Not Your Average Law Firm

My life with Andrew, the ambitious architect I' d helped build into a success, was a carefully curated masterpiece. We were expecting our first child, a future designed for joy, when I walked into his office and found his intern, Molly, with her dog disrespecting a priceless gift I' d given him. Andrew' s defense of Molly, his sudden coldness, and then discovering him feeding my special gift - a rare prosciutto meant for him - to her dog, sickened me to my core. Every gesture of my affection, every symbol of our shared history, was being trivialized, even weaponized against me, leaving me utterly alone and reeling from a betrayal so specific and cruel. But when Andrew, with Molly and her new puppy in tow, brazenly used my severe allergies against me during a family inheritance meeting, I knew this wasn't just about a broken marriage; it was about reclaiming everything he' d tried to steal, starting with my life and unborn child.

My husband, Matthew, was on a ski trip with his mistress, and his assistant, Stella, sweetly told me the Henderson project needed sorting, fever or not. When I tried to call in sick, Matthew scoffed, dismissing my 104-degree fever as "drama." After eight years of being treated like dirt, humiliated and controlled by him, I calmly told him I wanted a divorce, but he only laughed, reminding me he paid for my ailing father' s expensive medical treatments. Minutes later, a company-wide Slack poll popped up: "Is Gabrielle's divorce threat for real this time?" Matthew voted "Fake," and my colleagues piled on with ridicule. When I typed "It's real. I've hired a lawyer. And I quit," I knew my life was about to explode. Still reeling, I went to the office to deliver my resignation, only to be met by Stella. In a horrifying live company video call with Matthew, she had maintenance workers dump buckets of ice water on me, drenching my feverish body. I collapsed, hitting my head on a glass table, and the world went black. Waking in the ER with a concussion, Matthew stood over me, fuming about the cost and the "scene" I'd made, completely devoid of concern. Then came the news: my father's life-saving procedure had been cancelled while I was unconscious. It was Stella, who had used my phone to cancel it and steal the $50,000 bonus Matthew had promised me, gloating that she was Matthew' s ultimate problem-solver. My father was gone. Killed by their casual cruelty. But as the raw agony tore through me, I realized something cold and clear: they had pushed me too far, and now, they would pay. I would take nothing from Matthew but my freedom, and then I would watch their carefully constructed world burn.

The screams of the "Proving" ceremony were the first thing I heard when I woke up. My eyes shot open, and the scent of pine, sweat, and something metallic filled my lungs. I was back in this godforsaken survivalist compound, mysteriously transported from my office job. A hand grabbed my arm, and it was Gabrielle Chadwick, or Gabby, her terrified eyes pleading. "Molly, help me! Please! They're going to hurt me!" This was the ritual where young men would strike unmarried women with leather belts, and the one enduring the most blows was deemed "most desired." In my past life, I shielded Gabby, taking every blow for her, believing I was protecting a friend. My sacrifice made me the "most honored," granting me first choice of a partner, and I chose Caleb Scott, the compound leader' s son. But my life with Caleb was a private hell of control and brutality, while Gabby, seething with resentment for what she thought was her rightful place, pretended to be my friend. She eventually got her revenge, pushing me off a cliff during a foraging trip. Now, reborn at the start of that same horrifying ceremony, Gabby was playing the same part, her hand clamping my arm, her voice a desperate plea for me to be her shield again. I looked at her, at the calculated fear in her eyes, remembering the sharp, final impact of falling. Not this time.

My MIT scholarship was locked, courtesy of a national coding competition. My future was set. But then I overheard a conversation in the high school computer lab, one that shattered my quiet certainty. Jenny, my childhood best friend, and her powerful "Syndicate" gang-the police chief's kid, the judge's daughter-were planning to cheat on the upcoming AP exams, using stolen data from Jenny's cousin. They found me, and everything changed. They threatened my father' s life-saving transplant, my mother' s safety, everything I held dear. With their parents controlling this town, I had no one to turn to. They forced me to decrypt the stolen files, to create the perfect answer keys, then Jenny deliberately smeared my fingerprints all over the USB drive. "Insurance," she called it. A perfect frame. So, I did the only thing I could. I walked into the SAT, held up that incriminating drive, and publicly confessed to a crime I didn' t commit, a crime so big it had to be federal. I watched my MIT dream vanish. I saw the rage in Agent Morris' s eyes, the pity in my guidance counselor's, and the raw despair on my mother' s face as I admitted guilt. Why would I sacrifice everything-my future, my reputation, my family' s hope-for a ludicrous hack I didn't even do? Why would I burn down my own life and confess to a story so absurd, it made me sound insane? Because I wasn't just confessing. I was setting a trap. And they were about to walk right into it.

The last thing I remembered was a crushing weight in my chest, and the impossibly cruel words about my son not being mine. Then, everything went black. I thought I was dead, a broken man on my own lawn, betrayed by the wife I' d mourned for a decade. But I opened my eyes to the scent of lilies and the familiar wooden pews of St. Michael's church. It was Nicole' s funeral, ten years ago, the very day she supposedly died. My mother-in-law, Maria, was there, whispering an insane proposition: marry her younger daughter, Gabby, just on paper, for my baby son, A.J. In my first life, I' d been horrified by the thought, clinging to Nicole' s memory. But that Andrew was dead. This Andrew was back, alive and seething with a cold, hard resolve. I knew what was coming in ten years. I knew she' d return to destroy me. Not this time. I stared at Gabby, then turned to Maria, my voice steady, my decision made. "Okay," I said. "I' ll do it." The game had changed. I was given a second chance, and this time, I would build a fortress.

The air in the upstairs hallway was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, and I paused, my hand hovering over my bedroom door. For three decades, I was the unseen force behind my husband, the Governor of Texas, building his dynasty brick by painful brick. But then, voices from my son' s room shredded that illusion: my daughters-in-law, their hushed tones revealing a chilling plot. "Stress-induced heart failure within five years," one whispered, detailing my supposed "natural decline" as a pre-programmed exit for a new woman, Sabrina, my husband' s dead college sweetheart' s daughter. My breath hitched-they were discussing a "system" and a payoff for my demise, orchestrated by my own husband and sons. The family I built, the sons I raised, saw me as nothing more than a placeholder, destined to conveniently die so a younger, 'fresher' face could inherit my life. A cold dread, sharp and sickening, turned into a burning rage that pulsed through my veins. They wanted me gone? They wanted a compliant, tragic matriarch? I ripped open the door to Andrew' s room, my voice dangerously calm as I asked, "Tell me more about this 'system' ." They were speechless, frozen in fear, but I wasn't going to die quietly for their convenience. I was going to burn their carefully constructed world down.

Two years ago, Ricky found himself coerced into marrying Emma to protect the woman he cherished. From Ricky's perspective, Emma was despicable, resorting to underhanded schemes to ensure their marriage. He maintained a distant and cold attitude toward her, reserving his warmth for another. Yet, Emma remained wholeheartedly dedicated to Ricky for more than ten years. As she grew weary and considered relinquishing her efforts, Ricky was seized by a sudden fear. Only when Emma's life teetered on the edge, pregnant with Ricky's child, did he recognize-the love of his life had always been Emma.

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.

After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary—but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.

Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...

It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but Carrie made the mistake of falling in love with Kristopher. When the time came that she needed him the most, her husband was in the company of another woman. Enough was enough. Carrie chose to divorce Kristopher and move on with her life. Only when she left did Kristopher realize how important she was to him. In the face of his ex-wife’s countless admirers, Kristopher offered her 20 million dollars and proposed a new deal. “Let’s get married again.”

Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all—from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn’t return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel’s terminal illness and realized she didn’t have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."