Is Republican Jesus: How The Right Has Rewritten The Gospels Accurate?

My family's company was on the brink of bankruptcy—its cash flow severed, the entire operation teetering on collapse. My fiancé, Andy Goor, was prepared to lend me money to keep things afloat. Just as I was about to say yes, a barrage of floating comments swept across my vision. [Don't agree—no matter what you do!] [The company's bankruptcy and cash flow crisis are all part of Andy's scheme!] [He's after your family's assets. If you accept, your whole family will end up sleeping under bridges for the rest of your lives!] [Your father will die after jumping off a building because he can't afford treatment. Your mother will be beaten to death by debt collectors. And you—you'll be sold into a nightclub. Just thinking about it is tragic!] A cold smile curved my lips. Without hesitation, I reached out and took the bank card Andy had sent over. Because in my previous life, I had believed those very comments and refused his help. After that, the company slid into bankruptcy, beyond saving. My parents were driven to their deaths, both forced to jump from buildings. And I was sold by creditors to an underground clinic, where my heart and kidneys were harvested before my body was dismembered. Only after I died, my soul drifting aimlessly, did I learn the truth—this had all been orchestrated by my so-called best friend, Chelsea Beatriz. Every single one of those comments had been fabricated by her. Disillusioned with me, Andy turned his investment to her company instead. She took my place—effortlessly stepping into my life—and married him. This time… everything I went through? Someone else gets to carry that weight now.

I had always been obedient and compliant. I never dared to disobey others' instructions. The day my wealthy biological parents brought me home, my adoptive brother leaned close to my ear and sneered arrogantly, "The position of the Spencer family's heir belongs to me. If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own." I nodded obediently. Then I turned around and threw myself straight into rush-hour traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. Panicked and trembling, they dragged me back into the car, their faces drained white with terror. My sister's expression darkened as she warned me coldly in my ear, "If you pull another stunt for attention, believe me, I'll throw you right back into the doghouse you came from." I obediently listened. That very night, I locked myself inside a dog crate. My sister froze in complete shock. Gritting her teeth, she yanked me out, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. Later, when my adoptive brother pretended to be sick, my sister forced me to donate blood for him. I obediently took the knife. Without the slightest hesitation, I slashed straight through the artery in my wrist. By the time my parents rushed over, blood had just begun spraying out. They screamed in horror and lunged forward to press against my wound. "Somebody call 911! Now!!!" My sister had gone just as pale. After a long moment of stunned silence, she finally stammered, "Mom, Dad… I only told him to donate a little blood to Eric. I never told him to slit his wrist…" I blinked. My sister wasn't lying. She really hadn't taught me that. It was something the traffickers taught me during the five years my family personally handed me over to them—to "learn obedience."

The Thornes built their aromatherapy business generations ago, but their ancestors made a fatal mistake and brought down a divine curse. For ninety-nine generations, every Thorne heir drew their punishment on their eighteenth birthday. Julian Thorne was the last. He drew the worst punishment: death from hemorrhage in ten months. The only way to break it was to marry a witch from the Old Bloodline and complete the life transference ritual. The witch inscribes a sigil on a parchment and infuses the child's blood essence on it, and the curse transfers to the parchment. I was that witch. My family owed the Thornes a blood debt going back three generations, so I married Julian, gave him a child, and performed the ritual to save his life. I was terrified of missing the ritual window, so I didn't even use anesthesia as the baby was cut out of my womb. However, Julian drove ninety-nine soul spikes into my body while I was still bleeding from the delivery, then set me on fire. "Miriam is the real heir. You're nothing but a fraud who wanted to marry up. "You drove her into the wilderness to protect your position. She went into labor alone and died with the baby. Even dying, she thought of me. She finished the ritual and saved my life. "You deceived my father. I'm destroying your soul. You'll pay for what you did to them." He ignored my screaming while he drained our newborn's blood essence. I watched helplessly as my child's life faded. Then I was nailed to a cross and burned until there was nothing left. When I opened my eyes, I was back on my wedding day.

The day before the World Piano Masters Competition, I was kidnapped, and my tendons were deliberately severed. Endorsements were swiftly terminated. Advertisers, once eager to work with me, turned instead to my rival. Crushed under the weight of betrayal and despair, I spiraled into a deep depression. Just when I was at my lowest, Carl Manos appeared. He not only paid off all my breach-of-contract penalties but also sought out top specialists to treat my damaged hand. Later, he knelt on one knee and solemnly proposed. I saw him as my salvation, the light that pierced through my darkness. Without hesitation, I let Carl slip the ring onto my finger. Two years later, my hand had fully recovered. I rushed to the study, eager to share the good news, only to overhear a chilling conversation. "Carl, if you hadn't arranged for someone to sever Reily's tendons, my sister never would've had the chance to win the competition and land those endorsements. I'll never forget what you did for us." There was a pause. Then came Carl's indifferent reply, "I simply helped Lucy achieve her dream. Breaking a woman's tendons in exchange for that is nothing." So this was the truth. The marriage I took such pride in… was nothing but a cold, calculated nightmare. Since that was the case, there was nothing left for me here. It was time to leave.

The appointment of Susan Moore as the Broadcasting Channel's executive director has forced out the station's more valued news anchor, sparking heated discussions throughout Hayworth. Susan herself is standing before me right now. She wants to sell her jewelry. As the manager of a luxury boutique store, I'm here to inspect the goods. "These are pieces my partner commissioned for me. I have so many that I'm tired of them." One of them is a diamond-encrusted necklace, featuring a pigeon-blood ruby in the center, worth a few million. There are also several similar gifts on the table, with the crocodile skin bag the least eye-catching one. I smiled. "Your husband must really love you." I set about verifying the purchaser's ID and signature as part of a routine procedure. However, I freeze in place at the sight of the name. "I'm not his wife," she replied, bringing the coffee cup to her lips. "We're just each other's first loves. He said he missed out on 15 years of my life, so he gave me 15 gifts. Isn't that romantic?" It is romantic, indeed. However, it's my father's signature. For 30-plus years, I assumed that my father was a dull man who had never once surprised my mother.

While on a trip, I caught my Alpha fiancé cheating on me with my adoptive sister, Selena. Once they realized I saw them, they ruthlessly abandoned me in that forbidden forest and let Selena return to take my place. For ten days, I was missing. No search party came, and my communication crystal remained silent. Then, while trying to escape a savage bear, I fell down a rocky slope and was left broken, bleeding, and alone. Just as I was on the brink of death and unable to heal, Ryker appeared and saved me. He was wild and imposing, yet lethally gentle. During our days and nights together in the wilderness, it took only a few hoarse whispers to tear down my defenses. I grew absurdly attached to him, believing he was my only salvation in this desolate place. Until one night, I found him contacting the outside world on a high-grade crystal. On the other end was Selena. "Why haven't you finished her off yet? As long as she never comes back, Alaric will be all mine." And my devoted savior replied in that same doting tone, "As long as it makes you happy, I'd spend a lifetime keeping up this charade with her in the wilderness." It was then I understood. What I believed to be a gift from the Goddess was nothing more than another death trap, meticulously woven to ensure Selena got her way. When my heat arrived, on the night of our supposed marking, I threw myself into the roaring river of death that marked the border. I would rather be torn to shreds by the current than look at that despicable "mate" for another second.