I was trapped in an unbreakable loop—executed for murder in every life. In the first life, I was killing a fish in the kitchen. As the knife fell, the surveillance footage showed the fish turning into my neighbor's head. In the second life, I was cutting a steak in the dining room. As the knife pierced the beef, the footage showed me stabbing a stranger's heart. In every life, I was sentenced to death row with irrefutable evidence. Cameras don't lie. Evidence doesn't lie. But my memory doesn't lie either. What the hell is going on? With this question, I entered my third life. To find the truth, I chose to livestream everything. But as the countdown ended, there was a knock on the door again. "Honey, look! The first catch of the ice fishing season. I waited by the ice hole before dawn, my hands are freezing." Gavin put the bucket by my feet, water splashing onto the floor. "Let's pan-sear it for dinner. I love it when you cook fish." "You're so good at it. You need to use some force to handle it, wild ones are tough to kill." Usually, I would agree without hesitation. But now, looking at his eager smile, I felt a chill run down my spine. This was the third time I stood before this bucket of fish. In the first life, I cooked the fish that night. But when I served it, Gavin looked at me with terror. He shoved cash and a passport into my hands, telling me to run. Outside, the police were waiting with an arrest warrant. In the police interrogation room, the footage showed me holding a knife, gutting my neighbor with practiced ease. I was covered in blood, but my expression was as calm as if I were gutting a fish. But I remembered clearly: I never left the house that day. Evidence was solid. I was sentenced to lethal injection. In the second life, traumatized, I didn't dare kill the fish. I made an excuse to keep it as a pet. Gavin came home, shocked and angry. "Liv, do you even care about me? About this family?" "I work myself to death so you can enjoy life at home... and now, I just want a home-cooked meal, is that so hard?" Five years ago, my parents died, leaving me a massive inheritance and a listed company. I was devastated. Gavin stepped up, managing the company and our crumbling home. I was grateful. Dependent. When I recovered and wanted to return to work, he refused gently, saying he "didn't want me to stress." But then he would complain about the burden, like now. We fought. To apologize, he took me out for steak. I saw the neighbor's lights on and thought the crisis was averted. So I agreed. But as soon as we got home, the doorbell rang. Police. Arrest warrant. The time was exactly the same as the first life. This time, the footage showed me stabbing a waiter with a steak knife. But I was with Gavin the whole time! When I asked Gavin to testify, he just shook his head, saying the evidence was irrefutable. Now, it's the third life. "What are you thinking about?" Gavin's voice pulled me back. I looked at him, zero trust left in my heart. "I'm not feeling well. Let the housekeeper do it." Gavin objected immediately. His usual gentleness vanished. "No way. Every year, you cook the first catch. It's tradition." "Unless... you don't love me anymore!" Before I could answer, he picked up the bucket and dragged me to the kitchen. He slammed the fish and the knife in front of me. His grip on my wrist was bruising. "Be a good wife, honey. The fish is yours! You wouldn't want to disappoint me, right?" "I'll be waiting for your delicious fish tonight." Chapter 2 He locked the door from the outside. Only me and the flopping fish left in the kitchen. I looked at the cold steel of the knife, trembling uncontrollably. In this life, I must find the truth. I rushed to the study, dug out a hidden micro-camera, and pinned it inside my collar with shaking hands. The live feed was encrypted and pushed directly to a Twitch channel I set up. As a double insurance, I started an Instagram Live on my phone, camera facing me. Title: Truth Record: I Don't Believe in Telekinetic Murder. Only then did I feel a sliver of safety. Based on the previous lives, the police always arrived at a fixed time. So, if I survive that specific time, can I break the loop? Knife kills neighbor. Fork kills waiter. Does that mean if I do nothing, touch nothing sharp, eat nothing... I'll be safe? I moved the fish tank to the corner, far away from the knife. Seconds ticked by like hours. Hunger gnawed at me, but I endured. Evening came. Gavin returned. He saw the fish swimming happily in the tank. His face darkened instantly. "Liv, you..." With memories of two lives, I knew what was coming. I extended my hand before he could explode. While setting up the camera, I had accidentally scratched my hand on the desk. Perfect. I lowered my eyes, making my voice raspy and pathetic: "I'm sorry. I wanted to cook for you, but I hurt my hand. I really couldn't do it today..." Gavin stared at the wound. His anger faded, replaced by a complex look I couldn't read. He sighed, softening his tone. "How could you be so careless?" "Let's go out to eat! To cheer you up. Steakhouse?" "NO!" I screamed, startling myself. Steak? No. I refuse to be executed again. Meeting Gavin's suspicious gaze, I forced a smile: "My... my hand hurts, and I feel sick. No appetite. You eat. I'll rest." Gavin studied me for a long time, then nodded. "Fine. I'll order takeout." He ordered. I breathed a sigh of relief. I hid in the bedroom, door ajar, listening intently to the living room. The "Death Time" was approaching. My heart pounded like a drum. Suddenly, Gavin shouted from the living room: "Honey, come look! The fish... the fish looks dead!" My heart seized. I burst out of the bedroom. Fish dead? At this exact time? A sense of doom washed over me. First life, fish dead, neighbor dead... If the fish is dead now, the neighbor... I threw myself at the front door, pounding on my neighbor's door frantically. Silence inside. Fear drowned me. Did the neighbor... die again? Chapter 3 Just as despair was about to consume me, the door clicked open. Dr. Miller stood there, hair wet, wrapped in a bathrobe, looking confused. "Mrs. Liv? What's wrong? I was in the shower." He's alive. My legs gave out. I almost collapsed. Relief washed over me, followed by confusion. I turned around and met Gavin's probing eyes. He stood at our door, frowning. "Honey, why did you rush to find Dr. Miller? What's wrong?" My mind went blank. I blurted out: "I... I suddenly remembered Dr. Miller is a doctor. I wanted him to see if the fish could be saved... dead fish isn't fresh..." Silence. Dr. Miller is a cardiologist. Not a vet. Gavin's eyes darkened. I realized my mistake and quickly added: "Sorry, Dr. Miller. I was panicked. Forgot you aren't a vet..." Dr. Miller smiled tolerantly and waved it off. Gavin seemed to accept it. Back home, exhaustion and hunger hit me hard. I went back to the bedroom, intending to wait out the dangerous hour. But my eyelids grew heavy, and I fell asleep. Ding-Dong! The doorbell pierced my dream like a knife! I woke up gasping. I checked my phone—the time was exactly the moment the police arrived in previous lives! It's happening! I scrambled out of bed, screaming: "Don't open the door!" Too late. Gavin stood at the foyer, hand on the handle. He looked back at me weirdly, then opened the door. Chapter 4 Outside stood a young man in a delivery uniform, holding a food bag. Not the police. I froze, weak with relief, holding onto the wall. Not police... Is it different this time? Did I... dodge it? Gavin took the food, closed the door, and walked to me with concern. "Honey, what's wrong with you lately? So paranoid. Are you stressed? Should we see a doctor?" I didn't know how to explain this absurdity. I just nodded wearily. The box opened. The aroma of my favorite dish wafted out. My stomach growled loudly in the quiet room. Awkward. Gavin smiled. He pulled me to the table and put chopsticks in my hand. "See? Starving. Eat. You'll get hypoglycemia." I looked at the chopsticks. Bamboo. Round tips. Impossible to be a "murder weapon." Plus, I had the camera. The stream was on. Most importantly, I was dizzy with hunger. Maybe... I'm really safe? Under the temptation of food and safety, my defenses crumbled. I ate voraciously. Gavin didn't eat. He sat opposite me, watching quietly. His smile was gentle... almost too gentle. A strange unease rose in me, but I ignored it. I put down the chopsticks, satisfied. Ding-Dong. The doorbell rang again. This time, I wasn't panicked. Just confused. Didn't the delivery guy leave? Gavin went to open it. When the door opened, the blood drained from my face. Two stern-faced police officers stood there. One held a familiar arrest warrant. "Mrs. Liv, you are suspected of murdering the delivery man, Sam. Come with us." Impossible! I was eating just now! The delivery guy left! And the weapon? I only used chopsticks! No knife! One officer held up a tablet. On the screen: I stood at the door, taking the food from the delivery guy. The next second, "I" suddenly attacked, gripping the bamboo chopsticks with both hands, stabbing them into the guy's neck and chest repeatedly! Blood sprayed on "my" face and clothes. "I" felt nothing, just stabbing mechanically until he stopped moving. The background was my foyer. Timestamp: 10 minutes ago—when I was eating in the dining room! I turned to Gavin, grabbing his arm with my last strength. "Gavin! Speak! You took the delivery, right? How could I kill him?" Gavin slowly pried my fingers off, one by one. His gentle smile was gone. No anger, no fear. Just a bottomless calm. He looked me in the eye and shook his head slowly. "Liv... I... I never thought you would do this." His voice was full of pain and disbelief. "The evidence... is right there. I can't... cover for you." That sentence again. Exactly the same as the last life. As the police stepped forward to cuff me, I glanced at the stream chat. Suddenly, I threw my head back and laughed. "Hahahaha... so that's it! I was such a fool!" Chapter 5 The police frowned, thinking I snapped. Gavin looked worried and heartbroken. Only I knew this laugh was the despair of awakening. The resolve to tear off the mask at any cost. The chat was scrolling like crazy: 【WTF? Is this a reality show? Too real...】 【Her expression... that's a real breakdown. Not acting.】 【Fake cops! No badges! Wrong uniforms!】 【Holy sht. If this is real, the husband is gaslighting her in real-time!】* 【Hypnosis! Definitely hypnosis! Look at her eyes, zoning in and out!】 【Recording this. If this is scripted, I'll eat my keyboard!】 Hypnosis... The word struck my memory like lightning. Gavin, my husband. Graduated from a top Psychology program. Certified in Clinical Hypnosis. Deep in his drawer, locked away, was a book: Introduction to Deep Hypnosis and Suggestion. I tried to read it once; he took it away, saying it was "too dense." I remembered now. Senior year, when my parents died, I was on the brink of collapse. Insomnia. Hallucinations. It was him. Holding my hand, using that low, steady voice to guide me. To make me "see" a peaceful sea. I slept soundly. I never thought the hand that pulled me out of darkness would push me into the abyss. "Telekinetic murder..." I muttered the stream title. The laughter stopped. Clarity returned. I turned sharply, my gaze like a blade, slashing at the "police." No more fear. Only scrutiny. Their stance lacked the rigidity of real cops. They kept glancing at Gavin, seeking approval. And their faces. When I stopped being intimidated by the "Police" uniform, their features became clear. The tall one with high cheekbones... I saw him. Last autumn, outside Gavin's office. He was bowing to Gavin. Gavin introduced him as "Little Wang from Project Department." The chubby one... I saw him in the Finance Department's group photo. These weren't cops! They were Gavin's minions! Psychology major. Hypnotist. CEO. These identities merged into a terrifying truth. "Heh... hehe..." My laugh was low and venomous. I looked at Gavin. Thirteen years of knowing him. Five years of marriage. I thought he was my rock. I gave him everything. Even when he pushed me out of company affairs "for my protection," I only felt grateful. Turns out, all the gentleness was anesthetic. All the complaints were weights to control my guilt. All the "for your own good" was to make me obedient, dependent... the perfect scapegoat! He wasn't thinking about our future. He was designing "accidents" and "crimes" to erase me. So he could inherit everything legally. And play the grieving widower. The person beside my pillow was the grim reaper.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "390050", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel