Alfredo Deangelo

My app, GatherGround, was a hit, and my launch party was buzzing. It was also my birthday, a night meant for celebration. Then, my best friend Jess and charming boyfriend Ethan gave me a "special" gift: a vintage instant camera. What followed was a nightmare. My mother died in a freak accident, my dad suffered a debilitating stroke, my company was cyber-attacked and destroyed, and Ethan coldly abandoned me. As I stared death in the face, a horrifying truth flashed before my eyes: the camera wasn' t a gift-it was draining everything from me, giving it to them, to Jess and Ethan, who flourished as I withered. But then, I gasped, the party music pounding again, and saw Jess walking towards me with that same cursed box, moments before it all began. I was back, and this time, armed with knowledge and burning rage, I would rewrite my fate.

My fiancé plunged our SUV into an icy river during a blizzard. He had a choice: save me, or save his childhood sweetheart, Kianna. He didn't hesitate. He left me to drown. This wasn't the first time. In my last life, he' d "saved" me after Kianna drowned, only to trap me in a loveless marriage. He blamed me for her death, his silent accusations a constant torment. My own parents didn't care, forcing the wedding to secure a corporate merger. I was nothing more than a pawn. He married me not for love, but as penance, making me his living scapegoat for the woman he truly lost. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the sinking car, the icy water rising around me. This time, I smiled and pushed him toward her. "Save Kianna," I commanded. "She needs you more."

It was my eighteenth birthday, a day that should have been filled with joy, but the silence in the grand dining room was heavy with the ghost of my foster parents, gone too soon. Across from me sat Ethan, my foster uncle and the only family I had left, his serious gray eyes holding a warmth I foolishly mistook for something more, until I finally confessed my love for him. His reaction was swift and brutal; he called me disgusting, shameful, and a burden, his words shattering my heart as he left me to drown in humiliation and pain, only to reappear two years later with a beautiful fiancée. I clung to him, desperate, until one horrifying moment on a plummeting private jet when he ripped the parachute from my back, offering my life to save Tiffany' s, leaving me to fall into the abyss. Against all odds, I survived, pulling his broken body from the wreckage myself, only to wake and hear him praise Tiffany for saving his life, erasing my sacrifice and leaving me utterly broken, a quiet, chilling resolve settling in my soul.

The biting cold was the first thing I felt, deep in the walk-in freezer where Chloe, my wife of five years, had locked me. My punishment for accidentally breaking an outrageously expensive Patek Philippe, a gift not for me, but for Liam O'Connell, her "soulmate" who was returning to the US today. Hours earlier, her face had turned to ice, her voice dangerously quiet, "You clumsy fool! Do you have any idea what you've done?" Her grip like steel, she' d shoved me inside, snarling, "Two hours. Think about what you did," before the heavy door slammed shut. I had loved her, so much so that I' d sold my firm and inheritance to free her from gambling debts, thinking my selfless love had won her heart. A dream shattered by a hidden journal revealing her rage, resentment, and her true love for Liam, whispering to our son, Leo, "This is your real dad." Now, shivering, I heard a muffled thud, then another, against the door, and Leo' s small voice screaming, "Get out! You made Mom unhappy! Get out of here!" A harder kick, "I don't want you as my dad anymore!" My spirit shattered into a million tiny pieces, the cold from the freezer nothing compared to the chill in my soul. Just as consciousness faded, Chloe unlatched the door, the kitchen light blinding me. She found me collapsed, feverish, but her face was a mask of irritation, annoyed she' d been caught, already on the phone with Liam, gushing, "Leo? Oh, he's wonderful. He calls you 'Dad' all the time now. He can't wait to see you." My son looked down at me, his face twisted in disgust, "You're pathetic." That was the moment. The last flicker of hope died. I stumbled to the guest room, my hands shaking. Ignoring calls, I booked a one-way international flight to anywhere, vowing never to return. Two days later, Chloe was seen on the news, chasing my taxi to the airport, screaming my name in a public meltdown no one, least of all me, could have predicted. I still had no idea how deep her betrayal ran.

I pushed my rig across forty-eight states for a year, eating at truck stops and sleeping in the cab, all to save for a home with my wife, Jenny. Returning home, bone-deep tired but finally holding our savings, I found the house too clean, Jenny wasn't there, and a small tag on her car keys led me to a high-end car wash. There, an attendant greeted me by name, confirming Jenny's "Platinum" status and frequent visits, which made no sense given her short commute, and a cold dread started to settle in. The truth exploded when I checked her car's GPS: thousands of miles logged to a luxury hotel, a cocktail lounge, and even a distant casino, all during my brutal year on the road, leaving me reeling in disbelief as I saw a fresh hickey on her neck, and then found a trash bag full of empty men' s cologne boxes and high-end boutique receipts. How could the woman I' d sacrificed everything for betray me so completely, then feign innocence and turn the entire town against me when her lover announced she was pregnant with his child? Humiliated and backed into a corner, I knew I had to fight back.

I was on the cusp of everything, a rising country music star poised for the CMA Horizon Award, making my dying grandfather' s legacy a reality. But then my boyfriend, Ethan, shattered it all, sending me to the wrong venue, watching smugly as my rival, Jennifer Todd, stole my nomination. Later, he casually dismissed my dream, then, at Jennifer' s cruel urging, smashed my hand, destroying my ability to play. As if that wasn' t enough, Jennifer visited my grandfather in hospice, gleefully telling him my career was over, triggering his heart attack. My world crumbled; I lost my music, my future, and my last link to him, only for Ethan to propose I abandon my "white-trash family history" and the media to accuse me of faking my injuries and causing my grandfather's death. Just as I stood broken at his graveside, a dark, powerful figure emerged through the crowd, offering a silent promise of revenge.

I once thought my love for Julian Croft was everything, willingly sacrificing my entire identity and unique art to fit his "pious" world. I even became pregnant, convinced his child would finally make me permanent in his life. But his sister, Claire, violently attacked me, kicking my stomach and causing a horrifying miscarriage. Julian, the man I loved, rushed in and only saw Claire, frantically asking if her hand was hurt, completely oblivious to my bleeding body on the floor. When I awoke in the hospital, stripped of my baby and hope, Julian appeared desperate – not for me, but to demand my blood for Claire, who' d been in a car crash. He begged the doctors to save "his Elle," using the same pet name he once whispered to me. In that shattering instant, I realized the ultimate horror: I was never "his Elle"; I was merely a substitute, a stand-in for his twisted, suffocating obsession with his sister. Used and utterly destroyed, forced to save the very woman who had killed my child, I found a cold, clear resolve in the void of my being. I walked out of that hospital, leaving everything behind, vowing to forge a new life far from the wreckage he left. Now, six years later, I'm back in glittering Manhattan, not the broken girl he thought he knew, but Elara, a celebrated artist, a loving wife to Kael, and a proud mother to our son. And Julian Croft is about to learn that the woman he betrayed is no longer picking up discarded rings, but building an empire of her own.

After my family was exterminated, Dayna remained calm and indifferent, like a chrysanthemum. Fortunately, she was accepted into the Divine Mountainhead of the sect as a disciple and refused to disrespect my parents. However, the head of the sect judged me as disrespectful and Dayna was accepted as a closed-door disciple due to her loyalty and righteousness. After three years of mourning, we both fell into the Demon Clan during the ceremony of apprenticeship. While I struggled to find food and water, Dayna refused to eat anything that was not dignified. She criticized me for being subservient to the Demon Clan and lacking integrity. In the end, I died of starvation while Dayna gained favor with the Demon Sovereign and became her loyal servant. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my family was exterminated.

I stood frozen in my doorway, staring at the live security feed. It showed my fiancée, Clara, in the secret room she called her "sensitive PR work" space. She was straddling a man, wearing the nightgown I' d bought her. The man was Ryan Hayes, my childhood friend, supposedly dead for three years, now reduced to a vegetative state, hooked up to humming medical machines. My mind reeled. She was having sex with his body. This couldn' t be happening. We were getting married in ten days. She was perfect. Then it all clicked: the "accident" where Ryan attacked me, my mother' s death, Clara nursing me back to health, and my sister Sophia's comforting words, all became a twisted façade. I remembered overhearing Clara and Sophia talking about a "host," a "target," and something called "the system." They needed my signature on the pre-nup, which had a voluntary organ donation clause. My money and my organs were to be used to revive Ryan. My own sister, who had mourned my mother with me, was helping Clara execute this horrifying plan. The women I trusted most had orchestrated this elaborate lie, turning me into a walking bank account and a collection of spare parts for the man who killed my mother. When Sophia texted Clara, "He's home," Clara's passionate façade vanished, replaced by cold calculation, as she adjusted herself before emerging from the room. Later, Clara tried to manipulate me with an expensive watch, dismissing my suggestion to postpone the wedding on the anniversary of my mom's death. Her tone was dismissive, blaming my mother's "weak heart" for her death. Then Sophia, my own sister, threatened me when I expressed my anger at Ryan. I realized I was merely a pawn in their twisted game, destined for sacrifice once my utility ran out. My world shattered. I was nothing but a placeholder, a donor. The casual way they plotted my death, discussing staging an "accident," turning my heart, kidneys, and liver into a "miracle" for Ryan, filled me with a cold, clear rage. A text from my private investigator, "Flight confirmed. You have seven days," finalized my growing resolve. I would turn their perfect plan into their worst nightmare.

The scent of gasoline and burning silk was the last thing I knew on my wedding day. Flames danced around me, illuminating my new husband, Liam Thompson, my stepbrother, as he clutched a locket with my stepmother Sarah' s picture. "You ruined it all, Ava," he sneered, his face contorted with a hatred I' d never imagined. He carved Sarah' s name into my skin and then forced the locket down my throat, piece by agonizing piece. The suffocation, the searing pain, the betrayal-they were a twisted sacrament to a love I was only just beginning to comprehend, a love that would consume us all. Then, darkness. I awoke to the antiseptic smell of my familiar bedroom, sunlight streaming through the window. Downstairs, Liam' s frantic yelling and Sarah' s feigned sobs echoed from below, a chilling replay of the day my life ended before. It was real. I was back. Back to the day of the incident, the day my father signed away my future to protect his pride, the day I walked like a prisoner to my own execution. The humiliation, the pain, the fire-never again. A sharp knock on my door. It was Sophia, my "best friend," feigning concern, ready to lead me into the trap. "Ava? Are you in there? Something terrible is happening downstairs!" she called. But this time, I wouldn't be the victim. I smiled, a cold, sharp curve on my lips. "A Céleste purse like that is more important. You deserve it." As her footsteps faded down the hall, racing for a status symbol, I knew this was my chance. Let the real performance begin.

My app, GatherGround, was a hit, and my launch party was buzzing. It was also my birthday, a night meant for celebration. Then, my best friend Jess and charming boyfriend Ethan gave me a "special" gift: a vintage instant camera. What followed was a nightmare. My mother died in a freak accident, my dad suffered a debilitating stroke, my company was cyber-attacked and destroyed, and Ethan coldly abandoned me. As I stared death in the face, a horrifying truth flashed before my eyes: the camera wasn' t a gift-it was draining everything from me, giving it to them, to Jess and Ethan, who flourished as I withered. But then, I gasped, the party music pounding again, and saw Jess walking towards me with that same cursed box, moments before it all began. I was back, and this time, armed with knowledge and burning rage, I would rewrite my fate.

My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through. That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister. But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library. They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien. Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve. I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen. This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over. "No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach."

Laura was a bold, courageous, gorgeous, intelligent young lady who always stood out for herself. She always fought for her right and never allowed anyone to look down on her , her family nor her friends. She was known as the most brilliant and talented student in her class. This irritated some of her mates and led to the plot of her attack to tame her. " Hold her, let's see how her intelligence works this time...", Ben exclaimed, landing a huge slap on her cheek. Patrick and Fred held her tightly, chuckling and teasing. They molested and bullied her until she passed out. " Wait, Ben, I think we killed her....", Fred cried " Shut up, what do you know? She's just doing that to scare us...." " No, Ben...I think he's right...we killed her..." " Oh, my God...what should we do..." Join me on this journey while we find out what they did to her body and the outcome of their action. ENRAGED SOUL;The revenge of a traumatized girl

It started on the one-year anniversary of my return, a day meant for joy. Instead, my family, devout and God-fearing, brutally murdered me. My brother, my protector, became a "defiler" screaming monster, my father, a man of God, cut off my hand with a rusty saw, and my mother, once overjoyed, called me an "abomination." They threw my bleeding body into a silo, sealing the hatch, and as I died, I only had one question: Why? It was the locket. The small, carved wooden locket my sister, Esther, had given me moments before, a "welcome home" gift that instantly turned my loving family into rabid killers. Somehow, I woke up. It' s the same day, the same anniversary. Esther is coming up the stairs, the locket in her hand, about to give me the gift that will trigger their bloodlust again. This time, I refuse. But Esther is cunning, and soon, I'm dodging my family's crazed attacks, desperately trying to expose their dark beliefs to the authorities. They look at me like I' m simply a troubled girl with an overzealous family. Knowing the law won't stop their fanaticism, I have no choice but to use their own twisted faith against them, no matter the cost, to finally break free.

During a college retreat, we hosted a storytelling competition. They just kept egging me on, completely oblivious to the terrifying disaster it would invite. I said, "The story I'm about to tell is a curse." "Everyone who has ever heard this story has died." "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

The last thing I saw was Thunder’s bloodied jaws, closing in on me. My daughter, Sophia, lay broken a few feet away, already gone. Pain, then darkness. Then, with a gasp, I bolted upright, my heart hammering like a drum. I was back on the same rough porch, facing the same smug smirk of Old John. At the end of his chain was Thunder, the Australian Cattle Dog who had butchered my child and me. “Heard you were back in town, Isabella,” Old John rasped, his voice a cruel mockery of a welcome. “Brought you a little housewarming gift,” he added, pulling the chain as Thunder whined, straining to reach me, just like that first time. The memory crashed over me: Thunder’s lunge, the searing agony as his teeth tore my thigh, the hot gush of blood, and then, Sophia’s petrified screams followed by chilling silence as he turned to her. Old John had known my paralyzing fear of dogs, yet he had specifically brought this hulking beast to torment me. He had laughed when I pleaded, ignoring the danger, using the dog as his personal weapon. Every horrifying detail, every agonizing moment of Sophia’s brutal death and my own demise, flooded my mind with chilling clarity. But this time, as Thunder lunged forward once more, I forced my trembling legs to stop. No. Not again. This time, things would be different.

My name is Sarah, and I remember the cold. Not the chill of winter, but the stainless-steel table against my back. My sons, Michael and Gabriel, were gone, their screams replaced by silence. My husband David, blinded by ambition, led us to that abandoned clinic. His sister, Veronica, craved an heir for her powerful husband, Senator Harrison. She believed my "Legacy Fertility" and my children's "vital essence" could help her. A quack "expert" performed monstrous acts on my seven-year-old twins. Then it was my turn; they brutally harvested my ovarian tissue. I was left to bleed out on a filthy floor, my insides torn. I died there, a vow of revenge frozen on my lips. Later, I saw Veronica on the news, pregnant and glowing with what she stole. But then, warmth. Sunlight. My eyes snapped open to my own familiar bedroom. Michael was on my chest, Gabriel curled beside me, both alive, young, and whole. The calendar read October 14th—the very day it all began. The memory slammed into me: David's averted eyes, the isolated building, Veronica's cold voice, Michael's terror, Gabriel's whimper. This wasn't a dream; this was a second chance. Veronica, triumphant in my first life, had risen on my family's ashes, her belly swelling with a lie while mine was emptied by her greed. No. Not again. This time, I wouldn't just survive. I would take everything she had, everything she wanted. Her husband. Her position. Her future. My revenge would be absolute, and my children would live. The game had begun.

Veronika McAllister have lived a sad life and a life full of secrets. After the death of her mother during a robbery gone bad, her father blames her for her mother death and her family hates her for reasons she doesn't know. When accepted into Caston college also known as bloodyville because of the series of murders committed by the red ghoul which was later killed in 1990. Now a series of murders is done in the exact manner as the red ghoul the day Veronika stepped into Caston. Are this murders connected to Veronika or has the red ghoul awaken to finish where it left off.