Where Can I Watch 'After The Crash' Adaptation?

“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.” People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me. They called him the man who traded power for love— the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums. For years, he made the world believe in us. He built empires under my name. He sent me roses every Monday. He told the press I was his salvation. But love doesn’t always mean loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was building a second home behind my back— one filled with laughter, toys, and twin sons who had his eyes. The night I disappeared, his empire burned. He tore apart cities, bribed governments, and buried men alive just to find me. But by the time he did— I was already gone. And the woman he’d once died for no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

In my last international car racing championship, the front tire of my car suddenly burst, causing the car to roll over. The cars behind me collided with me one by one. After 99 times, I was unrecognizable from the impacts. Just as I reached out to my boyfriend for help by instinct, he kicked me away, my body covered in blood and flesh. “Don't dirty my newly tailored clothes today.” He turned around, picked up the champion who had just crossed the finish line, and spun her around, smiling and saying: “Sharon, only the championship trophy is worthy of you. I will remove all obstacles for you.” Blood stained my entire body. Watching the two of them embrace as the sun set, I felt numb and desperate. What he didn't know was that among these red stains was the child who had just come into this world. At that moment, I gave up on continuing to love him.

As I head to see my boyfriend, Howard Schultz, who is working late, I get into a car accident. I call him dozens of times for help, but he doesn't answer a single one. Staring at his brightly lit office building not far away, I sink into despair. When I wake up in the hospital, I see a post from his subordinate. It's a picture showing the reflection of the two of them in the glass door, standing far closer than they should, with the caption, "What do I do when my boss is scolding me late at night?" Unwilling to believe it, I call him again. This time, he finally answers. My voice trembles. "Howard, I got into a car accident…" "Celine, I'm still working. I'll send my assistant to take care of it, okay? Be good. I'll see you after I come back from my business trip." I try to say more, but his angry shout suddenly cuts through the line. "Crystal Jennings! You're only allowed to bring one suitcase for this trip. Why do you have three? Do you think we're going on vacation?" Crystal Jennings—the new intern Howard just hired. I stare at the disconnected call, tears drying on my cheeks. I then call my parents instead. "I agree to the engagement you arranged."

After seven years together, Ruby Longley ghosted me the day before we were supposed to get our marriage license. I freaked. While tearing through the city looking for her, I got into a nightmare crash. That night, she finally texted: [Steven cut his wrist. He's really fragile right now. He can't deal with any drama. He needs me at the hospital.] [Let's push the wedding back three years. Don't contact me until then. Let him heal.] [Handle our parents. And don't upset Steven. Just tell them you're the one who got cold feet.] The ER nurse's eyes were red as she pressed my bloody finger to my phone and typed back for me. [The PATIENT is in critical condition. Please come to the HOSPITAL immediately.] A second later, my phone lit up again. Steven Buffrey. Ruby's childhood friend. The social feed showed a photo of two hands locked together, fingers making a heart. In the middle sat a bandage over one tiny scratch. Caption: [She said my life matters more than anything. Bro, quit faking sick and sulking.] Ruby's friends smashed the like button. They called it true love. Not one person said my name. Like tomorrow's marriage license appointment had nothing to do with me. I laughed, bitter and weightless, floating above the ER as my heart monitor flatlined.

After checking my final exam results, I hand the bottle of water given by my mother and the amethyst bracelet given by my childhood friend to the school bully with AIDS. In my previous life, my exam score of 1250 was swapped with the score of 600 of my younger adopted sister, Adelia Quentin, right after I drank that bottle of water. My health immediately deteriorated in the following days. I had a high fever and kept on coughing up blood. I was even nearly bedridden from severe pain. On the other hand, Adelia miraculously recovered from her stomach cancer. I begged my mother to send me to the hospital. But not only did she refuse, but she even mocked me and accused me of faking my illness. She then locked me in the basement. They celebrated Adelia's enrollment in university while I writhed helplessly in pain. In the end, I died in the basement all alone. After my death, Adelia used my exam score of 1250 to study at a renowned university. She also officially started her relationship with Thomas Haynes, my childhood friend. It was only then that I finally realized that the bottle of water my mother handed me had been cursed. My exam results would be swapped away when I drank it. Meanwhile, the amethyst bracelet Thomas gifted me would swap my health condition with Adelia's three days after I wore it. I'd get Adelia's stomach cancer and die a painful death. Just as I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day I checked my exam results.

My brother came back from his heir-training course convinced he was destined to marry an ultra-wealthy heiress. He took my car and tried to crash into the rear of Wendy Hewitt's vehicle. That girl was a top heiress in Greateast's elite circle, and my brother wanted to set up a chance encounter with her. I slammed on the brakes and told him the Hewitts were no fools. If my brother were to crash into that car, it would ruin our whole family's finances and then some. Wendy eventually held a grand wedding that shook the whole nation. My brother was consumed by jealousy. He insisted he would have been the groom if I had not stopped him that day. That resentment festered into hatred. In the end, my brother drove his car straight into me. I died. … When my eyes snapped open again, I found myself back in the passenger seat—back on the very day my brother tried to create that so-called chance encounter. A smug smile tugged at his lips as his eyes stayed fixed on the car ahead. "The moment Wendy sees me, I'll have her heart. And then I'll ditch this scrap metal." I didn't stop him this time. My brother stepped on the gas and crashed straight into the 50-million-dollar supercar.