Emotional

Matapos mamatay ng aking asawa sa isang car accident, walang sawa akong nagtrabaho sa pagpapatakbo ng isang maliit na restawran upang palakihin ang aking anak na si Henry. Bago ang kasal ni Henry, nanalo ako ng walong milyon sa lotto. Tuwang-tuwa ako, nagpasya akong ibenta ang restaurant at sa wakas ay tamasahin ang pagreretiro. Kaya naman, tumawag ako upang sabihin kay Henry ang tungkol sa pagbebenta ng restaurant, ang kanyang karaniwang magalang na fiancee ay nagbago ang ugali. "Hindi mo naman inaasahan na susuportahan ka namin, 'di ba? Halos kaka-simula lang natin magtrabaho!" Binantaan niya pa si Henry, "Kung gagastusan mo ang mama mo gamit ang pera natin, hindi na natin itutuloy ang kasal!" Nakipagtalo sa kanya si Henry ngunit pagkatapos ay sinigurado, at nangako siya, "Nagsumikap ka na nang husto, Ma. Aalagaan kita." Gumanda ang pakiramdam ko, Binalak kong bigyan siya ng dalawang milyon para makapagsimula ng negosyo. Kinabukasan, nakatanggap ako ng tawag na nagsasabing si Henry ay nasangkot sa car accident at agad na nangangailangan ng limampung libo para sa operasyon. Agad kong ipinadala ang pera, ngunit pagkatapos, nawala si Henry. Desperado, matapang akong dumaan sa isang bagyo upang hanapin siya sa lungsod niya, ngunit napunta lamang ako sa isang kasalan sa isang mamahaling hotel. Naroon si Henry, nakikipag-toast sa isa pang babae “Ma.” Ah, at ang katabi niya? Ang aking “patay” na asawa mula noong nakaraang sampung taon.

I went to exactly one party in my new, wealthy neighborhood. Then my neighbor Brenda sued me. In court, she held her bruised and battered daughter, Tiffany. She accused my son of rape. Mid-hearing, Tiffany tugged her collar down. Red marks circled her neck. "He tried to rip my pants off," she sobbed. "He tried to force himself on me. I fought back. So he beat me. He ruined my face!" Outside the courthouse, protesters held up signs, calling my son a piece of trash, a spoiled rich kid. Online, a photoshopped memorial of me went viral. The caption read: The unfit mother should die with her son. My company’s stock plummeted. But I just sat there. Stone-faced. I asked for my son, Cooper, to be brought in. The courtroom doors opened. Cooper walked in. Everyone froze.

When the bank calls me to collect the first round of mortgages from me, do I realize that my wife, Denise Sheridan, also the same woman who eats leftovers and saves every single penny with me in our daily lives, has bought my brother-in-law, Dmitri Sheridan, two prime mansions located near a school. While Dmitri is placed as the mansion deed holder, I'm the one who's supposed to clear off the mortgages. I hurl the purchasing contract to the floor in fury. "You said Nancy's leukemia requires a shit ton of money, so I've been saving up my whole life. I even went as far as to work ten jobs per day! "My dad had to sell his kidney in exchange for a term of Nancy's chemotherapy bills because you told me the money wasn't enough at all. But thanks to the shady hospital, he died on the surgical table! "And yet, now you've used the money that Dad and I had put our blood, sweat, and tears into earning to buy mansions for Dmitri! Do you even have a conscience?" "What happened to your dad was destined to be! Sure, we could always make more money if we have more treatment bills to cover, but Dmitri's case is different! He urgently needs money for his marriage!" Denise refutes in a righteous way. I'm about to lash out at her when my daughter, Nancy Sheridan, rushes out. "Dad, Uncle Dmitri is the hope of our family! I don't mind giving him money to spend!" At that moment, I finally realize that not only am I this household's ATM, but my own daughter is also an ingrate through and through.

I had my meal and was about to leave my sister's restaurant, but the manager stopped me. "Sorry, sir, but you haven't paid your tab." I never saw this guy before. He probably had no idea who I was. Kindly, I explained, "Put it on your boss' tab. She knows what to do." The manager instead gave me a look of derision. "Sir, we're a 3-star Michelin restaurant. We do not put anyone's bill on another person's tab." He handed me an itemized bill. The guy had it ready and printed. I went through the list. The meal alone cost 75 grand. The 'dining utensil gleam maintenance fee' ran up to 45 hundred. There was also an exclusive air purifier fee, which would cost 75 hundred. And there was a 'VIP calm headspace service fee' that ran up to 15 grand. Those were the ones that stood out, but they were far from the last. I had no idea my sister was running an extortion gig. Mirthlessly, I laughed. "I'm your boss' brother. Tell her she's talking to me when she comes home." The manager did not let me go. "Just say you can't afford it. You're not the first one to try and claim you know Ms. Grayheim. I know leeches like you well enough." I texted my secretary. 'Tell my sister she either fires this guy, or I pull my funds out.'

On our wedding day, Carter Hall's father took his own life in our new home. He left a suicide note, blaming me for his death. From that day forward, Carter despised me to the core. He said, "Lindsey Thomson, you deserve to rot in hell, atoning for your sins for the rest of your life." Eventually, just as he wished, I wandered the streets, mute and half-insane, living a life worse than a stray dog. But then, he regretted it.

Just one week into my new job, I was wrongfully accused of cooking the books, and it cost me five years behind bars. After that, my wife found out she was pregnant. She insisted on having the baby and promised to wait for me to come home. Out of gratitude, I threw myself into work after my release. I did everything I could to give them a good life. It was until one day, I overheard a conversation between my wife and our son. “Mom, don’t let Dad come out with us. It’s embarrassing! Why did you pin Mr. Scott’s crime on him back then?! And now, the girl next door keeps making fun of me, saying my dad’s a criminal!” My wife gently pulled our son close and comforted him, saying, “I promised Mr. Scott I’d help him. Your dad’s so naive. He’ll never find out.” It turned out that my supposed happy life was nothing but lies and betrayal!

While presiding over a transnational meeting, I received a distressing call from my daughter's kindergarten teacher. "Mrs. Payton, a kid drew a massive clown on Anna's face during nap time! No matter how much I try to wash it off, it won't come off!" I immediately rushed to the kindergarten. My daughter, Anna Payton, was sobbing at the door. Her usually fair and tender face was now red and swollen. The clown drawing on it was particularly eye-catching. The new teacher was so panicked that she was crying herself, her voice trembling. "The parent of the other child is in the office. They said they're willing to compensate any amount, but... But there's no way you can make their son apologize." My anger surged as I kicked open the office door. However, I instantly froze in place. In the office, my husband, Arlo Payton, who was supposed to be in Swizor for a year of intensive studies, was holding up the bully. The next second, the little boy in his arms pointed at Anna and laughed. "Look, Dad. Clownface is here!"

On the very first day after I moved into the neighborhood, my neighbor, Fiona Harper, took me to court. She stood in the courtroom sobbing uncontrollably, accusing my son, Lucas Cole, of assaulting her daughter, Daisy Harper. "My Daisy just turned eighteen, and she was ruined by that sick pervert, Lucas! A piece of trash raised without morals like him deserves the death penalty!" Her daughter also insisted it was my son. "Lucas said if I did not take off my clothes, he would strangle me... I was so scared..." The moment those words were spoken, the spectators acting as the jury erupted in righteous fury, angrily demanding severe punishment for my son. "Animal! Lucas is nothing but an animal!" "Punish him harshly. Do not let that demon get away!" Then the judge summoned my son to appear in court. Everyone present was stunned into silence.

I was the heir to a wealthy family, yet my biological parents were drowning in debt and living on the streets. Out of pity for them, I decided to give up my status as a young heir and care for my family. To help them live better lives, I worked three jobs, working myself to the bone. But one day, I discovered the truth. Their so-called "bankruptcy" was a lie. They had been living a life of luxury all along. To make matters worse, my fiancée had already gotten involved with my younger brother. I was heartbroken and devastated. I decided to return to my foster father and seek his help. To get revenge for me, he ruined my biological parents' business, bringing them down for good.

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.