Emotional Damage Guy

As I washed my wife's underthings, I discovered semen stains. It had been over two months since I last did it with Winona Sundown. She always looked down on me for not lasting long and being as boring as a dead fish. I silently accepted her criticism and mockery. That was until I saw a stranger messaging Winona with a hotel room number. The hotel just so happened to be my workplace, Pinnacle Hotel. The room number was 8102. I camped by the room, waiting to catch my prey. However, the woman at the door was a young and sensual woman. Unbeknownst to me, I had fallen into Winona's trap long ago...

The new project was short on staff. Over everyone's objections, I pulled three former colleagues out of an overlooked department where they'd been warming the bench for years. The four of us became the project's core team. The bonus was generous, the workload light. They all said I was their lucky charm. Three months later, with delivery just around the corner, I passed the break room and overheard them talking. "The biggest credit for this project belongs to the three of us. Why should Chloe get an equal share of the bonus just because she recommended us? She barely did any real work." "Exactly. Let's talk to the director. We'll say all the core work was done by us, that she's not up to the task. We'll apply to have her removed from the contributors list." "Just thinking about not having to split those tens of thousands with her—it feels amazing." I pushed the door open. They stared at me, stunned. I smiled. They wanted to kick me out? Too bad. I was the director who parachuted in to evaluate them.

In my previous life, I was eight months pregnant when my mother-in-law and husband forcibly dragged me to grab decorative gift boxes from the Christmas tree. I told them there was nothing inside, but my mother-in-law slapped me across the face while my husband pulled me into the crowd. A stampede broke out. They clutched their gift boxes and fled to save themselves, while my child and I were trampled to death. They eagerly tore open all the gift boxes with high hopes, only to find exactly nothing, just like I'd warned them. But as I lay dying, I noticed something in the final gift box. A Black Widow spider with an hourglass pattern on its belly crawled onto my mother-in-law's hand. This spider carries deadly venom. Anyone bitten either dies or suffers permanent disability. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on Christmas Day. This time, watching my mother-in-law and husband gear up to fight over those Christmas gift boxes, I won't try to stop them!

On the way home during the holidays, my fiance's sister-in-law, Pamela Kensington, brings out an electric pot that requires 2,000 watts in order to function so that she can cook some meatballs. "The sockets in the electric car are meant for us to use, no? If we can't have hot food during our trips, then what's the use of having an electric car in the first place?" My fiance, Mason Vance, who is driving, doesn't bother to stop Pamela. Instead, he helps her fill up the pot with water while smiling. In my previous life, I had strictly stopped them from cooking meatballs and told them that we didn't have enough power left in the electric car. If they were to cook the meatballs, the car would stop in the middle of the journey, and we wouldn't be able to make it home. Pamela, who tagged along for the ride, thought that I refused to let her son have a piping hot meal, so she began criticizing me. Mason, on the other hand, thought that I was being too much of a busybody. He slapped me in front of everyone before pushing me out of the car. I was frozen to the bone in the blizzard as I watched everyone else leave me behind happily. In the end, I died from hypothermia. When I woke up again, I realized I'd returned to the moment when Pamela is about to plug the electric pot into the socket. This time, I hand her a power strip. "Go ahead and use this power strip. It can channel more power for your meatballs to cook quickly."

When the conglomerate's heir parachutes into our company, he conveniently brings along a "poor student" he's been sponsoring for years. That afternoon, they turn the entire office upside down. The young heir, Matthew Zohart, has no idea how to handle problems. All he knows how to do is smooth things over. He lets Gracie Fowler blow through my team's entire bonus and just stands there as she throws a tantrum in the open office. "I'm the future daughter-in-law chosen by the Zohart family!" she shrieks. "What are you people, anyway? Just a bunch of office drones!" Enraged, I rip off my work badge and turn to walk out. The very next second, Matthew drops down and grabs my leg. "You can't leave! I don't know how to do anything! If the team leader who actually gets things done quits, won't my family's company collapse?"

I've been kidnapped for ten years. When I finally get to go home, I find out that my parents have adopted a new son. In order to prevent me from bullying the adopted heir, Jake Ewing, my parents decide to enroll me in a popular transformation reality show. Every day, I have to compete with the pigs for food and a spot to sleep. Before I go to bed, an instructor will make me recite a hundred times how good my parents and Jake are. If I ever make a mistake, I'll face harsh public punishment in front of the camera. I also have to apologize repeatedly until the director is satisfied with me. Once the reality show is over, I finally transform into the perfect son and brother my family prefers. But on the day the reality show is set to air, I choose to jump off the TV station's rooftop, killing myself once and for all. That's when my parents lose their minds.

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

My grandfather died on a covert mission, and authorities approved a grand funeral in his honor. Concerned about my grief, my fiancé offered to handle the arrangements. On the day of the funeral, I arrived with my grandfather's ashes, only to find his portrait discarded on the ground, replaced by one of a dog. Furious, I tried to remove it, but my fiancé's adopted sister stopped me. "Hands off that portrait!" Suppressing my fury, I countered, "This is my grandfather's funeral. He was a decorated hero." "So what?" She shrugged, sneering, "Isaac said Luck deserves the grandest send-off. If you've got a problem, take it up with him. Adoring me, he'd cancel your engagement and ditch you in a heartbeat." I laughed incredulously, calling Isaac's family. "You people begged for this engagement. Since when does your adopted daughter get to call it off?"

After Mom passed, it was just me and Dad, depending on each other. I’ve always had poor health, and people used to taunt me, calling me a “sickly, doomed child.” He kneeled by my bedside, making a promise. “I swear, I’ll get you the best treatment, no matter what. You’ll never suffer again!” Eventually, he became a powerful CEO, going so far as to buy an entire private villa just so I could recover in peace. However, his assistant assumed I was his mistress.  She came in with a group of security guards and surrounded me. “So, you’re the cripple who’s been seducing Mr. Johnson?” “Let’s see if you can still act high and mighty after I’m done with you!” She kicked over my wheelchair, yanked me by the hair, scratched up my face, and finally cut off my hand. Barely clinging to life, I lay there until Dad came back. She held up my severed hand, presenting it to him. “Mr. Johnson, this was a spy sent by a rival company. I took care of her for you.”