A Story About A Story

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.

I was cleaning up the house on the second day after my wife went for a business trip. I casually instructed the smart speaker. “Smart, play some music.” However, I heard a husky, strange male voice. “Sure. I’m the Sun that loves you. Plus, Lindy, I would like to remind you not to forget about your birthday surprise for Sam tonight.” I stiffened and found the music particularly annoying. Linda Clark was my wife, but I had no idea who Sam was. I immediately called my wife. “Did you use the smart speaker at home?” Linda paused for a moment before she laughed indifferently. “Oh, my friend visited me a few days ago. She might have connected her account to it. What’s wrong?” I laughed and told her it was nothing. After hanging up, I found the login record of the speaker and hailed a cab. I headed straight to the registered company associated with the unfamiliar account on the record.

From a stall in the office restroom, I overhear someone badmouthing me. Henry Fielder, the intern I've been mentoring for three months, grumbles, "The guy's got zero people skills. He's a total fossil, like a robot stuck in one mode." I'm about to push the door open and jump in when someone laughs and piles on. "The paperwork is incomplete. The receipts aren't compliant. I can't reimburse it without a manager's signature. We could recite his canned empathy lines in our sleep!" Once they're gone, I quietly head back to my office. Later, Henry drops a thick stack of expense reports onto my desk. "Quit waving the rulebook and rejecting everyone's reimbursements." I skim the fake receipts, and for once, I don't call him out. Instead, I give a thin smile and say, "I have a headache. I can't make out the words."

I return to the country after attending an international anesthesia academic conference. That's when I see the news of my boyfriend and twin sister getting married. I'm anxious to verify its authenticity, but my sister drugs me and induces me. "A substitute's child will only be an unwelcome bastard even if it's born. I'm just helping it move on to a better life." Then, she slices me open with a scalpel. She gouges my womb out, causing me to die from significant blood loss. Meanwhile, my boyfriend believes her lies. He's sure he's not the father of my child. He ignores my messages begging him to save me. Instead, he spreads the word about me eloping with someone else. He even wipes all traces of me from his life. "I will never see her again, forever and ever." Five years later, surveillance footage of my sister cruelly murdering me surfaces.

My brother convinced my father to give me to the principal of an elite high school. When the principal was treating me like a dog, they showed off to the world with the money and the spot in the high school they had exchanged me for. I knew nothing about this and waited for them to rescue me. It was not until the principal showed me a video of how they were living a proud and happy life that I broke down in desperation and helplessness. On my third failed attempt at escape, the principal whipped me with a leather belt until I was almost dying. After that, he let his precious son, a German shepherd, torture me to death. When I next opened my eyes, I had returned to a time when none of this had happened yet. Well, my dear father and brother, do you think things would work out the way you want this time?

The new intern, Cynthia Joller, had posted about me online, claiming the company had made them use their leave for team building. No one wanted to fly all the way to an island to spend time with colleagues. However, what the internet did not know was that our company's team-building tradition involved booking a top-notch five-star resort every year: all-inclusive, family-friendly, with an extra three days of paid leave, and a $30,000 budget per person. The whole internet dubbed me a cold-blooded capitalist, so I decided to give in to their demands and issued a notice. [In response to employee feedback and to honor personal time, this year's team-building retreat has been canceled. Instead, a $500 allowance for personal travel will be provided.] The notice stirred up a commotion in the company. Long-time employees gathered at my office door, pleading for the return of the sunny Madiles retreat.

My wife, Heather Conner, secretly steals the funds I've saved up for our daughter, Naomi Hartman's surgery. After that, she books a high-class hotel for Jared Winters, the low-income student she has been sponsoring, just so she can celebrate his birthday with him. When I find out about it, I demand that Heather return all the money to me. But she slaps me immediately and blames me and Naomi for causing her trouble on purpose. "This is the first birthday Jared and I are celebrating together! Since it's such a big day, it's only natural that I hold it in a grand and lavish manner! "Instead, you two insist on undergoing that stupid surgery just when I've booked the hotel instead of scheduling it at any other time! You really are vile! "I've already inquired with the doctor about the surgery. Turns out it's completely optional! I might as well put the money to good use by giving Jared an unforgettable birthday instead of having you waste it on a useless surgery! "Even if Naomi does end up dying, that means she's fated to die anyway! You can't blame anyone for her death!" Heather just abandons Naomi, who's still fighting for her life. She then drives Jared to the hotel, where they spend the night watching a beautiful fireworks display. With 12 critical notices issued by the doctor in my hand, I kneel before Monica Brown, the richest woman in the city. "I'm willing to marry into your family as long as you pay me 35 thousand dollars' worth of wedding gifts!"

Five years after our breakup, I saw my ex-fiancé, Nico Luciano, showing off his newborn on social media. The next day, he cornered me at a private club and slid a black card across the table. “Lena, Sophia finally had a boy, the heir to the Luciano family. Now I can marry you.” He tried to soften his tone. “Having been widowed to my late brother for five years, she just wanted a child to care for her. I had no choice after the first two were girls. “Thank you for waiting these extra two years. The wedding is set for next Monday, and the invitations are ready.” What he didn’t know was that I was already married. I am now the lawful wife of Vincent Moretti, the don of the North Alumcian Mafia Commission, and a core decision-maker of the Moretti family’s financial empire. Watching Nico’s confident smile, I sent a message to my underboss. “Notify the elders of the five major mafia families. Next Monday, I’m removing the Luciano family from power.” Then I looked up and smiled at him. “Marry me? Save your own career first.”

My son was caught in a car accident. My husband said that without a cornea donor, he would be trapped in darkness forever. Heartbroken, I let him sweet-talk me into signing away my corneas. Blind, I overheard my son gloating, "Dad, the plan worked. Mom fell for it, and Rachel's got her sight back. She won't be miserable anymore." "Yeah, now we're a real family with her," replied my husband. The truth gutted me. They'd played me like a fool to save my husband's old flame. When I confronted them, Rachel Huffman shoved me down a staircase, and I died in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my son's car accident.

I am the orphaned hybrid of a vampire and a werewolf. After my parents died, I was sent to the Silvermoon Pack, taken in by a distant relative on my father's side. They had three sons—triplets—each carrying the noble Alpha bloodline. In public, they were the epitome of grace and charm. But behind closed doors, they were my living nightmare. They despised me. To them, my blood was a stain, my existence a mistake. But in their world, I was more than just an outcast—I was prey. They made a bet: who would be the first to have me? To them, it wasn't just about desire. It was about possession, control. A way to chain me to them, to turn me into their plaything. They drugged me and watched as I collapsed at their feet, powerless, theirs to toy with as they pleased. In the end, they ruined me. Smeared my name until the whole pack sneered at me. Then came the bonfire festival. They tricked me away from the crowd and threw me into a pit—a collapsed silver mine, its air thick with toxic silver dust. Torches rained down, their flames licking at the walls, while the silver seeped into my body. It poisoned me slowly. Bit by bit, my body unraveled. And finally, my consciousness dissolved into the dark. But when I opened my eyes again, everything had reset. I had returned to the beginning. One of the triplets, Reine, smirked as he leaned in, his voice laced with amusement. "Ayla, what a beautiful name. May I invite you to the bonfire festival?" The bonfire festival? Of course. This time, let's make it your last night.