A Useless Villain

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.

Five years ago, my Alpha parents rescued me from an orphanage and brought me home to the Blue Moon Pack. I thought my life was finally taking a turn for the better. I thought I was safe. But I was wrong. Yolanda McKinney—the fake heiress—conspired with rogue wolves to destroy me. They kidnapped me, ran over my legs with a car, breaking them, and left me battered and bleeding. When my parents and my childhood sweetheart, Joseph Delgado, found me lying in a pool of my own blood, their panic was unmistakable. They rushed me to the pack hospital, but the diagnosis was devastating: I might never walk again. Joseph proposed to me on the spot, vowing to stand by me through everything. My parents, furious at Yolanda's betrayal, promised swift justice. They assured me they had cut all ties with her, that she'd fled in guilt and drowned in a tragic accident. I believed them. I had to. For five years, I focused on recovery, trying to rebuild my shattered life. My marriage to Joseph was my anchor, the one thing I thought I could trust. Until the day I saw Yolanda McKinney alive. "You and Mom and Dad saved my life," she said smugly, her voice dripping with venom. "Without you, that pathetic cripple would’ve been the end of me." My blood ran cold as she continued. "But she never suspected, not even for a second, that you and I have a pup. Mom and Dad? They erased every trace, switched her meds for useless pills—hell, they even buried the evidence." Joseph's response shattered what little remained of my heart. "Don't make it sound so harsh," he murmured. "Marrying her was the only way I could keep sending those forgiveness letters. It was the only way to keep you and our son safe." Every word stabbed me like a blade. My marriage? A lie. My parents? Traitors who discarded me like trash. The justice they’d promised me? A farce. Fine. If I meant nothing to them, then they would mean nothing to me.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"

I was in a car accident while saving my brothers. However, instead of gratitude, they urged the doctors to amputate my legs. "Carol, we're sorry," they said through tears. "We're useless… but don't worry. Even if we have to sell our blood or our kidneys, we'll make sure you're taken care of." Right after surgery, they abandoned me in a shabby apartment. Blood seeped through the sheets as they looked at me with teary eyes—then left in a hurry, claiming they needed to earn money for my treatment. I did not want to drag them down anymore. Enduring the pain, I crawled to the rooftop of a tall building, planning to end my life. That's when I saw it—inside a luxury hotel, a grand celebration was taking place. My brothers were there doting on another girl. She was eating an extravagant cake I had never even dreamed of, wearing a designer princess gown worth a fortune, sparkling with jewels. Everyone called her the Smith family's one and only princess. They had even hired a world-class symphony orchestra to play Happy Birthday just for her. While I lay bleeding in a dingy apartment, they would not spend a few dollars on bandages for me. I watched as my eldest brother gently fed her cake, his eyes full of tenderness. "Jasmine, only you deserve to be our one and only little sister." The second brother placed a tiara on her head with care. "Even for the smallest birthday, we won't let you suffer a single moment of disappointment." The third knelt to help her into a pair of crystal shoes. "Jasmine, you're our most precious darling." Then, standing on the stage, Jasmine held up the black credit card they had gifted her and smiled sweetly. "Brothers," she said, "Carol lost her legs saving you. Maybe you should go see how she's doing?" My eldest brother let out a mocking laugh. "She's not worth it. Now that she's crippled, she'll never be able to compete with you again. She got what she deserved."

My CEO wife, Cassandra Solis, has high hopes for me. In fact, she has drafted an elite training program for me. I have to work over 20 hours a day, finish every meal within 3 minutes, and spend no more than a minute in the restroom. "Honey, elites must achieve what normal people can't. Only when you become a true elite can I entrust the company to you." I can feel the major responsibility weighing down on my shoulders. Every day, I devote everything I have to work. Five years later, I've successfully taken the company public. I've also completed Cassandra's hardcore training program. But at the end-of-the-year gala, Cassandra hands over the position of the Executive Vice President—the same one that she's promised to me—to her newly-recruited assistant. Upon noticing my displeasure, Cassandra explains to me smilingly while holding a bouquet of flowers, "Oh, silly you! Having a completely useless boss is the final trial I've set up for you! Once you've completed this trial, I can finally hand the company to you!" But lines of text suddenly flash across my vision. "Oh, poor Harvey! He still has no idea that Cassandra has been training him just so he can earn more money in order to clear off Xavier's debt! Not only that, but she also steals the position Harvey has been longing for and gives it to Xavier! Cassandra really has crossed a line this time!" "You're being too dramatic. Cassandra is just paying Xavier back for his benevolence. She feels guilty for what she's done to Harvey, you know. Once she's done paying back her debt to Xavier, she'll pay attention to Harvey once again and live happily ever after with him." I'm stunned by what I see. Is this the actual purpose behind the elite training program? I'm about to pull out the terminal cancer diagnosis report, but I quickly stuff it back into my pocket. It's a shame that I'm about to die. I suppose that I can't live long enough to see that day.

Dwyne, a self-supporting medical student, has just joined the hospital as the youngest intern. But she met with an unexpected situation on her first night shift alone--she’s targeted by a handsome man who looked very dangerous. Is he a gangster? Dwyne thought, judging him by his demeanor. He always wore a black suit and sunglasses. Sometimes even at night. And he's got a gunshot wound on his body. A gunshot! It terrified Dwyne.  She wanted nothing more to do with such a dangerous man, but it looked as if the man was haunting her. She began to meet him frequently. Or rather, he was literally everywhere！ The hospital where she works, the coffee shop where she has a part-time job, the bar where she helps out on a temporary basis... And it seemed like everyone knew him. Is he famous?  It's not just outside Dwyne met him everywhere. Her home was no longer a sanctuary for her alone either. The door to her apartment seemed to be a useless decoration to him. She sometimes finds a bouquet of flowers on the coffee table in her house, while a couple of times she's even found himself suddenly showing in her room. Yes, whenever he wanted to see her, he never made an appointment. It absolutely wasn't a funny joke or a pleasant surprise for her. Dwyne was tired of the boring banter, she just wanted to get through her internship and become a qualified doctor, but she was always surrounded by a gang of menacing men in black suits. Annoyed, she blurted out that she didn't have any feelings for him and she didn't want to see him anymore. She didn't expect that, her wish came true. For the next week, month, and then until a year, she never saw the man in her sights again. Her life went back to the way it was. Though, it was ever so slightly boring. Until that day... When they meet again, it's him lying bloody and dying in the operating room. Dwyne realized that she had never forgotten him. During the time she took care of him, she learned his name and got to know him a little more. Geez, it turned out that he's not only a gangster, but a formidable Mafia Boss! However, when Dwyne moved to this town three years ago, she also hid her true identity. This, after all, is not a life that belongs to her...

After being reborn, I secretly switch the man I want to marry the most to the useless scion who loves flirting with me that lives next door. My dad, who's a high-ranking military colonel, is quite surprised by my choice, but he respects my wishes. In my past life, when Dad asked who I liked the most in the entire neighborhood, I had written down Damian Conrad's name. He nodded and told me, "This man has contributed greatly to the country despite only joining the army for three years. His future will definitely be a bright one. "A man as just and fair as him will undoubtedly be a good man who takes good care of his family and stays devoted to them." Dad immediately arranged for the two families to meet. Everyone thought that it was a rare and fated union. Our wedding was very grand and high-profile. Most of the people living in the military base came over to celebrate our wedding. But Damian set off for the frontier half a year after our marriage, with the excuse of wanting to contribute to the country. Not only did he leave me behind to take care of my in-laws on my own, but he also cut off all contact with me when Dad was severely ill. When I was finally done dealing with Dad's funeral matters, all I received was the bad news of Damian's death at the frontier. Crushed by the devastation and despair of the news, I fell into severe depression. Soon, I took my own life by jumping off the building. After my death, my soul refused to fade away at all. 40 years later, an elderly man and woman with graying hair showed up before my grave. With an arm around Heidi Myers' waist, Damian paid his respects to me at my grave. "It's my fault for lying to you back then, Carla. But Heidi doesn't have much time to live, so I can resort to desperate measures. Please let everything go and stop pestering her, Carla. If you really are resentful, feel free to come at me instead." It turns out that Damian loved Heidi this much that he was willing to fake his death just to trick me. But at the same time, they were so superstitious that they thought I was the one pestering Heidi, causing her to be afflicted with a terminal cancer. Now that I found out about the truth, I finally let my obsession go. When I open my eyes again, I realize I've returned to the day Dad asks me who I want to marry the most.