Bias

My husband's childhood friend says she wants her crystal beads to soak up some of the good luck in our home. Because of that, he scatters the beads on the floor, making me slip and miscarry. I'm in agony as I lie on the operating table. I call my husband incessantly, but all he does is block my number. I lie in the hospital ward after the operation. I see my husband's childhood friend's social media update—a photo of him worshipfully holding out a certificate while getting down on one knee. It's captioned, "He loves me so much! I said I'm interested in running a business and he actually set up a company for me!" On the day of the branch company's grand opening, my husband's childhood friend wears an expensive custom-made gown. Meanwhile, I wear her discarded goods. I'm barred from even entering the building. I suppress my bitterness and call my lawyer. "Are the divorce procedures done?"

When the heat wave hit, I was working at the National Weather Service and was the first to spot the climate irregularities. I warned my family to get ready ahead of time. My parents trusted me without question. They even proposed starting a "family survival fund." They told me to use the savings I'd built up since graduating to stock up on supplies, promising that they and my little sister would chip in every dollar they had too. If we were going to make it, we had to stick together as a family. I smiled. "Sure. I'll take care of the plans." That same night, I converted every penny into gold and locked it in a safe. I also went all out into building an apocalypse-proof bunker. When doomsday finally came, they showed up demanding the money we'd pooled together. "Hand over all the gold," they said coldly. "A deadweight like you is just wasting resources by staying alive." Smiling, I tossed them the safe with the gold inside, then sealed the bunker, locking them out completely. Laughing triumphantly, they opened the safe… and stared in shock at what they saw inside.

On my 18th birthday, my stepmother, Sheila Coleman, teams up with her secret lover, William Lynch, to kill me in cold blood. After that, she carves my femur into a bone sculpture and presents it to my dad as a gift. Dad loves the sculpture to no end. Thanks to Sheila slandering me in the past, he doesn't give a damn about me at all, even after finding out that I've gone missing. In fact, he even declares that he wants to cut off all ties with me. "Don't bring that brat up in front of me from now on! I hope that she dies out there!" But when he finds out that I'm really dead, he goes crazy from remorse.

Giordano Pellegrini, my Underboss husband, is swamped with work every day. In order to make sure that he can attend my birthday party, I've pre-booked two hours of his time half a year in advance. But the moment Giordano arrives at the party venue, he receives a message on his communicator. "Honey, someone has blocked a shipment of firearms. I need to deal with that matter right now. Next time, I'll celebrate your birthday properly with you." Our son, Fabiano Pellegrini, follows Giordano out of the venue as well. "Dad and I will deal with this matter. We'll also make it up to you with another birthday gift next time." Despite feeling a little disappointed, the emergency did come all of a sudden, so I can only nod in acceptance. But once Giordano and Fabiano leave, I secretly stalk them. I'd like to see which idiot dares to block the ship owned by me, the Donna of this mafia family. Also, I'm interested to see what sort of solution Giordano and Fabiano can come up with. After all, Giordano is only an Underboss in name.

My younger sister and I were born twins, yet from the very beginning, our parents had zero fondness for me. My sister was the family's good-luck charm, while I was hailed as the harbinger of misfortune. I was blamed for every calamity, while she got all the credit for every blessing. Even after my death, I heard them say, "If we had abandoned her at birth, or even ended her life then, none of this would have happened." I had once tried desperately to win their approval, only to be met with cold indifference. When I finally secured a coveted civil service post, they celebrated me for the first time in my life. I naively believed that I had been acknowledged at last. But then, they said, "Give your job to your sister. She needs it more." At that moment, something inside me completely died. I tried so hard to cling to the hard-won proof that I was not the family's misfortune, yet even that slipped through my grasp. In the end, I lost everything, even the life they had never once cherished.

My wife, Maya Griffin, has no idea that Harry Quinlan, the infertile heir to an elite family, has just deposited his final jar of sperm cells into the sperm bank. She allows her childhood sweetheart, Elijah Cook, who's also a new intern at the sperm bank, to install a pirated copy of antivirus software into the system, which damages the freezing aspect of the bank and causes the internal temperature to rise. I use my stellar hacking skills to repair the system, thus preserving Harry's sperm. When Harry insists on holding Elijah responsible, Maya is about to defend Elijah when I stop her. "If you speak up for him now, you'll be destroying your own reputation instead. You'll also get blacklisted by all the companies." In his despair, Elijah commits suicide in the freezer. Before he dies, he leaves a video behind that accuses Maya of not saving him out of selfishness. Maya destroys the video calmly. Then, she states that Elijah has reaped what he has sown. Many years later, Maya's cybersecurity company becomes internationally renowned. She lures me into a freezer before trapping me there. Then, she watches me coldly as I beg her to release me. That's how I died with hatred in my eyes. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day when Elijah installs the pirated software he has bought online. This time, I turn off my phone and go back to bed. Without my help in this lifetime, I'd like to see how Maya and Elijah will face Harry's wrath.

After eight years of marriage, I finally get pregnant with Claude Frey's child. It's my sixth round of IVF, and my last chance. The doctor says I can't put my body through it again. I'm overjoyed, ready to share the good news with him. But a week before our anniversary, I received an anonymous photo in the mail. In it, he was bending down to kiss another woman's pregnant belly. That woman is his childhood sweetheart, the one his family watched grow up. She's gentle and well-mannered, and the kind of daughter-in-law every parent dreams of. The funniest part is that his entire family knows about her pregnancy, except me. I'm just the punchline in their joke. It turns out that the marriage I've been holding together despite all my wounds is nothing but a carefully crafted lie. Fine. I don't want Claude anymore, and I'll never let my child be born into a world built on lies. I book my ticket to leave on our eighth anniversary. It's also the very day he's supposed to take me to see the sea of roses. Before we got married, he promised me a sea of flowers all my own. But instead, I find him in front of the rose garden, kissing his pregnant childhood sweetheart. After I leave, he starts searching for me everywhere. "Don't go, please?" he begs. "I was wrong. Don't leave." He finally remembers the promise he'd made to me and plants the most beautiful roses in the world in that garden. But I don't need it anymore.

After saving my girlfriend, Tiffany Swain, I suffer from a concussion, leading to me getting rushed to the hospital. That's when I decide to play a prank on her. "Who are you?" When I see Tiffany's expression freeze on her face, I almost burst out laughing. But Tiffany suddenly points at her best friend, Janet Emery. "I'm your fiancee's friend. That's your fiancee, Janet Emery." This time, my expression freezes on my face. Janet approaches me at that moment. "That's right. I'm your fiancee." I squeeze out a smile at her. "Let's go home, then."

We have been dating for ten years, but Vincent Carter has never been romantic toward me. However, before our wedding, he has someone deliver a delicate bracelet and an elegant dress to me. I take photos of them happily, only to find a card tucked inside the dress that's not addressed to me. Just as I'm about to contact Vincent, I see a post from Emily Foster, his childhood sweetheart, on her social media. "Someone stole something that belongs to me!" That's also how I find out Vincent has also bought her an apartment. The address stated on the card is for the unit downstairs. The gift is meant for unit 701, but it's delivered to me by mistake. I pick up the items and go downstairs, just in time to see Vincent gently comforting her in his arms. The moment he sees me, his face darkens with irritation. "Can you stop overreacting? You're always suspicious for no reason. Emily and I grew up together. If we were going to be together, you wouldn't even be in the picture!" If it were before, I would've been furious and demanded an explanation. But now, I simply let out a chuckle and toss the gifts onto him. "I wish you both the best, then."

I'm supposed to be Kyle Thornwood's Luna. But for the past five years, he has abandoned 52 of our marking ceremonies, proving to the Moon Goddess that he doesn't deserve me. The first time, Elara Bennett—the Omega he took in—gets lost during a hunt. He cuts the ceremony short to find her, leaving me alone on the ritual altar while our bond unravels into nothing. The second time, right in the middle of negotiations with a rival pack, he senses through the mind-link that someone is bothering Elara. He drops everything and runs back, leaving me to face a room full of hostile wolves alone. After that, it doesn't matter which full moon I choose. Elara always has some crisis that needs him. She gets hurt during training, other wolves pick on her, or she has a bad dream. Eventually, something inside me breaks. I decide to sever this so-called destined mate bond for good. The day I leave the Graywolf pack, Kyle loses it completely. He tracks my scent everywhere, clinging to whatever is left of our connection.