Dual Rebirth

Lesley Hummer, my husband's sister, lies to me about being unable to conceive. She wants me to help her produce a child. To my shock and horror, my husband and mother-in-law agree with her! I refuse to give in, so they drug me and force me into bed with my her husband. When the pregnancy comes to term, I give birth to a daughter. My husband and his family go nuts because it's not a boy. They kill the baby before my very eyes! They even take away all my organs that can be exchanged for money. Then, they continue searching for a surrogate for Lesley. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day Lesley kneeled before me to beg me.

In my past life, I supported the bankrupt Clark brothers. However, after I became pregnant, they allowed a poor student, Kimberly Scott, to push me down the stairs, where I bled profusely and died while carrying my child. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the day I had brought them into my house. This time, I kicked them out without hesitation. To my surprise, Kimberly had teamed up with my grandmother to pretend to be the real heiress, painting me as the fake heiress who had taken over the family. The butler, Mr. Williams, who had watched me grow up, came forward and accused me of causing my parents’ death. Under the public backlash they had orchestrated, I remained calm and presented my evidence. Not only did I expose Kimberly’s fake identity as the heiress, but I also revealed the true faces of my grandmother and Mr. Williams. I avenged my parents and gave the wrongdoers the punishment they deserved.

In my past life, my mother kept matchmaking me with a man with violence issues. After being subject to domestic violence, I tearfully called my mother and asked for help. However, she didn't do anything. Ultimately, I died from his violence while pregnant with his child. After I was reborn, my mother ended up being the one to marry him. This delighted me. She had no idea that he had AIDS!

My mother-in-law, Teresa Hawke, said she was trapped inside her burning villa. I called my husband, Asher Jensen, begging him to save her. But he was too busy at some bar, flirting with his childhood sweetheart, Melanie Lanner. It wasn't until I begged him, over and over, that he finally went to save Teresa. But Melanie was snatched from that same bar, tortured, killed, and dumped. He acted like none of it mattered until I got pregnant. Then out of nowhere, he threw it all back on me, saying it was my fault. Asher pulled every string he could to bankrupt my family, driving Mom and Dad to leap to their deaths. Then he rounded up a gang of violent psychopaths and threw me in with them. I begged again and again, but he just watched me with that dead stare. "You'll suffer like Mel did before she died! She left this world in agony. Why should you get to live? That's not fair." 99 stab wounds—that was how many it took before I finally bled out and died. And then, I woke up, right back on the day Teresa screamed for help from inside that burning villa.

My son accidentally ate peanuts and suffered a severe allergic reaction. I threw away all the anti-allergy medication in the house and even hung up when he called 911 for help. I watched helplessly as his airway swelled shut and he suffocated to death. In my previous life, when my son struggled to breathe, I immediately drove him to the hospital. After an intense rescue effort, he survived, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief. However, my mother-in-law stormed in, furious, accusing me of being a monster and blaming me for nearly killing him. I hurried to explain that he was fine. Yet, when I presented the doctor's report and discharge paperwork, I was horrified to discover that they had turned into a death certificate. My son, who had been resting safely in the ICU, was gone. He had somehow appeared in the morgue. Refusing to accept it, I checked the surveillance footage. However, the footage clearly showed that my son never left the operating room. Instead, it was just me, talking to myself the entire time. I had no idea what was happening. No one believed me. They locked me in a psychiatric hospital. In the end, as my condition worsened, a swarm of frenzied patients attacked me and tore me apart alive.

On the eve of giving birth, my world turned into a nightmare. My husband’s sworn enemy broke into our home, seeking revenge. I was brutally cut open and my baby was ripped from me. Yet, I made the chilling choice not to call my husband for help. In my previous life, desperate and terrified, I begged him to return home. He abandoned a Valentine’s dinner with a scholarship student to rush back. That night, the student was preyed upon in a bar, leading to her tragic suicide. My husband’s wrath was unrelenting. Blaming me for her death, he locked me in a kennel, leaving me to be savaged to death. “This is the pain Wynne endured because of you. Now it’s your turn to suffer!” Given a second chance, I resolved to make a different choice. This time, I let him stay for his romantic Valentine’s evening with her. But when I returned home, he had spiraled into madness.

I hid behind a thick tree trunk and watched silently as a grizzly bear attacked my husband. In my previous life, I was a guide. I led my husband—an environmental photographer—and his female colleague into a nature reserve to film wildlife. While scouting the route, I discovered a nursing grizzly bear and immediately warned them not to take any photos and to retreat slowly. To my shock, they intentionally bumped into me, causing my right leg to be cut and bleed. The scent of blood enraged the bear, and it charged straight at me, sinking its massive jaws into my abdomen. After the bear left, my husband calmly stripped me of all my equipment. Then, wrapping his arms around his female colleague, he kissed her. He turned to me with a sinister smile creeping across his face. "Kate," he said, "I'll be honest. I never loved you. You're dying. Now, all your assets will be mine." I bled out and died. When I opened my eyes again, it was the morning of the day we entered the mountains.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband, Damian Pyke, once again left me for his first love. He said, "Taking care of a child alone isn't easy for Waverly. You're both women—can't you show her some understanding?" Not only was I willing to understand Waverly Benson, but I was also ready to step aside entirely so they could raise her child together. So, I packed my bags and applied for an overseas architecture program through my workplace. However, he eventually regretted it, crying and begging me not to go.

My mom kindly took in the daughter of her deceased friend. Unexpectedly, the girl smoked, drank, fought, and refused to improve. She even fell madly in love with the school bully and jumped into a river to prove her love for him. My mom tried to save her, but the girl pushed her head underwater. The girl was rescued and embraced by the bully, but my mom drowned. Reborn, I stopped my mom from jumping in, but she shoved me into the river, shouting, "Why isn't it you jumping in?"

After being condemned across the internet for plagiarism, I stood before everyone and announced my retirement from writing. My boyfriend, Carter Xavier, who had been furiously accusing me just moments ago, froze in shock. “What are you doing? Don’t you still have debts to pay?” Ruby Quinn—his precious and the so-called victim of this scandal—immediately panicked. “Vera, you don’t have to punish yourself like this. I’m willing to give you a chance to start over.” I remained firm, my expression cold and unmoving as camera flashes exploded around me. In my past life, these two had humiliated me, plotting together behind my back to steal my work. My painstaking efforts had built Ruby’s reputation as a so-called genius author. But not this time. Without hesitation, I deleted the pen name I had used for the past six years. I had spent enough time struggling in a cramped rental apartment. It was time to return home and claim my family inheritance. As for Ruby Quinn— Let’s see how you finish the rest of that stolen manuscript without me.