Bias

My husband constantly ignored my pleas in my previous life, giving his salary to his first love despite my objections. After giving birth, I couldn't produce any milk due to prolonged starvation. My son cried desperately from hunger. When I finally managed to buy formula and brought it home, my husband snatched it away to give to his first love. "Vicky's milk supply is low too, and she's a widow. Let's give it to her child first," he insisted. I fought to take it back, but my husband knocked me unconscious. I staggered to look for him when I regained consciousness, only to discover my husband at Victoria Langford's house, putting on diapers for someone else's child. My son had already starved to death then, and out of despair, I followed him in death. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the moment I first learned of my pregnancy. This time, I chose to terminate the pregnancy and file for divorce.

I've been in love for six years, but my wedding has been called off 99 times by the man who claims to love me most, the mafia boss, Daniel Reed. The first time is on a private island off the coast of Sorellia. He promises me a secret wedding. But an hour before the ceremony, he gets a call saying that his new assistant, Emily Jennings, has been taken by a rival family. Without a word, he leaves me behind and sails off into the night. The second time, we're standing at the altar, exchanging vows. His underboss then leans in and whispers, "Emily's in trouble." Daniel tears off his boutonniere and walks out without looking back. Emily has been kidnapped again—this time, near the border district. He leads an armed raid that very night while I'm left behind, becoming the laughingstock in the mafia's VIP lounges. No matter when I schedule the wedding, Emily always ends up in danger. And Daniel always runs to her without hesitation. Eventually, I realize I will never win against the reckless Gen Z assistant who constantly drags him into chaos. After the 99th cancellation, I decide to break up with him and disappear from Valemont. I move out overnight, erase every trace of myself, leaving nothing behind. But I never expect him to go completely mad. He shuts down the ports, searches every villa, and unleashes his entire family's intelligence network just to find me. His eyes burn red like a wild animal on the edge of collapse. "Elara," he growls, "just give me one more chance."

My husband finally keeps his promise to take me on a trip abroad after I've given birth to his child. However, he disappears the moment we get off the plane. I roam the foreign land alone, unable to reach him. Two hours later, I stumble upon his childhood sweetheart's social media update. It's a photo of her and my husband sweetly feeding each other ice cream. It's captioned, "Someone who cares about you has you in their heart wherever they are." After a long silence, I comment, "Now you can live in his heart forever." I walk away after leaving nothing but a divorce agreement behind. That's when my husband, who's always been cold and aloof, panics.

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

The night before my wedding, I was in a terrible car accident. I fell into a coma, and my body was broken and bruised. While I lay unconscious, my fiancé called off the engagement and married his childhood sweetheart instead. My mother went to demand justice on my behalf—but never made it back. She died in a sudden, brutal accident along the way. In that moment of chaos, it was my childhood friend who stepped in. He knelt on one knee outside the hospital with a wedding gift of a hundred thousand dollars and quietly handled my mother's funeral. I was wheeled into surgery. I lived, but was left with a permanent disability. And still, he promised to stay by my side, for life. I was deeply moved. We got married. But five years later, I overheard him talking to his secretary. "Mr. Davidson, you arranged for someone to hit your wife with a car, just so Lucy could marry the one she loved. Aren't you afraid she'll find out?" "For Lucy, there's nothing I wouldn't do. I've already given Ruby the rest of my life. Isn't that enough?" I covered my mouth, holding back a sob. Only then did I realize—the marriage I believed in had been a lie all along. So be it. I'll disappear and let him be with the woman he truly loves.

For eight long years, Bryan Millan and I were married, but you’d never have known it by looking at his life. He never once acknowledged our relationship in public. Not a single post, not a single mention of me on his social media. Then came our anniversary. The day that was supposed to be about us. Instead, Bryan made an announcement on his Instagram account—just not the one I expected. There he was, hand in hand with his assistant, her draped in a wedding dress. The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.] The comments flooded in. [Bryan finally got married!] [Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!] In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. Bryan wasn't reserved. He just never loved me. So, I decided to let go. But he wasn't ready for that. He clung to me, desperate now. But I pried his hands off and laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere deep inside when you realize you're finally free. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and said the words I'd been holding in, "Don't beg me to come back. Because now that I don't love you, I've never felt better."

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, Michael Robertson ghosted. I sat outside the County Clerk's Office for hours. Instead of him, I got a pic from his secretary, Kallie Clunt. She was in his lap, arms wrapped around him, making out like it was the hottest scene in a drama. [Sorry, Elsa. Michael said he had to comfort my broken heart. You don't mind, do you?] When I asked him about it, he just looked annoyed. "She gave me blood once. What's the big deal if I hang out with her? Can't you be a little more understanding?" My stomach dropped. I turned away and called his older brother. "Leon, do you still want to marry me?"

I accompany my husband, Michael Yates, to a stationed assignment on a remote island. Out at sea, a sudden storm hits. The ship capsizes and begins to sink. As the commanding officer, my husband gives the last life vest to his so-called godsister, Naomi Hollister. I don't cry or scream. I just watch silently as he carefully fastens the straps around her body. In my past life, I had clutched my pregnant belly and begged him for help. After a brief hesitation, he finally put the vest on me. But Naomi was swept away by the waves, and her body later washed up on shore. Only half of it remained. Michael insisted it wasn't my fault. He also said that saving me was his duty, both morally and professionally. He even took leave to stay by my side before I gave birth. But when my water broke in the dead of night, he pushed me into the sea. His eyes were bloodshot and burning with hatred. "Leah, if it weren't for you, Mimi would still be alive! Did you really have to force me to give you the vest when you were just pregnant? Couldn't you have waited a little longer? Why do you get to live? Go down there and die with her!" I drown, and fish tear my body apart. I die without even a full corpse left behind. And then, I open my eyes. I'm back on the day of the storm.

My parents’ adoptive daughter took three kids hiking with her, and they ended up dead. They wanted me to take the blame for her. My father forced me to kneel before the families of the victims and crushed my calf with his hiking pole. “These were the legs she used to take your kids hiking. I’ll make sure she never gets to hike again.” My mother legally disowned me. “Jenny will be breaking hiking records one day. I won’t let anyone bring up her shameful sister when that happens! She’s sacrificed so much for you all these years, and it’s time you paid her back.” My boyfriend promised me, “Jenny has nothing. She would not survive if she had to endure all this, but at least you have me. I’ll be here for you no matter what happens. They’re just angry, but they won’t send you to jail. You can come home once everything settles down.” To defend the reputation of my adoptive sister, he and my parents worked together to falsify evidence and send me to jail. “It’s to protect you,” they promised, “so the families don’t take revenge on you.” They did not know I had already given up on them.

I die in the corridor of the private hospital my husband established after being forced to give my heart to his true love. Before my death, my six-year-old son tearfully begs him to save me thrice. The first time, he holds my husband's hand and says I'm coughing up blood. My husband sneers. "Looks like she's learned tricks—she knows how to teach children to lie now." Then, he has his bodyguards kick my son out of the ward. The second time, my son grabs his sleeve and says I'm in so much pain that I'm incoherent. My husband frowns. "It's just a heart transplant. The doctor said she won't die." The bodyguards step forward and drag my son out of the ward again. The third time, my son grovels at my husband's feet and grabs his pants, sobbing and saying that I'm already unconscious. My husband is infuriated. He grabs my son by the neck and throws him out of the ward. "I told you Nadia won't die! I'll throw her and you out of the hospital if you come here and disturb Ruby's rest again!" My son gives his most previous item—a guardian angel pendant—to a nurse to save me. The nurse accepts it and arranges for me to be admitted to the last available ward in the hospital. However, Ruby Sharpe has someone stand before it with her pet dog. She says, "Sorry, kiddo. Your father's worried I'll be bored without my dog, so this ward has been set aside for my dog to stay in."