Hui Hui

My memory was gone, a blank slate wiped clean each day. I lived a life guided by Post-it notes-simple instructions that told me who I was, what to eat, and to be polite to visitors. Then he came back. Jax, the man I supposedly abandoned for money seven years ago, was now a billionaire. He stood at my door with his new fiancée, his eyes burning with a hatred I couldn't place. He forced me onto a humiliating reality show, turning my broken mind into a public spectacle. He tore down my notes, my only connection to myself, and let the world watch as I nearly drowned in a tank of ice water. When my brother tried to save me, he was arrested for assault. To free my brother, I had to confess. I stood before the world and apologized for a betrayal I couldn't even remember, becoming the monster everyone believed me to be. But as I spoke the lies he fed me, a single detail about a stolen necklace made his perfect world shatter. He finally saw the truth in my empty eyes. It was just seven years too late.

"I have a moral duty to marry her," my fiancé announced at the altar, abandoning me for my sobbing sister. He claimed she was pregnant by a stalker meant for him. When I sliced my wrist in despair, he didn't panic-he sneered. "Stop acting crazy, Angela. It's disgusting. Just wait a year for me." Five years later, I returned as a top immunologist. When his son collapsed from anaphylaxis at a gala, I rushed to save him. Instead of gratitude, my sister slapped me, and my ex-fiancé kicked me in the ribs, screaming that I was poisoning his child. I injected the life-saving drug anyway, collapsing in pain as police sirens wailed outside. "Arrest this psycho!" my ex demanded, pointing at me. But the officers walked past me to handcuff him, just as a cold, powerful voice cut through the chaos. "You have five seconds to step away from my wife."

The sterile scent of my forensic lab usually brought me comfort, an oasis where I rebuilt lives from bone. Tonight, it felt like a heavy shroud. As a forensic artist, I was nearing completion on Case 734-a "Jane Doe" skull-when her face, slowly emerging from the clay, tightened my stomach with sickening recognition. It was Eleanor Blackwood, my fiancé Ryan' s mother, vanished two years ago. I reached for my phone, hand trembling, to tell him the impossible truth: I' d found his missing mother' s remains. Before I could dial, the lab door creaked open, revealing two ski-masked figures; a primal fear choked me. A foul-smelling cloth descended, and the world went black. I woke to searing pain, the stench of blood, and pulsing music. My face a swollen mess, I was dragged to a brightly lit stage-a boxing ring built for a depraved spectacle. Then I saw him, leaning against the ropes: Ryan, my fiancé, laughing, his arm wrapped around Chloe Davis' s waist, kissing her. He swept his eyes over the stage, over me, without a flicker of recognition. To him, I was just "entertainment." "She' s a forensic artist! Think she can reconstruct her own face after tonight?" someone yelled, their words twisting my life' s purpose into a grotesque joke. He drunkenly slurred about needing to "blow off steam" before our wedding, then, goaded by Chloe, bought me for ten thousand dollars, his eyes filled with hatred for the "toy" who dared to "disrespect" him. He paid to destroy the woman carrying his child. And he was proud of it.

The white lace of my wedding dress felt heavy on my shoulders. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Then Mark' s voice, a mere whisper, shattered everything. "I can't do this, Chloe." He stood there, perfectly tailored, his eyes avoiding mine. "I'm sorry," he finally managed, "I love Ashley. We're already married." The world tilted. My bouquet fell, scattering petals on the cold stone. A mechanical voice, only I could hear, boomed in my head: `[System Alert: Primary Life Mission 'Marry Mark Johnson' has failed.]` `[System Failure initiating... Host life functions will terminate in 60 seconds.]` I collapsed, a crushing pain in my chest. Mark just stared, frozen in cowardice. Ashley, my stepsister, rushed in. Not to help me, but to pull Mark away. "Mark, let's go! She'll be fine," she snapped, a look of pure triumph on her face. They left me to die on the church floor. `[30 seconds remaining.]` My world was almost dark. Suddenly, a stranger burst in, desperate to help. He threw himself over me as a chandelier crashed down. He saved me, but lost his legs. Three years later, I was married to him, Ethan Miller. Out of gratitude, I gave him my life. Tonight, our anniversary, I overheard him talking to his friend. "Tell her what? That I'm the best actor in the world?" Ethan laughed, his voice cold. "What happens when she finds out your legs are perfectly fine?" Ashley had put him up to it. My life, my sacrifice, was all orchestrated. My salvation was a lie. My marriage, a cage. The pain was worse than any system countdown. I looked at the man I married, the hero I thought he was. A stranger. A liar. A conspirator with my sister. This had to end. I would burn it all to the ground.

For five years, I, Ethan, dedicated everything to Olivia, my wife. I sacrificed my promising physics career to build her art gallery into a success, endured her family's disdain, and cherished her every whim. I truly believed my unwavering love would one day win her heart. Then came our fifth wedding anniversary-also my birthday. I sat alone in our villa' s vast dining room, special dishes growing cold, waiting for a wife who never came home on time. My phone buzzed with an explosive headline: "Renowned Artist Olivia Hayes Appears at Charity Gala with New Flame, Confesses He is Her True Soulmate." The accompanying video showed Olivia, radiant, holding hands with Liam-a man strikingly similar to her deceased childhood sweetheart. She glowed as she declared him "the one I have been waiting for my entire life." The article added insult to injury: she'd bought him a forty-million-dollar sports car for his birthday, today, my birthday. My carefully built world shattered. How could the woman I' d devoted my life to publicly betray me so utterly, so callously? The contrast, her forty-million-dollar gift to her "soulmate" versus not even a text for her husband, crushed me. Was I just a convenient shield, a placeholder? The hope I' d clung to, a threadbare illusion, finally snapped. With a deep breath, I lit the single candle on my pathetic birthday cake, a ghost of a celebration. "Happy birthday, Ethan," I whispered to myself, then blew it out. And in that wisp of smoke, my love for her vanished too. It was over.

With a precious curve of life stirring within me, my husband Mark drove us towards a critical high-risk prenatal scan, a seemingly normal journey for an expecting couple. Yet, miles from civilization, he abruptly pulled over, dumping me on the roadside with a flimsy excuse about an investor crisis, only for me to later discover his real emergency was spending three million dollars to "rescue" his college ex, Chloe Raine. Left abandoned and alone, I devastatingly lost our baby, my desperate calls to Mark met with chilling indifference, slurred resentment, and accusations of being a "burden," followed by the ultimate indignity of Chloe moving into our home, wearing my clothes, and stealing my deeply personal game concept. How could the man who promised to cherish me so callously discard our child and me, allowing his old flame to systematically terrorize and pilfer my life, all while the world hailed him as a noble savior for the woman he always called "the one that got away"? But amidst the crushing despair, a cold, unyielding resolve ignited within me, replacing grief with a quiet thirst for justice, signaling that my eventual, meticulously orchestrated return would be their undoing.

Ten years ago, my wife Chloe and I built Innovatech, pouring our lives, and my health, into its foundation. Now, she was the CEO, thriving, and I was the "kept man," managing our home alone after our son Michael was gone. Chloe wanted to renew our vows at the lavish Innovatech gala, calling it "good PR" for our shared journey. At the event, a "tribute" slideshow erased my contributions, making me a public joke, while her young protégé, Liam, presented her with a diamond necklace. His sneering toast, "Some partnerships are built on strength... Others... well, they serve their purpose," felt like a public execution of my worth. Later, Liam's Instagram showcased Chloe laughing with him on a yacht next to a cherry-red sports car she bought him, captioned: "#PowerCouple #Blessed." Devastation hit me, cold and hard, a public declaration of betrayal. At home, Chloe dismissed my outrage, demanding I apologize to Liam and smashing my tablet when I confronted her with the truth. Then came the ultimate cruelty: "Maybe if you were stronger, Michael would still be here," she spat, subtly blaming me for our son's tragic death. Days later, Liam "accidentally" struck me with a golf ball, splitting my head open, and Chloe didn't even offer to take me to urgent care. I drove myself to the ER, numb with the realization that my wife, the woman I'd sacrificed everything for, saw me as a worthless relic. My body ached, my heart bled, but the fire of injustice burned brighter than ever. How could the woman I loved, the partner I trusted, not only betray me but cruelly mock my profound grief for our son, linking it to the very man whose negligence caused his death? Then, on Michael's death anniversary, a final, horrifying text from Liam solidified my resolve: "She's pregnant. And it's mine. Time for you to disappear, old man." The words scorched me, transforming overwhelming pain into a chilling clarity. This wasn't just about an affair; this was about the ultimate insult on the grave of my child. The "relic" she dismissed, the "broken man" she scorned, was about to unleash a storm they never saw coming. I had collected every lie, every stolen dollar, and every broken vow, and the game was finally on.

My world with Ethan was meant to be a fairytale, a perfect match destined for a future built on love and family legacy. Then came the crash. One moment, metal screaming, the next, silence. But when Ethan opened his eyes, he looked right through me, mumbling a stranger's name: "Jess?" He remembered nothing of me, his girlfriend, only Jessica Vance, his supposed "one true love." Heartbroken and humiliated, I watched the boy I loved treat me like a ghost, while my dead Grandma Rose' s sassy voice boomed in my head. She wasn't just there for moral support; she unveiled shocking "past life" memories, revealing Ethan's repeated betrayals with that conniving Jess, painting a brutal picture of manipulation. My family, unconcerned with my pain, pushed me to choose a new fiancé for strategic gain. How could he forget only me? Was this amnesia real or a cruel charade? And was I losing my mind, hearing my dead grandmother warn me that Ethan was a "charlatan" who'd broken my heart before? The vivid flashbacks she showed blurred past and present, revealing a terrifying pattern of deceit. Pushed to the brink, and guided by Grandma Rose' s outrageous, yet wise, advice, I made a choice that stunned everyone: I chose Liam O'Connell, my lifelong rival, as my fiancé. This wasn't just strategy; it was my declaration of war against a history determined to repeat itself, a defiant step into a new future, guided by an impossible voice and newfound courage.

The smell of roasted turkey usually meant warmth and family. This Thanksgiving, it only reminded me of the empty chair next to me. My wife, Sarah, co-founder of our bakery empire, "The Daily Rise," chose a "vital business emergency" instead. Then my phone buzzed – Instagram. Leo, Sarah’s executive assistant. His latest post shattered my illusion: Sarah, radiant and laughing, raising a glass at a lavish table, Leo’s arm casually draped over her chair. The caption: "So thankful for people who truly appreciate you. #NewTraditions." This was her "emergency." My gut clenched. I commented: "Glad you found your place. Happy Thanksgiving." Sarah’s furious call followed: "What the hell, Mark?! Are you trying to ruin my life? Leo is devastated! Delete it and apologize to him!" She didn't ask about my family; her immediate, passionate defense of Leo branded me "petty and cruel." Seven years I’d built "The Daily Rise." She became CEO, the public face, I became invisible. Her priorities were crystal clear: Leo over me, ambition over our life. Every neglect, every empty promise culminated in this blatant betrayal. "No need, Sarah," I said, my voice shockingly calm. "There’s no need to make it up to me. I’m at the county courthouse." Silence. "Remember those quarterly reports you signed last month, rushing off to an 'investor meeting'? Buried in that pile was a comprehensive divorce agreement. It's done, Sarah. Happy Thanksgiving."

It was a late hour when a stranger held her by her throat and forcibly occupied her. Some moments later, she woke up in a cold sweat and realized it had all been just a bad dream. The dream also brought with it, a dramatic series of events: her fiance left her, her father remarried, and most strangely, she found her clothes in the clutches of a little girl calling her mommy. Her father: the same man from her nightmare.

Everything was going well in Summer’s life. She was going to marry the man she loved with all her heart. Suddenly, on her wedding day, she notices a shift in his demeanor. Instead of gazing at her lovingly, he glares at her like an angry lion, ready to pounce. Try all she might, she can’t win his love. He makes use of every opportunity to hurt her. He holds her responsible for his true love’s death. He also accuses her of cheating. With such a miserable husband, how can Summer ever lead a good life? In spite of it all, she secretly hopes her perseverance will pay off and the beast will turn into a prince.

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!"

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."

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.

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."

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?

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."

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.

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."