink, always hands-on. Sadly, once Melanie appeared, all those memories were tossed aside. I silently hung up the phone and dialed my mother’s number. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll marry Tim Maxwell.” My mother paused. “Willow, this is your life. Are you absolutely sure?” When Dad passed, and our family business collapsed, Mom sent me to Havenport, bravely propping up our struggling family on her own. She spent twenty years building connections with the Maxwell family, securing a chance for our family to rise again. But more than our family’s prosperity, she cared about my happiness. Even when Mrs. Maxwell instantly took a liking to me as a potential daughter-in-law, she still left the choice to me. I used to believe in finding true love, torn between the Sterling brothers. Now, I understood I was nothing more than a passing amusement for them. It was time to leave gracefully. I opened my phone to book a flight, only to see Melanie’s latest social media post: “True love needs no grand gestures. Only pathetic old women cling to desperate attempts to climb the social ladder.” She brazenly flaunted two different diamond rings on her hand. She was lying in my room, wearing the couture suit and crystal shoes the Sterling brothers had custom-made for my birthday six months ago. I quietly blocked Melanie. “Mom, I’m serious. I want to have my own child soon.” During my hospital stay, the doctor told me the incident had severely weakened my body. If I didn’t get pregnant and have a child while I was still young, I might never have one of my own. I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. “Alright, darling, I respect your decision.” “Mrs. Maxwell had your horoscopes read. Next Sunday is an auspicious day for registering your marriage. As long as you come back, I’ll handle everything.” My mother must have understood. She only added before hanging up, “Remember to say goodbye to Mrs. Sterling.” I looked up at the grey, overcast sky. The doctor said recovery would take about a week. I’d use this week to say goodbye to everything. 2. I hailed a taxi back to the villa. The moment I stepped through the door, a sudden splash of cold water drenched me to the bone. “Willow, I’m so sorry! I was watering the flowers and didn’t see you.” Melanie stood with the hose, only putting it down once I was soaked through. I struggled to open my eyes. My cherished lily of the valley, which I’d nurtured for years, had been completely dug up. In its place, vibrant roses bloomed in vast swathes. The cold wind bit, and my recently operated body immediately felt awful. I swayed, nearly collapsing. But Sterling and Lance exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring disdain. They seemed to be mocking me for putting on an act the moment I returned. “Willow, I thought you were truly that stubborn, that you’d never come back.” Lance scoffed, “Her mom doesn’t even want her; where else would she go?” My heart clenched painfully. I suddenly remembered the day I first arrived at the Sterling home. Lance, holding my hand, tried every trick to cheer me up. He even said, “Willow, don’t be scared. This is your home now.” Sterling, on his own initiative, cleaned out the largest, best room in the old mansion for me. Later, the three of us moved to this villa for work. Sterling remembered my preferences and meticulously decorated the master bedroom. He announced to everyone that, now and always, I was the irreplaceable mistress of this villa. Until that day, when Melanie came to the villa, ostensibly to help Mrs. Ross. Every day, besides clinging to the brothers, she would “accidentally” break my belongings. At first, I sympathized with her hard life and didn’t make a fuss. But she grew bolder, deliberately smashing my father’s keepsake right in front of me. My patience snapped. I stepped forward to confront her, only to be pushed away by Sterling. He frowned, “Melanie’s life is hard enough. Why do you, a pampered princess, have to pick on a naive young girl?” Lance added, “Melanie is even younger than I am. Can’t you, at your age, be a little more accommodating?” I clutched the broken jade pendant, feeling lost and helpless for the first time. After that, everything changed. I was no longer the most important person in the brothers’ hearts. The housekeeper’s daughter gradually replaced me, becoming the new mistress of this villa, pushing me out. Since that was the case, there was nothing for me to cling to. I just wanted to pack my things and leave quickly. Walking inside, I saw all my belongings haphazardly piled in the hallway. Sterling, with Melanie’s arm around him, looked down at me. “Willow, know your place. You’re just a parasite leeching off the Sterling family, you have no right to look down on Melanie, and certainly no right to throw a princess tantrum at her!” “From now on, you’ll move to the maid’s room. Company matters will also be handled by Melanie. I’ll transfer you to logistics for odd jobs until you understand what it means to be a decent person.” Lance tore up the teddy bear my mother had given me to make Melanie happy. “Willow, if you ever upset Melanie with your tantrums again, I won’t go easy on you.” Willow, Willow dear. A single word difference, yet a world apart. The old me would have been heartbroken and sleepless after hearing such words. But now I was leaving, and I had no time to bother with them. I just said flatly, “You’re both right.” “I’ll move out as soon as possible.” “And you don’t need to trouble yourself, Mr. Sterling, to transfer me to another department. I quit.” Sterling sneered. “You’re truly determined to cling to the Sterling family, to be a useless freeloader.” “Fine, for Mom’s sake, I won’t hold it against you this time.” “Just remember your place from now on.” I walked past Sterling, softly saying, “There won’t be a ‘from now on.’” This place certainly held many beautiful memories for me. But ultimately, this wasn’t my home. 3. I thought packing my luggage would take a long time. But looking closely, there wasn’t much left. My clothes were almost all chosen by Sterling. Back then, he used to say, “Our Willow is the most beautiful princess, of course, she has to dress beautifully every day.” Now, those clothes were soaked in dirty water, giving off an unpleasant stench. And I, from his princess, had become a parasite with a princess complex. Moving the clothes aside, I saw photos scattered across the floor. Lance used to love taking pictures of me, saying he wanted to capture all my different looks. Every time we took a group photo, these two brothers would compete to be closer to me. Now, in our group photos, my face was crossed out with a red marker. I couldn’t bear to look further. I simply threw everything into the trash. Sterling and Melanie came downstairs just as I was doing this. A flicker of shock crossed his eyes. After all, I had always treasured these things. But then, he let out a cold laugh. “You’re certainly wasteful with Sterling family money.” Sterling once showered me with expensive gifts to make me happy. Now that Melanie was by his side, everything I did was wrong. I had lost the right to be willful, and the desire to argue. I simply said, earnestly, “I’ll pay it back.” “The Sterling family isn’t short on a bit of money. Just remember, don’t ever make trouble for Melanie again!” Melanie tugged at Sterling’s sleeve, pouting. “Sterling dear, don’t waste time on unnecessary people. I still want to go to our secret stargazing spot. Let’s go.” I froze, stopping in my tracks. The ‘secret spot’ Melanie spoke of was something Sterling had created for me when I first came to the Sterling household. Mrs. Sterling was often busy with work back then, so she entrusted the responsibility of caring for me to Sterling, who was six years my senior. Sterling gave me almost everything good in the world. He said I was his muse. So, he personally designed a patch of eternal, shimmering stars for me. That day, beneath the starry sky, he looked at me with deep affection. “Willow, remember, this is your sky, and it’s a symbol of my love, just for you.” We spent twenty years, little by little, perfecting that starry sky, building a dreamy secret hideaway. From then on, my heart leaned towards Sterling. But every time I was close to making a choice, Lance would pop up, throwing a fit, and the decision would be indefinitely postponed. As for now… They had their new ‘red rose’ and had long forgotten me, their ‘fading moon.’ But it didn’t matter. I took a deep breath and walked away. I didn’t want either of them anymore. 4. Melanie suddenly grabbed my wrist. Her long, manicured nail left a scratch on my arm. “Willow, why won’t you let me finish? Do you despise me?” I winced in pain and yanked my hand away from Melanie. She stumbled backward, collapsing. “Sterling dear, save me!” Sterling cried out in alarm, scooping Melanie into his arms. Before I could even react, he slapped me across the face. Lance, alerted by the commotion, rushed over and bellowed at me. “Willow, why are you always making trouble for Melanie?” “Don’t you forget, if the Sterling family hadn’t taken you in, you, a lonely orphan, would probably be scavenging for scraps somewhere! Not only are you ungrateful, but you’re also biting the hand that fed you!” A ringing echoed in my ears. This was the first time I had ever been hit. My entire world seemed to shatter in that instant. Sterling looked at me, stunned, as if he realized the impropriety of his actions. “Are you okay? I…” “I’m fine. I don’t blame you.” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. I didn’t blame him; I considered that slap payment for his past kindness. From now on, all debts were settled, all scores even. But Lance wouldn’t let it go, blocking my path. “Don’t leave yet. Apologize to Melanie!” His fierce gaze was a stark contrast to the boy who used to cling to me, calling me “big sister Willow.” I knew his methods. Once, in school, a boy harassed me. Lance secretly dealt with him, and Sterling cleaned up the mess. The two brothers worked in perfect sync, forcing the boy’s entire family to flee Havenport. I never imagined then that one day, they would turn those ruthless tactics on me. I glanced at the triumphant Melanie, collecting my scattered thoughts. “I will never apologize. I’ve done nothing wrong.” I had nothing to fear. Even without their intervention, I would be leaving anyway. 5. Lance was still fuming. Sterling, feeling a pang of guilt, restrained him, lowering his voice slightly. “Forget it, I was impulsive just now. Don’t take it to heart. I’ll bring you your favorite chestnut cake when I get back.” “But you have to promise me one thing: don’t ever bother Melanie again.” A slap, followed by a piece of chestnut cake. But he forgot. I had a stomach condition and couldn’t eat chestnut cake. Back then, Sterling changed countless chefs, never satisfied, until he stayed up late researching and personally creating medicinal meal plans for me. Lance, too, tirelessly ensured I stuck to the regimen. Now, they had both forgotten. A gust of wind swept by, and a chill spread from my heart, enveloping my entire body. I shivered, remembering I hadn’t changed out of my wet clothes yet; I was probably developing a fever. Just as I felt my worst, Lance strode past me, deliberately bumping into me. “Still faking it.” I couldn’t stand any longer and fell directly into a puddle. Sterling looked back, a flicker of indecision in his eyes. But in the end, he and Lance, one on each side, shielded Melanie and walked away. After struggling for a long time, I painstakingly crawled out and called an ambulance for myself. The doctor, seeing my miserable state, berated me. “Just discharged, and you’ve already done this to yourself? Don’t you know what condition your body is in? I think you’re asking for trouble!” I dared not speak much, obediently staying in the hospital for a few days for observation. Only after my fever completely broke was I discharged. So much time had been lost; I had to speed up my plans. I went back to the company to handle my resignation, intending to say goodbye to the colleagues I was close to. But I learned they had all been fired by Melanie. The remaining staff treated me like a plague. I was left waiting at the company entrance for half a day before being informed that Sterling had gone on a business trip with Melanie. The three of them had gone to the beach I loved most as a child and to places I’d always wanted to visit but never had the chance. I forced a bitter smile and tossed my resignation letter aside. I had been wrestling with how to explain my departure, only to realize no one cared about my existence anyway. Now, I just needed to say goodbye to Mrs. Sterling. Then I could leave, truly unburdened.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391909”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel