Xu Shinian

The rain hammered against the school bus windows, mimicking the frantic beat of my heart. My estranged wife, Susan, was screaming, trying to drag our brilliant daughter, Emily, off the bus and into the deluge, all for Mark Johnson, a man in his forties who had failed the college entrance exam for twenty years straight. This was his "lucky year," Susan shrieked. A cold dread washed over me; this had happened before. In a life I no longer lived, my hesitation had allowed Susan to pull Emily off the bus, costing Emily her future. Mark, predictably, failed again and then jumped from a bridge. A year later, Susan had poisoned me at Emily' s graduation party, cursing, "You ruined him! You stole his destiny!" I saw the memory, not as a dream, but as a prophecy. There would be no hesitation this time. I grabbed Susan' s arm, my grip like iron, pulling her away from Emily. "You are not ruining our daughter' s life," I bit out. Enraged, Susan slapped Emily across the face, silencing the bus. Just as parental anger was about to explode, the bus driver' s radio crackled: "Route 7 bridge compromised… route to exam center blocked. Indefinitely." Panic erupted, but Susan, oblivious, declared to Mark, "It' s destiny! The universe is making way for you!" The bus became a pressure cooker. Insults turned to shoves. Mark and Susan were caught in a pathetic brawl in the pouring rain. After checking on Emily, I calmly called the Mayor' s office. "This is Professor David Miller," I stated, "Your office has confirmed emergency transport. Helicopters. To airlift the students from your location to the exam center." Hope surged through the bus. "Of course, that' s just for the students on the school' s official roster," I added, low enough for just a few to hear. "Any private applicant, like him, would have to arrange payment for a private charter. Astronomically expensive." The helicopters arrived. Susan, attempting to push Mark to the front, was informed of the $200,000 emergency fee for private applicants. Her jaw dropped. Mark, realizing his entire savings were about that much, asked for his card. Susan stammered, "I used it... I bought you this lucky jade pendant! It cost $300,000!" Just then, a jeweler observed, "That looks like a fake... worth maybe $200." "You idiot!" Mark screamed, grabbing Susan. "You spent my life savings on a piece of glass?" A police officer moved in. Susan, hysterical, begged me for a loan. I offered a loan agreement: $200,000 at 20% daily compounded interest, her house as collateral, due in 30 days. With the last helicopter preparing to lift off, she signed. Mark scrambled on board. Minutes later, a new announcement: "Floodwaters at Route 7 bridge have receded faster than expected. Road reopened. Ground transport can now proceed." Susan, standing alone in the rain, crumpled. She had signed away her future for a now-unnecessary twenty-minute helicopter ride. This was only the beginning.

On my deathbed, gasping for air, my wife Olivia and our son stood over me, reeking of cold fury and gasoline. "Our son was conceived with Alex' s sperm," Olivia whispered, a venomous hiss. My son poured gasoline over me as she smiled, "You spent your entire life raising a child for the man I loved!" The first flame brought searing agony; my world exploded into fire. I screamed, the sound swallowed by the inferno. Then I opened my eyes. The smell of gasoline was gone, replaced by roses. I was young, strong, in a tuxedo. This was my wedding night, thirty years earlier. The door burst open; Olivia, pale and panicked, clutched her phone. "Alex sent me a message," she stammered. "He' s at the cliff. He' s going to jump." Her father, Mr. Miller, sternly forbade her from leaving. "If you don' t complete this wedding today, the Miller family will disown you!" Olivia looked at me, her eyes filled with venomous hatred. She slapped me, a sharp sting. In my first life, I had begged her to stay, dedicating thirty years to her and her family, building their empire, raising her son-Alex' s son-only to be burned alive for my devotion. The betrayal was a fresh wound, a guiding light. This time, I would not be a fool. I looked at Olivia, her face twisted with fear and hatred, and made a decision.

My engagement to Ethan Hayes was suffocating, bound by a grim family rule: no breaking up, only widowed. My brother' s dying wish had sealed my fate with a man who no longer loved me. He loved Chloe Davis. The definitive moment arrived when my brother's watch, my most prized possession, was shattered by Chloe Davis. Worse, Ethan, my fiancé, sided with her, dismissing my grief and the watch's immense sentimental value. Instead of comfort, I received an onslaught. His mother lectured me, and Ethan himself dismissed the broken watch as "silly" and "worn out," offering an "upgrade" like my brother's last gift was a trivial inconvenience. Then, Chloe returned with Ethan, feigning an apology, only to deliberately destroy the watch further, crushing the delicate mechanism. With each calculated move, they chipped away at my identity. His friends joined in, accusing me of cruelty, while Ethan, oblivious or uncaring, simply saw me as "dramatic" and "making a mess," even as I lay bleeding on the floor of my own apartment. He was more concerned about being late for a dinner reservation with Chloe than about my pain. Why was I continually subjected to this emotional torture? Why did he let her weaponize my dead brother's memory? The answer finally became painfully clear: I was a problem to be managed, not a partner. So, I picked myself up, cleaned the blood, and calmly put an escape plan into motion. His compliance was no longer about weakness-it was my camouflage.

The heavy oak door of San Francisco City Hall felt cold under my fingers. I was waiting for Ethan. We were supposed to get our marriage license today. My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan: "Running late. Emergency at the hospital." Typical. Dr. Ethan Miller, the respected neurosurgeon, always had an emergency. But then, a new post from Chloe Davis, his research assistant, popped up. A photo: her, in our master suite, Ethan's arm around her. Another: a sonogram, tiny and gray, with a heart emoji. The caption read: "Future Dr. Miller coming soon! #blessed #surprise." My breath caught. Our master suite. The one I decorated. He didn't just abandon me at City Hall. He moved her into our home. My phone vibrated again. A long message from Ethan: "Ava, I can explain. It was a mistake... She's young, her research career is just starting... You've always wanted kids, right? She can go abroad... You can raise it. It'll be our baby." Rage, cold and sharp, flooded me. He wanted me to raise his mistress's child. I, Ava Chen, Investment Director at Chen Corp, from a family that built a tech and real estate empire in this city, was no fool. I dialed a number I knew by heart. Liam Walker answered on the second ring, airport noise in the background. "Ava? Everything okay?" "Marriage license," I said, my voice steady. "City Hall. Now. You in?" He'd been in love with me for eight years. "Liam," I said, "Are you in?" Another pause, shorter this time. "Give me an hour. Don't move." He hung up. My story was just beginning.

Lollo got set up to an arranged marriage upon reaching the age of twenty. Aside from this discovery, what shocked her most was that her future groom was no other than Harrison, the billionaire whose photo she secretly took for a job assignment. "You have the liberty to marry any woman you fancy. Why do you have to choose me?" Lollo snapped. "That is the price you have to pay!" Harrison retorted. Gnashing her teeth in anger, she accepted the proposal and started living with him. She tried her best to escape from his control, but she failed every time because the sacrifice of staying with him was not bad at all. After all, he had been drowning her with his endless devotion.

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."

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!"

"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."

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."

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."

Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.

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.

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"