Emotional

I was the heiress switched at birth by a nanny. It was not until I turned eighteen that my biological parents finally found me, and traded me back for the girl they had raised and loved as their own. However, fate played a cruel joke that very same week. My parents died in a car accident. The family business collapsed. In one night, I lost everything. My older brother survived, but his kidneys failed. I did not hesitate. I gave him mine. However, grief broke something in him. Blaming me for our parents' deaths, he spiraled into madness. "You killed Mom and Dad! Why wasn't it you who died instead?" he screamed. I gave up college and took on three jobs a day just to pay for his treatment. Years passed. One day, while cleaning a mansion as a housekeeper, I saw her, the "sister" I was traded for, gliding through a lavish party, dressed in designer clothes and dripping in jewels. I froze when I heard the voices I had long thought silenced. My parents, alive, speaking to her as gently as ever: "Jasmine, you're so compassionate… agreeing to end Helen's punishment early." My brother, the one who should still be seeing a therapist, frowned and objected. "No. Not even a day less. Just because she suffers a little doesn't mean she deserves to live." I glanced down at the medical report still warm in my hands. For the first time in years, I smiled. "Perfect," I whispered. "Now I can finally die like I wanted to."

After two years abroad in seclusion as I recovered, I received a selfie from my daughter, Lila Ashford. She was sitting on a bike, dressed in a work uniform. "Mom, you’ll be home soon, right? I miss you so much." My heart softened as I thought about how my girl had grown up. She understood that she needed to start from the bottom and work her way up. I was about to praise her when I noticed her skin seemed tanner, and her fitted shirt was the same one I’d bought her three years ago. It was frayed and worn thin, yet she still hadn’t thrown it away. As a child of the wealthiest family, Lila shouldn’t have to live like this, not even for "life experience". I zoomed in on the picture again. Her shoes were falling apart, the front gaping wide open. The more I looked, the more uneasy I became. The next second, I stumbled across Serena Ashford, my adopted daughter’s posts on social media. She was showing off male models, luxury cars, and on her wrist, the global limited-edition diamond bracelet I had given Lila. What shocked me most was the car that appeared in nearly every photo, the very one I had gifted Lila for her college graduation. How the hell had it ended up with her instead?!

My girlfriend found out that my water bottle cost $30,000. She then demanded I buy her father an $8 million luxury apartment in the city center. I politely refused. She said furiously, “Don’t be so stingy! He’ll be your father-in-law someday. What’s wrong with getting a head start on being a good son-in-law?” She even compiled all of our expenses during our relationship into a PowerPoint presentation and demanded we split everything. “If splitting everything equally is too much trouble for you, then just cover it all. You can afford it! “My family and I have already discussed it. I’ll give you a one-dollar gift. It means you're my only one. How perfect is that?” When she noticed I was silent, she played her final card. “If you can’t agree, then let’s forget about getting married. “You’ll never see me, your darling baby, ever again!” I looked at the detailed list of expenses on the screen. It even included $2 she had spent on a bus ride to see me. I smiled and said, “Sure. I’ll give you a $143-million gift, with more romantic meaning. And I’ll buy that apartment for your father right now.”

My neighbors across the hall had a nasty habit of stealing. This included my food deliveries, my shoes from the cabinet, and even my clothes drying on the rooftop. Nothing was safe from them. I had enough. One day, I placed a pair of shoes borrowed from my friend, who was battling an extreme case of athlete’s foot, outside my door. Not long after they stole them, they came banging on my door in the middle of the night, furious about the outbreak on their feet. They even filed a complaint at the hospital where I work. I was so furious that I invited a few homeless patients to move in. A muscular man with HIV, an elderly woman with syphilis, and a young man with severe mental health issues became their new neighbors. The thieves could not handle it and begged the landlord to evict them. However, the joke was on them. My family owned the entire building. If anyone was leaving, it certainly was not me.

From the time I was small, my mother told me I was my little brother's second mother. Hence, from age four, every mistake Danny Hartley made became mine to bear. When Danny dirtied the floor, I scrubbed it clean with a rag, inch by inch. When Danny stole, I wrote the apology letters. Then, I turned seven, and Danny accidentally hurt the convenience store owner's son. When the heavyset Hugo Osborn came to our door, Danny pointed at me without hesitation. "Sienna did it!" Mom did not hesitate either. She shoved me toward him. "Mr. Osborn, I didn't raise her right. That's on me. Take my daughter. Beat her, scold her, do whatever you want." What she had not known was that once Mr. Osborn took me away, I would never come back.

My mom decides to implement an income-based rationing system. Everything at home is delegated to everyone based on their income. At a holiday dinner, I decide to grab myself an extra helping of pasta. As soon as I fill up my plate, my mom snatches it from my hands. "Hold on. Just look at the spread on the table. The sea bass is already worth 180 dollars. The scallops are worth 200, whereas the lobster goes for 300 dollars. "You only earn 3,000 dollars per month. If you want a second serving, you must pay up first. I'll charge you based on the family rate. It'll be three dollars, thank you very much." My mom sticks out three fingers while smiling at me.

My dad collapsed from a sudden heart attack and died. The shock hit my mom like a freight train, and she blacked out cold. By the time I raced home from college, his body had already been reduced to ashes in the crematorium. Grief barely had a chance to sink in before the debt collectors pounded on our door. That was when the ugly truth emerged. My dad had secretly racked up billions in loans, saddling my mom and me. A year later, the relentless harassment from those goons drove my mom to despair. She ended her life, and I was forced to drop out of school, scavenging dumpsters just to scrape by. But fate had a cruel twist in store. I spotted my "dead" dad, alive and thriving, hosting an extravagant birthday bash for his secret son. I stormed in, desperate for answers, only to be hurled out by security. My head cracked against the pavement, and everything went black. When my eyes fluttered open again, I was inexplicably back on that fateful day of my dad's heart attack.

I'm a medical miracle by nature. My blood is a natural antidote that can cure various poisons. When Miriam Wiley, the unmaterialistic heiress of the upper crust, gets bitten by a venomous snake, her life goes into countdown. At the critical juncture in my previous life, I slit my wrist and bled in order to help her cure the poison. After saving Miriam's life, I found out that whoever saved her would become the future son-in-law of the Wiley family. But the first thing Miriam did after inheriting her family fortune was to drain me of my blood. "Back then, Cedric was already rushing to me with a special drug! If I could wait for five more minutes, I'd be able to marry him! "You just had to interfere with my plan by stealing the position of the son-in-law from him! You made him slit his wrist and take his own life out of despair! "You claimed that your blood is an antidote to all the poisons in the world, right? I'd like to see how many antidotes I can actually produce from your blood!" After I got my blood drained, I was tossed into a cage filled with predators. My corpse ended up being battered and broken. As for my parents, they took some poison and ended their own lives after the Wileys forced them into bankruptcy. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Miriam gets poisoned. Her mother, Verna Seymour, looks at me expectantly. "I heard that you're a medical miracle. Are you willing to save my daughter's life?" I quickly turn her down. "Those are just rumors, Mrs. Wiley. Besides, it's unsanitary to use blood as a form of antidote. You don't have to worry, though. I heard that Mr. Campbell is rushing toward this place with a special drug as we speak. Surely Ms. Wiley will live to see the day!" I'm starting to look forward to the outcome. Without my antidote, Miriam can forget about inheriting her family fortune. In fact, it'll be a miracle if she can live for an extra month.

My younger brother, Owen Rivera, and I are playing in Dad's refrigerated truck. Owen wants to grab my ice cream from me, but I refuse to let him have his way. He shoves me forcefully, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the floor, knocking me out on the spot. When I finally wake up and locate him in the freezer, I find out that he's gotten reduced to a frozen statue. The security footage shows that Owen has been screaming the words "Mommy, help me!" hysterically for three hours before his death. After Mom is done watching the footage, she breaks down on the spot. Then, she yanks me by my hair before slamming me against the wall. "What were you doing? You were at the entrance, dammit! Why didn't you open the door for Owen?" With reddened eyes, Dad throws me into the freezer. "Owen was cold and frightened in the freezer! You should have a taste of the same thing too!" The thick and heavy door is slammed in my face. Darkness and a bone-chilling coldness devour me instantly. I curl into a small ball in the corner Owen has just died in. My teeth are starting to chatter, and my consciousness is starting to slip away. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I don't feel cold. I'm not cold at all. I will never eat ice cream ever again in my next lifetime.

On the day of the United Nations meeting, I noticed a new electronic watch on my wife’s wrist. She said it was a gift from her first love to monitor her health. It was a veiled jab, which implied I was not as thoughtful or caring as an outsider. Something felt off, so during her lunch break I secretly checked, and found a bugging device. I reported it immediately, using my official title to cover her wrongdoing. Her first love, however, was now wanted by the authorities. While fleeing, he tragically died in a car accident. My wife said coldly that it served him right, yet treated me with even more care and attention. However, she deliberately leaked my translation files at work, which resulted in me being accused of espionage and taken in for investigation. “Miles, that bug was clearly planted by you. You were jealous of Ash and wanted him dead!” “I truly regret giving up Ash to marry someone as malicious as you. You should go to hell and atone for him!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back there once again on the day her first love gave her that watch. I did not interfere this time. I simply signed my name on the divorce papers.