Caleb's Echo: A Mother's Fury

The stifling heat of my dorm room was the first sign. It clung to me like a wet blanket, a stark contrast to the cool relief of the hallway. Then came the sharp voice, Olivia' s, followed by the others, demanding I turn off the AC I' d just turned on. "Turn that off." "Yeah, turn it off. It' s freezing." They seemed unaffected, even as I sweltered. Then came the electricity bill: an exorbitant $485.62, more than double last month, which they insisted I pay, all of it. "What' s the matter, Chloe? Can' t afford it? I thought your family was rich." It was a blatant lie, a twisted mockery of my efforts to be fair, to be liked. The feeling of pure injustice burned within me. What had I done to deserve this escalating torment? "You're our personal ATM, Chloe. And we're not done making withdrawals." They weren't just taking my money; they were stripping away my dignity, piece by piece. My phone-my only lifeline-was next, then a brutal beating, culminating in my terrifying imprisonment in a dark, foul-smelling closet. My own father, Mr. Thompson, the university trustee, was just outside. He heard the fabricated lies, the slander about my character, and believed them, leaving me in that dark place, thinking he' d abandoned me. His quiet departure, the click of the door, felt like the end. But a final, desperate sound, a frantic phone call from my best friend Jessica, pierced through the despair, and then the thundering demand of my father' s voice, now raw with panic: "Open this door!" My fight for survival was just beginning.

"Lily, you should do it," Tiffany Hayes purred, her eyes fixed on me in the art academy' s lounge. As the scholarship student, managing our class' s two-million-dollar art fund seemed like a twisted honor, a responsibility the elite kids conveniently dodged. Three years later, at our graduation exhibition-the night my life' s work was finally displayed-my childhood friend, Mark Miller, seized the microphone. "Our class art fund has been mismanaged," he announced, his gaze piercing me. "One point eight million dollars is missing." The dreams I had meticulously built shattered. Every eye in the buzzing gallery turned to me, judging, accusing. Tiffany, Mark' s girlfriend, stood by his side, her feigned sympathy a cold knife twisting inside me. They stripped me bare, painting me a thief, a public spectacle. "I have records of everything," I insisted. "Every dollar is accounted for!" But the projection screen behind him flashed a balance of $1,250.34, sealing my fate. "Just tell us what you did with the money," Tiffany cooed, trying to lure out a confession. "We were friends." Friends? Their betrayal burned hotter than any accusation. They had done this. Set me up. Framed me. The rage and humiliation were suffocating, but a cold resolve began to crystallize within me. They thought they had broken me, but they had just ignited a fire. I walked out of the gallery that night, not in defeat, but with a fierce determination. I would find the truth. I would expose them. And they would pay.

The smell of smoke and burning wood woke me, my heart pounding. It was the same fire, the one that had consumed everything in my first life. But this time, Kaelen was alive, his silver eyes narrowed, not in concern for me, but in a frantic search for Lyra. He accused me of setting the blaze, demanding I save her with my own lifeblood, forcing the agonizing transfusion while she smirked, thriving on my pain and his blind devotion. How could he believe her lies, even as I sacrificed everything, again and again, for the very life he now blamed me for saving? Then, the memory hit me: Kaelen, dying in my past life, his last breath a bitter regret not for Lyra, but for me. This second chance wasn't just about saving him from fire, but from himself, from the painful, world-shattering regret that had haunted his dying eyes.

The antiseptic smell stung my nose, and a dull ache pulsed behind my eyes as I woke up in a hospital bed. A sharp voice cut through the quiet: "She\'s awake. After all that drama, she finally decides to wake up." It was my adoptive mother, Helen, with my father, David, and then Liam, my husband, walked in. They weren\'t there for me; they were worried sick about Scarlett, my stepsister, who lay pale and fragile just a few rooms away. "You almost died trying to get Liam\'s attention again, " Helen sneered. "Are you happy now?" Liam, meanwhile, looked at me with chilling indifference before grabbing my arm and dragging me to donate blood for Scarlett. The nurses whispered about my supposed obsession, but their words meant nothing; the pain, the desperation, it was all gone. My amnesia had wiped the slate clean, and for the first time, I saw the truth: I was a burden, a wife Liam didn\'t want, an obligation they resented. And for the first time, I felt clarity, not sorrow. I picked up my phone, found a number, and then said, "I want a divorce. And I want to sever all ties with my adoptive parents, the Hayes family."

My relationship with Liam was a twenty-year slow burn, a homecoming everyone called perfect and meant to be. Then, scrolling through my phone one Tuesday night, an anonymous post on a local gossip forum shattered that illusion. It was a gushing narrative from a girl named Olivia, detailing secret meetings and gifts from a business school charmer-the same limited-edition sneakers I' d seen Liam coveting, the ones he told me were sold out. Beneath it, a comment read, "He even lied to his clingy childhood friend 'girlfriend' that they were sold out just so he could surprise me. He says he\'s only with her because his parents like her." Clingy childhood friend. The words felt like a punch, blurring my vision. My heart raced as I dialed Liam, his warm greeting a stark contrast to the betrayal I' d uncovered. He lied about the sneakers, easily, poorly, confirming my worst fears. His flimsy denial crumbled when I confronted him with Olivia' s account, his "nervous edge" a stark contrast to my unwavering fury. My best friend Maya' s warning echoed: "I don\'t trust him, Chloe. The way he was looking at her... it wasn\'t friendly." How stupid I felt for defending him. Then, the final blow: Olivia' s public profile, a cascade of photos-his hand in hers, his familiar smile reserved for her, captioned "My one and only. Soon the whole world will know." Posted just an hour ago. The heartbreak was physical, but beneath it, a cold, sharp anger stirred. This wasn't a misunderstanding; it was a cruel, deliberate deception. I hung up, no more lies needed, meeting my own clear gaze in the dark phone screen. I was no longer just a heartbroken girl; I was a girl who had been played for a fool, and I would not let him get away with it.

The sterile white walls of Liam's penthouse, a gilded cage masquerading as my studio, stifled me. Every painting, every breath, belonged to him. Then, a cold, glowing message appeared in my vision: `[Muse System Activated. Main Task: Sever the parasitic relationship with Liam.]` My secret guide had arrived. Its first sub-quest: `[Facilitate the marriage between Liam and his childhood sweetheart, Scarlett.]` This was my way out. I became the perfect, pliant artist, orchestrating his reunion with the sophisticated art critic he truly desired. I endured her disdain, even painting her tributes to feed his obsession. The night of the Art Gala, I felt unwell, my head spinning from stress. As I steadied myself by an ice sculpture, Scarlett deliberately bumped me. I stumbled, and a piece of the sculpture crashed down, narrowly missing her. She screamed, accusing me of jealousy, of trying to hurt her. Liam, his rage burning, pulled her into his arms, completely ignoring me. `"Chloe! What the hell did you do?"` he snarled. The crowd's murmurs turned into accusations, judging me the crazy, jealous mistress. A familiar cramping seized my stomach, and I doubled over in searing pain. Blood trickled down my leg, a dark stain on my light dress. I was having a miscarriage, a life I didn't even know I carried. Liam dragged me to his car, ` "Can' t you go one night without making a scene?" ` he hissed, before abandoning me in the parking lot to return to Scarlett. The system confirmed my loss: `[Pregnancy terminated due to physical trauma.]` I realized then: this wasn't just neglect. It was calculated cruelty, a test from Scarlett to see how far he'd go for her. And he had passed. His utter indifference, his willingness to sacrifice me, ignited a cold fury. I would still get them together. But this time, it wouldn' t be for his happiness. It would be for my ultimate, painful freedom.

In order to fulfill her grandfather's last wish, Stella entered into a hasty marriage with an ordinary man she had never met before. However, even after becoming husband and wife on paper, they each led separate lives, barely crossing paths. A year later, Stella returned to Seamarsh City, hoping to finally meet her mysterious husband. To her astonishment, he sent her a text message, unexpectedly pleading for a divorce without ever having met her in person. Gritting her teeth, Stella replied, "So be it. Let’s get a divorce!" Following that, Stella made a bold move and joined the Prosperity Group, where she became a public relations officer that worked directly for the company’s CEO, Matthew. The handsome and enigmatic CEO was already bound in matrimony, and was known to be unwaveringly devoted to his wife in private. Unbeknownst to Stella, her mysterious husband was actually her boss, in his alternate identity! Determined to focus on her career, Stella deliberately kept her distance from the CEO, although she couldn't help but notice his deliberate attempts to get close to her. As time went on, her elusive husband had a change of heart. He suddenly refused to proceed with the divorce. When would his alternate identity be uncovered? Amidst a tumultuous blend of deception and profound love, what destiny awaited them?

After spending a night with a strange man on the day before her wedding, Arianna left the country to start her life afresh. The 22-year-old Arianna Jason lived her life pleasing those she loved the most, without knowing that she was simply a prey being nurtured for the day of her ruin. Her life has tasted the butter pill of betrayal. She wants to give back to the world what she's got but how can she change her good, innocent personality to fit into a cruel society and world? Can her sweet nature be contaminated, or will she make it through, paddling on the right path?

In her previous life, Kimberly endured the betrayal of her husband, the cruel machinations of an evil woman, and the endless tyranny of her in-laws. It culminated in the bankruptcy of her family, and ultimately, her death. After being reborn, she resolved to seek retribution against those who had wronged her, and ensure her family's prosperity. To her shock, the most unattainable man from her past suddenly set his sights on her. "You may have overlooked me before, but I shall capture your heart this time around."

For as long as Emily can remember, she has wanted to overcome her shyness and explore her sexuality. Still, everything changes when she receives an invitation to visit one of the town's most prestigious BDSM clubs, DESIRE'S DEN. On the day she chose to peruse the club, she noticed three men, all dressed in suits, standing on the upper level, near the railing. Despite her limited vision, she persisted in fixating on them. Their towering statues belied the toned bodies concealed by their sharply tailored suits-or so she could tell. The hair of two of them was short and dark, and the third had light brown-possibly blond-hair that reached the shoulders. The dark, crimson background incised their figures, exuding an air of mystery and strength. They stood in stark contrast to the unfiltered, primal energy that pulsed through the club. Shocked by the desires these men aroused in her, she was disappointed to learn that they were masters seeking a slave to divide and conquer. She couldn't afford the fee, and she also realized that they were outside her league. Emily hurriedly left the club, feeling disappointed and depressed, unaware that she had also caught the group's attention. A world of wicked pleasure, three handsome men. Over the years, they have lived a life of decadence, their lavish lair serving as a stage for their most sinister desires. But despite the unending parade of willing subjects, one woman sticks out. A mysterious stranger with white porcelain skin and a killer body, a slave, a name with no address, the first lady to attract their eye and they will go to any length to obtain her no matter the consequences.

"I'm sorry Gerald, I'm not ready to be devoted to one man, that's why I cannot agree to this marriage," Caroline said and Gerald stood there surprised and dejected. She gave him their baby and left to pursue her dreams. Just then, the baby started crying and he panicked. Caroline didn't drop anything for him, not food, nothing. What was he supposed to do now? This is so messed up. He hires Tiffany Lawrence to become the billionaire child's nanny. Tiffany is an orphan, a college dropout, struggling with petty jobs to pay her sister's tuition fees. Life of Gerald and Tiffany were soon to take a surprising shift and the best and worst times of their lives ensue.

Drugged and deceived, she bore a child amidst tragedy-her son, falsely declared dead at birth. Fueled by the agony, she disappeared, only to return years later with both her daughter and an adopted son, driven by an unyielding desire for revenge against those who had wronged her and her late mother. The plot takes an unexpected twist when the haunting truth surfaces: her son is alive, and his father is a powerful CEO.