Emotional Depth Synonym

Dalawang taon na ang nakakaraan, pinilit ako ng nanay ko na makipaghiwalay sa boyfriend ko para palitan ang kapatid niya at pakasalan ang kanyang bulag na fiance. Dalawang taon ang nakalipas, bumalik ang paningin ng asawa kong bulag. Pagkatapos, hiniling ng nanay ko na ibalik ko siya sa kapatid ko. Tiningnan ako ng masama ng tatay ko. “Huwag mong kalimutan na fiance ni Rosie si Ethan! Sa tingin mo ba karapatdapat kang maging asawa niya?” Mamamatay na din naman ako. Kay Rosalie na ang posisyon ng pagiging Mrs. Sadler kung gusto niya! Hihintayin ko na karamahin sila kapag patay na ako!

My older sister Katie said she missed me and requested I visit her. The second day at her place, the apocalyptic heatwave arrived. I fought tooth and nail in the supermarket for food and coolant—she told me I'm shameless and have no self-respect. I offered a high price in the community chat for supplies—she sneered at me and said that anything stored for so long must be disgusting, contaminated by bacteria. Yet, she threw herself into the arms of the man living across the hallway just for a bit of food. While cuddled in his arms, she watched me die in the heatwave. When I opened my eyes again, I heard her on the phone saying she missed me. Well, keep on missing me!

After two years of development, my game finally launched successfully. My wife had promised me a $75,000 bonus, but instead, she gave the entire $750,000 payout to her male secretary, Wayne. All she tossed me was a $50 grocery coupon. "You're just a stay-at-home husband," she said casually. "You don't spend much. Go buy some groceries and cook dinner." I stared at her in disbelief. "That money is for our son's transplant surgery," I said. "If it's delayed for even a few days, he'll die." Her expression did not change. "He's weak. If he dies, he dies," she said flatly. "At least you won't bring any more bad luck into the office and pass it on to Wayne." She turned away, her tone instantly brightening as she talked about taking Wayne out that night to celebrate with a lavish dinner worth tens of thousands of dollars. In that instant, my heart froze. She had forgotten one thing. The game might be registered under her name, but I still held the core encryption key. I picked up the phone and called a rival company. "You've been trying to get Genyxis's core technology for a long time, haven't you?" I asked calmly. "All I want is $75,000, and it’ll be yours.”

I gave my full support when my father decided to set aside $2.1 billion in trust funds for his three illegitimate kids. Things had been very different in my previous life. At the time, the company urgently needed capital for a new project, and I had convinced my father to postpone setting up the trusts. I never imagined the three of them would take it as an attempt to seize the family fortune for myself. Furious, they went street racing to vent their anger. The result was a fatal crash. The car was destroyed, and none of them survived. Under my leadership, the company continued to grow at an astonishing pace and eventually secured a place on the Fortune Global 500 list. Yet on the very day I received the title of Young Entrepreneur of the Year, my father got me drunk and ordered my limbs broken. As I lay there screaming in agony, I demanded to know why he was doing this to me. His reply was filled with venom as he crushed my fingers one after another. "If you hadn't been so greedy for the inheritance, Ethan and the others wouldn't have gone out to clear their heads. They never would have died in that crash." In the end, my father beat me to death. When my critically ill mother learned the truth, the shock took her life as well. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my father decided to establish the trust.

My twin sister, wanting to be with her thug boyfriend, secretly planned to apply for a junior college. When I could not talk her out of it, I told our parents and managed to stop her. However, just a month into the new semester, her thug boyfriend cheated on her. She left a suicide note, blaming it all on the long distance between them. She wrote that if she had gone to that junior college, her boyfriend would never have cheated. Grief‑stricken, my parents turned all their rage on me. "You wretched girl, this is all your fault for meddling! What business was it of yours which school your sister went to? Even if she didn't go to college, we could still support her. We didn't need your big mouth!" "If it weren't for your spiteful tongue, your sister wouldn't be dead!" "We were cursed to have a vicious, unfilial daughter like you!" They locked me in her room, ordering me to repent. Then they took her ashes on a trip, saying they wanted her to see the beautiful mountains and rivers she never got to visit in life. A month later, they returned from their travels to find me long dead, starved to a withered husk in front of my sister's photo. Their eyes held no grief, no guilt, only a faint, scornful curl of the lips. In their eyes, my death was nothing more than justice served. My broken soul saw their icy expressions, and despairing tears burned my eyes. Then my sister's familiar voice rang out again: "What business is it of yours which school I go to? You're just jealous that I have a boyfriend, aren't you?"

My daughter unplugs my oxygen tube before throwing herself into her nanny's arms. "The old hag is finally dying, Mom. I don't need to call a thief my mother anymore!" It turns out the nanny switched my child for hers when they were born. I've spent the last two decades doting on the nanny's daughter. I die of an aneurysm after recalling my birth daughter's horrible death. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day my daughter was born.

My sister ate the half plate of mango I had left on the table and broke out in hives from her allergy. My brother stormed over, pried my mouth open, and poured the mango juice straight down my throat. "You love mangoes so much, don't you? Today you'll get your fill." The juice flooded my lungs. I choked, fighting for air as my throat swelled in agony, begging him to save me. Instead, he turned and locked me in the basement. "Betty suffered because of you, so don't expect any comfort. Stay down here and reflect on what you've done. Growing up without any real guidance. No wonder you're so vicious." Two days later, my mom remembered me. "Ralph, that's enough. Let Catherine out. If she stays there much longer, she might start resenting Betty." My dad chimed in casually, "What's the big deal? Just buy her something nice to make up for it." My spirit clung to his back, floating along with them toward the basement. I'd like to see how they were going to compensate a dead girl.

The day I got back from a trip, my housekeeper filed a lawsuit against my father and me. In court, she stood with her visibly pregnant belly, her voice shaking with anguish. "Jethro Roberts and his son are nothing but monsters. They tricked me into moving into their home under the excuse of offering me a job as a housekeeper. They tied me to a bed and abused me. "The baby I am carrying belongs to Jethro Roberts." Her mother wept hard, nearly collapsing from the strain. "These two monsters destroyed my daughter's life! They should pay with their lives." As soon as she spoke, the courtroom burst into an uproar. "Shameless criminals! The dad couldn't even be bothered to appear in court. They must be punished severely!" "That's right. Look at the son. He's actually smiling. He has no conscience! They both deserve to pay for what they did." Then, I calmly stepped forward and presented my evidence. A stunned silence swept through the courtroom.

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

Late at night, my sexy landlady knocks on my door and gives me a sultry look. "Do you know why I rented this place to you?" In the corner, her two daughters bite their lips and clutch the hems of their shirts, looking at me hungrily. "It's because you satisfy all our desires… You're not getting away tonight…"