Emotional Deep Drawings

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been living in an underground basement that's completely shut off from the outside world. My parents have told me that the zombie apocalypse is terrorizing the outside world. The air is completely plagued with the zombie virus, and we'll die if we ever leave the basement. In order to save the supplies—which are already dwindling, to begin with—I've starved myself to the point I'm all skin and bones despite being only 18 years old. When I realize that there's only one last can of food left, I leave behind a suicide note. "Mom, Dad, now there's one less mouth to feed. You'll last a few more days." After that, I slit my wrist right away. Once I'm dead, my soul phases through the thick and heavy metal door. Bright sunlight illuminates the entire world. It's a beautiful, peaceful world filled with greenery. I can even hear birds chirping in the distance. Mom, Dad, and a bunch of people are throwing a barbecue party on the lawn. The mouth-watering smell of food being grilled permeates the air. So, it turns out that the zombie apocalypse is just a lie that's designated to trap me inside the fortress. I'm the only one who has died in this sunny, peaceful world.

After I reunited with my real family, I somehow became a copycat who got on my father's nerves. The fake heir, Duncan Weaver, studied abroad at a top university. So I got into grad school after studying for just three months. When Duncan came back to start a business, I built a leading men's clothing brand in the industry within a year. When Duncan made the news for volunteering in rural schools, I donated millions of dollars and ended up making bigger headlines. They couldn't stand it. But they couldn't beat me either. Then one day, right after Duncan publicly announced his engagement, I posted my own wedding announcement the very next day. My biological father, who hadn't contacted me in three years, immediately called. He ordered me to take down my wedding photos. "You copying Duncan in everything was already bad enough," he snapped. "Now you're even trying to steal his fiancée? What the hell are you thinking?" On the other end of the call, I could hear Duncan crying. "Dad, don't say that," he said between sobs. "I asked Chelsea. She doesn't even know Leo. "That wedding photo he posted is fake. He edited it just to piss me off." Who was Chelsea? Since when did the woman I had grown up with for 18 years at the orphanage become someone else's fiancée? Then Duncan sent over his own wedding photo. What a funny coincidence. The woman in the photo looked exactly like my fiancée.

During a game of truth or dare at our pre-wedding party, my fiancee, Marissa Jones, plays a game of truth-or-dare with her childhood friend, William Chase. The one who chooses dare is required to sleep with the person next to them. Alarmed by the dare, I quickly suggest, "Why don't you choose truth instead?" However, William refuses to let that happen. He eyes me scornfully and says, "I can't believe you still have such an old-fashioned mindset. I don't mind sleeping with her, so why are you making a big deal out of it?" He turns to Marissa and asks, "Will you sleep with me, Rissa?" Everyone else in the room starts egging them on. "Kyle is way too uptight. If Marissa won't do it, I will. Pick me, William, you handsome devil!" I grab Marissa's arm and try to leave with her, but she flings my hand off. "If I leave now, what about William? We're about to get married anyway, Kyle. Can't I have one night of freedom?" She climbs right onto William's lap, and the crowd cheers wildly. As I stare at Marissa and William, I know without a doubt that my relationship with Marissa has come to an end.

I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt. This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in. The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me. Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000. High-end waterbed: $40,000. One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight. "Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?" Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me again, and I'll have Mr. Pruitt fire you!" Then she spun around and called Daxton right there. I laughed, cold and low, about to ask what kind of clown show designer he'd hired—until I heard his voice. Gentle. Doting. "This is Mona and my love nest. We'll do whatever we want. Don't like it? Get out." I smiled, snatched the list from Mona, and nodded. "Sure." One week later, that overpriced waterbed showed up—Daxton, very much not smiling.

I am the long-lost true heir of the Kensington family. In just the second month after reconciling with the Kensington family, I solved a technical problem that the Kensington Corp's Military Research Institute had failed to crack for five whole years. Yet, my adoptive brother, Sean Kensington, the fake heir, exchanged my patent bonus worth millions for a 20-percent-off coupon for a cup of latte. I went to my older sister, Sonya, the CEO, but she simply waved her hand dismissively, completely unconcerned. "Enough, Wesley. Sean just did it for your own good. If you're holding onto that much money, what if some organization set their eyes on you? This way, your safety is protected. "Besides, you've only come to the city not long ago. I doubt you've ever had something like a latte before. Take it as a chance to experience it. I'll even give you another ten dollars. You can buy yourself another cup." I looked at the condescension in her eyes, planning to send the recording to our parents. Yet, I saw on their social media that they had just bought a seaside mansion and a luxury car as a celebration gift for Sean's achievements. Then, I glanced at the coupon they had just sent me. [You did help Sean after all. Your father and I bought you a cake as a reward. Go pick it up yourself.] I checked the price. After discount, it was a mere 13 bucks. They had to be kidding me. I directly dialed the number of Kensington Corp's rival company, Jet Group. "I think the exclusive patent for this new missile should be yours. From now on, all my research results will only be shared with Jet Group."

After blowing through 15 million, which was my wedding gift from the Masons, I turned myself in for marriage fraud. That was when the housekeeper's daughter, Hannah Castillo, panicked. On May 5th, Castillo Enterprise and Mason Group were set to unite through marriage. I was meant to be the bride, but instead, I was locked away in a dark storage room. By the time I fought my way to the ceremony, Hannah had already finished the wedding using my identity. I went onstage and said I was the Castillos' real daughter, only to be questioned by everyone in the company. The reason was simple: Hannah had been using my name and status openly inside the company for the past six months. Hannah kicked me to the ground and sneered, "You're the housekeeper's kid! How dare you make a scene!" Before I could pull out any proof, the bodyguards Hannah hired dragged me out and dumped me on the road. A car ran into me, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the wedding.

"You guys know what the situation is like in this industry this year. I need to cut our end-of-the-year bonus by half in order to overcome this difficult period." My boss, Peter Hurley, claims that things are difficult in the industry right now, yet his wrist still showcases the luxury watch that he's just bought. My 20,000-dollar bonus is reduced to 700 dollars. In addition, I also received a plaque that says "Award for Outstanding Contribution". "This plaque is worth a lot, Soren. It represents the acknowledgement this company has for you. Don't be so petty when it comes to money." As I stare at the plaque in my hand, I can't help but scoff furiously. "Fine. I won't be that petty when it comes to money. I hope you won't be that petty either when you're paying next month's rent." Peter is stunned momentarily. "What do you mean by that?" I toss the plaque into the trash can. "What I mean is, I'm the landlord of this building. From next month onward, the rent will be increased ten times. If you refuse to accept the new rent, you can pack up and scram."

Even before marrying Wayne Cooper, I knew he had a fierce sister-in-law. He would always tell me to never get into a fight with her. After we marry, we spend Christmas Eve at his parents' house for the first time. I'm forced to bustle around in the kitchen as I prepare a feast for over a dozen people. Meanwhile, Wayne's family lounges in the living room. They chatter away while enjoying the fruits I've washed and sliced. As I place the last dish on the table, Wayne's brother and sister-in-law, Kyle Cooper and Lucy Wren, arrive. When I want to take my seat, I discover there isn't one for me. That's when Lucy snorts and says sarcastically, "I heard you're a good wife who's obedient and easygoing, Melanie. I have to say that your cooking is… mediocre, though." This infuriates me. I'm about to retort when she turns to my mother-in-law. She says, "I think you should do the cooking from now on, Gloria. Your food is delicious…"

I return to my hometown after becoming the wealthiest person in the world. I stand beside a luxury car I bought for my father and call him—I want him to be surprised when he picks me up. However, this backfires on me. I joke with him and tell him my company has gone bankrupt. My debtors are coming after me, so I'm home to flee from them. I end up standing under the sweltering sun until the sky goes dark and it starts to pour—my father never shows up to see his gift. I brave the rain as I head home. Before I even enter the house, I can sense my sister-in-law's panic. "Listen to me—don't tell that jinx that Dad has just won a million dollars!" My mother says, "I knew having a daughter was a bad decision. It's bad enough that she doesn't have money for us—why is she coming home when she's in trouble? She should just die out there!" My father sneers. "Well, we can sell her off to that cripple in the village. Maybe she'll fetch a good price!"

During my cousin Monica Bleuthe's birthday party, my boyfriend, Grayson Chapman, who claimed to be on a business trip, suddenly appeared holding her hand and toasting the crowd. We were stunned when our eyes met. Monica hugged his arm intimately. "I forgot to introduce him to you, Ella. This is my boyfriend, Grayson. He's the CEO of the company we worked with last time." Grayson approached me and lowered his voice to say, "It's just a misunderstanding. I'm only pretending to be Monica's boyfriend." We had been in a relationship for four years, and he had never allowed our relationship to go public. He even refused to let me attend any high-end parties with him because he thought I was just an ordinary employee who was not glamorous enough to be introduced to anyone. He had no idea that my father wanted me to gain valuable work experience away from the family business. I hid my identity so that I would be better equipped to take over my family business one day. If I had married Grayson, he would have enjoyed a portion of my family's fortune. Unfortunately, that was no longer possible.