Fake Ponytails

The day I found out I wasn't really an Adelson, Sharon—their real daughter—stormed in and stabbed me—over and over. Just like that, my shot at being a mom? Gone. Chuck Benetton, my fiancé, lost it. My parents swore they'd disown her. To "comfort" me, Chuck proposed on the spot. My parents handed me the severance letter—Sharon officially disowned—and told me to just focus on healing. Later, they said Sharon had run off and gotten trafficked in Nyamara, some hotspot for scams and lost souls. They said it served her right. And yeah... I believed them. Six years into the lie, I saw her—very much alive, baby bump and all, curled up against my husband like she owned him. "If I hadn't snapped back then, Yasmine never would've married you, " she said. "Thank God you and Mom and Dad backed me. Otherwise, that imposter would've landed me in jail. "She probably never guessed I've been right here, carrying your baby. Once I give birth, just fake an adoption. She can nanny our kid forever. "Thanks for everything, Chuck." She smiled like he was her hero. And he blushed. "Don't thank me. Marrying her was the only way to protect you. I'd do it all again." So yeah. The guy I thought loved me? He was always lying. My "parents"? They only cared about Sharon. If that's love, I want nothing to do with it.

After being missing for 18 years, Mom and Dad finally found me. Jillian Swain, the fake heiress, crumples to the floor and starts sobbing. "Goodbye, Mom and Dad. Thanks for taking care of me all these years. But now that Wanda is home, I'm sure you don't have any use for me anymore." Mom and Dad hug her, completely heartbroken. "Sweetheart, don't talk like that! You're our only real daughter, now and always!" Even Harvey Schumer, the guy I was promised to as a kid, declares his love for her. "Forget who you really are. You're the only one I love." They're all tripping over each other to fuss over Jillian. They even throw a birthday celebration for her dog while I'm barely hanging on after a car crash. So I pack up my things, accept the space agency's offer, and slip away into a five-year confidential satellite research project. But the whole family freaks out the second I'm gone, turning the country upside down, searching for me.

After the car accident, one of the Johnson sons was dead and the other gravely injured. When my devout, devoted husband woke up in the hospital, he called out, "Dorothy." He claimed that his body then held the soul of his brother, Elias Johnson. I went mad, calling doctors, priests, anyone I could, desperate to bring my husband back. It was not until that night that I overheard his conversation with our son: "Father, you've loved aunt for years. You even kept yourself chaste in your private prayer room, waiting. Now, finally, you can be with her openly." The man in the bed reached out to stroke our son's hair. "If it weren't to stop your mother from destroying her relationship, I wouldn't have married her." I hid in the shadows, still reeling from their words, when I saw what happened after our son left. The husband I had always known, icy, composed, and ascetic to maintain his devout faith for seven years, was then holding his sister-in-law close on that tiny hospital bed, sharing a warmth meant for lovers. The next day, I applied for Jim Johnson's death certificate and burned our marriage certificate. At his grand wedding, I climbed aboard the helicopter sent to fetch me. However, my once-cold husband went mad, chasing after us down several streets, desperate and unhinged.

I'm Sophie Gould, the only daughter of the wealthiest man in Arberton. My mother doesn't like me, though. She treats her niece, Tanya Hall, like her own and allows her to take over my identity. At a banquet where all affluent families are gathered, Tanya takes my seat before I can. Then, she says in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "You wouldn't even be here if not for Mom wanting me to show you around so you can expand your horizons, Sophie. "Remember this—you might not be a member of the Gould family, but your actions are linked to us. Don't disgrace us." In the past, I would've stood there with my eyes red, at a loss for what to do. It was too bad I'd been reborn. I smile icily at Tanya and kick her off my throne. "I should've expected this of an impostor. To think an insignificant banquet like this is enough to make you act so obnoxiously! And did you say you're part of the Gould family? You have no idea the sort of trouble you'll be getting yourself into!"

The day my cancer is diagnosed, my husband slaps me across the face. "You're vicious! You're even pretending to have cancer just to look more pitiful than your sister!" My son shouts, "Mom is horrible! I hate Mom!" I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly put the test results away and choose a grave for myself. In 15 days, I'll leave this city to die somewhere else in peace. I won't even give them the chance to regret it.

Everyone knows Francesco Greco, heir to the largest mafia family in Solerio, is a notorious playboy. Yet when he swears to God that he'll love me for the rest of his life, I choose to believe him. He lives up to his words during the first year of our marriage. The Greco heir, whose presence alone terrorizes others, clings to me like a loyal puppy at home. But by the second year, he starts returning home with one lover after another. Rumors of his scandalous affairs spread, and I become the laughingstock of Solerio. On our eighth anniversary, his 99th lover taunts me in front of everyone at dinner. "Don't sleep in the master bedroom tonight," she says. "Mr. Greco and I are going to have some fun there. Also, change the sheets. I can't stand how dirty your things are." Everyone expects me to break down under such humiliation. Instead, I smile and turn on my heel. Then, I dial Madre Greco's number. "Madre, it's been eight years," I say, my voice steady. "It's time for me to leave."

Stanley Hamilton and I were basically Southport's favorite hate-watch couple. For Elodie—my oh-so-perfect adopted sister—he wrecked my company and had my parents thrown in prison. I, in turn, drove Elodie to her death, making him watch as she jumped off a rooftop. Our forced marriage? Just a slow ride from mutual disgust straight into mutual destruction. Then came the car explosion. Stanley, who'd hated me forever, still used his last breath to shove me out of the blast. "Vivienne Weston, one lifetime tangled with you is enough. If there's a next one, let's never meet." He touched the tattoo of Elodie's name on his neck, smiling faintly as the flames took him. After he died, I wandered through life half-dead myself until illness finished the job. When I woke up in the past, staring at two betrothal contracts, I didn't hesitate—I picked the guy everyone swore was insane. Stanley and my dad? I handed them right back to Elodie. This time, I wanted no meetings, no memories, no strings. Ever again.

Everyone in our social circle knew that my fiancée, Hazel Mullins, had a skin hunger condition toward me. Only touching me brought her excitement and satisfaction. But the self-proclaimed heartthrob and heir to the Newman family refused to believe it. He boldly declared that he would win her over within a month. After bombarding her with seductive photos for an entire month, Hazel finally reached her breaking point and auctioned them off. With his reputation ruined, Rory Newman was disowned by his family. In a fit of rage, he jumped off a bridge in an apparent suicide attempt. Hazel lost her mind and leaped after him. I became the biggest laughingstock in the circle. That was until I went skiing in the Alps and accidentally bumped into Hazel helping Rory select ski gear. She explained with a composed expression, "Rory's dealing with some serious emotional trauma. The doctor suggested more outdoor activities. Just please, don't throw another tantrum." I felt bewildered. I wasn't even involved with them anymore. Why would I get upset? Then it hit me that she was unaware of one fact. I had already married someone else on the same day she jumped into the water after Rory in that dramatic display of devotion. I was simply there for my honeymoon, with a bit of skiing on the side.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

I grew up with the Vipera brothers. They have always considered me their younger sister and spoiled me silly. But after that car accident, my relationship with them changes completely. The accident leaves me with severe burns on my body, and I'm in constant agony. On top of that, my face is disfigured too. The moment I'm wheeled out of the ICU, I call the Vipera brothers to let them know that I'm safe. However, the only response I get from them is an impatient dismissal. "Sofia, Bianca hurt her fingers during the accident. We're taking care of her now. Don't bother us by throwing a tantrum." Soon, Bianca Rossi uploads a selfie of herself with the Vipera brothers in a luxurious hospital room. She's wearing three wolf fang bracelets on her wrist. I'd given those to the Vipera brothers as a Christmas gift last year. To get the fangs from the particular species of wolves they liked, I trekked through the jungle alone with a gun and battled feral wolves the entire night. I completely let go of any remaining feelings toward the famiglia that raised me and decide to leave them for good. When the Vipera brothers see me again at a grand banquet held by the Ferro famiglia, they are overwhelmed with regret.