Emotional

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.

My son was caught in a car accident. My husband said that without a cornea donor, he would be trapped in darkness forever. Heartbroken, I let him sweet-talk me into signing away my corneas. Blind, I overheard my son gloating, "Dad, the plan worked. Mom fell for it, and Rachel's got her sight back. She won't be miserable anymore." "Yeah, now we're a real family with her," replied my husband. The truth gutted me. They'd played me like a fool to save my husband's old flame. When I confronted them, Rachel Huffman shoved me down a staircase, and I died in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my son's car accident.

25 years ago, a maternity nurse secretly switched me out for her daughter. Unfortunately for her, my six-year-old brother saw this and secretly switched me back. 25 years later, the maternity nurse comes knocking with her actual daughter by her side. She accuses me, the heiress of Crawford Group, of being an impostor. The company's janitor starts insulting me and insinuates that my lipstick is a cheap imitation. Even my boyfriend humiliates me with her. "And here I thought you were the heiress of the Crawford family. You can't even compare to a hair on Pammy's head!" When the DNA test results are out, everyone is stunned. "That wretch bewitched me, Lori! Please forgive me—give me another chance!" my boyfriend cries. I look at him icily. "Another chance to do what? To clean the toilets?"

End of the year. I was gonna use my bonus to treat Mom to a quick getaway. Instead? No bonus. Four hundred bucks sliced off my paycheck. I shot the HR supervisor a notice—three days to pay up. She laughed. Called me dramatic. Fired me right then. Coworkers backed her. Said I brought it on myself. Said I didn't care about the company. What they didn't see? I laughed the second I got that termination letter. Double severance? Come to mama.

My older sister, Marissa Lipton, found out that I had been dating someone online. She immediately exposed the matter to our parents. Little did they realize that the person I'd been dating was actually Xander Lorne, the heir to one of the most prestigious families in Belhorn. Since then, my parents treated me a lot better than before. I successfully married into the Lorne family, too. As for Marissa, she was forced to marry the man my parents had originally picked out for me, who was infamous for being a domestic abuser. Her life had been filled with pain and beatings since then. I, on the other hand, lived a lavish and extremely comfortable life. As a high-society wife, I was also admired and envied by all. So, Marissa decided to run me over with her car. When I wake up again, I see Marissa secretly jotting down my online partner's contact number. That's how I find out she has gotten reborn as well. Haughtily, Marissa declares that she will rise to the ranks of the elite and crush me under her heel in this life. What she doesn't know is that the "elite heir" from the previous life is a gift I've painstakingly prepared for her.

My sister, Laura Ward, died the year we were ten, the year we snuck out of school to play. From that day forward, my mother’s grief turned into a burning hatred for me, convinced that I was the reason my sister was gone. She treated me like a servant, like an unwanted burden, and filled the void by adopting a perfect, obedient daughter to replace my sister. She took everything from me without a second thought — my rights, my freedom, my very existence — and even demanded that I give up a kidney for her precious adopted girl. Alright, Mother, if you want a life, I’ll give you mine! But it was only when my body lay cold, my breath long gone, that she finally turned and looked at me.

My brother, Theo Sorento, died in a plane crash on his way back home just to celebrate my birthday. They never found his body—only wreckage. Ever since, my parents forced me to kneel in front of his grave every year on my birthday, demanding that I repent for surviving when he didn’t. Then came my eighteenth birthday. I realized someone was following me. Panicked, I sent a few messages asking for help. Just then, Mom called, not to check on me but to lash out. “I know exactly what you're doing. You’re just making up excuses so you don’t have to kneel in front of your brother’s grave! You’re a liar. Why wasn’t it you who died instead of him? You’re a walking curse!” Before my phone was smashed under a boot, the last thing I heard was the cold click of her hanging up. Then, I was cut up into pieces, and what was left of me was tossed across the city. My father, the lead forensic pathologist on my case, didn’t even recognize me. Later, Theo returned alive with his wife, whom he had eloped with eight years ago. When they found out the pile of rotting flesh was me, they all went insane.

My wife cheated on me—with my cousin. The three of us were headed to sign divorce papers when bam—car crash. Next thing I knew, I was back on the day we got our marriage license. This time, no fights, no drama. We both knew it was over. She ditched me for Jason fast and skipped the country with him. I stayed behind, buried in law books and case files. Five years later, she was famous—thanks to Jason pulling strings. Concerts, cash, fans screaming her name. Me? Still grinding at a law firm, backing folks who needed real legal help. Then came the family reunion. She showed up on Jason's arm, smug and shining, throwing shade like it was sport. But when I mentioned I was settling down with someone else? Her face snapped. "I made one dumb mistake! How DARE you move on?!"

The new intern always claimed to have the company’s best interests at heart, but her actions told a different story. To cut costs, she secretly swapped the two-thousand-dollar gift basket I had prepared for a client with a knockoff version she bought online for just two dollars, shipping included. During a critical overtime session, she turned off the power to save on electricity. Then, she boldly suggested canceling the company’s annual holiday leave. With a self-righteous expression, she declared, “The company doesn’t support freeloaders. I believe the holiday season is the perfect time to boost sales. I propose everyone work unpaid overtime and dedicate themselves selflessly to the company!” While the employees grumbled in frustration, I stepped up to refute her absurd suggestion and spoke out on behalf of the team. But instead of backing down, she accused me of embezzlement in front of everyone and recommended to the boss that I be fired. The shocking part? The boss agreed. Fine. If that was how they wanted it, I couldn’t wait to see how the company would function without me.

Celia Johnson, my boss's sister-in-law, joined the company as the finance director and announced that all reimbursements must strictly follow the standards. I spent an entire week running around for the company and finally closed a five-hundred-thousand-dollar deal. Because the client had used two extra packs of paper towels, the per-person amount for their meal ended up eight dollars over the limit. Celia folded her arms, glanced at the reimbursement form on my desk, and sneered. "Five hundred and eight dollars?" "Yes. Last night at The Peak Restaurant, where we closed Richard's deal. Zack was there too," I explained patiently. "Eight dollars over the per-person limit. Not reimbursable," Celia said coldly. I tried to reason with her. "This was a special case. The client is high-level, and the deal amount is large, and Zack personally said it would be fully reimbursed last night." She returned the reimbursement form to me. "I don't care who said that. Don't think closing a five-hundred-thousand-dollar contract lets you ignore company rules. Reimbursements must all follow policies. Everyone will follow them to the letter." I took a deep breath. I knew arguing with her head-on would get me nowhere, so I called Zack directly. Zack said, "I did say it would be reimbursed, but I never said company rules could be ignored. It's just five hundred. And you still get commission from closing the deal. You young people need to have perspective." I stopped arguing. I turned around and refused the delivery containing the hard copy of the five-hundred-thousand-dollar cooperation contract, smiling as I explained, "Company rules say all cash on delivery packages must be refused. "Also, today is my last day here. Starting tomorrow, I work for Richard's company. As the client, I will be setting the rules this time."