Hu Minxue

I was dying from a mysterious illness, but my family, including my fiancé King, dismissed me as a drama queen. At my adopted sister Isabel' s promotion party, my body finally gave out and I collapsed, coughing up blood. Instead of helping, King accused me of ruining Isabel's big night. He tore up my terminal diagnosis report right in front of me, sneering that I'd do anything for attention. Completely broken, I annulled our engagement and fled to a rundown motel to die alone. But Isabel found me. With a triumphant smile, she confessed everything-she had been slowly poisoning me for years, a plot to steal my health, my family's love, and King himself. She had no idea her entire monstrous confession was being recorded by a device left in the room. I sent that audio file to everyone and, with the help of a kind stranger, faked my own death. Years later, I had a new life, a new name, and a quiet peace I never thought possible. Then one day, a broken, haunted man walked into my seaside café, clutching a faded photo of me. It was King.

For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York. I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him. But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash. In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress. He forced me to watch him court her. At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her. He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain. He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life. I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god. I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole. He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps. So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother. I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars. I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia. By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost.

Ninety-nine days. That was exactly how long it had been since my husband, Dante, traded my life to a Russian cartel just to save his mistress from a panic attack. I walked onto the grounds of the Vitiello estate only to find him caressing her six-month-pregnant belly at my own funeral. He didn't look like a grieving widower; he looked like a man who had finally buried his mistake. When I revealed I was alive, Dante didn't fall to his knees in relief. Instead, he protected Lucia. He believed her lies that I was insane, that I was a threat to his "heir." To prove his loyalty to her, he stood by while my father whipped me in the family chapel until my back was in shreds. Then, he dragged me to the roof and threw me into a freezing pool, watching me drown simply because Lucia claimed I pushed her. He didn't know Lucia was faking the pregnancy. He didn't know she was the one selling secrets to the Bratva. He broke his loyal wife to protect a traitor. Now, six months later, he stands in the rain holding the Vitiello diamond necklace, begging me to come home. He thinks he can buy forgiveness. But he doesn't see the man standing in the shadows behind me—the enforcer who took a bullet for me when Dante was busy breaking my bones. I looked at the diamonds, then at my husband. "I don't want a King," I whispered. "I chose the soldier."

For years, I was the perfect, understanding girlfriend. I watched my boyfriend, Brendan, and his "family friend," Kasey, flaunt their affair, but my career as an event planner was tied to his powerful family, so I endured the humiliation in silence. That all changed on the way to a charity gala I had meticulously planned. I saw a fresh hickey on Kasey's neck, a silent, screaming testament to their latest betrayal, right in front of my face. I finally broke up with him. The fallout was immediate and brutal. My own brothers hunted me down, calling me a "gold-digging whore" before dragging me back to our family. They threw a settlement agreement at me, demanding I apologize to Brendan for the "good of the family." When I refused, they disowned me. My career was systematically destroyed, leaving me with nothing. I was just a pawn they had used and discarded. The weight of it all became too much, and I collapsed, alone in my new, empty apartment. As my vision faded, I heard a key turn in the lock. It was Brendan's cousin, Graham-the quiet, powerful lawyer I'd shared a secret, passionate kiss with in the car that very same day.

After a seven-year relationship, my fiancé Bennett abandoned me on our marriage license day for a "marriage of convenience" with another woman. Heartbroken, I married the reclusive billionaire Damon Levy and disappeared. Three years later, I returned, pregnant with our second child. The first person I saw was Bennett, now working as a driver, holding a sign for "Mrs. Levy." He and his new wife didn't recognize me. They publicly humiliated me, mocking my simple dress and calling the priceless diamond bracelet from my husband a cheap fake. At a gala, their cruelty escalated. They tripped me, stomped on my hand, and shattered my bracelet. Bennett slapped me across the face, hissing at me to stop lying. Surrounded by their laughter, with my lip bleeding, I saw the man I once loved for the hollow, cruel person he truly was. But then, the room went silent. My husband, Damon, walked in, holding our son. And my little boy pointed a finger straight at Bennett and shouted, "Papa! That bad man hit Mommy!"

My husband, Augustine, was a serial cheater, and I was a terminally ill artist. His mistress didn't just steal my marriage; she publicly flaunted it, taunting me at every turn. The final blow came when they desecrated the sculpture I made for my dead mother, laughing as they defiled my most sacred memory. He used my childhood trauma to break me, freezing my assets, destroying my career, and trapping me in our home like a prisoner. He had promised to be my safe harbor, but instead, he became the monster who weaponized my deepest pain. But my cancer gave me a deadline and a dark purpose. I lured him back, manipulating him into destroying his mistress and bankrupting himself for a forgiveness I would never grant. As he knelt before me, a broken man offering his shattered empire, I gave him my final command. "Now," I whispered, my voice cold as the grave, "it's time to pay with your life."

I loved Dozier McCarthy with a madness that terrified him. So when his new girlfriend accused me of pushing her down the stairs, he didn't defend me. Instead, he signed the papers to lock me away in Serenity Heights. He called it "rehabilitation" for my obsession. I called it three years of hell. While he lived his perfect life, I was strapped to a bed, force-fed heavy antipsychotics that they called "vitamins." Those pills didn't just kill my love for him. They slowly destroyed my kidneys. When he finally came to collect me, he smiled, thinking my silence meant I was "cured." He didn't know he was looking at a walking corpse. Now that the doctors have given me a terminal diagnosis, Dozier is on his knees, offering millions to fix what he broke. "We'll find a donor," he begged, tears streaming down his face. "I'll save you." I just pulled my hand away and adjusted my apron. "It's too late, Dozier. I have a bagel cart to run." He wanted to control my life. Now, he can only watch me die on my own terms.

My family stormed into my apartment, not to celebrate my prestigious science award, but to drag me to my influencer sister' s party. They didn' t know that just downstairs, I was bleeding out on the cold basement floor after an attack. With my last breath, I called for help. My brother texted me to "grow up." My mother left a voicemail scolding me for my "embarrassing little tantrum." My last hope was my fiancé, Daxton. I gasped that I thought I was dying. He sighed, annoyed. "Anabella, you' re being dramatic. Don't ruin Kamryn's big night." Then he hung up. They thought I was jealous. They thought I was trying to steal my sister's spotlight. But I wasn't. I was dead. And now, as a ghost trapped in my own home, I have to watch the people who let me die… and wait for them to finally find my body.

After five years of marriage and giving birth to his son, I was finally being welcomed into the powerful Downs family. The rule was simple: bear a son, and you're in the family trust. I had done my part. But at the lawyer's office, I discovered my entire life was a lie. My husband, Hudson, already had a wife listed on the trust: Hailey Gomez, his high school sweetheart who supposedly died a decade ago. I wasn't his wife. I was a substitute, a placeholder to produce an heir. Soon, the "dead" Hailey was living in my house, sleeping in my bed. When she deliberately shattered my grandmother's ashes, Hudson didn't blame her. He locked me in the basement to "teach me a lesson." The ultimate betrayal came when he used our sick son, August, as a pawn. To force me to reveal Hailey's location after she staged her own kidnapping, he ripped the breathing tube from our son's nebulizer. He left our child to die while he ran to her side. After August died in my arms, the love I had for Hudson turned to pure, cold hatred. He beat me at our son's grave, thinking he could break me completely. But he'd forgotten about the power of attorney I'd slipped into a stack of architectural deeds. He signed it without a second glance, dismissing my work as unimportant. That arrogance would be his downfall.

I was on my way to tell my boyfriend, Cooper, that I was pregnant. He was my savior, the man who rescued me after a brutal assault left me an orphan. But when I arrived at his penthouse, I overheard him talking to his sister, Kenya. My entire life was a lie. The assault wasn't random; it was a "prank" they had orchestrated so he could play the hero. It only got worse. Kenya tortured and killed my dog for "surgical practice," and Cooper defended her. They leaked a private video of me, destroying my reputation at school. When I tried to escape, Kenya sent thugs after me, and the attack caused me to miscarry our child. As I lay bleeding in the hospital, Cooper blamed me for losing the baby. He then told me the miscarriage had left me permanently infertile. His final demand was the cruelest. He said I had to "compensate" his sister for all the trouble I'd caused by donating one of my kidneys to her. But they had made one fatal mistake. They thought I was a powerless orphan. They didn't know I had just inherited a billion-dollar empire from a secret aunt. And I was about to use every penny to burn their world to the ground.

The phone buzzed, waking me to the day my life shattered before. My fiancé, Mark, was on the line, urgently asking for five million dollars for an "investment" -the same five million he' d embezzled to buy a lavish diamond necklace for his mistress, Brittany. This time, I was ready. I refused, reported him anonymously, and watched him get arrested. But Mark and Brittany weren' t done playing victims, painting me as the heartless villain to force my hand, ignoring the debt I' d paid from my past life, covering for his crimes. At a party, Brittany publicly shamed me, clinging to him while he watched with the adoration I' d craved for years. He even slapped me, ending our engagement with venom. But I had a secret weapon. He didn' t know I had the ultimate proof. A recording. A video of him confessing his scheme, detailing how he planned to use my savings to fund his affair. The reveal silenced the room, shattering their facade, and turning the public tide against them. I walked away from the wreckage, severing all ties. But when Mark landed in jail again, his parents, good people caught in his mess, begged for my help. My heart ached for them, but not for him. I bailed him out, not out of love, but and revealed Brittany's continued manipulation. Only then did the truth finally dawn on him – but it was too late. He'd ruined our lives before, and this time, there was no turning back. I wanted a fresh start.

The voicemail clicked, just like the ninety-eighth one had. My family was busy celebrating my adopted sister Molly' s "Sweet 19" birthday, completely forgetting my own diagnosis: Acute Myeloid Leukemia, terminal, a week at most. When I tried to quietly arrange my death benefits at Social Security, they stormed in, furious. My father bellowed about me embarrassing them on Molly's birthday, my mother sneered at my "cheap" hospital report, accusing me of faking illness for attention. Then Molly, ever the actress, cried crocodile tears, begging me to stop lying. As blood streamed from my nose onto the floor, I declared to the horrified clerk: "I have no family." Back in the house that was never a home, Molly sweet-talked me into baking her a peanut butter pie for her party – fully aware of her severe peanut allergy that I' d been blamed for years ago. Exposed, she shrieked, faking a fall, and my father's fist found my face, sending me sprawling, blood mixing with old tears. He roared for me to get out, hurling a beer bottle that grazed my temple as I fled. Penniless and bleeding, I collapsed in a grimy motel room, waiting to die alone. Then Molly arrived, dropping her innocent act to gloat. Her chilling confession laid bare years of malicious manipulation – the faked allergy, the bullying, the constant torment designed to make them choose her over me. "You'll die alone," she sneered, kicking me while I was down, "and I'll have everything." She didn't see my old laptop recording her confession, or the email I sent to my family with the subject line: "The Truth."

The scream died in my throat. The phantom pain of my brutal past life, the one where I died in a desolate commune, still clung to me. I shot up in my old teenage room, sunlight streaming in. I was Sarah again, but with the scars of a lifetime of horror etched into my soul. My adopted siblings, Ethan and Chloe, the architects of that horror, were downstairs. My kind, oblivious parents were completely unaware of their true nature. Then, Ethan's whiny voice cut through the morning, demanding a new gaming PC. Chloe, ever the manipulator, chimed in, suggesting a "little run away" plan. Just like they did before. My blood ran cold. In my first life, I was a naive fool, desperate for their approval. I went along with it, leading me straight into an unimaginable hell while Ethan found his abusive "benefactor." I remembered the endless suffering, the betrayal that sealed my fate. How could they be so casually cruel, so destructive? This time, the fear and confusion were gone. They had been replaced by a cold, burning rage. They thought they could play their manipulative games again. But they were wrong. This time, I wasn't running away. This time, things would be different. This time, I was ready.

Ethan, a cold New York executive, thought his ailing childhood sweetheart, Claire, was his only priority. He'd banished his pregnant wife, Sarah, to a remote swamp shack, believing she'd failed Claire. But Sarah's banishment was her brutal murder, secretly orchestrated by Claire for her unique blood. Five years later, Claire's mysterious illness returned, sending Ethan, still oblivious, back to the shack for Sarah's power. Instead, he found Leo, a five-year-old boy, Sarah's spitting image. Blinded by obsession, Ethan scoffed at any mention of paternity, dismissing Leo as a "bastard." As Claire feigned agonizing pain, he coldly ordered doctors to drain Leo's blood, convinced it held the cure. My ghostly form hovered, screaming, my hands uselessly passing through my dying son. How could he not see this was his own child? How could he sacrifice our flesh and blood for the very woman who murdered me? His oblivious cruelty was a chilling, bottomless abyss. But as Leo lay lifeless, his blood mingled with Ethan' s own from a cut. Just then, a horrifying secret from my shallow grave began to emerge. The brutal truth of my violent death, and Leo' s true father, would shatter Ethan's world. This devastating revelation would trigger a reckoning he could never escape.

My life was perfect, the American dream within reach. I was Ash Carter, engaged to Ethan Miller, our star quarterback, future NFL legend. We had it all mapped out: the big house, the easy life, the picture-perfect wedding. Then, in a brutal flash, it all imploded. An ACL tear, career-ending complications. Ethan, my golden boy, was broken. His father disgraced. My mother, Karen, wasted no time. "You have to break it off, Ashley," she commanded, her voice cutting, practical. He was a "liability," a "nobody." The dreams of wealth and connections she envisioned for me vanished with his ruined knee. I felt sick, my stomach churning at the thought of the conversation to come. I knew she was right, didn't I? For my future. For her sanity. My thumb hovered over Ethan's name, ready to end it. Then, my phone buzzed wildly, not a call, but bright, blocky letters flashing across my vision like a game interface. `GAME FEED: CRITICAL CHOICE!` `ABANDONING ETHAN MILLER NOW = 'TRAGIC SPINSTER' BAD ENDING. DETAILS: Social ruin, crushing debt, lonely cat lady. Forty cats. Minimum.` My blood ran cold. Was this real? `ETHAN MILLER IS PROPHESIED TO ACHIEVE UNEXPECTED GREATNESS. STAY THE COURSE FOR 'POWER COUPLE' GOOD ENDING. DETAILS: Influence, respect, true partnership. Legendary status.` My life was a game? The words "forty cats" burned behind my eyes. Looking at Ethan, broken on the couch, the breakup words died. Fear, stark and overwhelming, took hold. The path was terrifyingly clear. And I had to play.

When Lora first stepped foot in England to take part in an international competition, she clicked with the beautiful Sandra who hid a sad secret. The very same day they became friends, they crossed paths with Johnny being bothered by two men. This was how their story started. Both Lora and Johnny hated each other from the get-go. However, before they knew it, they already fell hard for each other.

Going against her parents' wishes, Molly insisted on getting married to the man she loved. Yet, she didn't find the happiness she hoped for within her marriage. After being cheated, deceived, and even imprisoned by her husband, she became overwhelmed by desperation and decided to commit suicide. But contrary to what she expected, her life didn't end. Instead, she found out she was granted another chance to do everything differently. With this brand new opportunity in her hands, she promised herself she would live a wonderful life this time around. However, destiny didn't want to give her a break as it kept dragging her into love traps.

Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."

Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."