Face Time With Eight

It is payback time! Cynthia Laurent’s comeback is fueled by heartbreak… and a love that won’t let go. The day she was told she had six months to live, her husband’s betrayal cut deeper than any diagnosis. While grappling with a brain tumor, Cynthia overheard her stepsister’s cruel confession: “I’m pregnant.” One look at her husband’s face told her the truth — the affair was real, and the baby was his. Eight years of marriage, discarded like trash. Her pleas were met with her mother-in-law’s venom who saw her only as a nanny, a cook, a housekeeper, a cleaner – never a daughter-in-law and her eight-year-old son’s chilling wish for a “new mom.” Broken and abandoned, Cynthia vanished to Paris, ready to die. But fate had other plans. In Paris, three men of immense power burst into her life, claiming to be her brothers and vowed to protect her at all costs. Titans of industry, speed, and medicine, they rebuilt Cynthia from the ground up. Now, as the Michelin-starred queen of Maison Cynclair, Cynthia returns to the city that destroyed her. Her ex-husband falls to his knees. “We’re still married,” he pleads. Her son cries, “Mom, don’t you love me anymore?” The woman they once broke is gone. “Thank you for your betrayal,” she replied, calm and clear. “It made me a hundred-million-dollar woman.” A man’s love fades. An empire? Never.

By a twist of fate, my husband, Morgan Lancaster, and I perish together in a sea of flames. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the very day we received our marriage certificate. In my previous life, we appeared to be a loving couple in the eyes of others, yet Morgan refused to share a bedroom with me the entire time we were married. It was only moments before our deaths that I discovered I was merely a substitute for his first love and that he had chosen to remain chaste for her for life. After getting another chance at life, neither of us mentions the past. Instead, by mutual understanding, we file for divorce that same day. From that point on, we go our separate ways. Eight years later, Morgan shows up arm in arm with his childhood sweetheart, Freya Springer, at a business summit. He is now a prominent and celebrated rising star in the business world. Seeing me dressed in a plain outfit, he approaches with a glass of champagne. His tone drips with mockery as he asks, "Ms. Smith, even if you still have feelings for me, there's no need to dress like a waitress just to get close to me. You aren't hoping for a reconciliation, are you?" I say nothing and simply smile as I wave at someone in the distance. My son, Theo Coltrane, toddles over and tugs at the hem of my shirt. "Mommy, Daddy says that he's tired from waiting so long. When are you coming home with us?" The smile on Morgan's face freezes instantly, and he nearly loses his grip on the glass in his hand.

Kyson Hale, the regimental commander, finally agrees to let me live with him on the military base. But in return, our son isn't allowed to address him as "dad". Kyson and I have been secretly married for eight years. I've taken care of his parents in the countryside for that long as well. After the death of his parents, my son, Darryl Hale, and I request Kyson to let us live with him on the military base. He agrees to our requests, but he has a condition of his own. "Once you've reached the military base, you shall declare to everyone else that you're just my relatives from the countryside." Only then do I realize that Kyson has another family of his own in the military. Some time later, I leave the army with Darryl without looking back. But Kyson, who's always been cold and distant, is alarmed by our disappearance.

In the third year of our marriage, my wife’s ex-boyfriend of eight years suddenly posted a picture on social media showing off a multi-million-dollar wedding house. His caption read: “Wow, got myself a huge villa, I’m the master of charming women!” I stared in shock at the picture, which showed my wife swiping her card at a sales office, and left a single comment: "?" A second later, my wife called to scold me. “I was just fulfilling a promise I made to him back when we were dating, buying him a house. Why are you getting mad at him?” “What? Are you really going to be so vicious as to force me to break my word?” That evening, her ex showed off another lavish post, this time flaunting a renovation bill worth hundreds of thousands. I knew it was a gift from my wife to please him. But by then, I no longer cared.

The care center called. "Hi, just wanted to ask if you're happy with our service so far." Well, that was odd. I was only eight months along. My baby wasn't even born yet. I had no need for the care center at the moment. So I kept digging. I pressed my husband for answers. He was the one handling the talks with the care center. I wanted to know what was going on. He gave me an apologetic look. "This center costs 120 grand, honey. We can't afford that. They must've gotten the wrong number. You should stay at home instead. I'll give you the perfect care you need." That was it. I wasn't going to waste my time talking to him. My sister, Jessie Gibson, owned the care center, so I called her instead. "Jessie? Yeah, it's me. William sent another woman to your place and stole my spot. I want you to find out who. He's cheating on me, and I'm getting proof!"

🎯เมื่อเพื่อนพี่ชายดันตกหัวใจของเธอตั้งแต่ครั้งแรกที่สบตา เธอจึงลุกขึ้นมาคิดหาวิธีการร้อยแปดเพื่อทำให้เขา‘เป็นของเธอ‘!!!📌📌“คิดดีแล้วหรอ…ถึงได้กล้าเดินเข้ามาหาฉัน?” “ทำไมไดต้องคิดให้ปวดสมองด้วยคะ?” “ไอ้เดมมันไม่เคยเตือนเธอ..?”

The day Adrian Knight clinched a contract with our biggest client, I "accidentally" tipped a bottle of ink across the paperwork, voiding it on the spot. Because of that single blot, the project landed in Alex Lewis’s lap, and he won Chairman Henry Carter’s favor almost overnight, moving into the Carter mansion as their future son-in-law and watching his net worth rocket into eight figures. Adrian never blamed me. He just laughed that he’d never been executive material anyway and happily brought me home as his bride. Everyone whispered that, if not for my meddling, Adrian would already be sitting in the Carter family’s executive suite instead of scraping by in an ordinary life with me. Only I knew the truth: stopping him from signing that contract had saved his life. When Adrian learned I was pregnant, he locked me in the basement, fingers digging into my throat. "If it hadn’t been for you," he snarled, "I’d be Henry Carter’s son-in-law by now. You’re the reason I lost Rachel, the princess of the Carter family." That’s when I realized he’d been nursing this grudge for years. After he killed me, I woke up, reborn on the very day Adrian first reached for that fatal contract. This time, I’ll make sure Adrian Knight gets exactly what he wants.

There's an earthquake. My husband, the captain of the rescue team, abandons me to save Wendy Smith, his true love. I don't stop him. I let him go. Why? Because when he was faced with the same choice in my past life, he saved me because I was eight months pregnant. Meanwhile, Wendy remained trapped under the rubble. She ultimately died due to a lack of oxygen after the delayed rescue. Later, on the day I went into labor, my husband brought me to Wendy's grave. He watched me coldly as I collapsed on the ground from the searing pain. He ignored my pleas. "Does it hurt, Yelena? Wendy's pain was a thousand times worse when she was trapped under the rubble!" I stared at him in disbelief as he descended into insanity. "You were safe that night—you were in the safe triangle zone! Wendy would never have missed the best time for rescue if not for you using your pregnancy to threaten me! I want you to experience all the pain she went through!" He forced me down on my knees and bumped my head on the ground before Wendy's grave. He ignored the blood that flowed down my legs. Ultimately, I died after major blood loss from a difficult labor. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day the earthquake happened. This time, neither I nor my child will wait for him.

The day before Simon Miles and I were set to get engaged, he told me his true love was his childhood sweetheart. He secretly booked plane tickets for himself and her to travel abroad. For eight years, I would spend one day each year at the Capital Hotel. That was where my engagement to Simon was supposed to happen. Everyone thought I could not move on from him. Eight years later, he returned to the country with his childhood sweetheart for his career. He had learned that a tycoon’s mother, Laurel Windsor, loved dining at the Capital Hotel, so he immediately bought her a gift to curry favor. The moment he handed Laurel the gift, he saw me standing beside her. He frowned and snapped. “It’s been eight years, Clara. Why are you still clinging to me? You knew I was coming back, so you rushed over, didn’t you? “Listen here. I’m back for business. If you ruin this deal for me, I’ll make you pay!” I was baffled. Oh, so he still did not know why I was here. Laurel was my mother-in-law, and it was her birthday today. Every year, I would dine with her at the Capital Hotel for her birthday.

Everyone in our circle knew I had always been obsessed with Daniel Rothman. I followed whatever he did—went to school, learnt eight different languages, studied finance. After all, the Rothmans and Fosters were destined to merge through marriage—our intertwined business empires depended on it. However, on our wedding day, Daniel flew overseas to rescue his crush in distress. Our childhood bond, once the envy of everyone, became the biggest joke of all. There I was, wearing a wedding dress worth millions, standing alone as I completed the grand ceremony by myself. The headlines were everywhere. For the first time, my name came before his in the news. How foolish. Men were a dime a dozen. But there was only one well-established business empire. I did not just want his body. I wanted his money, too.