Fix Me Ten Years

Buried deep in the Aster estate was the Heartwood—ancient, sacred, mine. Told my husband, Julian Aster—back when he actually listened—that if it ever fell, I'd die with it. At first, he freaked out. Flew in glacier water, hired a whole squad of plant experts to nurture it 24/7. Then one day, just because his childhood friend—Isabella Duvall—got a scratch from the bark, Julian had the Heartwood ripped out. The second it crashed, I choked on glowing blood—ichor. My power? Gone. Barely standing, I grabbed his arm. "You knew. If the Heartwood dies, I—" He laughed. Straight-up mocked me. "Sera, come on. That fairy tale? Only Grandma still believes that crap. Is that mayo on your mouth? Relax—it's a tree. I'll buy you a forest if you want." Overnight, my hair turned gray. Skin cracked. Eyes dulled. Still, I dragged myself to his grandmother, Henrietta. "I kept your family safe for two hundred years. That's why the Asters thrived. But the Heartwood's gone. Debt's paid. One day left. Whatever happens next? Not my problem."

They say that the deepest cuts come from the ones you hold closest to your heart. But I never expected my husband to be the one holding the knife while another woman twisted it in deeper.... My name is Ariana Carter. I am deeply in love with my husband Misha, and we have the perfect marriage. Scratch that, HAD the perfect marriage, or so I thought until he changed. His lies and betrayal broke me. Until I woke up. Now it's time for me to retake everything I lost--my life, my career, my family, and my dignity. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

Nagsimula ang lahat nang mabankrupt ang kumpanya ng ama ni Hyacinth Liana Monteverde. Desperado siyang humingi ng tulong kay Damian Cruz, ang ruthless na bilyonaryo. Ang kondisyon ni Damian: Isang limang taong contract marriage, walang attachments, at kailangan niyang makipaghiwalay agad kay Jared, ang kaniyang kasintahan. Ginawa ni Liana ang mabigat na sakripisyo. Matapos ang masakit na breakup, pinirmahan niya ang kontrata, ipinagpalit ang pag-ibig para sa kapakanan ng kanilang kompanya. Sa laro ng kapangyarihan ni Damian, kailangan niyang magpanggap na Fiancée ni Mr. Damian Cruz, sa harap ng media at sa ina ni Damian. Para kay Liana, ito ay purong business; isang labanan para mag-survive. Ngunit habang tumatagal, ang kalkuladong lamig ni Damian at ang bigat ng kanilang kasunduan ay naglalagay sa kaniya sa alanganin. Maiiwasan ba nila ang emosyon sa loob ng limang taon, lalo na kung ang kanilang tadhana ay tila nagtutulak sa kanila na bumasag sa kanilang sariling deal?

“I vow to never love you, Daisy , Not in sickness, and never in health.” Those were Sebastian’s words at our wedding, and I had foolishly believed I could make him fall in love with me. The day I told him I was pregnant, his cold eyes met mine, and he muttered, “Abort it.” But the moment his ex-lover returned, he followed her blindly. I watched, tears clouding my vision, as he twirled her in the middle of a lavish party he threw for her—on my birthday all the while proclaiming his love for her to the entire world while I stood there like a fool. My parents’ faces twisted in disgust as they looked at me. “How can you be so ungrateful, Daisy? We’ve given you everything for twenty-three years! Now we’ve found our biological daughter. She is the real heir, so let her take over the company. Don’t be selfish!” And just like that, they handed her the inheritance I had worked for all my life. Three years. Three years I devoted to Sebastian. I gave him my heart, my body, even a kidney when he was on the brink of death. And still, he abandoned me like trash. I fled that night, leaving behind our signed divorce papers and a fake abortion report. But five years later, I returned. But not as the woman they discarded, but as the most successful actress in the nation, with my twin children by my side. And now… they came back begging. “Daisy… we were blind. Please forgive us,” my parents whispered. “I was a fool,” Sebastian fell to his knees. “I made a mistake. Come back to me. I still love you.” I rolled my eyes, my voice icy. “You are five years too late, ex-husband.”

I'd been married to my lawyer husband for eight years. In all that time, he never once acknowledged me as his wife in public. He wouldn't even let our daughter call him "Dad." Again and again, he missed out on her childhood because of his childhood sweetheart. Even when she hurt our daughter, he still forgave her. I was worn out and empty. So I decided to leave. I took our daughter and vanished from his world. But he refused the divorce. He started searching for us like a madman, turning the whole world upside down. Only this time, neither my daughter nor I will be looking back.

After seven years of marriage, my husband grew tired of our quiet life and took a college student as his mistress. That fragile, pitiable girl held Alain Roth so completely he didn't come home for an entire month, no matter how I begged. On our son's third birthday, I came to their villa, holding the feverish child and pleading for him to return. Inside, he stayed lost in passion with her. Jeff Roth drew his last breath in my arms while their pleasure echoed through the night. At the funeral, Alain held me and wept, swearing he would return to the family and love only me. I agreed, driven solely by Jeff's dying wish. Four years later, a video from his old kindergarten surfaced, showing Alain with a radiant Mabel Flores and a three-year-old boy. The boy smiled brightly at the camera, lifting a trophy high. "Mom, Dad, we're the happiest family in the world!"

Seven years ago, I ignored my girlfriend's heart-wrenching pleas and ruthlessly severed our relationship. Now, after seven long years, she had risen to the top—and she was back, ready for her wedding. She didn't come home for mere celebration, though. She came for revenge. She obliterated the company my father had spent his entire life building and did not stop until she shattered his leg, forcing him to endure unimaginable pain. It was all so I'd be forced to go to her wedding and beg for forgiveness. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more. She hissed, brandishing a blade, "If Matthew's not here in ten minutes, I'll slice off a finger for every minute he's late." My autistic brother's fingers, the only way he could create art, became a bargaining chip in her sadistic game. Dad's anguished cries filled the air as he pleaded for mercy, but she was not done. She wanted to tear my family apart piece by piece. My mom, fragile and trapped in the haze of Alzheimer's, was next. Her mind, already slipping, crumbled under the relentless torment. She cracked, completely lost to the madness. With tears streaming down his face, Dad said, "My son died the day you left for abroad."

My body drifted in the river for five years before a fishing enthusiast reeled it in. Even though the forensic pathologist managed to reconstruct my face from when I was alive through craniofacial reconstruction technology, the hatred my brother had for me remained as strong as ever. "That better be her body! She has been on the run for five years! Even in death, she doesn't deserve pity! In fact, it simply is a disgrace to have a murderer like her as the daughter of the Clarke family!" he hissed. Everyone thought he despised me with every fiber of his being. Yet, as he spoke, his entire body trembled. Who would have guessed that the distress call I made to him five years ago would end up becoming the main factor that hastened my death?

On New Year's Eve, I returned home. At the welcome party, my boyfriend, Grayson Caldwell, suddenly appeared, holding a bouquet of red roses and a diamond ring, dropping to one knee. "Although this proposal comes a full three years late, our love will never be late," he said. "Alexa, marry me!" Friends cheered from the sidelines, all expecting me to nod through tears and say yes. But they had forgotten that three years ago, on New Year's Eve, he had promised to propose. That night, I dressed to the nines and waited until dawn—but he never showed up. Instead, there was only a cold phone call. "Tanya is sick. I'm busy taking care of her. You'll have to wait a little longer for the proposal." And so, on New Year's Day, I left the country alone, bound by a family-arranged marriage. I had already married someone else three years ago.