Bias Wrecker Meaning

All the relatives knew I had a "backward cousin." For my birthday, she gave me a grocery-store pound cake. When I ran a marathon, she presented me with a pair of worn-out canvas sneakers. At my graduate school acceptance party, she even sent a funeral wreath of white lilies with a sash that read "In Sympathy," wishing me an early departure to the afterlife. In my previous life, I slapped her so hard she tumbled down the porch steps. My brother took her side and plotted revenge, falsely reporting to the university that I had cheated on my SATs. My admission was revoked. "You're so modern. You know how things work," he sneered. "Plenty of people take a gap year. Just apply again." My father also defended her, cutting off all my financial support. "You've had so much schooling. You're so educated," he said coldly. "Support yourself." Alone in a city eighteen hundred miles from home, I fought to survive. I called my brother and my father again and again—only to be blocked. I delivered food while renting a room and studying to reapply. At my lowest, my hands were raw and cracked from frostbite, scrambling for delivery shifts at four in the morning just to earn a small bonus. Worn down by the cold and exhaustion, I suffered cardiac arrest at twenty-three and collapsed in a snowdrift in that unfamiliar city. No one ever came to claim me. This time, I chose to let it go and accepted the wreath with a gracious smile. To fully integrate myself into this family. After all, what is a moment of pride compared to a lifetime's inheritance?

I supported Ethan Mitchell and loved him for eight whole years. I thought I concealed my feelings well, but little did I know that after Ethan became a business magnate, the first thing he did was send me to a ladies’ finishing academy. He looked at me coldly, his arms wrapped around his fiancée. "When you've rid yourself of those filthy thoughts, then you can come out." A year later, I finally forgot him completely. However, Ethan came to regret everything.

"There's a foreign object lodged in the patient's lower region. Due to the unique circumstances, we need the patient's next of kin to sign the consent form for an extraction procedure." My body stiffens when I see the name on the consent form. "I'm Renee Becker's next of kin." It's Liam Cassidy who says that. He's the first love of my wife, Renee Becker, who has been away for a month, claiming she's off on a business trip. Liam doesn't recognize me. He takes the pen and signs the consent form. In the section to mark his relationship to the patient, he writes the word "husband". After passing the pen back to me, he grips my hand tightly and beseeches me, "Doctor, you must do everything you can to help her. She's carrying my baby." As I wrench my hand back from him, my wedding ring slips off and falls onto the floor.

Before the flight takes off, my fiance, the pilot, boards the plane with a suitcase. He says it's a gift from his childhood sweetheart and warns me not to touch it. I can't shake the uneasy feeling creeping into my heart, so I sneak inside. To my shock, I find high-risk contraband hidden in the luggage. I report it immediately and use my commendation to cover for Edward's mistake and save his career. However, his precious childhood sweetheart is arrested, detained, and sentenced. He doesn't say a word after the incident. However, during another flight, he cuts the cord to my parachute. "Jade, I know you're jealous of Cindy! You sabotaged her during her flight attendant training and framed her afterward! Do you think this will make me love you? Dream on! I would never marry a petty woman like you!" I plunge from ten thousand meters above the ground, leaving nothing but blood and broken bones behind. When I open my eyes again, I see Cindy sending Edward off, and he's carrying the same suitcase. I quietly step back and decide I won't save him this time.

After failing to get her fiance, Austin Langford, to sleep with her for the 99th time, Cara Reyes calls up her best friend, Jessica Hogan, and says, "Jess, I'm coming to Spark City to find you." Almost immediately, the sound of a chair slamming on the ground comes through from the other end of the line. Jessica's excited voice is then heard. "Cara! You've finally thought it through! I've told you a long time ago that Austin isn't good for you! He looks too weak!" Cara's red-rimmed eyes light up a little as she smiles. "Yeah. I've thought it through." "Don't be sad, Cara. Once you're in Spark City, I'll introduce you to a new foreign boyfriend with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and perfect body proportions. Their genes here are all top-notch, and you will definitely have a beautiful baby with them!" Nodding, Cara says, "Alright. Let me go and get my marriage certificate back first." After ending the call, Cara lies down in bed and falls asleep with a heavy heart. Sometime during midnight, someone pulls back the covers and slides in next to her, his warm body settling down just about an arm's length away from her. A short while later, Cara hears the rustling of clothes and the man panting softly beside her. Cara's body goes numb like she's just been electrocuted. However, she still slowly turns her head back to take a closer look.

Winona Warren never imagined that on her birthday, her son would hand her a walnut cake that could kill her. As her consciousness began to blur, she heard Asher Rhodes' furious voice. "Carter, don't you know your mother is allergic to walnuts?" Carter Rhodes' childish voice rang out with startling clarity. "I do. But I want Ella to be my mom instead. Dad, you want that too, don't you? Even if I..." A crushing wave of suffocation overwhelmed Winona before she could hear the rest of Asher's answer. In the second before she completely lost consciousness, Winona had only one thought. If she woke up, she would never be Asher's wife or Carter's mother again.

On the very night Finn Chapman's first love got divorced, he threw the ninety-ninth divorce agreement at me. "Lisa's heart is broken. She can't move on. I have to take care of her," he said. Even our seven-year-old son tried to persuade me. "You should just agree to the divorce and leave," he told me. "Let Lisa move in. We don't need a maid like you anymore." Both father and son were certain I'd scream, cry, beg them not to throw me out. But I didn't. I simply nodded, quietly signed my name on the divorce papers, and left. Ten years later, my son became the top scorer on the SATs. During an interview, a reporter asked him, "What has motivated you to study so hard all these years?" He went silent for a moment. Then, in front of everyone, his eyes turned red. "Because I wanted to tell my mom," he said, voice trembling, "I've grown up now. Will you come back? Please don't leave me again."

Everything changed on my twelfth birthday. The brakes failed, the tragic crash, and the death of our parents. My brother blamed it all on me. He ruled as the mafia boss, yet all he showed me was hatred. The only love he had left was for our younger sister. He never believed how sick I became. He accused me of faking my sickness to get attention. He would turn to our sister with a gentleness I never received, he promised to save her, and he promised she would never die on his watch. My heart ended up beating inside her chest even after I died. He finally saw what was left of my damaged body after I was gone. The truth my brother never bothered to face would shatter his world.

With a bag of vegetables gifted by the previous tenant in hand, I was on my way to collect rent from the third household when I unexpectedly ran into someone at the entrance of the community. The man frowned, his eyes fixed on the vegetables I carried, as though he couldn't fathom how I had ended up like this after leaving him. Following his gaze, I instinctively shifted the vegetables behind my back. My eyes dropped to the muddy water on the pavement, and I never would have imagined bumping into my ex-boyfriend—the one who had grown up with a silver spoon—in this aging neighborhood. He noticed my movement, and for a moment, something flickered in his expression: a mix of pity and recognition. "Since you've already learned your lesson," he said, "come back with me." At his words, I instinctively stepped back half a pace. "Who said I'm going back with you?" My rejection seemed to sting, darkening his face. "I know you're still blaming me for giving Rachel a child," he muttered, "but it's been three years. Isn't it time to stop? As long as you come back, we can be the same as before." Three years, huh? How quickly time had passed. Thinking of my little girl at home, still babbling her first words, I couldn't help but smile and shake my head. "Let's leave it at that. Go home and live your life with Rachel. My daughter's waiting for me to go back and make her food."

When my brother Beau Campbell and I drowned together at the age of four, I was the only one who survived. From that day on, my mother came to loathe me. She would often creep into my room at night with colorful "candies" in her hand, trying to pry open my mouth. However, Dad always stopped her just in time. Later, I cut off my long hair and threw away all my dresses, desperately trying to become Beau's shadow. Only then would Mom spare me a glance. Three years passed, and Mom got pregnant again. She said it was Beau coming back to us. I was happy for her and told myself it was good that Beau was back. After all, it also meant this family no longer needed the stand-in who had lived in his place. So, I found the same "candies" Mom once tried to force into my mouth, and I quietly swallowed them.