Reborn 短篇故事與 Scumbag Marriage 小說

On the day of my husband, Ruben Castille's funeral, a grief-stricken woman shows up at the venue. After putting down the white lilies, she doesn't walk away. Instead, she chooses to approach me. "Honestly speaking, I've been envious of you for 30 years." I frown at her in confusion. Her lips just quirk into a small smile as her gaze falls onto Ruben's portrait. Soon, her eyes redden out of emotion. "Over the past 30 years, he's given me everything, be it love, time, and money. On top of that, he's very generous, too." The woman pauses for a moment. She then tilts her head to look at me, her voice now tinged with resentment. "But his only condition is that I'm not allowed to cause any trouble in front of you." My heart skips a beat. "What do you mean by that?" The woman laughs in return. "You two were married for 30 years. Similarly, Ruben and I were together for 30 years. Ashlee Drayton, he had already betrayed you a long time ago." After that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me rooted to the spot while feeling my limbs going cold. My eyes go wide, and I begin breathing heavily. The betrayal and lies that have lasted for 30 years trigger me instantly, causing me to collapse at the venue. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Ruben plans on proposing to me. "Ashlee, will you marry me?" I fall silent for a moment. Then, I accept the ring, only to throw it into a nearby drain without hesitation.

In my last life, I fought for power, kept the books, and built alliances for my fiancé from the Fire clan until I had secured his position as heir. On the night of the victory banquet, he killed me with his own hands. He said Sophia was the woman he truly loved. I had taken her place and forced their love into the shadows. They had been conspiring all along, and even the child I had raised so lovingly was their illegitimate son. I died consumed by hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the marriage contract was to be signed. This time I wrote Sophia's name on it.

After a seven-year relationship, I was supposed to walk down the aisle with my fiancé, Julian Bailey, next week. Heart filled with joy, I went to try on wedding dresses. That very night, private footage of me from the fitting was turned into AI-generated deepfakes and uploaded to every major social platform. In my past life, I had tried to convince people of my innocence. No one did. In public, my fiancé took the moral high ground, declaring he’d never take back a ruined woman. My parents claimed I had humiliated them and threw me out onto the street. Cornered and desperate, I jumped off a bridge. After I died, my fiancé pulled my trembling best friend into his arms, whispering softly: “It’s over now. Nothing can stand in our way. “Good thing she was such an idiot. She went to her grave suspecting nothing, thinking it was all her fault.” The truth chilled me to the bone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact second before stepping out to the fitting. My fiancé’s call came through. “Hazel, have you left yet? Laura and I are waiting at the boutique.”

"You're my sister. I don't care if I'm drugged—this ain't it. You ain't my cure." Carlo Quaranta's eyes were shot red, chest heaving, but that rage? Way hotter than any craving. "Even if you make me marry you, I'll never love you." Vera Este didn't doubt it. Not for a second. He meant every damn word. Last time, she was the so-called "cure"... and it dragged her straight into marriage. She stared at his face—still young. Felt like it belonged to someone from a whole other life.

The day my husband, Stellan Montclair, was killed in battle, my cousin, Daphne Langford, wept and declared she would follow him in death. No one asked for my opinion. By the time I arrived, they had already decided everything. In seven days, Daphne would be laid to rest alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt, bearing the title of his lawful wife. When I stepped into the chapel, I found Daphne reclining on a cushioned chair with a damp cloth pressed to her forehead while my mother-in-law, Vivienne Prescott, personally spoon-fed her warm broth. Meanwhile, my son, Ansel Montclair, had been kneeling before the coffin for six hours straight, both legs so swollen that they were trembling. No one told him to get up. No one offered him a cushion to kneel on. Vivienne glanced up at me. "You're back. Daphne's being interred in the Montclair crypt as the lawful wife in seven days. See to the arrangements." In my previous life, I did not dare disobey. The entire capital praised Daphne for the depth of her devotion. Vivienne called her a woman of honor. The moment I so much as furrowed my brow, countless mouths stood ready to call me petty and small-hearted. Yet seven days later, Stellan came back from the dead. Only then did I learn that he had taken a death-feigning potion so that he could openly and rightfully marry Daphne. I was cast from wife to concubine and spent the rest of my life crushed under Daphne's thumb. My son was stripped of his status as the legitimate heir, barred from the family title, and left to scrape by among commoners for the rest of his days. This time, though, I was living it all over again. I crouched down and lifted Ansel from the cold stone floor. Then, I looked at Vivienne. "If her devotion runs that deep, let her be buried with him today."

At our wedding, my husband, Justin Garner, pushes me—three months pregnant—toward our enemies as an apology in order to save his foster sister, Clara Garner. "This is my sincerity. You can do whatever you want with her." I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly follow the enemies away. That's because in my previous life, I had traded all my wealth for freedom and returned to Justin's side. In the end, I was forced to drink drugs and lost my unborn baby, suffering for three days and nights. "Justin, those 'enemies' were people you hired to act, and Maxine didn't even lose her innocence. Why did you have to get rid of the baby?" Clara asks. Justin coldly laughs. "If you're acting, you have to make it look real." I died full of hatred. When I wake up again, I choose to let those people take me away. Three years later, when I arrive at a banquet on the arms of my new lover, Justin goes mad, grabbing me and demanding, "Maxine Preston, where is our child?"

On my wedding day, my husband's female bestie showed up holding a torn bridesmaid dress and accused me of assaulting her in front of all our guests. I had no way to defend myself, so I turned to my husband for help. Instead, he looked at me with fake disappointment and publicly labeled me a lesbian. Then, to get his hands on my family's assets, he had me committed to a psychiatric hospital, where I was tortured and humiliated. I barely managed to escape, only to die in a car accident they'd carefully planned. It wasn't until my final moments that I found out the truth—the torn bridesmaid dress wasn't evidence of my crime. It was proof of their affair in the stairwell moments before the ceremony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my dressing room, minutes before the wedding. This time, I'm going to make sure those two pay for everything.

Before my death, I repeatedly remind my son, Clark Sinclair, what to do after I pass away. I stress that my heart must be donated to my husband, Craig Sinclair. He has suffered from dilated cardiomyopathy for 30 years. This is the last thing I can do for him. Clark shakes me off impatiently and snaps, "Enough. Stop pretending to be kind. Dad was never sick." I think I must have misheard him. "What?" He lets out a cold laugh and continues, "If you hadn't refused to divorce him all these years, why would he have needed to fake an illness just to be with Vern in secret?" My whole body trembles as I demand proof. Clark hands me a marriage certificate. On it are the names Craig and Verna Bloom, my widowed sister-in-law. The two lean against each other intimately, smiling sweetly at the camera. In an instant, rage and grief overwhelm me. The family I spend half my life building turns out to be nothing more than a complete lie. Clark continues expressionlessly, "Actually, Vern is my real mother. Your child was drowned in a bathtub long ago. Back then, Dad and Vern couldn't resist each other. She went into premature labor and nearly bled to death. She gave birth to me on the same day you gave birth. "Dad was so frightened that he developed heart palpitations. He was afraid you'd never stop causing trouble if you found out, so he pretended to be sick for 30 years." Curled up on the floor, I cough up a mouthful of blood. "Why tell me now?" Clark looks at me with eyes full of nothing but hatred. "You stole Vern's place for 30 years. And now, even on your deathbed, you want my dad to owe you a favor. Why should he?" An inexplicably bitter taste fills my mouth. In the end, I die consumed by regret. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the delivery room next to Verna's. A wave of excruciating pain surges through my lower body.

I married Kael Throne—the infamous king of New York’s mafia—not for his power, not for his fortune, but because I loved him. He was unlike any man I’d ever known. A man who could have a thousand women at his feet, yet dismissed them all with a single glance. I believed his faithful love until the day I learned the existence of a college girl. He’d “respected” me enough to keep her hidden… until I forced the truth into the light. Kael didn’t rage. He didn’t deny it. He only looked at me with that calm, dangerous gaze and said, “Then we divorce.” I refused. He offered me his money, his casino, his everything. Still I said no. Because I loved him. That’s when his love turned black. He had me kidnapped. My mother, too. All to force my signature on those papers. “You found out,” he said, almost bored. “And there’s no more fun in hiding. Leave now, Vivienne. Give me—and Nyssa—our happy ending.” I watched as the man he’d sent slit my mother’s throat. My answer came too late. Kael Throne was a monster. I collapsed, my head cracking against the floor. And when I opened my eyes… I was back on the day I first learned Nyssa existed. This time, I didn’t confront him. I played the perfect wife, smiling sweetly while I waited for the perfect moment to vanish from his life forever. I just never imagined that when I finally disappeared… Kael would lose his mind.

After I get detained in the police station, my husband, Gavin Pratt, specifically comes over to bail me out. But I grip a policeman's arm without letting go. "I'm the one who did it! Hurry up and arrest me!" In my previous life, I was surrounded by the family members of a car crash victim. A bar owner and a saleswoman who sold cosmetics were there as well. They claimed that I had gone into a drunken frenzy and stole perfume from the store. On top of that, I even ran a red light and hit someone with my car. I kept explaining the truth to everyone, yet no one believed me. Instead, they all had me surrounded and beat me up till I died. When I wake up again, I've returned to the day I'm detained inside the police station.

I spent decades taking care of my kid and the elderly. I ignored my stomach pain until it turned into cancer. By the end, it had eaten me alive. Before I died, I went back to my old family home to sort through my stuff. That's when I found Danny's diary. My dead husband's diary. Hidden for fifteen years. I carefully flipped through it until I reached the last page. [Some loves are worth dying for. Alicia, I'm coming with you.] The diary never mentioned me. Not once. Page after page, it was all Alicia. That was when I learned Danny hadn't died in an accident. He and Alicia Doyle—the woman he never got over—had chosen to die together. I sank onto a chair and stared at his framed photo. "Danny Caldwell, if you loved her that much, did you regret marrying me?" Blood filled my throat. I threw his picture to the floor. "Because I regret marrying you." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past. This time, I refused to rot in a loveless marriage. I walked out and never looked back. He smirked and told his friends, "She'll crawl back. Bet she won't last three hours." But three hours passed. Then three days. Then three months. I never came back. Later, he asked when I'd return to him. My answer was simple. "Never."

In my previous life, Timothy Yance's female best friend, Selina Sunther, provoked me during my and Timothy's anniversary dinner. "Rosalie, Timothy got super drunk two days ago, and I was the one who helped him change his underwear. But we're really close buddies, so don't think too much about it." I completely lost my composure at that time, resulting in me hurling my wedding ring away and tearing the marriage certificate into pieces. Later on, I gave up on all of our joint assets just so I could stay away from the shameless pair. In the end, I died in a rehabilitation center located in another country. No one bothered to reach out to me at all. After I got buried, Timothy and Selina worked together to build their business empire. Everyone sang praises about their ethereal love for each other. While people were envious of them for being such a perfect couple, they showed nothing but disdain and mockery toward me when I was mentioned. "Timothy's ex-wife never knew how to appreciate him. No wonder she wasn't worthy of him." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night of the anniversary dinner. This time, I just smile serenely at Selina instead of breaking down. Then, I turn to link arms with my male best friend, Calvin Solt, whom I've specifically invited to dinner. I even rest my cheek on his chest. Timothy's expression changes drastically, whereas Selina's smile freezes on her face. Calvin merely smiles faintly before he raises his glass to Timothy as a toast. "Don't misunderstand our relationship, Timothy. Rosalie and I have known each other for 20 years, so we're used to taking care of each other. "Heck, I was also the one taking care of Rosalie the whole time on our first night together, be it in bed or the aftercare."

Yvette Johnson did not learn the truth until her final moments: she had two husbands. One was Jordan Spencer. The other was his twin brother, Xander Spencer. They both loved Jade Harrison, the false heiress. But since they had no choice but to marry Yvette, the real heiress, they made a deal behind her back. They would take turns spending a week with her so neither brother would lose out.

I never thought I'd die on my honeymoon. 160 feet down in a pitch-black underwater cave, Adam Hunter, my husband who has spent ten years courting me, kills me with a knife. When he returns home, he takes everything my family owns. The broke nobody turns into a billionaire powerhouse overnight. Meanwhile, my parents spend every last cent trying to prove he murdered me, only to die in bitter despair. When I open my eyes, I'm back at the moment before the dive. Adam lies beside me, holding me tightly as he sleeps peacefully. Only I know that he will kill me in the crushing darkness of the deep water. I have less than two hours to escape this death trap. I look at the clock. The countdown begins.

Victoria Blackwood was a completely different person after being reborn. She no longer woke up before sunrise to make breakfast for Sebastian Blackwood and deliver it to his military unit so he could enjoy a home-cooked meal. She no longer picked up their son from daycare every evening, holding his little hand as he excitedly told her about the new songs he had learned that day. Even after their son, Ethan Blackwood, was injured in a car accident and rushed to the hospital, Victoria ignored Sebastian's repeated calls. It wasn't until his 38th call that she finally answered, taking her time as if nothing were wrong. Sebastian's voice was filled with worry, but he was clearly holding back his anger. "Do you even know Ethan was in a car accident?" Victoria held the phone to her ear while looking over the documents in front of her. She replied calmly, "I know. Haven't you already called me dozens of times?"