Cheater Karma

My mother claims my husband has cheated on me and pushes me to get a divorce. I want to collect evidence before proceeding with anything—if it's true, I have to uphold my rights. Yet she causes a scene at an art exhibition I've worked on for three years, humiliating me in public and making me sound like a gold digger. "How are you any different from a prostitute when you're holding this dumb exhibition with a man's money? I didn't raise you to be a gold digger! How can you be so revolting?" She slashes the million-dollar paintings in the exhibition, claiming that she's doing this for my good. She wants me to see the error of my ways and return to the right path. Meanwhile, I clutch my bloody hand, which she slashed with her blade. I say, "You say you want me to return to the right path, but is that what it really is? You want me to divorce my legally wedded husband, who's a CEO, without a penny to my name. "Then, you want me to marry a 45-year-old cheap man who has a child and no money? He even wants me to support him!"

My twin sister died on her 18th birthday. She died of respiratory failure in a dark corner of a hotel after being raped. Her dearest friend, Joanne Lowe, whom she always cared for and supported, turned around and anonymously spread photos of my sister being raped. I then slowly ruined the face which had so badly wanted to replace my sister with a knife. With blood everywhere, I cradled Joanne's face as if it were a piece of art and said, "My beloved sister is gone, and you people who harmed her won't be let off so easily."

My husband's first love had been trapped in a car for an hour. After they pulled her out, his rage shifted onto me. “It’s your fault she got hurt,” he spat, his eyes blazing as he grabbed me. Before I could make sense of what was happening, he forced me into a wooden box, slamming the lid down with a deafening crack. “You’re going to feel every ounce of the pain she went through,” he hissed, nailing it shut. I pounded on the walls, my screams tearing through the air. “Please, I didn’t do anything! Let me out!” My throat burned with the effort, my fists aching, but nothing stopped him. “Stay in there until you’ve figured out how to act like a decent human being,” he said, his voice cold, dripping with contempt. Hours passed. My body twisted unnaturally in the tight space, bones throbbing as blood smeared the wood beneath me. I whispered into the dark, the pain unbearable. "Please… just let me out…" But he didn’t care. A week later, he returned, his laughter echoing with hers as they entered the house, carefree from their trip. He finally opened the box. But by then, I was already gone. The woman he locked away was no longer breathing, no longer pleading. Just a cold, silent corpse.

I pleaded with my husband Cedric Fleetham over and over, and finally, he agreed to take our daughter camping in the mountains for her birthday. When I found her late the next night, she was already gone. She lay at the foot of the mountain, her tiny hand still clutching a drawing of our family. As I knelt beside her, my heart shattered. Meanwhile, Cedric was busy updating his social media. His post read, [You and our daughter are my treasures,] and it was accompanied by a photo, where he stood beside his childhood sweetheart and held hands with another little girl, watching the sunset. And there, in the corner of the picture, was a tiny hand—my daughter’s hand. The cruelest truth of all was that my daughter took that photo.

It's more like a war a woman finding out her husband is getting married in less than twenty one days. She's ruined her marriage by ignoring her husband for so many months and he took drastic decisions of adding another wife. That is tragic because he is deeply in love with his first wife. He got married to the President's daughter and she is hellbent on ruining his perfect home alongside their daughter. She is the real definition of cunning, manipulative and nefarious human. Her love merged to the world of obsession, she is taking over her own life. Things happened, life got ruined in less than twenty one days. It is up for both women to find their destiny and what karma has in store for them.

Leo, my mate, wanted to spend Valentine's Day with Cheryl, his first love, on the night Victor and Vera, his parents, were abducted. But this time, instead of stopping him, I contacted the Werewolf Enforcement Bureau to help. After all, when I tried to stop him in the last life, Cheryl ended up dying a horrific death, her heart gouged out by the Feral Rogues, a group of werewolf gangsters. "You killed her! Cheryl wouldn't have died if it weren't for you!" Without hesitation, Leo threw me into a cave where a pack of hungry wolves tore through my body, along with the child I was about to bring into the world. "You don't deserve to live after what you've done… I'm going to stand here and watch you endure all the pain she felt as she died!" Surprisingly, rather than staying dead, I woke up on the exact day when Victor and Vera were abducted once more…

My mentally impaired brother married a young, beautiful woman. She was a college graduate, kind and sensible. In just three years, she already had three kids.  My dad couldn’t stop smiling, always boasting to everyone about what a great daughter-in-law he had. However, I knew the truth. Every night, she would quietly sneak into my bed.

I had been secretly in love with my childhood friend for nine long years. When we finally got married, my family and friends thought I was the happiest person in the world. After I became pregnant, he used the excuse of "helping an old classmate" and invited the most beautiful girl from our class into our home. During the worst of my pregnancy, when nausea and exhaustion hit hardest, he took her to the hospital, made crafts with her, and watched sunsets with her. He even had the guts to accuse me of being small-minded and petty and acting like a bitter, jealous wife. Only then did I realize that it was just my foolish fantasy that I lived my dream of marrying my childhood sweetheart and had a happy life. I let go of the love I had for him and of the future I thought we would share. Now, however, he was the one who regretted it.

The moment I was born, I took her life. They called me a murderer. Marcus used to burn me with cigarette butts, and Dad would say it was my fate. “You’re a curse. If you had any conscience, you’d have gone to join Mom a long time ago to repay what you owe.” When Marcus was diagnosed with kidney failure, that same cold, distant father knelt in front of me. “Please… save him…” I put my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Dad, I’ll do the surgery. But can you promise me one thing?” Dad performed the surgery himself. It was a success. He saved the son he loved most and took the life of the daughter he hated. But after I died, Dad turned himself in to the police, and Marcus lost his mind.

My mother is in the late stages of cancer. Yet, she sits in a wheelchair with an oxygen tube and endures a long train ride just to attend my wedding with Isaac Pudley. But when it's time for him to walk down the aisle, I don't see him anywhere despite screaming his name. It turns out his childhood sweetheart, Megan Ericsson, is having another depressive episode and is threatening suicide again. "Isaac, I can't live without you," she screeches. Isaac is always so stern and composed, but he now holds Megan in his arms and begs me to call off the wedding so they can leave. Relatives and guests watch the spectacle with thinly veiled amusement. To make matters worse, my mother is so angry that she faints. However, Isaac believes that my mother is feigning illness. He only wants to take Megan with him and leave. He even takes away my mother's wheelchair. But he seems to have forgotten that he has hurt me 97 times by now. After he hurts me 99 times, I’ll definitely leave him.