Step On A Crack

My dormmate falls in the dorm and sends the rest of us the hospital bill. She wants us to compensate her. "I only fell because you guys left a puddle of water at the door. It's only right that you compensate me, don't you think? It's not much—you each just have to give me a thousand dollars to cover the checkup, medication, transport, the classes I missed, and the mental distress I suffered." I exchange looks with my two other dormmates. All three of us politely decline. That's when she goes berserk. She screeches threateningly, "Do you know who my father is? I'll make sure you guys can't graduate if you don't compensate me!"

My boyfriend, Yves Steward, is the head of the orthopedic department. When Julia Henderson and I get into an accident at the same time, he pushes my hands away and shouts, "Stop this nonsense, Summer Simpson! Julia needs to be operated on immediately!" So, I'm the one who deserves to die. The day my skeleton is donated to the orthopedic department, Yves sits in his office for a day and night. Later, the man known as the hospital's genius orthopedist never holds a scalpel ever again.

Julian Ashford, the golden boy of the city's elite, had his left leg broken by his father with a golf club -- all because of me, a scholarship student. He was stripped of his billion-dollar inheritance and cast out of the family. For three years, he dragged that ruined leg around an auto repair shop, doing backbreaking labor just to scrape together enough for my college tuition. Everyone said I was the luckiest girl alive -- that I'd brought the untouchable heir of a financial empire to his knees, made him willing to live on scraps in the worst part of town. Today was our three-year anniversary. I was carrying the freshly signed Holloway Group inheritance confirmation documents, ready to finally tell him my real identity and pull him out of this misery. I walked down the corridor of The Grand Pavilion, holding a box of vanilla shortbread -- his favorite. Through the half-open door of a private suite, Julian Ashford stood tall on two perfectly healthy legs, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, sliding a rare pink diamond ring onto the finger of Victoria Sterling -- the city's most celebrated socialite. "Victoria, I used that scholarship girl as a shield to survive three years of my old man's relentless arranged marriage schemes. My body's completely untouched. You've always been the one I was going to marry." I looked down at my own hands, cracked and raw from the cold, and tore the inheritance documents to shreds.

I'm in a secret marriage with Jessica Justice, a female CEO, for eight years. In order to please Cole Miller, Jessica has almost gotten divorced with me 99 times so far. The first time she brings up divorce, it's because my socks' colors are mismatched. The second time she does, she claims that the way I mop the floor is too ugly. … The reason of the 98th divorce is that I step through the doorway with my left foot first. Every time divorce is brought up, I'll always beg Jessica to not go through with it in an extremely lowly and humble manner. After that, I'll accept her condition to get back with me, which is always a punishment. Apparently, my pain and suffering is the only thing that can make Cole smile. The punishments range from washing Cole's feet to eating 100 slices of mango—which I'm very allergic to—and getting sent to the ICU as a result. This time, since Cole is in a bad mood, Jessica decides to go with a thrilling punishment. "As long as you can climb up a tower of 6500 feet without wearing a safety line, I will never bring up divorce in front of you ever again." All color has been drained from my face. Still, I nod while gritting my teeth together. But the next day, Jessica brings up divorce to me for the 100th time. The reason is that Cole has climbed 6499 feet just to please her. But apparently I've climbed an extra foot, so I end up stealing his thunder. This time, I no longer plead to her to stay. Instead, I tell my grandpa that I agree to inherit my family's assets that are worth ten billion dollars. Heck, the number of socialites who yearn to marry me can line up to the moon and back.

During a classmates' reunion party, the villa unexpectedly collapses, trapping both Priscilla Hobbs, my husband's true love, and me beneath the fallen ceiling. My husband is a member of the rescue team. To keep Priscilla alive, he chooses to lift the ceiling from her side. He says, "Pris is an actress. She can't be crippled." The ceiling crushes my legs as it's lifted from the other end. My husband seems to have forgotten that I have a congenital blood clotting disorder. Without my legs, I'll die…

Summer Haynes, a.k.a 'Ms. Clumsy'. A lazy Tomboy trying to get her crush's attention with the help from her former ex bully. This is not the best idea to start with...