Family Reunion Outfits

I'm attacked after the murderer who took my sister's life is released from prison. He pins me to the forest floor, allowing me to scream and shout until I run out of strength. As the fireworks explode above me, blood pools around me. Two months later, my husband becomes his next victim. I burst into manic laughter when I see the torment he has to suffer.

On my way back from a business trip, I scrolled past a video. A newborn was abandoned by the roadside, crying so hard. As a first time dad, I couldn’t help looking at the baby a little longer. I froze because that baby looked exactly like my son. I had booked the best confinement center in the city for my wife. I had checked them into a VIP suite. I had employed a nanny and a nursing team to look after my wife and my son full-time. I broke out in a cold sweat. My wife didn’t check her phone, so I immediately called the center's manager, Ms. Thompson. She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith. Your wife and baby are perfectly fine. They just fell asleep.” The next second, she sent me a photo of my sleeping baby. I stared at the tiny, unfamiliar face. In that instant, the blood in my body turned to ice. I was only gone for four days. So how was my son a different person?

I finally became pregnant after my husband and I underwent over a dozen rounds of IVF. However, to my horror, I discovered that the embryo growing inside me was the fertilized egg of my husband and the family maid. They even schemed to have me disappear so that the child could inherit everything. I pretended not to know, carried the child to term, and took care of him, raising him with love and care. It was not until 20 years later that they forced me to sign a share transfer agreement by my hospital bed, along with a divorce agreement that left me with nothing. "After 20 years, we finally have our happy family. You never saw this coming, did you? The child you fought so hard to give birth to is my biological son!" Even my son, without any remorse, said, "Honestly, your illness is beyond help. It'd be better for you to just die." With a knowing, almost bittersweet, smile I replied, "For your happiness, I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dating him, to ultimately leaving him with his child in my womb. Even the death certificate I've given my daughter is fake. From beginning to end, I've lied to him about everything except our daughter.

When I was five months pregnant, my mafia husband Dante Pierce had an affair with his childhood sweetheart. That was when I discovered that our marriage certificate was fake. He had secretly married someone else behind my back. Even worse, the child I was carrying would be excluded from the family inheritance. From beginning to end, I was nothing more than a public front for his precious childhood sweetheart. After learning the truth, I did not cry or throw a tantrum. I quietly erased my legal identity, changed my name and disappeared forever with my child. However, later, everyone claimed that Dante, head of the Pierce family, was a hopeless romantic who had given up everything to search for the wife and child who had vanished without a trace.

I specifically accompany my wife, Sophie Caldwell, to visit her family during the holidays. My mother-in-law, Margaret Jackson, brings over a basket of apples. Then, she says in a half-teasing manner, "These apples are meant for the Jacksons. Once you've had your apple, you'll be blessed with a life as sweet as these apples. By the way, outsiders aren't allowed to take the apples." Everyone begins fighting for the apples happily. So, I grab an apple of my own too. The next thing I know, the atmosphere in the living room goes eerily quiet. Sophie drags me to a corner and starts berating me. "Are you so poor that you can't even afford to buy your own apple? Must you steal apples from my family? "Didn't you hear my mom saying that outsiders aren't allowed to take the apples? Why did you even take one from the basket? "Thanks to you, now Julius doesn't have an apple!" I look around my surroundings. It turns out that there are only eight apples in total, while we have nine people sitting in the living room. So the "outsider" she was talking about is me. I decide to hand the apple over to Sophie's godbrother, Julius Sterling. Then, I call my dad on the phone. "Dad, you don't have to bring the holiday gifts over now."

Reborn as the long-lost Rogers heir, missing for fifteen years, I avoided every chance to bond with my two brothers in this family. When they tossed me Vivi’s discarded, ill-fitting gown for the family gala, I smiled and put it on. When they sent Vivi to get an elite education while ordering me to scrub the utility room, I picked up the mop without a word. When they let Vivi chase love and dumped her rejected suitor on me, I didn’t fight. I accepted her leftovers with a calm nod. This was all because in my past life, I had spent my entire life desperate for my brothers' approval, only to end up despised by everyone for it. When I died in the crossfire of a gangland shootout, my own son pushed my body away in disgust. "Mom, did you really waste your whole life on such a petty fight with Aunt Vivi? Dying for the family would have been a more dignified end. At least then you wouldn't have disgraced our name." I left this world filled with resentment, only to open my eyes and find myself back at the moment I first set foot in the Rogers estate. This time, I'm done fighting. The power, the name, the honor. I'm letting them have it all. I’ve already been accepted into a closed-door medical project. Soon they will never see me again.

The night of my first shift at eighteen, my two older brothers brought home a twelve-year-old orphaned Omega. My alpha brother seized the rare healing herb I'd spent all my savings on—herbs meant to ease my first transformation—and gave them to her instead. "You're strong enough," he growled. "You don't need such precious herbs." My beta brother snarled with fury, pointing toward the door. "Get out! Don't come back!" I said nothing more, just grabbed my packed bag and left. They assumed I was merely throwing a tantrum, that I'd return in a few days. My brothers, finally free of my presence, took the orphan girl on an international vacation to the Caribbean islands I'd always dreamed of visiting. Many days later, when they returned to the pack, they were shocked to discover I'd accepted an offer from the neighboring pack's Head Healer. The position required fifteen years of isolated herbal research. I could never return home. That night, they fell apart.

My three older brothers, Marcus, Jeremy, and Andrew Graham love me to the moon and back. Marcus clumsily practices peeling apples for me when I lie on a hospital bed. Jeremy blushes as he buys sanitary pads and prepares a warm drink for me when I have my period. Andrew spends all his pay to buy me new clothes and even declares, "Whoever bullies you will pay the price." He isn't shy to express his brotherly love for me. I once believed that my life would stay happy like this forever. However, my adopted sister, Mackenzie Falk, accuses me of swapping the graduation thesis she has been working on for three years. I suffer a heart attack on the spot.

I returned home after studying abroad for three years, only to find that my brother’s girlfriend had brought her entire family to live in my mansion. The moment they saw me, they pinned me against the floor. "How dare you! Call him your sweetheart, spend his money, and now you're here to take my mansion? " When I saw the girlfriend’s crazed antics, I was shocked. “Who did you say owns the mansion?” “It’s my boyfriend’s, but it’ll be mine sooner or later. It has nothing to do with you.” With her parents, she yanked off the ancient pendant on my neck and crushed my heirloom bracelet. They even tied up my limbs, put me on the table, and positioned me in a humiliating pose to post online. Her brother pinned my legs down and reached under my shirt…