Min Xiaoxi

My father was dying on a hospital bed, and I was frantically calling my husband, Ethan. He didn't answer. Later, he claimed his battery had died while he was on a crucial business trip. But a photo sent by my best friend revealed the sickening truth. Ethan wasn't working. He was in a London café, looking at Olivia—the ex-girlfriend he swore he hadn't seen in five years—with pure desperation and love. His phone was sitting right there on the table between them, face up and fully charged. I swallowed the betrayal and played the perfect, grieving wife when he returned. But then I found the locked drawer in his study. Inside wasn't just a shrine of photos of her; it was a journal. The ink was barely dry on the latest entry. "I pray the child has Olivia's eyes. If it looks like her, I can pretend I didn't settle for the safe, boring option. Ava is a good placeholder, but she isn't Her." He didn't want a family with me. He wanted to use my body to recreate a ghost of the woman he actually loved. He planned to turn our unborn child into a prop for his twisted obsession. I wiped my tears. The next morning, I handed him a stack of documents to sign, hiding the divorce papers in the middle. Then, while he was busy texting her under the table, I walked into a clinic to remove the only thing binding us together. He thinks he is the mastermind. He has no idea he has already lost the game.

The last thing I remembered was the freezing water closing over my head, Brittany' s triumphant smile the final image in my mind. Then, a gasp. I shot up, coughing, not in the dark river, but in my bed, sunlight streaming through the window. Had it all been a nightmare? The public shaming, getting fired, the whispers, the utter despair that drove me to that river' s edge? A self-satisfied hum from the living room shattered the illusion. Brittany. My heart hammered. This wasn' t a nightmare. It was a second chance. Memories flooded back: my sweet, bubbly roommate turning into a viper. She started using my online identity, my photos, twisting them into something sordid. When I confronted her, she just laughed, "Chloe, don' t be such a prude. They love it. It' s just a bit of fun." I went to HR, but she got there first, twisting the story, painting me as a jealous, unstable friend. They believed her. The photos became more explicit, sent from my work email. I was publicly humiliated, labeled an exhibitionist. My boss couldn' t look me in the eye. The company fired me to "protect its image." My career, everything I' d worked for, was gone. Brittany thrived. She took my job, my desk, my life. She stood on the ashes of my career and pretended she was a hero. The final blow was the public scandal that nearly cost me my life. And then, it did. As the current pulled me under, she had won. But now I was back. The girl who died in that river took all my innocence with her. What was left was a cold, burning desire for revenge. And as I lay there, listening to the clicks of her camera, I knew exactly how I was going to get it.

Five years. Nine court dates. One thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days of a marriage on trial. Today, my husband, Mark Thompson, filed for divorce for the ninth time. As if his infidelity with Sarah Miller wasn' t enough, he stood in court, tears in his mistress' s eyes, dramatically presenting a positive pregnancy test and declared, "It's time for Chloe to let me go." But I had proof. A grainy surveillance video from our living room, showing Mark, drunk, begging me not to leave, then savagely biting my earlobe in a desperate, animalistic act of possession. The judge, clearly fed up with Mark' s theatrics, denied the petition. Mark, enraged, swore he' d keep fighting until I was out of his life for good. His words rang true just three nights later. I was poisoned at a dinner, doubling over in searing pain, gasping for air. Mark found me clutching my stomach, but instead of helping, he dismissed my agony, saying, "Stop faking it, Chloe. You' re just drunk." Then he drove away, leaving me to bleed on the dark street, his chilling threat echoing in the night: "Just obey, or I' ll file for divorce again at the next hearing. I' ll make sure it' s the tenth and final one." As his taillights vanished, a profound stillness settled over me. This wasn't just a physical wound; it was a soul-deep laceration, cauterized by his indifference. Lying there, alone and abandoned, a decision formed in my mind, crystal clear and devoid of emotion. I was done.

Five years ago, I secretly donated my kidney to save my fiancée, Chloe. I faked a scandalous breakup, making her believe I was a gold-digging traitor, so she wouldn't feel the burden of my sacrifice. Now, my remaining kidney is failing, leaving me with only months to live, while she thrives as a tech CEO. When our paths cross, she publicly humiliates me, treating me like dirt, and her new fiancé, Liam, brutally beats and frames me, systematiclly destroying my life. I' m dying, slandered as a monstrous gold-digger, yet I still choose to protect the woman I secretly saved, even while she unknowingly destroys what little life I have left. But when my best friend, Sarah, finally screams the truth, and Liam' s twisted confessions fully unravel, Chloe begins to see it all-the lies, the sacrifice, the undying love that led to my tragic demise. Will her agonizing realization come too late, or can she salvage a love story stained by an ultimate act of selfless devotion and enduring bitterness?

For seven years, I poured every ounce of my being-my savings, my career, my very essence-into Olivia Reed' s music career. I was the silent force behind her rise, the architect of her dream, believing her success was ours. Then, at her album launch, the night she finally made it, she publicly declared her producer, Liam Hayes, her "soulmate" and kissed him passionately on stage. My world shattered. When I confronted her, she dismissed me like a discarded tool, coldly telling me I was just a placeholder until Liam was ready. The humiliation was unbearable, amplified by the smug triumph in Liam' s eyes. But the real shock came later: Olivia and Liam had a five-year-old son, a child they' d hidden from the world. And the chilling realization? Olivia had secretly taken my DNA, just to confirm the child wasn' t mine, fearing a "paternity scandal" would damage her brand. What was I to her? A bank account? A convenient fool? The man who paid for her secret family, while she laughed behind my back? The betrayal cut deeper than any heartbreak. No longer the naive architect, I decided then and there: Olivia Reed had built her empire on lies and my sacrifice. It was time to tear it all down.

The day I found out I was pregnant was the same day I lost my sight. I woke up in a hospital, my world plunged into impenetrable darkness, but my fiancé, Ethan, was there, his hand in mine, murmuring reassurances. Then, through the fog of pain, I heard another conversation - Ethan, whispering to the doctor. He wasn't comforting me; he was ordering my future: a hysterectomy to ensure I couldn't have children, blaming it on the attack, all so he could bring his secret son with his old flame, Maria, into our home. The man I loved, the one I' d selflessly saved years ago by arranging Maria' s bone marrow donation for his life-altering surgery, was systematically destroying mine to make way for his real family. He' d taken my eyesight, my child, and my future, portraying me as a tragic victim while meticulously crafting a public narrative of his devotion. He thought he had rendered me helpless, a blind, barren woman to pity and control, even bringing Maria and his son, Leo, to me under the guise of an adoption agency visit. Maria, the very woman I had tracked down and compelled to save Ethan, relished in taunting me about my own secret act of heroism, twisting it into a weapon to reveal his ultimate betrayal. But in the profound darkness he cast upon me, an icy clarity emerged, hardening my sorrow into something far more dangerous than despair: a meticulous plan for revenge. He thought he was leading a lamb to the slaughter; he had no idea he was stepping into a trap of my own design, and I would burn his world to the ground.

On the day my son died, I was reborn. The morning light of Chicago streamed through the blinds, just like before, a painful echo of a day I never wanted to live again. My son, Leo, was supposed to have his scholarship interview at Northwestern today, a full ride, his entire future. In my previous life, that future ended with the sound of his body hitting the pavement. Then they came for me. My husband, Mark, told the cameras I was a monster, a controlling mother who drove her son to suicide. My best friend, Chloe, Leo' s godmother, provided the proof, a doctored video of me ranting, shoving papers, painting me as crazed. The police found "abusive" scratches on Leo's arm matching a gardening accident on my hands. My career, my name, my entire life were destroyed by their fabricated narrative. I ended it all in a cold, empty apartment, the media' s condemnation a constant ringing in my ears. To my dying breath, I couldn't comprehend the depth of their betrayal, swallowed by an unjust accusation from the people I loved most. But now, I was back, sitting up in bed, my heart a steady, cold drum. Everything was the same, except for me. This time, I wouldn't just survive; I would expose every single one of their monstrous lies.

The typical bright Texas morning was promising, another day of booming business for Hayes Corp, my family's oil and real estate empire. My assistant's tight voice cut through the calm: "Mr. Hayes, there's... news. About Ms. Moreau." Isabelle "Izzy" Moreau, my fiancée, was supposedly lost at sea in a tragic boating accident off the coast of Maine. In my previous life, that phone call had shattered my world; I spent fifty years as a hollow shell, honoring her memory while her supposed grieving friends drained my company with their sob stories. But then, at eighty, frail and tired, I found her alive and thriving at our "special place" in the Caribbean, dripping in jewels, laughing on the arm of Liam Vance, my former head of security. Their children, their grandchildren, a grotesque dynasty built on my stolen life and stolen fortune. The sheer, monumental betrayal stopped my heart, killing me on the spot. Then I jolted awake, here, now, back on this exact Tuesday morning, the sun shining, the phone poised to deliver the same lie. Only this time, the news didn't devastate me; it filled me with a cold, clear resolve. I already knew. I had lived this day before, and I was reborn with a singular purpose. The game was officially on, and this time, I would win.

There was no love in their marriage. It was nothing more than a business arrangement. At first, Alina thought that she could be able to bear it. What she didn't know was that Bertram's revulsion for her was much too great. Their marriage was dull and antagonistic. To make matters worse, Bertram killed the baby Alina was carrying inside her. That was the final straw -- like a phoenix that had been reborn, Alina rose above from the ashes, intending to make him pay the price he deserved.

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."