When Is Peter Parker'S Birthday

On my 16th birthday, I treat myself to the most delicious cake I can find. On that day, before I can even take a bite, my parents, who are always at odds with each other, sign their divorce papers right in front of me. So, on my wedding day, I tell my wife, Keira Jarrett, "If you ever want a divorce, just get me a birthday cake." She hugs me tightly and promises me."Don't worry. 'Birthday' won't even be a word in our home anymore." Seven years later, on Keira's birthday, her assistant, Jackson Price, throws her a surprise party. She slaps him across his handsome, gentle face and kicks him out of Jarrett Group. That day, I am convinced I have chosen the right woman for life. But three months later, on my birthday, I find out the supposedly fired Jackson has been promoted to Keira's personal secretary. He personally delivers a custom-made birthday cake to me. I call Keira to demand an explanation, but her voice on the other end is cold and distant. "Jack meant well. Don't be a spoilsport." I freeze for a moment, then hang up. It turns out my parents are right all along. The only way a birthday cake tastes right is when it's served with divorce papers.

When they drove out of the parking lot, Aaliyah lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.  "Good job, Ms Davis." She turned to Antonio her gaze sharp.  "Shouldn't you call me Mrs Parker?" He sighs.  "I apologise, I needed that deal, it wasn't my intention to bring you into this." She refrained from rolling her eyes, reminding herself he was still her boss. "I'm not coming to another meeting." She told him, walking to the car.  "Remember who gives to your cheque at the end of the month." She turned back to him.  "Well, then I want a raise if I'm going to continue lying to them." He nods.  "Fine."  "I was joking."  "I'm not, I'll pay you if you pretend to be married to me for a while. We need our marriage to look more believable, we will go to parties together and other gatherings." She looked at him like he had gone mad. "Aren't you already married to Samantha."  - *Updates every Monday & Thursday*

On my younger brother's 18th birthday, our parents book the most expensive revolving restaurant in the city to celebrate with him. But all because a waiter accidentally splashes a bit of water on the edge of his sneakers, my brother, Samuel Stone, blows up on the spot. "Do you have any idea how rare these are? They're limited-edition worldwide! Not even your life is worth as much as them!" The waiter, Rowan Lane, shakes in fright and bows his head, apologizing profusely. But Samuel just keeps going and makes a mountain out of a molehill. He even orders Rowan to get on his knees and lick his shoes clean. Our parents, who have always spoiled Samuel rotten, jump in to back him up. They yell at Rowan like he's committed some unforgivable crime. When this happens in my last life, I can't stand it. I step in and talk my family down, finally ending the farce. Unbeknownst to me, someone films the entire thing and posts it online. People on the internet call me kind and brave. By comparison, Samuel's tantrum makes him look like an entitled, vicious brat. He gets torn apart across every platform. He holds a grudge against me for it. After tricking me up onto the rooftop of a 30-story building, he shoves me off without a second thought. From that height, I hit the concrete and die on impact. When I open my eyes again, I'm back in that restaurant—right at the moment Samuel is pointing at Rowan and cursing him out. What Samuel doesn't know is that this "nobody" he's screaming at is actually the only son of the city's richest man, who went missing years ago. All the humiliation and insult Samuel dishes out that day is going to come back as one hell of a revenge.

I was a child who was born in a vocational school's toilet. To my mom, I was a stain in her life that she was given birth to after having her cherry popped by a delinquent when she was still young. I knew that Mom had been trying to kill me. Unfortunately, she hadn't succeeded so far. The first time she tried to get rid of me was when she decided to give birth to me in the toilet. It was a cold, winter month, yet she didn't give me anything warm to wear. The second time she attempted murder was when she got into grad school, which was based in the north. No one was around to take care of me, so she turned on the gas while holding me in her arms and clutching her train ticket. The third and last time happened when Mom was about to marry the man she loved. On the night before her wedding, she had tears streaming down her cheeks as she told me, "You're nothing but a burden. You ruined my life! "Do you know that I can only forget about all the pain and suffering you caused me after you die? Only then can I start a brand new chapter in my life!" I wiped Mom's tears off her face with my tiny hand. So, her wish was for me to die. On my birthday, my fever hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit. That was when I finally received the first slice of birthday cake in my entire life. I didn't have the heart to eat it, so I made my wish solemnly. "I hope that I will die soon." I heard that birthday wishes often came true. That way, Mom would be very happy.

I've just received a text from my CEO wife, Cara Lavigne. Apparently, she's gone on another last-minute business trip again, so she can't accompany me to the funeral home. But soon, I see Cara's silhouette being captured in a photo, where she celebrates her assistant, Warren Stone's birthday with him in a work-related post he has just uploaded. The caption reads, "Thank you for the amazing cake, boss! I feel so happy to be able to celebrate my birthday!" I just smile calmly before leaving a like and a comment. "Happy birthday." My colleagues, on the other hand, start betting pools like mad to see what kind of tricks I'm going to pull this time in order to kick up a ruckus. Cara calls me immediately just to scold me. "Warren is just celebrating his birthday, so what's with the comment? He's a very sensitive person, you know! How is he going to survive in this company now that you've passive-aggressively humiliated him in that public post? "It's been barely two years since Warren joined this company, not to mention he doesn't have any friends! What's wrong with me celebrating his birthday with him, huh? People like you, who are born with silver spoons in their mouths, will never understand Warren's plight! "I want you to delete your comment right now! We'll talk more about this once I'm home! Your dad is already dead anyway, so you can just wait for a few more days before claiming his body!" I can only clench my fists tightly as I listen to Cara's heartless and nonchalant words. "No need for that." Once she is back, the divorce procedures will be done.

My dad collapsed from a sudden heart attack and died. The shock hit my mom like a freight train, and she blacked out cold. By the time I raced home from college, his body had already been reduced to ashes in the crematorium. Grief barely had a chance to sink in before the debt collectors pounded on our door. That was when the ugly truth emerged. My dad had secretly racked up billions in loans, saddling my mom and me. A year later, the relentless harassment from those goons drove my mom to despair. She ended her life, and I was forced to drop out of school, scavenging dumpsters just to scrape by. But fate had a cruel twist in store. I spotted my "dead" dad, alive and thriving, hosting an extravagant birthday bash for his secret son. I stormed in, desperate for answers, only to be hurled out by security. My head cracked against the pavement, and everything went black. When my eyes fluttered open again, I was inexplicably back on that fateful day of my dad's heart attack.