What Happens At The End Of Trapline Chatter?

I broke up with my boyfriend the year he was at his poorest. A year later, he was famous, and he married a prettier, livelier girl than me. On a late-night show, a host asked him whether a grand slam of awards this early in his career left any regrets. He pulled Mia closer. "I want to know how she's been. Since she left me." The host paused. "She's been... not well at all." Adrian finally smiled. "Then I can stop thinking about her." "But Ms. Whitman left behind a box of tapes before she died." Adrian's smile locked into place. On the tapes were every day and every night of my life, from the day I walked away from him to the day I stopped breathing.

My company has dispatched me on a one-week business trip to another city. When the trip is over, I drive home in a hurry just so I can celebrate my mother-in-law, Marianne Jones' birthday with her. But when I'm waiting for the traffic light to turn green, rows of live comments suddenly appear right in front of my eyes. "Do not go home no matter what! If you do, that crime will be pinned on you!" "The moment you step through the front door, Marianne will jump off the building!" "Your fingerprints are all over Marianne's body! When the time comes, you won't be able to defend yourself at all, and you'll end up receiving a death sentence! After your husband receives a hefty insurance payout, he and your best friend, Kathie Wilbury, will live a luxurious and happy life together!" I'm stunned by the information. But a few seconds later, I decide to believe the live comments. In that case, I might as well make a huge gamble. As soon as the green light is on, I start the car and stomp down on the gas pedal. Then, I veer my car toward the concrete barrier on the roadside and crash into it.

To celebrate my first New Year after reconnecting with my biological family, everyone dragged me into signing up for a Tranvego tour. The moment we got off the plane, my parents completely changed. They just stood there while my brother tore up my passport. Then they shoved me into a bus headed for Draconville. The whole way, I begged them to take me back. Because I realized the place that the bus was going was the very same home I had spent ten years trying to escape. And the so-called big bosses they kept talking about? One was my foster father, the director of the compound. One was my foster mother, the head of the transplant center. One was my foster brother, the chief of the landfill district. They were famous for protecting their own. But under the excuse of "loving" me, they locked me up and tried to force me to become one of them. I had fought so hard to get away from them. I never thought I'd be sent back again!

On graduation day, Chloe Pierce said she wanted to film an extreme challenge video. She told me to stand near the edge of a cliff and said it was just for a photo. Then she suddenly threw herself backward and screamed, "Don't push me." The rope snapped, and she really fell. The entire internet called me a murderer. My mother knelt in front of the cameras and begged for me until a brain hemorrhage took her life. I hanged myself with a shoelace in the detention center. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the trip. This time, I smiled at Chloe and said, "I'll help you check the rope."

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

On April Fools' Day, Seth Sterling, the campus heartthrob whom I have a crush on, invites me to a karaoke lounge bar to have some fun. But when I arrive at the private room, I find out that all three of my roommates, who I'm enemies with, are there. One of my roommates is about to leave when she pauses in her tracks and turns back to look at us. "Did you guys see the words floating in the air?" The next thing we know, the lights go out in the private room. A scream rings out afterward. When the lights are back on, the roommate who has spoken up earlier is gone. "Where did she go?" I swap looks with the other two roommates quietly. Then, I stand up and pretend to look for the missing roommate when in reality, I'm trying to sneak glances at the live comments in the air. The commenters are cheering with each other. "I told you so! Someone in their dorm can see us!" "No wonder the male lead keeps flaking out on the female lead! A filthy slut who's capable of seeing the live comments must be seducing him this whole time!" "Let's kill her! That way, she won't be able to affect the lovey-dovey relationship between the leads!" Kill? Did my roommate disappear because she could see the live comments? I tremble violently at the thought. My first reaction is to open the door and get out of this place. But that's when the live comments grow more agitated. "Hang on! Someone else in this room can see us!" "We must find her!"