1 Seven years after Jackson and I split, we met at the City Clerk’s office. He was picking up his marriage license; I was there for my divorce. Jackson smirked at me. “You went on about love when you cheated. Now you’re here getting divorced?” I replied calmly, “I’ve always been bad at judging people.” His face turned cold for a moment. Then he showed everyone my secondhand app and announced loudly: “Seven years married, and you’re still selling what I gave you — three million six hundred eighty thousand in total.” He snatched my divorce papers, checked the compensation, and sneered: “With the twenty‑five thousand eight hundred and seven cents from your ex, you still owe me three million six hundred fifty‑four thousand one hundred ninety‑nine dollars and seven cents.” “Why seven cents?” his new wife asked.“Discounted iced water,” he said. The crowd laughed at the so‑called gold‑digger’s humiliation. … “Trying to milk money from rich folks, eh? They’re way too shrewd to spend an extra cent on someone not worth it.” “That seven cents must be for her water on the way home, telling her to get lost, hahahaha.” I listened to the ridicule, feeling little ripple within. I silently scanned the code and transferred the money back to him. Still, a pang of disappointment lingered. My appointment for hospice care, it seemed, would have to be canceled. I dreaded pain, you see. The stares from the crowd were too intense, so I retreated to the restroom. The message I’d sent to my husband, Caleb, half an hour ago, remained unanswered. I sighed unconsciously. “He’s still not here?” Jackson’s voice suddenly echoed behind me, startling me. I instinctively recoiled a few steps, my too-thin back hitting the washbasin with a painful thud. Frowning, I tried to evade his probing gaze. “He’s busy. He’ll be a little late.” Jackson raised an eyebrow, proceeding to wash his hands. “Looks like your standards for boyfriends have really dropped.” He spoke with an air of indifference. I was speechless, unsure how to reply. It was true, when I was with Jackson, he never let me suffer the slightest inconvenience. If I wanted fruit, a mere glance from me would have him peeling and slicing it, serving it on a platter. If we had to walk a few extra steps on a date, he’d worry about my legs hurting, and without a second thought for the onlookers, he’d carry me. As for making me wait on a date, that was an absolute impossibility. “Well, the depth of love differs, so naturally, the tolerance varies too,” I retorted, though my fingers unconsciously sent another urgent message to Caleb, “Aren’t you coming? If not, we won’t get the papers today.” “Next time, I’m not sure I’ll even be able to make it to the office…” Before I could finish typing, a signed divorce agreement arrived from him. “Give it to the staff. They’ll handle it.” His words were curt, as if speaking more to me was a chore. Jackson saw it and scoffed, “Back then, you guarded him so fiercely, never letting me know his identity.” “Guess I won’t get to see him today either.” “Mr. Dalton, isn’t it a bit… unseemly for you to be so invested in another woman’s ex? Especially if your wife were to find out,” I said, pocketing my phone and feigning a carefree tone. I looked up to see Fiona, her face beaming. “It’s fine, really. Everyone enjoys seeing a trashy ex getting their just deserts, don’t they?” With that, she forcefully pushed me aside and wrapped her arm around Jackson’s waist. “Honey, you really shouldn’t have been so good to Ms. Annabelle, considering you were the best of her past boyfriends.” “Three million dollars isn’t even enough to buy the bag I’m carrying; it’s quite embarrassing to recall, isn’t it?” Jackson hugged Fiona back, saying softly, “Alright, let’s not bring up my past disgraces.” “Spending three million on someone undeserving, I’d say that’s already too much.” In the three years I dated Jackson, I never asked him for any gifts. But back then, Jackson, who was just starting his career, insisted, “No way. Our Annabelle must have everything other wealthy women have.” Yet now, he stood with another woman, demanding I repay him under the guise of being a gold-digger. “I’ve settled the debt. Since it’s a sore subject, I won’t linger.” I nodded slightly, ready to leave. But Fiona, with a faint smile, held me back. 2 “Annabelle, don’t be upset. Our Jack was also at fault for what happened back then.” “Blame him for being too naive, for being a poor judge of character. With me around, he won’t be tricked again.” “And I’d like to give Annabelle a chance to make amends. We haven’t even taken our wedding photo yet, and I hear Annabelle is an excellent photographer. Why don’t you take ours?” “Make amends?” My fists clenched in an instant. “Fiona, what right do you have to say that? You knew everything.” Fiona froze, seemingly surprised by my bluntness. “Knew what?” My bony hand was suddenly gripped by a large one. For a fleeting moment, I felt like I was back seven years ago, the moment Fiona pleaded with me to save Jackson. But when I looked up, I met Jackson’s bottomless eyes. He seemed surprised by how thin I had become and unconsciously loosened his grip. I snapped back to reality, pulled my hand free, and hid my unsightly hands. Under Fiona’s warning gaze, I smiled and replied, “You know I’m not just any photographer you can hire cheaply.” “My husband made a bad bet, so I naturally need to squeeze more money out of my ex-boyfriend. Ms. Fiona, since you’ve picked up my slack, you wouldn’t be stingy about paying a bit more, would you?” Jackson’s tense face suddenly crumbled, finally giving way to a sneer. “Annabelle, I really shouldn’t have held such unrealistic expectations for someone like you.” Hearing me say that, Fiona also breathed a sigh of relief and casually draped her arm over Jackson’s. Gently stroking Jackson’s back, she said, “There, there, don’t get angry over a woman like this. If she wants money, we’ll just consider it giving alms to a beggar.” Inside the photography studio, through the camera lens, I finally dared to truly look at Jackson. Thankfully, the surgery seemed to have left no lingering effects on him. The exquisitely tailored bespoke suit made him look dashing and distinguished, perhaps even more handsome than he was seven years ago. Suddenly, Jackson lifted Fiona’s veil, swept her into his arms, and gave her a deep, lingering kiss through the veil. My hands, holding the camera, trembled involuntarily, several times lifting and then dropping weakly. My breathing became unconsciously shallow and rapid. Jackson’s disgusted gaze landed on me, his voice laced with sarcasm: “Annabelle, what’s the act? You don’t think I’d still feel sorry for you, letting you snap a few shots and get away with it, do you?” “No, not at all. The customer is always right; it’s my fault.” I tried my best to steady my breath, using all my strength to balance both hands. That day, I took over a thousand photos in one afternoon, my hands shaking so much they didn’t feel like my own. But Jackson and Fiona picked and chose, always finding something unsatisfactory. It wasn’t until the City Clerk’s office was about to close that they reluctantly selected the very first picture I had taken. Hearing this, I almost coughed up blood. As I walked out of the City Clerk’s office, the heavens decided to unleash a torrential downpour. On the ride-sharing app, the number of cars waiting ahead was 99+. My winter boots, soaked from waiting, grew heavy and cold. Jackson’s Cayenne screeched to a halt in front of me, splashing cold water all over me. After a day of turmoil, I was practically collapsing. Fiona rolled down the window, feigning kindness. “Ms. Annabelle, do you need a ride? I can have my Jack drop you off.” Just as I was about to politely refuse, Fiona signaled the driver to push me into the passenger seat. The moment my foot touched the floor, I sensed something amiss. Looking down, I saw it was the scarf I had spent five months knitting for Jackson years ago. The pristine white scarf was now stained and dirty, clearly having been used as a floor mat for a long time. “This scarf, I think it was a gift from you to Jack, wasn’t it, Annabelle? I’m so sorry, Jack said he felt sick every time he saw it. I thought, well, we can’t waste your efforts, so I just used it as a footrest for guests. You don’t mind, do you, Annabelle?” I gave a faint smile. “Of course not. It’s perfectly fitting for useless things to be handled this way.” Jackson impatiently tapped the driver’s back, and the driver immediately accelerated sharply. All the blood rushed to my head in an instant; I felt so nauseous I nearly threw up. Jackson knew I got carsick; he was deliberately trying to get back at me. Midway, Fiona suddenly announced she wanted dessert from North End, and they simply abandoned me on the side of the road. I checked the map, and I was even farther from my destination. Finally, utterly exhausted, I made it back to my ex-husband’s villa in the suburbs, only to find that all my belongings had been packed and sent back to my parents’ house. I had no choice but to brave the rain and return home, but as I reached the doorstep, I saw my luggage piled like trash next to the bins. The housekeeper, who saw me first, said, “Ms. Annabelle, I’m so sorry, but this was the lady of the house’s (my mother’s) instruction. She said your brother is getting married, and your room will be used as a nursery, so you’ll have to move out.” I said nothing, silently picking up the light bag of luggage. But then, I ran straight into my mother who was leaving the house. She looked at me as if I were a plague, her face instantly twisting into an expression of disgust. “Useless thing! You get married and then returned like damaged goods, can’t even help your brother one bit.” “How did I ever give birth to such a loose woman? Jackson treated you so well back then, and you didn’t appreciate it. Now you’ve backed the wrong horse, haven’t you? And you’ve dragged our whole family down with you. Why don’t you just find a place to die somewhere? Why bother coming back?” With that, she grabbed a broom to hit me. Luckily, the housekeeper intervened, giving me a chance to escape. 3 I rented a small apartment near the publishing house I often worked with. Opening my suitcase, I found that over half the items were related to Jackson. There were the paper hearts he’d casually folded for me, candid photos I’d taken of him sleeping, and photos I’d secretly taken of his recovery progress after we’d broken up. There were also news clippings of his various career achievements that I’d collected over the years. Every time I saw these things, I felt that all my suffering had been worth it. The rent almost depleted all my savings. I could only manage one night’s rest before rushing to the publishing house the next day, hoping to inquire about the delayed payment for my new book. After marrying Caleb, he never spent a single penny on me. Writing and publishing books had been my only income these past years. But the moment I entered the publishing house, everyone cast strange glances my way. “That’s her, that’s her! She’s so materialistic, abandoned her boyfriend for money, and then beautified herself as a victim in her book. It’s truly disgusting.” “Not only did she not help her boyfriend when he was sick and bankrupt, she kicked him when he was down and ran off with a rich guy. Classy.” “Do you think she knows she’s offended Mr. Dalton, and still comes to our company because she thinks we’re stupid and easy to bully? How unlucky are we to get stuck with someone like her? Now all our projects are on hold. Oh my god, am I going to lose my job?” “Hah, she even wants to use our channels to clear her name. Honestly, some people’s shamelessness knows no bounds.” “Do you think she’s crying herself to sleep every night now, seeing how successful Mr. Dalton has become?” I’d grown accustomed to hearing such things over the years, so I didn’t pay much mind. I just hadn’t expected Jackson’s actions to be so swift, even implicating the publishing house, which made me feel a pang of guilt. Soon, the editor-in-chief called me into his office and handed me a revised copy of a book. I flipped through it; the general content was not much different from my original version. However, my character had changed. I was now portrayed as the cruel ex who heartlessly abandoned her boyfriend during his toughest times. Fiona, on the other hand, had become the woman who bravely stood by Jackson when his career was at its lowest and he was gravely ill, staying devotedly by his side until his resurgence. Even the author’s name was changed directly to Fiona. “This is my book! Why is it attributed to someone else? And by what right can someone else just casually revise it?” I glared angrily at the editor-in-chief, but he snatched the book from my hands. “Annabelle, get this straight: you were the one who deceived us first. Since it’s a story based on real events, why didn’t you tell us? Why did you hide the truth and twist the facts?” “Let me be frank with you. Your book is excellent, and it won a major literary award. But now Mr. Dalton’s wife wants that award, so you have to give it to her. This is the compensation you owe her, understand?” “And setting that aside, our publishing house needs to survive. In our past collaborations, when did we ever treat you unfairly? You can’t bite the hand that feeds you.” With things laid out so plainly, I knew further argument was pointless. Jackson’s influence was too vast; I couldn’t deny him what he wanted. Dejected, I returned home, still worried about how I’d manage living expenses, only to run into my brother at my doorstep. He was carrying a large bag of my favorite snacks. My relationship with my brother wasn’t particularly good, nor was it bad. Most of our conflicts stemmed from our mother’s unfairness. After entering the house and seeing the room I was staying in, my brother’s eyes welled up. “Sis, actually, Mom and Dad miss you a lot. They’re just stubborn.” “I’ve talked to them. Everyone wants you to come back for dinner on Christmas Eve. What family quarrel can’t be mended over a meal?” With that, he sent me a restaurant address, urging me to attend. Perhaps the impending death made me a little afraid, or maybe Christmas Eve was just too cold, but by some strange impulse, I went. Seeing Jackson, the groom, and Fiona, the bride, in the hotel banquet hall, I finally understood their intentions. My mother was using me to entertain Jackson and Fiona. No wonder I was doused with cold water the moment I entered the hotel. No wonder all three elevators in the hotel coincidentally broke down at the same time, forcing me to gasp and climb twenty-plus floors. 4 Gazing at the man surrounded by the crowd, my fingers clenched. He saw me too, a mocking smile on his face. “You came to my wedding dressed like that?” he said, looking at my soaked shirt and jeans. “What, trying to snag a rich husband at my wedding, too?” “Well, I suppose any man here today, if you latch onto him, would be enough to support you for the rest of your life. You’re certainly clever.” With that, he stuffed a wad of cash into my cleavage. “My wife needs a bridesmaid. Serve her well today, and I’ll give you three million six hundred eighty thousand.” Hearing that figure, my heart twisted in pain, uncontrollably. Three million six hundred eighty thousand—that was everything Jackson had invested in me back then. Now, he intended to return it this way. Taking several deep breaths, I forced back the tears and managed a smile. “Alright, but I’ll need payment upfront. I’m afraid Mr. Dalton might change his mind.” Jackson’s face twisted into an expression of extreme disgust. Gritting his teeth, he scanned the code. Then, with a snap of his fingers, a waiter brought out over a hundred bottles of hard liquor. Two days ago, during my check-up, the doctor said my condition was worsening faster than expected. After downing over 100 bottles of this alcohol, I wasn’t sure if I’d even make it through the night. But thinking of all these years of hardship, I felt death might actually be a release. Jackson, with Fiona in his arms, began to toast. Their friends knew the story of Jackson and me, and they knew how devastated he had been when I abandoned him. He refused treatment, wouldn’t take his medicine, and stood dumbly outside my house every day, demanding an explanation. On my wedding day, his mother, desperate, locked him up, but he smashed a glass window with his bare fists. When he appeared before me, he was covered in blood, but I didn’t even spare him a second glance, only telling him to get lost. Jackson’s friends loathed me, and they mercilessly forced drinks on me, even, at Fiona’s subtle nod, adding shards of glass to my wine glass. I drank until my mouth bled, and I threw up directly. Seeing this, Jackson’s gaze wavered. Just as he was about to speak, Fiona rushed over, steadying me. “That’s enough, all of you! Even though Annabelle betrayed Jack years ago, she’s suffered so terribly all these years that she’s received her retribution. You don’t need to kick her when she’s down.” As she said this, she made to help me up, but whispered in my ear, “Actually, Jack’s illness wasn’t a terminal disease at all. A simple surgery would have cured him. The heart you donated? I fed it to my dog that very day.” In that instant, all the humiliation and painful memories of these past years flooded my mind. My brain buzzed, and all my rationality collapsed. I lunged at Fiona like a madwoman, “Fiona, you deserve to die, you deserve to die!” But before I could even touch Fiona’s collar, Jackson brutally kicked me away. A sharp pain exploded in my ribs; I felt as if every bone in my body had shattered. Jackson held Fiona tightly in his arms, his face filled with anguished concern. Fiona, still shaken, whimpered, “Jack, I was just trying to help Annabelle. Why did she do this to me?” Jackson turned his head to look at me, his face so dark it seemed to drip ink. “Annabelle, you really are rotten to the core!” “Get down on your knees and apologize to Fiona.” When I didn’t move, he kicked my stomach hard, then grabbed my hair and yanked me up. “Don’t even think about leaving here alive until you’ve kowtowed 99 times!” His friends rushed in, forcing my head down, slamming it against the ground again and again. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, I passed out. Just before losing consciousness entirely, I saw my parents rushing towards me like madmen, not to check on my injuries, but to pick up the money that had fallen from my chest. Jackson froze, his gaze at me growing complicated. When the paramedics asked for the patient’s family, my parents and brother all denied knowing me. Jackson was about to say something, but a commotion broke out in the crowd. “The patient’s husband is here, everyone make way!” The moment he saw the man, Jackson’s pupils contracted sharply.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "409171", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel