Contos sobre Feel-Good Story e Romances com Hypocrisy e Karma

"Miss Jackson, are you certain you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once the hypnosis begins, it cannot be reversed. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you will fall into a sleep from which you will never wake up again," the doctor asked in a grave tone from the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm certain," Nina Jackson replied calmly.

On the day the zombie outbreak occurs, I tell my boyfriend, Valerio Petrucci, to come over and hide in my apartment, where my front door is already reinforced. Soon, sounds of the door being knocked can be heard. I'm about to get up when transparent comment bubbles appear in front of my eyes. "Don't open the door! Valerio isn't the only one out there—there are a bunch of loan sharks with him as well!" "One of them is already infected with the zombie virus and is about to turn into a zombie!" "You'll die if you let them in!" Someone knocks on the door once again at that moment.

When the flood hit, my husband, Patrick Holmes, who was part of the rescue team, stood between me and his first love, Victoria Clarke, torn with hesitation written all over his face. Without thinking twice, I shoved the only lifebuoy into Victoria's arms. In my previous life, Patrick had handed the lifebuoy to me instead and stayed behind with Victoria, choosing to die alongside her. Just before they both drowned, rescuers arrived in the nick of time and pulled him out, but Victoria didn't make it—she drowned that day. After that, he devoted himself completely to me, taking care of me in every moment of our daily lives. I had thought that the disaster made him cherish me more, but I was wrong—so terribly wrong. While I was hospitalized, Patrick unplugged my oxygen tank himself. He hissed, "If you hadn't insisted on going home to rest that day, I wouldn't have been torn on who to save, and she wouldn't have died. Now, you'll atone to her in the afterlife." I struggled helplessly as my vision blurred and death crept in. Then, everything went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the flood began.

After I proposed to Kathy Johnson, my girlfriend of seven years, we went to City Hall to get our marriage license. Instead, she had her bodyguards throw me onto the street. Then, she walked through the doors, hand in hand with her childhood friend, Nate. She didn’t even blink when he saw me sitting there on the ground, shaking with disbelief. "Nate's son needs a legal guardian to secure his inheritance from the Johnson Group. The fastest way is for me to marry Nate and adopt the boy." "As soon as the paperwork is finalized, we'll get a divorce. You'll still be the one I really marry." Everyone assumed that I, the man who had been devoted to her for so long, would foolishly wait. After all, I had already waited for seven long years. But that night, I accepted the arranged business marriage my family had prepared for me and took a flight to Center City on the East Coast. I vanished from Kathy's world completely, and no one saw it coming. Five years later, I returned to Westlake City to visit my family. My wife, Rhea Weyland, was the sole heir to the Weyland family, a powerhouse that practically controlled the entire West Coast economy. She was tied up in a sudden international merger meeting. She had specially arranged for someone to pick me up from the airport. But I never dreamed that the "someone" she sent would be Kathy. The moment she saw me, her gaze immediately fell on the glittering watch on my wrist. "I can't believe that after all these years, you've stooped so low you're wearing a cheap knockoff." "Are you done with your little pity party? It's time to come crawling back. Nate's son is starting at an elite private school, and you're just in time to be his full-time driver and bodyguard." I gently stroked the watch on my wrist. What she didn't know was that this was one of the more modest gifts Rhea had given me.

To get me to agree to a divorce, my husband lied and told me he had stomach cancer. I glanced at the medical report in my bag and said nothing. Instead, I broke down right then and there, sobbing like my heart was being ripped apart, absolutely refusing to divorce him. Because what he didn't know… was that he actually had cancer. Just not stomach cancer—liver cancer. And with his funeral coming up soon, if we divorced now, who would inherit all his assets? No way. I couldn't let this divorce happen!

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?

My Alpha, Damon, and I grew up together. Our fated mate bond ignited the second we stepped onto the grounds of the Wolf Elite Academy. He looked at me, his eyes soft, and told me he had a surprise for me at the Academy’s New Moon Festival. He said I had to come on stage. My heart raced as I walked toward him. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding me tight. He told me to close my eyes and wait. The next second, the lights flared to life. I saw another Alpha’s daughter standing before me, a pair of silver scissors in her hand. Snip. My long hair had always been my pride. Now, it lay in ruined clumps on the ground. The hall erupted in the excited howls of the pack. His laugh was the loudest. The most cutting. The next day, he found out I was dropping out of the Academy. A wave of his uncontrolled Alpha power slammed into me. "You're leaving? Over a game?" I turned away calmly. "Yes."

I was secretly married to Conrad, our company's CEO, for three years. When a photo of us walking out of a house together in the morning was leaked, I called 911 right in front of all the employees. "Officer, the CEO of this company raped me!" I did this because in my previous life, he had sworn to me: "The company is at a critical funding stage. The investors value my image as a highly eligible bachelor. To get this multimillion-dollar lifeline, we just have to compromise a little and hide our relationship from the public." I was soft-hearted back then. I thought the pressure of managing the company was too much for him, so I agreed. But what I got in return was his young assistant, Ivy, spreading rumors that I was a vain, money-hungry woman who had seduced my boss for his fortune. Then she launched a massive online smear campaign, painting me as a shameless opportunist and turning the entire office against me. In the end, I was pushed to the breaking point. Targeted as a toxic gold digger, I was intentionally run over and killed by a crazed hater. Ironically, after my death, Conrad refused to press charges against the online mob. Then he easily slipped a wedding ring onto Ivy's finger. Now, opening my eyes again, I found myself back on the morning we were secretly photographed leaving the house together.

On my third day at the company, my supervisor suddenly patted me on the head. “Anna! I saw you won the lottery! I’m giving you a chance to make a good impression. The day after tomorrow, I’ll get everyone together for a private party aboard the luxury yacht Black Pearl. It’ll be your treat, of course!” Before I could even decline, Sarah was already rattling on. "There are over a dozen people in our department. We'll need at least ten bottles of XO, Australian and Boston lobster for everyone to pick from, and we all need terrace suites." “You can afford a little thing like that, can’t you, Miss Moneybags?” I frantically tried to explain that the ticket was one I'd bought for someone else. I didn't have any money at all. But Sarah just shot me a look of pure contempt and walked away. That night, the work group chat exploded. She announced to the entire group, "To celebrate Anna winning the lottery, we're having a blowout bash on the Black Pearl the night after tomorrow! Everyone sign up!" Over fifty people jumped on the list within seconds. Even the cleaning lady signed up with her three grandchildren in tow. "Oh my God, our parties are usually just drinking beer in someone's apartment. We've never been on a luxury yacht! Thank you, Sarah!" Sarah's private message came through. "Anna, I noticed the account you used to claim the lottery ends in 0663. The club booking is already confirmed. We're counting on you, Miss Moneybaaags~" I stared at the booking screenshot she sent, breaking into a cold sweat. That lottery ticket was one I'd claimed on behalf of the company's CEO!

When I returned to the Costello family as the long-lost daughter, I was dressed in my adoptive sister's hand-me-downs, and the family driver came only for her. Still, they felt guilty toward the daughter they had raised in my absence. So when the government rolled out the Fairness System, they registered the whole family before I could blink. My father exhaled with relief. "With this system enforcing absolute equality, Brittany won't ever have to suffer again." My mother took my hand, her voice leaving no room for argument. "You came home and stole everything that belonged to her. That's not fair to Brittany." My brother didn't bother hiding his contempt. "I only acknowledge one sister. You already got more than you deserve. Don't push your luck." I ate leftovers while she had private chefs. I sweated in a closet while she slept in a custom-designed suite. I almost laughed. When the system went live, they were the ones who fell apart.

Everyone thinks Jimmy Hudson, my college roommate, is the typical brutally honest and socially clueless guy who just has zero filter sometimes. A friend and I meet up to go boxing and practice our hooks, but he calls it a hookup when texting the group chat about it. He even nonchalantly says he won't be deleting his message. When I meet my boxing buddy, he says I'm meeting my hookup buddy. He even has the nerve to say, "It's just a joke. Don't be overly sensitive and read so much into it." Thanks to a few more of his dirty tricks, my reputation is ruined, and the entire class ostracizes me. But Jimmy doesn't stop there. He slips sleeping pills into my drink, which leads me to miss an exam. Later, he claims it was just a careless mistake and blames it on his scatterbrained tendencies. Eventually, he dumps crushed cherry pits into my water bottle, which ends up poisoning me to death. This all happened because our campus belle, whom he has a crush on, helped me with my luggage on our first day on campus. All of a sudden, my eyes open again. I've returned to the first day of my freshman year at college. This time, I'm going to let Jimmy get a taste of what it's like to have his life ruined with a helping of some social cluelessness of my own.

I was the sole front desk clerk at a haunted hotel. Welcoming players, checking in on the bosses’ quarters, and slacking off a bit were all part of the job. At least, that was what I thought. It turned out my days were far from ordinary. A blood-drenched little girl in a tattered red dress kept ringing the service bell. Her eerie voice echoed, “Miss, why didn’t you come play with me?” A creepy black cat with glowing eyes wouldn’t stop meowing and rubbing against my legs. And then there was the old woman with claws like knives, cheerfully knitting me a sweater… out of players’ skin. One day, I took a day off to care for my sick mother. That was my biggest mistake. The entire game instance erupted in chaos. Bosses interrogated players, demanding to know where their precious front desk clerk had gone. “Did she abandon us? Is she never coming back?” I ran. They chased. But no matter how fast I fled, their grip on me only tightened. In the end, escape wasn’t an option.

The year I turned fourteen, Grandma and I were crammed into a beat-up trailer on the edge of a desert town. She couldn't afford paint, so she mixed colors from the cheapest red clay pigment at the general store. When a frame broke, she hammered it back together herself. When canvas tore, she patched the back with old cloth and sealed it with a paste she boiled from leftover church wax and cheap resin. Grandma never went to school. She painted out of pure love, and she kept at it for thirty years. Then one summer, a gallery owner named Evelyn Hart crawled into Grandma's leaky shed and examined every painting, flipping each one over to study both sides. The next day, every last painting was gone. Finished oils, sketches, pigment records, old photographs, frames. Everything cleared out overnight. Three months later, Grandma walked into Evelyn's gallery and saw her own painting, Madonna of the Red Rock, hanging in the brightest spot. But the brass nameplate beside it bore Evelyn's name. She lunged for the painting. The security guards pried her fingers loose and dragged her out the door. That night, a blizzard sealed off the roads. She pounded on the glass, but no one came. The next morning, when I found her outside the gallery, her body was already frozen solid. After the funeral, I went to clean out what was left of the burned shed. Inside the lining of an old brush pouch, I found a small scrap of painted canvas. It was a piece Grandma had trimmed off while repairing Madonna of the Red Rock. The thief had missed it. I tucked it away and kept it. For twenty years. Twenty years later, I was the compliance director at an international art marketplace. A young woman submitted an auction application for a series of paintings. The Desert Madonna Series was about to be sold to collectors and private museums around the world. The collection was valued at more than $150 million. I opened the file. In the artist field, I stared at the name for a long time. "Application denied."

"Tap more ash into his cup. He needs to understand this isn't the place for an idiot like him." I went to the break room at lunch to fill my water bottle. The second I walked in, I saw Santo and his crew gathered around my mug, ruining it. Ash coated the rim, and cigarette butts floated in the coffee. The sight turned my stomach. My folder lay on the floor with a few black boot prints across it. Santo raised an eyebrow when he saw me. "Good. You saw it. We don't feed idiots here. Go back where you came from. "You've got one week to leave on your own. After that, I have plenty of ways to make you disappear." I said coldly, "You don't call the shots at these docks." Tony, Santo's right-hand man, laughed, pulled out a gun, and tapped it against my temple once, then again. "You'll find out soon enough whether my word means anything. "You crossed Santo, and you still think you can stay? Dream on!" The others sneered, and every one of them slammed a shoulder into mine on the way out. I watched them go and smiled a little. They have no idea who I really am. And they certainly don't know that one word from me is all it would take to make Santo disappear from this world.

My cousin, Monica Newman, turned down a blind date with a rich guy and insisted on marrying a broke kid instead. She begged me to steal her papers from my aunt so that she could get her way, yet two years after the wedding, she ended up killing me. She said it was all my fault that she had married an average guy and spent every day stressing about money. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the same day Monica was to meet that rich guy for the blind date. This time, I told her, "How do you know he's wrong for you if you won't even give him a try?" Since she blamed me for ruining her dream of marrying into money in my last life, this time, I would give her exactly what she wanted.

Jessica has just landed her dream job and sold the film rights to her novels. Then she stumbles across an online post from her closest friend, Linda, asking strangers how to ruin her life. When Linda tries to sabotage Jessica's career, expose her pen name, steal her boyfriend, and destroy her author account, Jessica quietly gathers every piece of evidence and turns Linda's own schemes against her. By the time Linda realizes she has been caught, Jessica is ready to send her former best friend to prison and take back everything she earned.

A week before my parents' sixteenth wedding anniversary, my dad gave my mom a diamond necklace worth over two hundred thousand dollars. Instead, I immediately fastened it around the neck of my flamboyant classmate. Because in my previous life, three days after my mom put on that necklace, she became a completely different person. The way she looked at me turned cold and distant. She flew into rages over the smallest things, throwing objects and calling me a worthless burden. One day, I casually complained about her best friend, Vanessa Moore, and she slapped me hard across the face. Then, late one night, I passed my parents' bedroom on my way to the bathroom and overheard a conversation inside. That was when I learned the diamond necklace was cursed. It could swap my mother's soul with Vanessa's. I called the police immediately. Instead, they insisted I was mentally ill and forced me into a psychiatric hospital. I endured endless abuse and humiliation there before dying a miserable death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my dad gave my mom the necklace.

Right after my father dies, I receive a call from the hospital, urging me to settle the hospital bills. "You're the next of kin for Carl Stone, Bed 23 of the Neurology Ward, correct? You still owe the hospital 246,000 dollars. Kindly settle the bill as soon as possible." The call completely catches me off guard. I turn around to look at my father's body in the casket. A rush of anger courses through me, but I suppress it and say, "I'm afraid you've made a mistake. My father is no longer a patient at the hospital." "I knew people like you would never admit to it. Do you think you can get away with it just because you snuck him out of the hospital without permission? "I'm giving you 24 hours to complete the payment. You don't want to find out what will happen if you don't!" Well, now I'm furious. "Go ahead and test me."

On the day of the Hunt Festival, I have the healer remove my corneas. In my past life, my fiance's adopted sister, Mandy Wells, steals my Crescent Moon Bow and sneaks three Omega wolves into the royal hunting grounds. Mandy spends the day showing off, right up until one of her arrows pierces the chest of the pregnant Luna. The Luna dies on the spot, along with the heir in her womb. Afterward, the three Omegas claim in unison that I was the one holding the bow. When the enforcers show up at my door with the Crescent Arrow, I desperately try to explain that Mandy fired the shot. Mandy cowers in Connor Parker's arms while weeping like a victim. "Aliya, it's fine if you hate me, but you can't frame me for murder." Connor pulls out a memory crystal right then and there. The person drawing the Crescent Bow in the image has my face. "The evidence is right here! How dare you try to frame someone else?" The enraged pack drags me onto the execution stand. They gouge out my eyes, snap my legs, and burn me alive in the sacred fire. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the Hunt Festival.

The day before my wedding, my daughter and I got into a car accident. My daughter died instantly, and I was left with broken legs, condemned to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. When Spencer Ford found out, he rushed us to the hospital, his actions frantic, almost out of control. In the midst of my pain, I overheard a conversation between Spencer and his assistant. "The car's been disposed of. Lorelei will never find out that we tampered with it. But I'm compelled to ask… Rowena was your own daughter. Was it really worth it, losing her for Melanie? "When Rowena was dying, she was calling for you to save her… I could hardly bring myself to do it." Spencer remained silent for a long time, the tension in the air thick. Then he slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. "Melanie's pregnant. I won't let anyone compete with her child for the inheritance. And all of this is Lorelei's fault. She brought it on herself."