Emotional

"Julia, the money's gone." "What money?" In a sheepish tone, Mom explains, "We used the 68 grand you left with us to help your brother buy a house for his upcoming wedding." At that moment, dread swallows me whole. Just last week, I left my hard-earned savings with my parents to keep it from being discovered by my abusive husband. But now... I choke up, and my voice trembles as I speak. "Mom, that is the only money I have for myself after the divorce!" My father scolds me from the side. "Why are you getting a divorce in the first place?" I shoot back, "You know he has been hitting me. If I don't leave him, he will beat me to death!" Dad slams the table angrily. "All women put up with stuff like that just fine! If your brother can't get married, it will be the end of our lineage. That's the more pressing problem!" I look at them, my blood running cold. "Take that 68 grand as my final payment to you for raising me. We'll cut ties right here and now. In the future, don't ever come to me and ask me to support you when you grow old."

When I visit my girlfriend's house during the Christmas holidays, her cousin, Antonio Esposito, humiliates me in front of everyone because of a scar on the back of my hand. "This scar looks like a remnant of the crossfire with the mafia! Bianca, why did you think that bringing an ex-convict home was a good idea?" The entire Romano family stares at me in a mixture of horror and shock. My girlfriend, Bianco Romano, even shakes my hand off while staring at me in disgust. Not only does Antonio flip the table, but he also calls over a few hooligans in an attempt to take me to the local police station. "We must teach scumbags like him a lesson!" he declares. After that, Antonio and the hooligans strip off my jacket and strap me to the tree in the courtyard. They then attempt to force me to admit that I'm working for the mafia. I can only gnash my teeth together stubbornly, refusing to yield no matter what. What they don't know is that the scar is a medal from my time in a peacekeeping war as a soldier!

My mother-in-law, Mabel Grath, always liked me to arrange family trips. But she only transferred a small fraction of the cost. She called it a “deposit.” “I’m just following what you young people do with deposits. It’s not like I’m going to skip out on the rest.” After the trip, however, she never mentioned the rest of the payment again. I did not really mind. I quietly paid out of my own pocket for five-star hotels and luxury meals every time. Then one day, my husband’s sister, Marlene Grath, dropped a sarcastic comment in the family group chat. “Noelle Frost loves playing travel agent with my mom’s retirement money. “For all we know, she’s signing us up for cut-rate shopping tours and skimming the kickbacks.” Mabel replied with a smirking emoji. It seemed she was silently agreeing with her daughter. My heart sank. Over the years, I had taken them on trips all over the country and abroad. I had covered at least 100,000 dollars out of my own pocket. Yet, I still ended up looking like the one taking advantage of them. Mabel transferred four hundred dollars to me again and asked me to arrange a seven-day tour to Erope. So, I went ahead and booked them a one-day farm stay just outside the city.

When I'm trying to save a female patient's life, I use a pair of scissors to cut open her bra. But my fiancee, Scarlett Baxter, uploads a video of me pressing on the patient's chest to the Internet. "I know you're saving the patient's life, but isn't protecting the patient's privacy important as well? Besides, you keep touching her chest! This makes me feel very uncomfortable!" This incident goes viral on the Internet. The hospital I work at chooses to de-escalate this matter by demoting me and deducting my annual bonus. On top of that, I also receive a huge penalty for my actions. I did everything I could to save that patient's life, and yet everyone decided to paint me as a molester. Fine. I might as well not do anything, then. I'm not going to save anyone now. This time, the entire hospital falls into chaos.

The new intern in the unit had to be chronically incompetent. He handled my mother's post-surgery medication and somehow mixed up the drug. He gave her a potent blood thinner. That night, she died from a hemorrhage after her operation. Before I could even accuse him, the intern had his puppy-dog eyes ready. "I'm sorry, Dr. Benford, but I thought that was the drug you wanted me to mix. Who was I to question my superior's order?" Then the hospital director, who was also my wife, chimed in, "Your mom is the idiot for taking her meds without checking. She brought this on herself." I was so enraged that I had a heart attack, which meant I had to undergo surgery in the same hospital. The intern insisted on redeeming himself and assisted Victoria during the operation. He could not even thread a needle because his hands kept trembling. In the middle of the procedure, this medical fraud removed his mask and wet the end of the surgical thread to force it through. I died in the ICU the next day. The cause was a bacterial infection. As I neared death, I heard the intern whine through tears, "How could I be so careless? If I weren't so clumsy, Dr. Benford would have lived." Victoria gently ruffled his hair. "Don't take it to heart, pumpkin. Everyone knows how risky medical procedures can be. You're just starting out, so don't be so hard on yourself." Because of my wife's efforts, both my mother and I were cremated without any investigation or disciplinary action. You would think that was the end. It wasn't. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugo Spencer first joined our hospital as an intern.

On the day my wife, Abigail Jefferson, and Dominic Gorman, the university student she has been sponsoring, post their pre-wedding photos on their social media feed, I don't lash out at them crazily as I usually do. Instead, I leave a like and a comment on their posts. "You two make a great couple. Everyone, let's give our blessings to the newlyweds." Everyone in elite society thinks of me as the most cowardly husband ever, who lets the side piece make a doormat out of him. One week later, Abigail comes home and explains, "This is just an act. Dominic's grandma is ill, and she wishes to see him get married before she passes away." I just nod calmly in return. "I didn't take it seriously. Of course, I believe you." In my previous life, I showed up at Abigail and Dominic's wedding to cause chaos for them. Naturally, their wedding couldn't go on because of me. Abigail began targeting my parents' company in order to punish me. My parents ended up going bankrupt and were forced to jump off a building. She had me admitted into a mental asylum, where I was tortured to insanity. Now that I'm given a second chance in life, I no longer yearn for Abigail's love. I just want her money this time. Every time she cheats on me, I'll transfer some of her assets to my name. Abigail now has three more chances before she ends up losing everything.

My mom ran a clinic her whole life, charging just five dollars for cold medicine. After I took over the clinic, I followed her teachings closely, doing my best to care for the folks in our community. However, after I charged an influencer 30 dollars for medication, I got blasted online as a scam clinic that was out to rob people blind. The entire town showed up at my door, young and old alike, demanding I return the 'overcharged' fees. I gave them exactly what they wanted and refunded every penny before shutting down the clinic for good. "There you go, just like you wanted. The clinic's closed. From now on, if you've got health concerns, feel free to drive 30 miles to the county hospital for consultation. I wish you all good health." The very next day, they were back at my door again. Only this time, they were begging me to reopen.

I was in the late stages of kidney failure, but my husband, Calvin Quayle, gave the kidney that was the best match for me to my younger sister, Louella Lassiter. The doctor urged me to wait for another donor, but I refused. I checked out of the hospital early. I had stopped caring long ago. What was even the point of fighting anymore? I transferred all the assets I'd accumulated over the years to Louella, finally pleasing Mom and Dad. I didn't even get mad when Calvin hovered over Louella like he was some kind of devoted nurse. Instead, I told him to take good care of her. And when my son, Nathan Quayle, said he wanted Louella to be his mom? I smiled and said yes. They got exactly what they wanted, so why were they suddenly regretting it now?

There was a fire in my house. After I risked my life to save my parents, who were the richest people in the country, multiple media outlets wanted to interview me. Faced with the journalists' questions, my parents said that they would fulfill any of my wishes. Their adopted daughter, Lily Jackson, thought that I would use this chance to drive her away, and her eyes had begun to turn red. But I just looked at the camera and said coldly, "I want to sever all ties with the Jackson family, and I want all of you to be witnesses of my decision." The crowd went into an uproar. My parents were infuriated. The journalists wanted to ask some more questions, but I just started packing my luggage. Only I was aware that I was reborn. During my previous life, I took the chance of this interview to drive Lily out of the family. Not long after she was taken away by her biological parents, they sold her to a man, and she died a terrible death within her husband's house. My parents pretended like they didn't care and said to me that it was Lily's fate, but in truth, they secretly started poisoning my food. After the poison killed me, they placed my body in front of Lily's grave in a position as if I was on my knees and apologizing to her. They made me pay for Lily's death with my life. "If you hadn't driven Lily away, Lily wouldn't have met such a terrible fate! You should pay for what happened to her with your life!" That was the last thing I heard, and I became completely disappointed with them. But when I opened my eyes again, I realized I was reborn and went back to the day of the fire.

My younger brother, Samuel, gave me a call and asked me to go to his university. However, his unusually serious tone took me aback. I rushed over to his counselling office, only to see him, his fellow counselors, and a female junior whom I had coincidentally helped in the last semester. The female junior, Sally, was covering her slightly protruding belly. She abruptly dropped to her knees before me in front of the counselors. “Honey, I know this unexpected pregnancy has put a lot of pressure on you. But you can’t just abandon me and our baby!” she choked back with tears. Then, she reached out to grab the hem of my clothes. However, I stepped back and left. Sally’s cries turned sharp and shrill. “You heartless jerk! How could you behave like this?! If I’d known that you’d pretend not to know me the second it was over, I would’ve never gone to a hotel with you!” One of the counselors looked furious, and he seemed furious beyond measure. “Kid, being young is no excuse. A man needs to take responsibility!” A crowd began to gather outside the office. Their pointing fingers and contemptuous stares nearly overwhelmed me. In the middle of the chaos, Samuel casually leaned against the wall and spoke with a drawl. “Chris, aren’t you going to stay and see your unborn baby?”