Emotional Turmoil Synonym

In my past life, I toiled away at the Lincoln family and treated my in-laws like they were a king and a queen. I also gave my stepson the best education possible and helped him get into a renowned college. Yet, I later ended up dead on the street. My stepson said, "You're not my mother. You'll never be her!" He breaks my legs, kicks me out of the house, and watches as I starve to death. It's only after my death that I find out he's the illegitimate son of my husband and his true love! When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my husband, Simon Lincoln, brings my stepson home.

On New Year's Eve, my in-laws, Richard Prescott and Leona Reed, had flown back to have dinner at my place. However, our butler, Rupert Williams, had only prepared two plates of cold lobster rolls even though I had specifically reminded him that Leona was allergic to lobster. Rupert looked at me with his usual stiff expression and said, "Mr. Shaw, I understand that people from your background like to take advantage of situations. Your parents showing up for a free holiday meal doesn't surprise me." He added, "But as Ms. Jaclyn Prescott's most trusted butler, I have a duty to protect the Prescott family assets from being touched by questionable individuals, even if it's just a dinner. That said, I'm not heartless enough to let two elderly people go hungry. "Here are some leftover expired lobster rolls. Your parents can eat them and leave. Ms. Prescott is very busy with work, and I can't have her come home later only to deal with your poor parents." I froze for a moment, then realized he had mistaken Jaclyn's parents for mine. He was deliberately trying to humiliate me like he always did. I was about to explain when Richard and Leona, furious, turned to leave. However, Rupert called for the security guards to block their way. "I can understand that people from rural areas might lack proper manners, but wasting food is still a bad habit. Since the lobster rolls have already been prepared, I insist you finish them before you go."

I bring Selena Bloomberg home because I find her pitiful, and I treat her very well as if she were my own younger sister. However, I didn't think that she would end up impersonating me as the Bloomberg family's heiress and kill me afterward before getting rid of my body. Now that I am reborn, I refuse to let the same tragedy happen again. I swear that I will make her pay. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth!

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many times I explained, no one believed me, and I became the shameful woman everyone pointed at. Worse still, Declan reported me and handed in some foreign letters he found at home, which led to me being taken by federal agents and sentenced as a spy. I spent ten years in prison, and when I finally walked out, I was nothing but skin and bones. Meanwhile, Declan had climbed the ranks for his so-called loyalty to the country. He held Jane's hand and brought along my real son, Seth Huxley, then threw 500 dollars at me like it was charity. He said, "Back then, Jane was accidentally deceived by someone else and gave birth to that brat. Unlike you, she has a gentle nature and couldn't endure hardship, so I had no choice but to switch your children. "This money is payment for your ten years and your reputation. You have a criminal record, and I already filed for divorce long ago to be with Jane. Seth also thinks you're not worthy of me, so you better take care of yourself." Seth also looked at me with disgust. "Mommy Jane treats me very well, and she's not like you; she's never been to prison. I don't want a mother like you!" When I learned the truth, the fury was so overwhelming that I had a stroke and died in despair. In this new life, I want to see how they plan to scheme against me when the child is already gone.

My younger brother told me he was overwhelmed by school stress and had developed depression. I tried to help by encouraging him to seek treatment, drawing from my own experience with the illness. However, my mother blamed me, accusing me of passing the depression onto him. She took me to a witch, who locked me in the house. Every day, the witch used willow branches to drive away evil spirits, beating me until my skin was raw, forcing me to drink filthy water, and making me bleed. "This is the only way to banish the evil and bless your little brother." After enduring days of torment, my depression worsened, and I chose to end my life. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my brother first confessed his depression. I looked at my body—whole and unharmed. This time, I will make them pay for everything I endured.

After a full week of night shifts, I make a fatal mistake—injecting my son, Ricky Lambert, with phenobarbital, mistaking it for an antibiotic. The injection stops his breathing instantly, and the hospital soon declares him brain-dead. My husband, Terence Lambert, completely falls apart when he hears the news. The only thing that calms him is holding his nephew, Ryan Lambert, who looks so much like Ricky. So, I give up my transfer to Harborstone to Wendy Larson, my brother-in-law's wife. I even agree to adopt her son. Because of that mistake, I work hard and endure Terence's coldness day after day without a word of complaint. Ten years later, when Wendy returns home a success, that's when I accidentally overhear her speaking with Terence. "Back then, to help me get residency at Harborstone, you swapped the medicine and killed your own son. Do you really not regret it?" Terence sneers. "Of course not. I promised I'd help you rise above the rest. And I know Rosalie too well. If she knows there is a chance to go back to Harborstone, she'll fight you for it to the bitter end. "I have to use Ricky's death to trap her for good. It also gives me the perfect excuse to make her raise our son, so you can focus on your career without any burden." I can't believe what I'm hearing. I run out the door and accidentally fall into a raging river. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the very day the hospital declares Ricky dead.

I won eight million overnight. The first thing I did was rush to the hospital to pay for my son's surgery and treatment. That was when my phone rang. Ian, a coworker from the company, called, "Something urgent came up! You need to get back here right this instant!" My wife, Mara, took the bank card from my hand, and said with an gentle and understanding voice, "You can give me the PIN. I'll take care of our son's hospital bills. Go. Work is important. Don't worry about us." In my previous life, I didn't hesitate one bit. I trusted her completely and hurried back to the office. My son never made it into surgery. Instead, the police came for me. It turned out that Mara and Ian had conspired together to frame me, pinning the crime of embezzling company funds on me. The very money Ian had stolen. With no money for treatment, my son died in the hospital. My parents, shattered by grief, suffered fatal heart attacks one after the other. And I, rotting in prison, ended my life in despair. After my death, my soul drifted to the holiday villas of Moldeves, where Mara was on vacation. I heard her laughing as she spoke to Ian, "That idiot won a fortune and wasted it on that useless sick kid. He dragged me into a miserable life." Laughing even harder, she added, "Now, their whole family is dead, and we get to enjoy wealth for the rest of our lives. Consider it compensation from that idiot! Haha!" Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in the hospital corridor, at the exact moment my wife reached out and took the bank card from me. This time, I still told her the PIN.

My in-laws were hit by a car crash. I called my husband, begging him to give me some money to pay the hospital bill. He said, "Oh, if you want money, just come out with it. That excuse is terrible!" He hung up on me. Despite how unfair it felt, I had to call him again. This time, a voice I was familiar with hit my ears. A woman's voice. "Chris, I got a bit too much sunscreen on my hand. Can I smear the rest on your abs?" Lovingly, my husband said, "You little troublemaker." His parents died that night. Overseas.

I'm at an auction with my mother-in-law, Agnes Bachert. She spots a breathtaking emerald necklace, and we end up winning it for 30 million dollars. The auctioneer signals for payment. To make things easier, Agnes suggests charging it to my father-in-law Otto Garrett's account. But just as she says this, a flashy middle-aged woman and a young woman storm over. The younger woman, Janette Saccone, grabs Agnes' arm while the middle-aged woman, Ruth Coleman, slaps her hard. "I knew something was off!" Ruth snarls. "You're a nasty old bitch for destroying my family and trying to seduce my husband! I hope you suffer!" I rush to shield Agnes. "Are you okay?" Ruth's sharp gaze snaps onto me when she hears me speak. "Your mother-in-law has no shame, throwing herself at rich men. And you're not even embarrassed for her?" I step in front of Agnes and tell Ruth that I'm married into the Garrett family, then demand to know who she is. Ruth gives me a cold, arrogant look. "Who am I? I'm Otto Garrett's legal wife—the one he married officially!" She gives me a look of pure contempt. "And who are you to question me?" Before I can say a single word, she pulls out her phone and dials a number. "Clement, my dear son, get to the auction house right now! Help me catch this homewrecker!" Clement Garrett? That's my husband. Since when does he have another mother?

I was the top engineer at the National Deep-Sea Institute—and the only person in the world with real deep-sea rescue experience. When my younger brother's submarine went down and he called for help from 35,000 feet below, I hung up on him. Then, calm and unhurried, I went straight to the police station and turned myself in for leaking classified research data. A few minutes later, my father called, furious. "Your brother's life is hanging by a thread—where the hell are you?! I demand you to get to the site and save him right now, or you won't see a single penny of the family fortune!" I pulled the blanket over myself and said into the phone, perfectly composed, "Busy. Don't bother me—I'm trying to sleep."