Donquixote Family

The day my husband's first love, who was my sister, died, he sent me into the wilderness, all because I was not a match for the kidney transplant she needed. "Make sure Lisa can’t leave. For pretending to be Emma’s little sister, it’s time she learns her lesson," he ordered. I was abandoned in the dense forest, trapped, and left to fend for myself. Desperate, I sought shelter in a cave, trying to survive. However, wild animals soon picked up my scent and surrounded the cave. In the end, they tore me apart, and I died a brutal, painful death, with my body left exposed and torn in the wilderness. When Benjamin finally saw what was left of me, he lost his mind.

After Dad cheated and divorced Mom, I did not choose Mom, who walked away with nothing. Instead, I chose Dad, who clearly favored his illegitimate son, Oliver Brooks. It was only because after their divorce, Mom's obsession with reconciliation romance novels got me killed twice. In my first life, Mom was so desperate for Dad's respect that she willingly gave up everything in the divorce just to take me with her. In the end, my heart condition flared up, and without money for treatment, I died in agony on that hospital bed. In my second life, I went against Mom's wishes and asked Dad for the surgery money upfront. However, Mom was hell-bent on pushing Dad onto a so-called redemption path, forced me to go bungee jumping the day before my surgery. Dad tried to stop me from jumping, but he was speeding and ended up in a fatal car crash. Mom blamed everything on me. With pure hatred in her eyes, she shoved me off that cliff. "Useless piece of trash! Not only can't you help me win your father back, but you got him killed too. You might as well die with him!" That moment made everything crystal clear: Mom never actually loved me. She just saw me as a tool to get Dad back. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Mom demanded a divorce from Dad, for the third time.

Two years ago, I was one of the Disease Control Agency's best researchers. But while I was investigating a batch of virus samples with unsequenced genetic codes, my husband's true love burned me to death. She poured rubbing alcohol over the virus samples she accidentally dropped and rendered me unconscious with diethyl ether. Then, she set the lab on fire and burned everything to a crisp. When the agency's other employees led the firefighters to the scene, she cried and claimed I'd stolen the virus samples after colluding with an unknown organization. A month later, an odd and aggressive virus spread throughout the city, leading to countless deaths. My husband, Ethan Carter, denounced and severed ties with me before getting together with his true love. The whole city turned on me, crying for my blood. Everyone said I was a spy from an external power. That changes when three daring high school students accidentally stumble upon the cordoned-off lab. They discover my charred body inside.

My son has an aortic dissection and needs surgery. My husband is a cardiac expert, but I don't bother calling him. Instead, I take a cab straight to the hospital. In my past life, upon begging my husband, he came home with the ambulance to pick our son up. He also arranged for our son to be admitted. But because he forgot to bring his phone, his childhood sweetheart died of a heart attack when she couldn't reach him. He went missing for three months and suddenly returned one day, looking perfectly normal. He even volunteered to prepare the meal on our son's birthday. It turned out he only wanted to poison the food. He strangled me and cut my neck open. "You forced me to come home to pick our son up. Ciara wouldnt' have died if I'd answered her call that day. You and your son are murderers—you have to pay with your lives!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my son has an aortic dissection. This time, my husband manages to answer his childhood sweetheart's phone. But why is he on his knees before me and begging for forgiveness?

While they slice me apart, I desperately call my brother, Nathan Slade. He finally picks up as my consciousness starts to slip and answers in an annoyed voice, "What now?" "Nathan, help—" I don't get to finish before he cuts me off. "Can't you ever go a day without drama? Gemma's graduation is at the end of the month. Miss it, and I swear I'll kill you!" Then, he hangs up without a second thought. The agonizing pain swallows me whole, and my eyes close for good, tears still trailing down my cheeks. Well, good news, Nathan… You won't have to kill me because I'm already dead.

My stepdaughter, Alana Greenwood, brought me some abortion medicine on her Coming-of-Age Ceremony. Everyone around knew of her little "prank", but none came to stop her. Even my husband just stood and watched. I smiled bitterly as I took the medicine and drank it in one go. I immediately felt the pain in my lower abdomen. My head began to spin, but I could still hear the harsh tone in Alana’s voice. "Well, did you think you could replace my mother after giving birth to your child? Let me tell you this, Dad agreed to marry you back then because I was young and was in need of a free nanny! If you dare think about replacing my mother, you will be kicked out of the Greenwood family!" I covered my stomach and took a deep breath. "There's no need for the trouble. You're an adult now and I've completed my task. I'll leave... tomorrow."

I'd been home for half a month, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that Mom wasn't quite herself anymore. She looked and sounded like she always had, but something felt different. Then, one day, I got a message from her that sent a chill down my spine. "Lily, hide! There's a ghost in the house!" At first, I thought she was pulling a prank on me—or maybe her account got hacked. Then, there was a knock on my bedroom door. Mom, who had just finished cooking, called out to tell me the meal was ready. I was still hesitating when another message popped up. It was a voice message. "Trust me, Lily. I'm your real mom! The one out there is a ghost! Run!" It sounded just like Mom's voice from outside. My mind was racing in panic. Not hearing me respond, Mom giggled from the other side of the door and said, "I'm coming in."

At the peak of my career, my husband slapped me in public.  With a look of disgust, he said, “Tess, you’re pathetic. You made Grace fail the class because you’re jealous. Don’t you know she’s applying for a scholarship?” Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching my stomach as pain surged through me. I knelt there, begging him to take me to the hospital.  However, all he did was swat my hand away and sneer. “Quit the act! Aren’t you just a useless woman who can’t get pregnant?” At that moment, my heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. It wasn’t long before bystanders intervened, insisting on taking me to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late to save the baby. Once the surgery was over and the reality of what had happened sank in, I turned to him and demanded a divorce.

I suffered critical injuries that left me in a persistent vegetative state when I tried to rescue my wife, Regina Livingston, from her abductors. Regina spares no expense, spending millions of dollars to bring in the best medical experts in the country to treat me. She watches over me every single night, never weary of caring for me. Four years into my coma, I overhear a conversation between Richard Sutherland—a man I don't know—and Regina. "You've done all you can, Regina," he says. "You don't owe him anything anymore." Regina remains silent. Then, a young boy, Franklin Sutherland, suddenly asks, "Mommy, why do you always visit this man? Who is he?" I'm instantly shocked. Regina and I don't have a child together. I'm completely bewildered, and just as I try to figure it out, I suddenly wake up from my coma.

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!"