Emotional Blackmail

My husband and his beloved mistress died together in a car accident. They left me with a pair of illegitimate children. Eighteen years passed in a blur. I poured my heart and soul into raising those children until, at last, they earned admission to Corvell University, the country's top university. But on the very day they received their acceptance letters, my 'dead' husband returned. And beside him stood his mistress. She clutched my husband's arm and beamed at me. "Thanks to your tireless care, my two sons finally made it into Corvell. If not for you, the two of us wouldn't have been free to live so happily together all these years..." Later, my husband demanded a divorce. He wanted to marry his mistress and reunite their perfect little family of four. I didn't cry, nor did I rage. I only smiled and said, "Sure."

A Gen Z employee named Sylvie Mercer has reported me to the Department of Labor by claiming that I've forced all employees to work on the year-end holidays. But the truth is, I've given the entire company a nine-day vacation just to celebrate the year-end holidays. Those who are willing to work overtime shifts will be paid three times their usual salaries and given an additional five-thousand-dollar bonus. Sylvie keeps crying on the internet about how all the employees, including her, are forced to trade their lives for money. Thanks to her, the entire Internet keeps bashing me. So, I decide to follow the public opinion by releasing an announcement. "In order to ensure all employees' health, the company's doors shall be locked during the year-end holidays. Do note that the electric supply will be cut off as well. No one is permitted entry into the company." As soon as the announcement is released, the employees who plan on earning extra money in order to pay off their mortgages all rush toward my office in alarm.

On my eighteenth birthday, my brother Seth brought back my twin sister. She had been snatched from me by kidnappers as a child. She claimed she had nothing, not a single thing to call her own. Seth gave her everything: my room, my dresses, and my awards. He even gave her my childhood fiancé, forcing him to break off our engagement and marry her in a wedding that would take the world by storm. I tried to resist, but Seth scolded me for being childish. "She's your blood sister, yet you complain about every little thing. If you can't learn to be kind, I can't call you my sister anymore." My sister, Serena, fell into the swimming pool later that day and nearly drowned. When she woke up, she cried to our brother, claiming I had pushed her. My brother, Seth, was furious. He sent me away to a remote mountain village. "If you can't learn to be kind, you'll spend the rest of your life here, atoning for your sins. "You can come back only when you kneel before Serena and apologize." Five years passed. Serena and my fiancé held a high-profile engagement ceremony. The entire city celebrated their grand love, certain they would have a happily ever after together. Then, Seth finally remembered me. "Sylvie, five years have passed. Have you learned kindness yet?" I nodded calmly with a blank expression on my face. "Seth, I will kneel before her and apologize." He smiled, praising me for finally being sensible. However, he did not know that I had received a critical medical notice. I had only five days left to live.

After joining the nation's top research lab as a sophomore, everyone assumes I've taken shortcuts to get there. Mom throws away the handmade gift I had spent days crafting and says with disdain, "I don't have a daughter who's this shameless." Andreas Fitzgerald, my fiance, doesn't hold back, either. He warns coldly, "Remember your place as Mrs. Fitzgerald." Later, when my younger sister, Elaine Wilde, destroys my left hand, they all pressure me to drop the matter. I wake up in the hospital, pain crawling up my arm, and I know exactly what I have to do. Without hesitation, I dial my mentor, George Landon's, number. "I'm ready to join the classified national rocket program."

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 ninth time I walked in on Andy Lowe in bed with another woman. I didn’t lose control, and I didn’t question him. I casually tossed a piece of clothing at the girl and said calmly, “Leave through the back garden door.” She froze for a moment, glanced at me nervously, then grabbed the clothes and fled. Andy leaned back against the headboard, looking relaxed, and slowly lit a cigarette. “It’s her first time here,” he said as if it were only natural. “Don’t scare her.” “She’s very innocent, unlike you. I don’t want her getting hurt.” He paused, then added, “It’s her birthday today. I won’t be coming back tonight.” I nodded and said nothing more. As I turned around, I smiled. He seemed not to know that the “innocent” girl had AIDS.

When I'm taking Mom and Dad to experience the cable car ride, an infinite display of fireworks suddenly bursts from the bottom of the mountain. Soon, they form a sentence in the air. "Our romance will never fade away, even if we die. Yvonne Shaw, my heart belongs to you always." Right away, I realize that my husband, Henry Glover, has specifically prepared the fireworks display just to please his childhood sweetheart, Yvonne Shaw. Under the powerful attacks of the fireworks, the cable lines begin to shake and tremble violently to the point they are about to snap. My fingers tighten around my phone so much that they've turned white. I scream into the speaker, "Henry Glover, have you gone nuts? Stop it! Mom and Dad are still in the cable car!" But he merely chortles in return. I can hear Yvonne's delicate voice egging him on in the background. "Why should I stop? When Yvonne's parents were lying in the ICU and waiting for help three years ago, you screwed up their life-saving surgery despite the fact that you never failed a surgery before! "Today, I want you to have a taste of what it feels like to lose your loved ones as well!" After that, the bodyguards' responses echo from the other end of the line. Henry orders, "Add another huge batch of fireworks and aim them at the cable car. Just keep firing at it!" Yvonne's titters are like poisoned honey. She continues egging on Henry. "You're amazing, darling! Make those two bastards turn to ash!" The cable car sinks all of a sudden. Mom and Dad are so frightened that their complexions turn deathly pale. With bloodshot eyes, I use all of my strength in roaring at my phone. "Henry Glover, your own parents are the ones trapped inside the cable car right now!"

My best friend, Cassidy Braun, earned a modest monthly salary of 2,800 dollars, only to constantly trash her doting husband with an annual income of 600,000 dollars, labelling him a broke loser. “That incompetent husband of mine can’t even afford a 20-carat diamond ring! “I have the looks that can bag me a billionaire. I must have been out of my mind to marry that piece of trash.” I chimed in. “You’re right. You’re practically a goddess. Only a Greek God stands a chance with you.” Eventually, Cassidy left her husband and hooked up with a trust-fund kid, just as she wanted. A year later, she was scammed out of every penny she owned and diagnosed with cancer. Fragile and broken, she came to me. “I heard that ex-husband of mine remarried and that he’s loaded now. Judging by the way he used to worship the ground I walked on, I bet he’ll drop the woman in a heartbeat if I ask to get back together.” I gave a dismissive nod while running my fingers along the new Birkin bag my husband had bought. “Oh, absolutely. He’s pretty wealthy now.”

I start a livestream in the middle of the road before torching down my luxurious mansion that's worth ten million dollars in front of the entire Internet. Everyone claims that I've gone nuts. "I can't believe she actually burned a mansion that's worth ten million dollars! She must have gone cuckoo in the head!" I watch the inferno from my spot on the street, feeling extremely pleased. When the firefighters and the police arrive at the scene, I honestly admit to having burned down the mansion. Then, I request the police to arrest me on the spot. "I'm an arsonist, you see. I have mental health issues, so please arrest me as soon as possible. Otherwise, I'll burn down more houses." In my previous life, I had bought this mansion as an engagement gift for me and my fiance, Nigel Taylor. But this was also the very same mansion that ruined my life permanently. Nigel and my best friend, Olivia Williams, had gotten together behind my back. Those bastards betrayed me. After they spent the first half of the night drinking, they sped down the road in a car. But after hitting a few pedestrians, they fled from the scene. Then, they hid the offending vehicle in the garage of the mansion before spending the rest of the night together in bed. The next day, Nigel and Olivia cleared the scene of all traces and made me the perfect scapegoat for their crimes. I couldn't even defend myself when I was faced with all solid evidence that pinned the crimes on me. In the end, I was thrown behind bars. My reputation was instantly ruined. Not only did my company go into bankruptcy, but my parents also fell ill. In the end, they were beaten to death by the debtors who showed up on their doorstep. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night Nigel and Olivia are about to commit the crimes. This time, I won't give them a chance to falsify any clues.

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?