Bedwetting Story

My parents take me to court to get my heart and save my adoptive sister. The judge uses advanced technology to extract our memories. A jury of 100 people decides the verdict. If my parents win the case, my organs will go to them. They think I won't dare to show up for the trial because they think I'm evil. However, everyone is overcome by tears when they see my memories and the truth of what happened!

Three months into my pregnancy, I was resting at home to ensure the baby’s health when a typhoon struck. My husband, Adam Quinn, received a call and rushed out to meet his childhood sweetheart. As a result, I experienced severe abdominal pain. The ambulance taking me to the hospital was involved in an accident, and I lost the baby. Adam arrived much later, only to blame me, saying, "Mona Thomas, why are you so useless? You couldn’t even keep the baby!"

Ang mga magulang ko ay dinala ako sa korte para makuha ang puso ko at maligtas ang ampon na kapatid kong babae. Ang judge ay gumamit ng advanced technology upang ma-extract ang aming mga alaala. Ang jury ng 100-katao ang magdedesisyon ng hatol. Kung ang mga magulang ko ang mananalo sa kaso, ang mga laman-loob ko ay mapupunta sa kanila. Sa tingin nila ay hindi ako magpapakita sa trial dahil sa tingin nila ay masamang tao ako. Gayunpaman, ang lahat ay napuno ng luha nang makita nila ang mga alala at ang katotohanan ng nangyari!

My husband and his beloved mistress died together in a car accident. They left me with a pair of illegitimate children. Eighteen years passed in a blur. I poured my heart and soul into raising those children until, at last, they earned admission to Corvell University, the country's top university. But on the very day they received their acceptance letters, my 'dead' husband returned. And beside him stood his mistress. She clutched my husband's arm and beamed at me. "Thanks to your tireless care, my two sons finally made it into Corvell. If not for you, the two of us wouldn't have been free to live so happily together all these years..." Later, my husband demanded a divorce. He wanted to marry his mistress and reunite their perfect little family of four. I didn't cry, nor did I rage. I only smiled and said, "Sure."

On my father’s sixtieth birthday, I was overseas, negotiating an energy contract. I deliberately told my wife to throw a huge banquet for him. That day, I watched the mansion’s security footage with a smile. Unexpectedly, I saw my nine adoptive siblings surrounding an unfamiliar old man. That old man wore my dad’s class ring as he happily pulled my wife onto the stage. “Thank you for coming to my birthday banquet. This is my daughter-in-law, the president of the Viapent Group. She’s the absolute best! She spent three million dollars on this banquet! It’s all thanks to my eldest son for finding such a capable wife.” In one corner, my actual father was in tattered clothes, washing dishes with my son. He accidentally splattered some water. One of the guests kicked him in disgust, causing him to cough up blood. The security footage was cut off. How dare these people mistreat my father and son? I called a special number. “I’m putting a stop to the negotiations. My father and son are being abused back home. I am returning to them now.”

On the day my sight returned, our family doctor, Anna Leone, stood right in front of me and mouthed to my husband, Don Marco Vitale, "Double the lubricant tonight. I promise it'll send you straight to heaven, my Don." Marco pressed a gentle kiss to my eyes. Then he turned away and replied with the same silent lip movements, "You little tease. That mouth of yours—and the one below—I'm crazy about them both." The two of them exchanged a knowing smile, convinced their secret was flawless. What they didn't know was that not only had my vision fully recovered—I was also fluent in lip-reading. My gaze drifted to the bottle of lubricant sitting brazenly in the wall cabinet. I said nothing. Instead, I quietly sent a single text message: [Papa, I've decided to come home.] In three days, I would vanish completely. All I would leave behind for them would be the hollowed-out fortune of billions—and that bottle of "lubricant" I had replaced with high-strength industrial superglue.

The day my sister slipped away from her engagement party, she was certain Marshall Patton could never truly fall in love with me. Confident in her belief, she left the country without hesitation, leaving me behind to hold her place and secure the title of Mrs. Patton in her stead. I didn't cry or make a fuss. Instead, I played the part of the obedient stand-in, giving everyone the courtesy of maintaining appearances while I quietly bided my time. Then, I poured every ounce of effort into making Marshall fall for me, bit by bit. And when my sister finally returned, I made sure to walk away.

The student I once sponsored, Lillian Pegg, jacked my identity, slapped on the "rich heiress" title, and started tossing out houses and cars like she was some fairy godmother for "underprivileged" students. Her big mission? Making sure everyone had a roof over their head. My in-laws? Wrapped around her finger. They swore up and down she'd saved their lives. Even Liam—my son with my late husband—acted like she was the only mom he'd ever had. Meanwhile, I was puking blood from ulcers, and everyone treated it like a bad improv act. Liam bought every word out of her mouth. Thought she and my husband were some kind of twin-flame couple and labeled me the evil baby snatcher. Fast-forward: I got locked in a bedroom and left to bleed out. Then I woke up. It was the exact day Lillian was playing Santa Claus. The crowd around her practically worshipped her. "You're the kindest boss in the world! You care about our food, clothes, housing, everything. We'll support you and your company forever!" Yeah, not on my watch. I shut down all her privileges right then and there. This time? Lillian and that backstabbing son of mine were gonna eat regret for the rest of their lives.

Married for five years, Lorenzo, the underboss of the Moretti family, had never been without a woman. He found my “noble lady” posture stiff and vanilla. Dancers from Trinacria, headliners from the city’s nightclubs, his rotating stream of mistresses could fill the entire estate. Yet whenever I was displeased, whether it was throwing drinks or kicking someone out, Lorenzo never intervened. He’d only lit his cigar with casual amusement and said, “Relax. It’s just fun. No one can touch your position.” Then a clumsy, naive maid appeared. Unlike the others, she wasn’t flashy. However, when Lorenzo returned, bloodied, she’d hand him a cup of warm tea, her eyes red-rimmed. She watched him with pure admiration while he handled the family business. Lorenzo said the estate felt cold and lifeless except for her. He said only when she panicked did he feel like a hero being needed, rather than just a husband in a political marriage. Until she accidentally broke an antique vase left by my mother… Before I could react, Lorenzo stepped in and shielded her trembling form, glaring at me as if I were the enemy. “What’s wrong with you? If you’re crazy, go see a shrink. Don’t scare her like a rabid dog!” Watching his careful, protective expression, I smiled. I guess it was time for the Moretti family underboss to be replaced.

When the zombie apocalypse hit, pets leveled up into guardians. Three per person. That was the cap. My buddy dropped serious cash on three Caucasian Shepherds. My landlord dumped his fish and started raising crocodiles. My girlfriend bolted to the zoo and came back with a lion. Me? I had three strays. Bubba—blind. Missy—lame. Snowy—barely a month old. The second the system locked pet slots, I knew I was screwed. I barricaded myself inside with my three "broken" cats and kept my head down. Day one—fear. Day two—helpless. Day three—the cats strolled back in, tails up, dragging something I didn't recognize. Bubba looked at me. "Dad, I bit off every zombie head on the block. I'm solid, right?" I just stared.