Emotional

My wife was gone for 6 months on a business trip. The day she returned, however, she was not alone. Hand in hand, my wife showed up with her lover—my client. This was not even the worst part—she was also 3 months' pregnant. My client, in all his beer-bellied arrogance, hurled the contract at my feet, smirking. "Mr. Carter, your wife has gone to so much trouble for this partnership. Truth be told, I would never, not even in a million years, have agreed to partner with you if it wasn't for her!" My wife caressed her pregnant belly and said smugly, "I was the one who successfully got Mr. Lewis' business! I'll let you have it, though, as long as you agree to get a divorce!" I tore the contract into shreds and roared, "You want a divorce? Fine! I'll give it to you, but I'll never sign this!"

The night before the annual gala, my wife promised me a big surprise. But the very next day, she publicly quintupled the marketing manager's bonus. To me, she just gave a curt nod and a half-hearted "keep up the good work". When I questioned her decision, she brushed it off casually. "You've racked up some impressive wins in court. I'll give you that, but let's be real. Without Kevin hyping you up, you'd never have hit top-tier status. Plus, what's mine is yours. Why nitpick over a bonus?" The room buzzed with anticipation of my explosion. But I held my tongue till the gala ended. The next morning, I marched into her office and slapped my resignation letter down on her desk. "Might as well tack my salary onto Kevin's. Consider it my wedding present to you." She erupted, branding me as narrow-minded and dooming me to the unemployment line. She conveniently overlooked my track record as a powerhouse attorney. For that alone, elite firms were lining up to recruit me.

On the day of the wedding, my best friend, Elena Hartman, can't bear to part with me, so she threads my wedding shoes with a string and ties them snugly around her slim waist. The groomsmen turn the whole place upside down, and we end up late for the ceremony. She eventually cracks up and tugs at her billowy bridesmaid dress, revealing the outline of the shoes at her waist. "I dare you to come take them. As long as I'm here, she's not getting married!" My fiancé, Miles Lawson, shakes his head and chuckles. "You just love tormenting us, don't you?" Miles exchanges a look with the groomsmen, and they charge at her at the same time. She squeals as she falls back onto the bed, squirming under her layers of tulle. "Don't be so rough! I'm ticklish…" The groomsmen flush bright red. Miles' ears turn scarlet as he feels around her waist. She giggles even louder. "How are you going to undo it through all these layers? Use your head!" Then, she gasped. "That tickles!" Her theatrics make my temper flare. I spring to my feet, lift her skirt, and rip the wedding shoes right off her. "If you're that ticklish, smack yourself with a slipper. Drop the act, or I'll yank out the nerves that make you ticklish!"

Harry Pate fails in his plan to secure a fortune from my family. He tries to drug me, hand me over to his friends, and even film it to control me. Luckily, a kind netizen overhears him plotting with his mistress at a restaurant. The netizen posts a missing person alert online. "Please share widely. Looking for Freya White. Her boyfriend is trying to drug and assault her." I see the post and quietly pour the drug into the pot they are about to drink from.

My car was passing by the entrance of the office when I saw both my sisters 'wrestling' vigorously with a bum. I wasn't surprised, however, even recording a video of it and sending it to the biggest news outlet of the country, saying, "I want it seen across the world before 7pm." After all, in my last life, those two sisters were so keen to please Harold Langford that they allowed him to steal my birthright all he wanted. I bore with it because they were family, and ended up resting in pieces. But now that I had a second chance, I would return the favor. At the company gala, Harold once again took my seat as he snorted at me haughtily. "Hmph! If Ellie and Jennie didn't insist on showing you how the world works, a poor college student like you wouldn't even make it through the front door!" "Know your place and don't cause me trouble, or they will have you beaten to a pulp!" Seeing that he was still running his mouth, I kicked him three feet away as I chuckled. "Who do you think you are? How dare you strut when you're just a gigolo who only knows how to please hags!"

Not even halfway through the Thanksgiving holidays, my boss, Bill Griffin, calls me back to work. He demands I cold-call customers for sales and promises generous overtime pay. Eager to give my son a better learning environment, I seize every chance to earn more money and agree without hesitation. But once the holiday ends, the management posts a notice. "An employee has generated an excessive phone bill working overtime during the Thanksgiving holidays and incurred company losses. Please reimburse the phone bill immediately." Bill, whom I had worked alongside since graduating from college, swiftly turns on me. "Some people in their 30s are about to be laid off. Having a job at all is a blessing, yet they don't know how to appreciate the opportunities the company gives them." Refusing to bow to the absurd demands and open threats, I hand in my resignation that very same day. A company that discards its employees the moment the job is done isn't worth a second of my time. They will learn the hard way who holds the leverage.

At the company’s year-end party, management tried to cut costs by using junk as raffle items. The prize box was filled with bottle caps, instant noodle wrappers, toothpaste boxes, and other trash. Everyone was only allowed to pick one item and scan the QR code on it. Whether you won anything depended entirely on luck. I casually picked up a bottle cap and unexpectedly won a car worth 500,000 dollars. As soon as the vice president found out, he rejected my win and demanded that I hand over the prize. “The company spent 20 dollars to get these raffle items from a recycler. Any prizes won have to be recorded in the books as company assets. They belong to the company.” My boss reprimanded me as well, “Have you lost your mind because you’ve been poor? Do you think you could have won without the company? You don’t know how to be grateful, and now, you’re trying to take company property. Stop causing a scene!” I did not argue and calmly handed over the bottle cap. Then, I turned around and called one of our clients. My boss had forgotten one thing: I was the company’s top salesperson. If he insisted on crossing me, I would make him lose five million.

While on a business trip, I stumbled into my brother-in-law, Julian Zeller, mid-act with a male colleague in a hotel parking lot. Furious, I blew the lid off his fake marriage and helped my sister, Yvonne Sutton, escape that scumbag. But after the divorce, she lost his financial support. She spiraled, blaming me for destroying her perfect marriage. She even killed me for trying to stop her from going back to him. Then, everything resets. I wake up, and there he is—slipping into the car while hugging the same man. I pocket my phone. This time, I won't ruin Yvonne's happy ending.

I am in such a rush to pick up my daughter, Ava Pennington, from school that I don't have time to change out of my work attire. At the kindergarten gates, I run into the mother of one of her classmates, Candice Austin. She sizes me up from head to toe and says, "You must be Ava Pennington's mom." I politely nod. Just as I am about to say hello, her expression suddenly sours. "It's no wonder your daughter dresses so skimpily at school. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" I am so mad that I nearly forgot to respond. "What nonsense are you talking about?" Candice clicks her tongue and grows even more aggressive. "Nonsense? Your daughter wears skirts to school every day. She's distracting my son so much that his grades have slipped." Her words leave me utterly speechless. How is her son's failing grades somehow Ava's fault? When I don't respond, she gets bolder. "Look at you dressed from head to toe in cheap junk; how can you afford to send your daughter to this elite kindergarten? You must have pulled some shady strings to sneak her in through the back door, didn't you?" Has she lost her mind? Since when does Ava need strings to attend the school I built?

On Independence Day, I was on my way to my boyfriend's house when a car slammed into me. The stretch of road was deserted. The collision jammed my door shut, and the acrid smell of gasoline filled the air. My car was about to explode. I scrambled for the emergency hammer, only to find it had been swapped out for a pink toy mallet. Panic rising in my chest, I dialed my boyfriend's number. To my horror, his ringtone sounded from the very car that had crashed into me. He stepped out, arm wrapped around his childhood sweetheart. She put on a pitiful face, tears in her eyes. "Oh no, I'm so clumsy. It's my first time driving, and I hit someone." When my boyfriend realized the victim was me, he didn't hesitate to console her. "Don't worry. She must have collided with you on purpose." I pounded on the window, desperate. "Nick! The emergency hammer's been switched out. Help me get out of here!" His childhood sweetheart lit up with a mischievous smile. "Katie, I swapped it! Isn't the pink hammer super cute?" Disgust flickered across Nick's face. "It's just a little crash. Get out on your own." By now, thick smoke was pouring into the car, and the heat was searing my lungs. I begged him to save me. But the girl only giggled, covering her nose in mock annoyance. "Katie, why are you cooking in there? The smoke is awful." Then she patted her stomach. "Oops, my tummy is rumbling. Nick, let's go home and eat." He tightened his hold around her and turned to leave. "Enough already. Stop pretending. My parents are waiting for us at home." Just as suffocation closed in on me, I slammed my hand against the car's emergency distress button.