Financial Independence, Retire Early (fire)

When I was six, I spilled hot water, slipped, and burned my face. My face was ruined. My parents learned their lesson and never let my younger sister do housework. To everyone they met, they praised her beauty, her charm. They turned to me with nothing but disdain. When I was ten, I had a high fever. They didn't think much of it and let it drag on until my brain was damaged, leaving me slow and dull. They learned their lesson again. From then on, if my sister so much as coughed, they would rush her to the hospital in the dead of night, showering her with care. I was like a failed experiment. Every mistake they made with me, they corrected for her. I was ugly, silent, dim-witted, unwanted. She was beautiful, sweet-talking, clever, adored by all. When I was diagnosed with depression, I gathered what little courage I had and told them. Mom lashed out, called me sick in the head, and accused me of being petty. If I was so capable, she said, I might as well die. It wasn't until my sister pushed me off a high-rise that they found out, by sheer accident, that she wasn't their child at all. I was their one and only biological child.

My husband's protégé boasted she could disarm bombs blindfolded, relying on her so-called intuition. Her reckless misjudgment triggered a bomb's secondary detonation sequence, endangering an entire building. I intervened, using the dangerous liquid nitrogen condensation method to save the day. As a result, Rita Smith was removed from frontline duties and placed under investigation. Patrick Munoz tried to defend her, but I stopped him cold. "If you back her now, you won't just fail to save her. You'll be dragged down with her." Crushed by the pressure, Rita staged an accident that killed her, leaving a letter blaming him for abandoning her in her hour of need. He said nothing, only preserving her letter in his study. Years later, he became a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert. During a terrorist attack, I was strapped to a timed explosive. He arrived to defuse it but repeated Rita's fatal mistake. As the timer ticked down, he gave a bitter laugh. "Rita was just nervous back then. If I'd supported her, she'd be a hero today." The bomb detonated, leaving nothing of me behind. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the point when he tried to defend Rita. He didn't know that the building housed the nation's top-secret core server.

I was ten years old when I lost my hearing saving Adrian Falcone's life. After that, I couldn't survive without my hearing aids. He held my hand afterward, his eyes red-rimmed with guilt, and made me a promise in front of his entire family. "Serena Lombardi, I'll protect you with my life," he said. "I'll marry you." But when I turned eighteen, everything changed. Adrian needed to pass some test set by Daniela Moretti—the daughter of a rival family—and he chose the cruelest way to prove himself. He ripped the hearing aids from my ears in front of everyone and laughed. "You're just a deaf, useless burden," he said, his voice cold and cutting. "I've been sick of you for years. Honestly? I wish you'd died in that explosion when we were ten and saved me the trouble." I gripped the rehabilitation report the doctor had just handed me, and my fingers crushed the paper's edges. The diagnosis was precise—my hearing had fully recovered. That night, I burned my hearing aids and convinced my parents to cut all ties with the Falcone family. Adrian Falcone, we're done. Whatever we had, whatever you owed me—it's over now.

I opened my eyes to a dark, windowless room. Overhead, a voice crackled from the speakers. “Welcome to The Judgment Room. Each player will state the crime they committed. Do not lie. After all six of you speak, you will vote. The one with the most votes will be eliminated. “The game starts now.” In this deadly game, whose sins weighed the least?

My fiancé wants to marry me in a pizzeria. At the same time, he promises to give his true love the rest of his life on a luxurious cruise. Our wedding is only 48 hours away, but I don't want him anymore.

The seventh time I planned to register for marriage with Piero Conrad, he didn't show up again. I was about to text him and ask when he would arrive when I stumbled upon his childhood friend's post. [Celebrating the 999th day since marrying my dear, from the past to the future, it's always been you.] The video showed a marriage certificate, with Piero's name listed as the husband. The registration date was May 20, three years ago. I realized that was why he never showed up those seven times. He was already married to someone else.

When I was five months pregnant, I was kidnapped by a group of thugs. They used my phone to call my brother, Jeremy Wirkola, and my husband, Grant Sanders, to demand a ransom of ten million, but no one answered. I was tortured and assaulted until I was barely alive. When I was finally rescued, Jeremy cried and promised to avenge me. Grant was in tears too. He vowed to get me treated. However, while under the haze of anesthesia, I overheard Grant's cold voice outside the door. “Jessie is waiting for a bone marrow, but don’t forget to remove Ashlyn’s uterus. Just tell her the injuries were too severe to save it. Oh, and get the best surgeon for her. She’s afraid of pain.” His assistant hesitated. He was clearly uncomfortable. “Mr. Sanders, isn’t this going too far?” Grant paused for a second before he replied firmly. “She refused to donate her bone marrow to Jessie and even used the baby as an excuse. She’s selfish. Besides, if we don’t do this, how can I bring back Jessie and our child into the family? As for Ashlyn, she’s my wife. I’ll make it up to her for the rest of my life. She used to bully Jessie with her status, which resulted in Jessie suffering from depression and almost killing herself. It’s time she paid the price for it.” As I listened to his heartless words, something inside me shattered completely. Since they had chosen to sacrifice me for Jessie, let them have what they wanted then.

Matapos ang limang taon kasama si Nathaniel Sinclair, inisip ni Sylvia Garner ang kanilang pagmamahal ay aabot sa habang buhay na commitment. Pero ng pinostpone ni Nathaniel ang kanilang kasal, ang kanyang mundo ay nagsimulang gumuho. Sa private club, nakita ni Sylvia ang isang eksena na dumurog sa kanyang puso—Si Nathaniel nakaluhod sa isang tuhod, nagpropose sa ibang bbabae. “Kasama mo si Sylvia ng limang taon, pero ngayon bigla mong papakasalan si Vivian Hayes. Hindi ka ba takot na malulungkot siya” May nagtanong. Nagkibit balikat si Nathaniel. “Si Vivian ay may sakit. Ito ang kanyang dying wish. Sobrang mahal ako ni Sylvia para iwan ako.” Alam ng buong mundo na mahal ni Sylvia si Nathaniel sa punto na obsessed siya, naniniwala na hindi siya mabubuhay ng wala ito. Pero sa oras na ito, mali siya. Sa araw ng kanyang kasal, sinabi niya sa kaibigan niya, “Bantayan mo si Sylvia. Huwag siyang hayaan na malaman na may iba akong papakasalan!” Napahinto ang kaibigan niya. “Ikakasal din si Sylvia ngayon. Hindi mo ba alam?” Sa sandaling iyon, nagbreak down si Nathaniel.

After being reborn, I tear up my school withdrawal form. I no longer wish to become a househusband just for Eliza Stewart's sake. She messages me when she hears the news, but I blacklist her number right away. She camps outside my house to confront me, so my family and I move to a new place immediately. Eventually, she compromises by asking me to join her in Northcrest for college. That way, I can still take care of her. I go behind her back and apply to be an education major at Southwell University instead. In my previous life, she dedicated herself to everything and everyone else, except for me. This time around, I just want us to go on our separate paths and never meet again. A few years later, I set off for the rural region of Westridge to volunteer as a teacher. Eliza, who is also volunteering there, sees me. Her eyes start turning red. She grabs my hand and refuses to let go. "Don't run off this time, Matthew…"

I was in a temporary shock from an allergic reaction. The two guys I had grown up with didn't even look my way. One of them was busy helping Vivian Byrd carry a pile of gifts, while the other was snapping pictures of her at some popular social media spot. It was a stranger passing by who called an ambulance and got me to the hospital, saving my life. The next day, Vivian called, her tone almost smug. "Trish, Zeke and Hendrick were so exhausted after shopping with me yesterday. I heard you threw a tantrum and ended up in the hospital. Should I come visit you?" I simply replied, "No need." Zeke Benson and Hendrick Peay were my childhood friends. They once treated me like I was everything to them—promising to pluck the moon and stars from the sky and to protect me forever. But ever since Vivian came into the picture, their world no longer revolved around me. I thought for a moment and then dialed my mother's number. "Mom, I'll accept the marriage arrangement."