Freak Scans

On the night of Mom's birthday, as she was making a wish under the moon, Dad suddenly leaned close to her ear and whispered something. My usually cautious mother, who valued her life above all else, turned around after hearing those words and jumped straight into the pack's silver pit. The silver pit is deadly for us werewolves; only those with a death wish would go there. After her death, countless pack members questioned Dad about what he had said. Someone even offered a million dollars in exchange for those words. But he remained silent. Until the day of my mate ceremony, Dad showed up. He walked up to my fiancé and whispered something...

My fiancee was diagnosed with cancer and needed a liver transplant. When I found out I'm a match, I agreed to undergo the surgery without a second thought. They removed two-thirds of my liver. The pain is excruciating, but the moment I wake up, I force myself to check on her. Outside her hospital room, I overhear her talking to a friend. "Trish, you're a genius! This revenge plan is brilliant!" her friend exclaims. Patricia Zeller laughs. "If I weren't trying to keep it low-key, I would've taken a kidney just for fun. It's all his fault that Warren messed up his college entrance exam and had to study abroad. Warren's coming back in a month. Once he does, I'm done with him for good."

Right before graduation, my roommate waved around a job offer from some overseas company. It had a three-day workweek, with a starting salary of $50,000 a month. It sounded too good to be true, so I warned her it might be a scam. When she struck out on other job leads, I asked my dad to get her a position at his company. She scoffed at the eight-hour days and $6,000 monthly salary, calling it slave labor. Then she went live online, falsely accusing my dad of inappropriate advances and pressuring her to bear him a son. When skeptics questioned her, she swore no woman would lie about her honor. The internet erupted, branding my dad a predator. Our company collapsed under the backlash, leaving us drowning in debt. To spare me, my dad jumped from a rooftop to his death. Devastated, I wandered into traffic and was struck by a truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Amber got that shady offer.

My younger fraternal twin brother finally gets a girlfriend. Our parents, who are overseas, entrust me with the task of welcoming her. I instruct the maids to prepare a feast to welcome her. As we sit around the dining table, my brother scoops a bowl of soup for me himself. After that meal, my brother's girlfriend pulls a long face at me. "Who gave you the right to eat the soup my darling scooped? How could you be so lazy? You can't even cook, yet you're not even embarrassed to stuff yourself with all that food!" I'm stunned by her outrageous words. I reply in annoyance, "What does that have to do with you anyway? I'll do as I please!" She glares at me with hatred written all over her face and yells, "Why aren't you married yet? The family's assets belong to me and my darling. Who do you think you are that you can spend our money? "Just look at you. You will never be able to get married like this. Perhaps it'll be better for you if you beg me to introduce my elder cousin to you. He doesn't mind that you're lazy. All he wants is for you to give him a son. He earns over ten thousand dollars a month!" I'm dumbstruck by her shamelessness. I storm straight to the bathroom where my brother is and bang on the door repeatedly. "Come out here right now! What is with your girlfriend? And since when have our family's assets become yours and yours alone?"

In the split second when the research lab explodes, my boyfriend, Thomas Bastion, dashes to Melody Harper, who is standing furthest from the blast zone. He shields her from the impact with his own body. When the sounds of the explosion stop, the first thing he does is carry Melody to the hospital. I'm lying on the floor. My body is covered in fresh blood, but he doesn't spare a single glance at me. Thomas has taken care of Melody for the past 18 years. His heart is filled with nothing but her. There's no space for anyone else. I only survived because my colleagues rushed me to the hospital. When I am discharged from the ICU, I call my teacher, Louis Carpenter. Both my eyes are swollen from how much I've been crying. "Mr. Carpenter, I've made up my mind. I'm willing to join you for the confidential research. It's fine if we have to leave in one month. I don't care that I'll be unable to contact anyone for the next five years." The wedding ceremony that I have been dreaming of is supposed to take place in a month's time. However, I no longer want to get married.

My brother-in-law, Benjamin Fallow, got trapped in a deep pit, so I grabbed some ropes and risked my life to climb down and pull him out. Just after I tied the rope around his waist, the line went slack and we both came crashing down. When I looked up, I couldn't believe my eyes. My wife, Celeste Fallow, had cut the rope. Meanwhile, her childhood friend, Vincent Jameson, grinned and egged her on. "Do it." Black-clad bodyguards started shoveling sand into the hole, trying to bury us alive. I grabbed the walkie-talkie and screamed up at her, "Celeste, your brother and I are still down here!" She sneered back. "Three years ago, during the quake, you left Vincent's brother trapped under the rubble for five days while you saved others. Now it's time to pay what you owe." Vincent shed crocodile tears and crowed, "Celeste, thanks to you, my brother's revenge is finally complete." With the sand already up to our ankles, I shouted at the top of my lungs, "Celeste Fallow, your brother is really down here with me!"

My husband’s the only son of the richest man in Ivoneu. As for me, I’m an orphan. His parents objected to us being together. When I got pregnant, they got on a plane and came to collect us in person. After that, I posted a picture I took with my husband, captioned, [I’m so thankful for you. Our life is going to be perfect from now on.] Little did I know that the rich girl my husband had been dating online would confront me.  She beat me until I had a miscarriage, then she stepped on my belly and declared viciously, “You are a nasty seductress! That makes the baby inside you a bad seed, too! Purging the baby is my contribution to society! “It’s just a fetus, anyway. I have more than enough money to get away with it!”

Five years ago, I was the rising star of the nation’s top chemistry research lab, but on the eve of publishing the results of my study, my husband’s crush, Grace, killed me. She made several people violate me and cut my face up. Then, she injected sulfuric acid into my stomach, crushed my teeth and bones, and discarded my body without anyone’s knowledge. At that time, I was three months pregnant. But she told everyone that I stole the project’s research results and fled to another country. Jim, my husband, personally wrote a report to the government to label me as a globally wanted criminal. Five years later, a livestreamer who did nighttime explorations found my dried-up corpse in the basement of an abandoned warehouse.

The property manager, driven by greed for kickbacks, rallied the residents to dig a deeper underground parking garage for profit. But as a geologist with a decade of experience, I saw the danger immediately: a high-pressure underground river lay beneath our community. Any construction would cause the entire building to collapse. In my previous life, I went door to door, warning the residents of the risks, only to be dismissed as a lunatic. Desperate, I alerted the authorities, halting the project and averting disaster. But the property manager turned the blame on me. "That meddling geologist! She's jealous of our wealth and sabotaged our chance to get rich!" Incited, the residents mobbed my home. In the chaos, the property manager grabbed my son and ran to the balcony, letting him fall from the tenth floor. The residents, in unison, lied to the police, claiming my son had been playing and slipped. My family ruined, I succumbed to despair and took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at that fateful homeowners' meeting. This time, as the property manager pushed for the excavation, I stood up and clapped. "Neville is right. Not only should we dig, we should dig deeper. Let's do it all at once and get rich together!"

Valentine's Day. I was stuck on ER duty at Brighton City Hospital. Theodore Madoff, who was supposed to be working late, strolled in carrying his student—Cecilia Kuntzer. She had red marks everywhere and that smug little smirk. "Relax, Mrs. Madoff. Just stomach pain. Lucky me, Prof. Madoff rushed me here." Theo pushed me to treat her. Turns out? She was pregnant. From rough intercourse. And the dad? Theo. My husband. The same guy who'd sworn off kids with me for ten years. Felt like a punch to the gut. But I still saved her baby. Next day, she uploaded a video—ID in hand, cheesy PowerPoint, accusing me of malpractice. Claimed I killed her kid. Then Theo asked for a divorce. Priscilla—his mom—stormed the hospital, shrieking about her dead grandbaby. She brought a mob. All these "righteous" strangers who stabbed me to death. Right there in the ER. I died with my eyes wide open. Then—bam—I woke up. Valentine's Day. Again.