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As a hopeless romantic and a trusting fool, I never saw it coming. The man who once swore he loved me to the bone ended up in bed with the very girl I had been supporting—a poor, sickly girl who played the part well. He didn’t stop there. He convinced me to donate my kidney to save her, knowing full well it meant losing our unborn child. Together, they wove a twisted plan to rob my family of everything, drowning us in insurmountable debt. In the end, my mother and I had nowhere to turn but the rooftop. The last thing I saw before jumping was a flood of crimson, and the agony that consumed me was unforgettable. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I was back—ten minutes before I made the fateful decision to help that girl. This time, things will be different.

Wanting to give my boyfriend, Justin Letterman, a surprise on Valentine's Day, I throw myself at him when he enters the room. I push him against the door and kiss him passionately. It isn't easy to transfer the spiked wine from my mouth into his, but his reaction is cold and indifferent. He says nothing as he pushes me aside to turn on the light. "Don't you want my first time anymore, darling?" I ask bashfully as I grab his hand. His breathing turns heavy in an instant. Smiling, I slip my hand under his shirt, but I'm distracted when I hear the front door creak open. "Babe," Justin coos in a deep and hoarse voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?" my best friend, Natalie Quinn, asks coyly. The wanton noises of kissing and moaning echo into the room. Before I can snap back to my senses, I'm yanked into a closet. Am I the one getting caught, or am I the one doing the catching?

When my son was born, I noticed a small, round birthmark on his arm. But the weird thing? By the time I opened my eyes again after giving birth, it was gone. I figured maybe I'd imagined it. That is, until the baby shower. My brother-in-law's son, born the same day as mine, had the exact same birthmark. Clear as day. That's when it hit me. I didn't say a word, though. Not then. I waited. Eighteen years later, at my son's college acceptance party, my brother-in-law stood up and dropped the truth bomb: the "amazing" kid I'd raised was theirs. I just smiled and invited him and his wife to take their "rightful" seats at the table.

On the day of my wedding with my girlfriend, I was unexpectedly informed by the hotel that our ceremony had to be postponed by a couple of hours. With no time to notify relatives and friends of the change, I had to rush to the hotel entrance to intercept guests. Upon arriving, I was stopped at the door by security, who told me that a wedding was currently taking place inside. The host's voice could be heard as I saw my girlfriend, wearing a veil, smiling and extending her hand to a man who was half-kneeling. In the audience, all the bride's relatives who were supposed to attend our wedding were seated, clapping and cheering. The man on stage was her dream guy and also my current superior. Seeing me causing a commotion, my girlfriend warned me, "I'm just helping out. Alex is your superior. I'm also doing this to help you. Don't cause any trouble." Just helping out? I had booked the wedding venue, chosen the time, designed the wedding dress, and personally sent out the invitations. How could a wedding be rearranged so suddenly? I looked coldly at the ring box the man was holding. "It seems my taste is quite similar to my yours. If that's the case, this diamond ring is yours, including the wife." My girlfriend finally panicked.

After I was falsely accused of being a third wheel by a fake heiress, she hired a group of people to corner me in the delivery room under the pretense of giving me an intervention. "How dare you, a shameless mistress, hope to secure a place with your child!" "Today, I'm going to make sure that b*stard in your belly is gone for good. Let's see if you dare get into my man's bed again." The group blocked the delivery room door, their faces twisted with malice as they refused to let the doctors deliver my baby. I begged them to let me go, but they only laughed cruelly and forced me down in front of a camera while I struggled through labor. They forcefully pulled the baby out of my belly and killed him right in front of me. I clung to my child's lifeless body, sobbing hysterically, while they posted my miserable state online with the caption, 'This is what happens to mistresses.' Later, I exposed her fake heiress status and revealed the dirty secrets of her and those people who were allegedly giving me an intervention online. Relentlessly attacked by netizens until she had nowhere left to turn, she ended up begging me for forgiveness. I pointed to the edge of the rooftop and said, "Jump, and I'll forgive you."

The Richie Rich who violated my daughter has gotten off unscathed. He sneers and throws a wad of cash in my face. "I'll show you what people mean when they say money makes the world go round!" In that split second, I want to tear him to pieces.

After helping my husband build his business from the ground up, I settled into life as a full-time housewife. When our daughter's tenth birthday approached, I planned to host a grand celebration for her. I booked a party that cost 2 thousand dollars per table. But when I swiped my card at the hotel, the staff gave me a strange look. "Mrs. Richmond, this card doesn't even have fifty dollars in it to charge." Flushed with embarrassment, I went home to confront my husband. He wore an apologetic expression. "Lately, the company's been competing for contracts. The new government official is insatiably greedy, and I've had to spend a lot under the table to smooth things over. Once the funds turn around, I'll make sure our daughter gets the grand birthday she deserves." I gave him a gentle, understanding smile—but as soon as I turned away, I began tallying our assets. Because that so-called "new government official" was none other than my father. And in his office, there hadn't been any bids or contracts at all. Now I intended to find out exactly where my husband had spent all our money.

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'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?

My college dormmate, who spread nasty rumors about me, sends me an e-invitation. "I'm marrying the richest man in the country and will soon be a trophy wife—I'll be leagues above you. Seeing as we were once dormmates, I'll begrudgingly allow you to be my bridesmaid. Don't miss this chance!" I frown. What is wrong with Jasmine Teach? I'm the country's richest person. When did a man overtake me? I want to block her number and delete the conversation, but I check the e-invitation to be sure. I'm stunned when I see the photo of her husband-to-be. Isn't that Harold Jackson, my husband? He's supposed to be on a business trip. My lips curve in a cold smile, and I type a response while gnashing my teeth. "I'd be honored to be your bridesmaid. I'll prepare a huge surprise for you, too."