Bias Wrecker

Lagi akong ikinukunsidera ng pamilya ko na tagapagdala ng kamalasan. Dahil ito sa nakikita ko ang countdown bago mamatay ang mga kamag-anak ko. Sinabi ko sa kanila kung kailan mamamatay si lolo, ama, at ina. Nagkakatotoo ito dahil sa iba’t ibang mga aksidente. Ang tatlong mga kapatid ko ay kinamumuhian ako mula sa kaibuturan nila dahil sa tingin nila isinumpa ko ang mga magulang ko at lolo. Ang nanay ko ay namatay matapos iluwal ang nakababata kong kapatid na babae, pero ang mga kapatid ko ay walang tigil siyang iniispoil. Sinasabi nila na siya ang suwerte nila dahil nagiging okay ang lahat para sa pamilya sa oras na iluwal siya. Pero hindi ba’t namatay si Ina noong iniluwal siya? Sa ika-18th kong kaarawan, nakikita ko ang death countdown kapag tinitignan ko ang sarili ko sa salamin. Bumili ako ng urn at naghanda ng pagkain. Gusto ko kumain ng huling beses kasama ang mga kapatid ko, pero walang nagpakita sa kanila noong nag zero na ang timer...

During a classmates' reunion party, the villa unexpectedly collapses, trapping both Priscilla Hobbs, my husband's true love, and me beneath the fallen ceiling. My husband is a member of the rescue team. To keep Priscilla alive, he chooses to lift the ceiling from her side. He says, "Pris is an actress. She can't be crippled." The ceiling crushes my legs as it's lifted from the other end. My husband seems to have forgotten that I have a congenital blood clotting disorder. Without my legs, I'll die…

My bride went missing on the night of our big day but woke up in my brother's room the next day. My parents persuaded me to ignore it for the sake of fame but scolded my wife as an easy girl. Angrily, I moved out of the villa with my wife. Soon after, my wife had a miscarriage and suffered from depression due to gossip. She jumped off from the top floor in front of me. Desperately, I followed her. Opening my eyes again, I found myself back to the time when the wedding ended.

When Alexander Smith stands in front of me and says he's going to marry someone else, that's when I realize he's been reborn too. I remember our 20 years of love in our past life. A plane crash. And then, rebirth. "This is to save Sophia," he says. "In our past life, she was sold to a Vostmark oligarch after her father's political scandal. Not long after, she took her own life due to abuse. I can't let that tragedy happen again, so I need to get engaged to her." As he speaks, he hands me an orange prescription bottle. "If you take this, you'll forget me for a little while. You won't feel the pain. It's just seven days. Once her father's scandal blows over, you'll stop the medication and your memory will return. Then I'll end the engagement and officially propose to you." I stare at the bottle, knowing it's a lie. Not the part about Sophia's suicide. The lie is about the drug. He thinks it only causes temporary memory loss. But I know better. The suppressant causes permanent damage to emotional memory. The seven-day countdown isn't the time it takes for my memories to return. It's the time it takes for my love for him to die.

At three months pregnant, I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. My husband, a doctor, was overwhelmed with worry, pulling every string he could to arrange surgery and remove the baby. "As long as you're okay, it doesn’t matter if we don’t have our own child. We can always adopt. I can't lose you, Evelyn!" Heartbroken, I blamed myself for being useless, for failing to carry our child, and for disappointing my husband. But then, I accidentally saw his chat messages with another woman on the phone. "Don’t worry, I already told her she had an ectopic pregnancy." "I’ll have her sign the adoption papers soon, then find a way to bring you into our home." "Asher is my only son. I will make sure he inherits everything I have!" That was when I realized that the husband I loved so deeply had long since built another family behind my back.

The day I decided to donate my body to science, my family gathered around my adopted sister, Hailey, celebrating her acceptance into a cutting-edge experimental treatment program. The one with brain cancer was supposed to be me. But Hailey used my husband Zane's position at the hospital to swap her healthy medical records with my terminal diagnosis, stealing the one chance I had to survive. And the worst part? Everyone cheered her on. The pain became too much. I fought to stay present, only to overhear the nurses whispering, "It's a good thing Dr. Zane secured that spot for Hailey. They said she only had three days left." So, in the last 72 hours of my life, I quietly let go of everything. When I gave Hailey the original manuscripts of my novels I had poured my heart and soul into, my father and brother gave me a satisfied smile. When Zane decided to grant Hailey her dying wish by marrying her, he handed me the divorce papers. I signed without a moment's hesitation. He sighed and praised me for finally being "so reasonable." And when I was the one who coaxed our daughter, Olivia, into calling Hailey "Mommy," Olivia gushed that her new mom was the best. "Don't worry," Zane soothed. "We're just keeping it safe for now. Once she's gone, it'll all come back to you." I gave Hailey everything I had, just like they wanted. So why, when they find out this was all Hailey's vicious lie, do they come crying, saying I'm the one they wanted all along?

The day the Porter family went bankrupt, my elder sister, who had been engaged to Calvin Porter, claimed she was in love with someone else and cut ties with him without a second thought. I was the one who stepped forward to take her place, becoming the laughingstock of our social circle. I smoothed away all the hardness in him, tried to shape myself into the woman he liked, and swallowed countless moments of bitterness, hoping only to warm his distant heart. Until our wedding day. A car accident happened, and Calvin's first instinct was to shield my sister with his whole body. "Rebecca, don't be scared. Where are you hurt? We'll get you to the hospital right away!" He carried her into the ambulance without so much as glancing back at me. I looked down at the iron rod piercing my chest and felt warm blood gush out. It was only then I understood. He was not indifferent by nature, he was simply indifferent to me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Calvin came to our house carrying the engagement gift.

Adrian Quirrel, the heir to the Quirrel family, had been in poor health since childhood. Guided by the old superstition that marriage could restore his health, his family had taken in four young women, with only one to be chosen as his bride. On the selection day, they invited a renowned astrologer to read our birth charts. As soon as he said I carried a healing energy and could bear healthy heirs, the Quirrels decided on the spot that I would be Adrian's bride. Three months later, his health miraculously improved, and I soon found myself pregnant with twins—a boy and a girl. The family elders were ecstatic and even promised that my son would become the Quirrels' future heir. But on the night of the christening, Adrian locked me and the babies in the basement. I broke down and demanded an explanation. He sneered and replied, "If it weren't for your so-called 'healing energy,' Emily would've been my wife. "She wouldn't have jumped to her death at such a young age if she hadn't been pushed to that point. Tonight, I want you and your children to accompany her in death." He grabbed a nearby iron rod and savagely brought it down onto our babies. I threw myself over the babies, but Adrian kicked me aside. Blood splattered across the walls and floor, and my babies' breathing gradually weakened until it stopped. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Adrian chose his bride.

Everyone loved my older sister. When the novel I wrote shot to popularity, she got jealous and suddenly proclaimed that she wanted to be a popular author too. My older brother, who was the editor-in-chief, immediately announced that I plagiarized my sister's story at my book signing and she ended up becoming the genius author while I got cyberbullied so much that I was too scared to leave the house. After I got married to a young heir from high society and lived a happy life, my sister told me that she had a crush on him for years and wanted to be his bride at least once in her lifetime. He did not even think twice about divorcing me and holding the wedding of the century with my sister. My family was afraid that I would sabotage their relationship, so they made me leave the country. However, my sister did not think that I was miserable enough. She came for me outside the country and pushed me down the stairs. I was lying in a pool of blood when my mother rebuked me, "Did you say something that made your sister unhappy again?" That was how I died in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my brother accused me of plagiarism.

At eight months pregnant, I was in a car accident and delivered a stillborn child. My husband, who had always been so gentle, turned on me. He called me useless. He said I couldn't even protect our baby. He forced me into a divorce and, without looking back, rushed into a hasty marriage with his long-lost first love. Just as despair threatened to swallow me whole, Grayson Brooke—my childhood friend who had been overseas for years—returned. He confessed his feelings and promised to cherish me for the rest of my life. But in the third year of our marriage, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his closest friend that turned my blood to ice. "That car accident you staged—just to get the cord blood—killing Lydia's innocent baby in the process… it was too cruel, even for you." "It was a necessary evil. Only her child's cord blood could save Kayla." "But Lydia had just one month left. Kayla could have held on a little longer—" Grayson cut him off, his voice sharp and absolute. "If there was a way, why would we wait? I couldn't stand by and let Kayla suffer for one second more."