Aesthetic Story

On my birthday, Jake handed me two bucks and took me to a gas station to buy a lottery ticket. Then he dashed off, claiming he had an urgent work meeting. As I sat alone in the restaurant celebrating my birthday, I spotted my boyfriend, who claimed he had no time for me, having dinner with another woman. Without a second thought, I sent him a breakup text right then and there. Two days later, that lying jerk had the nerve to demand I return the lottery ticket. That's when I discovered it was worth $5 million. I cashed in the ticket and told him to get lost.

Mom has extreme mania. Dad was murdered when I was eight, and I went blind while trying to save Mom. I became her only family and weakness. Anyone who makes fun of me for being blind has their eyes gouged out; anyone who disrespects me is sliced and diced before being fed to the dogs. Later, Mom turns into a she-devil with a hundred-billion-dollar net worth. Everyone in Gristport fears her, but she treats me like a princess. The whole city knows not to offend Eleanor Heinrich's daughter. She scours the world for the best optometrists to treat my eyes. On the day I regain my vision, I hear about Mom finding her birth daughter. She says, "You'll soon have a sister who loves you very much, Sienna." I hear that my sister has been through a lot since childhood and is introverted. I prepare many gifts for her, even wanting to give her the pendant Dad gave me. Yet she instructs her people to take me to a deserted roof. "You're nothing but a faker who stole my place in life! I'm going to slice your tongue—let's see how you can continue lying to Mom when you can't speak!" She shatters the pendant, gouges my eyeballs out, slashes my tongue, and has several men torment me to death. Lastly, she includes my eyeballs as decorations in a bouquet and brings it to Mom. "This is a gift I've prepared for your birthday, Mom. Do you like it?"

After getting into an accident, I pretend to be an amnesiac to pull a prank on my husband and son. "Who are you guys?" I ask. A hint of delight flickers in my son's eyes. He pulls a woman waiting outside the hospital ward inside and says, "My parents and I came to visit you, ma'am." My husband watches all of this happen without saying a word. He doesn't correct our son.

After winning 800 thousand dollars, the first thing I did was rush to the hospital to pay for my daughter's surgery and treatment. Then, out of nowhere, a colleague called. "There's an extremely urgent situation at the company. You need to come back and handle it right now!" My husband took the bank card from my hand and, with thoughtful understanding, said, "Tell me the PIN. I'll go pay for Alicia's surgery. You head back to the company and focus on work." In my past life, I trusted him without hesitation and hurried back to the office. Before my daughter could even make it into surgery, I received a police summons instead. It turned out my husband had conspired with my colleague to file a report against me, pinning the crime of embezzling company funds—money my colleague had actually stolen—on me. With no money for treatment, my daughter died in the hospital. My parents, shattered by grief, suffered heart attacks and passed away. I ended my own life in prison, consumed by bitterness and regret. After death, my soul drifted to where my husband was vacationing abroad. I heard him say to my colleague with my own ears, "That stupid woman wins such a huge jackpot and only knows how to waste it on that worthless daughter's medical bills, dragging me into a life of hardship! "Now their whole family's deaths have bought us endless wealth and luxury. Consider it that idiot woman's compensation to me. Hahaha!" When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very moment my husband took the bank card from my hand. This time, I still told him the transfer PIN.

I grabbed an extra work meal to entertain a client. My boyfriend's sister saw it and went ballistic, docking my entire $500K commission. She pointed at my nose and screamed, "Are you taking me for a fool? You're just hiding behind 'client entertainment' to rip off the company! It's shameful, damaging the company's image! All of your commission for this month will be deducted as a warning to others." The client looked at me, wide-eyed in shock. I shrugged. "Do what makes you happy. Just don't regret it later." From then on, I started slacking off, and she freaked out.

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.

After I dropped out of school, my parents didn't pressure me to do anything. But Nicole Hicks kept calling nonstop. She was my boyfriend's childhood friend who had established a reputation as a genius. I was too busy helping out in the fields, growing vegetables, and splashing around in the creek, living my best carefree life. Writing code wasn't even on my mind. In my past life, she had turned in a project just one day before I did. Her codes were exactly the same as mine. Everyone called me a fraud and said I had stolen it. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. Later, she even did a livestream, accusing me online of being a school bully. People went wild. They didn't just come for me—they went after my whole family. Some obsessed troll chased my parents in a car, and they died in a crash. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped off a high-rise, my eyes still wide open, refusing to accept the way it all ended. Even in my last moment, I couldn't figure it out. That code was mine. My hard work. So how did she manage to post it before me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back, right before everything fell apart.

Just because I post one picture with my younger brother, Lucas Gambino, his girlfriend Betty Gotti decides I'm the other woman. She rolls up to my place with her crew, live‑streaming the whole thing while they tear it apart. "Look at this puttana trying to steal my man!" Betty shouts to the camera. "She's got the face to flirt, but not the spine to admit it! Give me ideas, chat—I'll teach her some respect." Those psychos destroyed everything. My jewelry, my designer clothes, my bags… they didn't spare a thing. Not even the ring my parents left me. Then, with the viewers egging her on, Betty crossed the line. She had her girls strip me bare on stream. Her chat was going wild, donations pouring in—until my brother saw it. When Lucas kicked in the door to pull me out, I looked at him through eyes that burned. "Dump the girlfriend," I told him. "Or you can forget about ever being the Don."

As the owner of a small private business, I had never been stingy with my employees. Having made a million in profit, I distributed $850,000 to them. I believed this would win people’s hearts. I never expected it would lead to being reported by my own employees. "We have received an anonymous tip-off from your company’s employees alleging arbitrary wage deductions and unfair profit distribution. The report further states that company discipline is disorganized and that employees are being compelled to work overtime, constituting a serious violation of labor laws. Immediate corrective action is hereby required, along with a fine of $500,000." Fine. Since they were so dissatisfied with my policies, then we would do things by the book—by the rules every other company followed. I would keep every last cent of this one million in profit.

I go to the boutique my son has invested in to pick up the gown I've ordered for a banquet. Just as I'm about to leave, the manager, Wendy Reed, stops me and says that I still owe them money. She pulls out the bill. I look down at it and see that the boutique is charging me 300 thousand dollars for their creativity, 500 thousand dollars for fabric therapy, and one million dollars for their chief designer's mental wellness. On top of other expenses, the price totals up to two million dollars. I laugh incredulously and send a message to my secretary. "Withdraw our funding from my son's company and this boutique!"