Gacha Life Heat

I never called my stepbrother, Victor Rossi, "brother." I loved him. In my previous life, I forced him to marry me, and we became the most infamously miserable couple in New Hampston's mafia circles. On Monday, he threw me into a lion's cage after starving the beast for three days. On Tuesday, I tied him to a spinning wheel and forced him to play Russian roulette. He hated me for tearing him away from the woman he loved. I hated him because we had grown up side by side, yet even after ten years of marriage, he could not forget the woman from the fishing village. Even in bed, wrapped around each other, we hurled the cruelest curses at one another. When the cruise ship went up in flames, Victor gave me his chance to live. He shoved me onto the last lifeboat, his voice gentler than it had ever been. "This life was exhausting. I don't want to fight with you anymore. Live well. In the next life, let me go." I watched the fire swallow him along with the ship. The deep sea buried everything. The light in my eyes went out with it. I threw myself into the freezing water and ended that absurd, painful life with my own hands. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the moment I forced him to marry me. In this life, I would not destroy us both. As I watched him kneel before me, defiant even in the face of death, I did not drive away the woman he loved as I had before. "I will let you have her." Under Victor's stunned gaze, my eyes reddened as I spoke softly. "This time, I am the one who does not want you."

My girlfriend suddenly told me she had six small beads implanted inside her, blushing as she said it was meant to please me. The next day, I made soup and brought it to her office. To my surprise, I saw her in the arms of my good friend, Henry Somerset. Henry wrapped his arm around her waist, his voice deep. "Baby, you're such a good girl. You really did the implantation as I told. My dumb friend even thought you did it for him. Do you reckon he'll lose his mind if he finds out you and I are getting married soon?" My girlfriend's voice turned cold. "This is nothing more than a marriage of convenience. I'm warning you not to let Chris find out." Henry chuckled and moved his hand downward. "Don't worry. As long as you keep me happy, I won't get Chris into trouble." After hearing all this behind the door, my entire body went cold. Clutching my phone tightly, I recalled my boss saying he would transfer me to a subsidiary company a few days ago. I no longer hesitated and sent him a text. [Boss, I'd like to be transferred to the subsidiary company in Hailborough City in three days.]

Five years after my death, my husband, Lucas Grant, wanted me to take the blame for his lover in a drunk driving incident. He had barged into my house with forged evidence, but realized I was not inside. He had no other choice but to knock on my neighbor’s door. However, my neighbor told him, “Joan? She died a long time ago. “I heard that the family of that case was not happy with the verdict, so they abducted her the day she was released from prison. She was tortured for three days straight!” Lucas did not believe the neighbor. He was furious that I was creating a ridiculous lie just to escape. He yelled angrily at my neighbor. “Don’t think I’ll believe you! Joan must have paid you to lie to me! “Tell her that it’s no use hiding. If she doesn’t contact me in three days, I’ll no longer pay the alimony for that rascal!” However, he did not know that the person that his lover had killed in the drunk driving accident was the very rascal he was referring to.

On the day the SAT results are revealed, the fake heiress, Layla Sanders, colluded with our homeroom teacher, Richard Hoffman, to report me for cheating during the exam. When I stared at both copies of the exam papers that showed the same steps and formulas, I couldn't defend myself at all. In order to preserve Layla's pride, my own parents actually forced me to admit to stealing the exam questions in advance. Then, they had me forcibly admitted into a mental asylum. The Sanders family claimed that I had gone crazy just so they could keep this particular skeleton sealed in the closet. They abandoned me, letting me be tormented endlessly in the asylum. When I finally escaped from the asylum, I died in a car crash that was meticulously staged by Layla. Only on the verge of my death did I finally realize that the so-called "blood is thicker than water" mentality was nothing compared to a tear shed by Layla. The moment I open my eyes again, I've gotten reborn in the exam hall. This time, I choose to submit my exam paper without anything scribbled on it. I'd like to see just how someone with a total of zero points can possibly copy off the so-called top scorer of SAT.

From the time I could count coins, my parents hammered one lesson home—if a boy did not start saving young, he would never have enough to win himself a wife. They opened a bank account in my name, vowing that money would only ever flow in, never out. And so, every birthday bill and crumpled allowance found a home in that card. I kept funneling every hard-earned paycheck into that same old account even after I moved to the city to chase my own future. At that point, that habit was done more out of reflex than reason. However, I was blindsided by acute kidney failure after years of working myself to the bone. Suddenly, that money was not just savings—it was my lifeline. My dad's voice trembled on the phone. He claimed he had forgotten the password and urged me to just take out an online loan for now. I hauled myself to the bank, my feet still shaky from my dialysis treatment. I clutched my ID, determined to file a loss report and reset the password myself. The teller's words froze me in place. "Sir, this account was emptied six months ago." Panic surged through me. I demanded a full printout of every transaction. The statement of the most recent transfer glared up at me from the paper, stating, "Wedding fund for our precious daughter, Natalia Callahan, plus the down payment for her luxury car."

When Olivia Carson discovers her husband's affair with her best friend Emily, her entire life crumbles. The divorce leaves her broke and starting over from nothing. But just as she begins to rebuild her life, a chance encounter with someone unexpected offers her a glimmer of hope-and maybe a second chance at happiness. Ethan Reynard spent sixteen years overseas for mysterious reasons, and no one knows why he suddenly comes back to the States. The spoiled playboy returns as a powerful and successful billionaire, and everyone takes an interest in the latest bad-boy in town. But Ethan only has eyes for Olivia, the only woman who might be able to save him from himself. How will he react when he finds out that this woman was married to his twin brother?

The day that I divorced my third husband, the system told me that I had completely failed my mission. I had married three times in this world and they were all targets that were supposed to fall for me. But every single one of them chose to divorce me because of Wendy Somerfield. The system pitied me for doing my best for the past 30 years, so it asked me to target my son. It said that if my son could confidently choose me, between me and Wendy, then I could live. However, it was no exception that the son I gave birth to after 40 weeks of pregnancy chose Wendy, just like my three ex-husbands. They all even pinned the cause of Wendy's illness on me. My first husband, who was my childhood sweetheart, pretended to be softhearted, but he was actually ruthless. He actually tried to convince me to donate one of my kidneys to Wendy. My second husband, who I met on a blind date, used a scalpel to personally cut open my body. My third husband, who I fell in love with at first sight, even threatened me with my son. While spitting out blood from my mouth, I agreed to their requests with a smile. However, when they saw me being pushed out of the operating room, those people who turned their backs on me went crazy.

My mate, Kael, got killed by rogues while trying to save me. He left behind a debt of ten million and a child, not yet a year old. Out of guilt and longing for Kael, I refused the advances of many excellent werewolves and never accepted a second chance, mate. I worked endlessly to raise my child and pay off the debt. But during a business meeting at a hotel, I saw my mate—who was supposed to be dead—lying in bed with my stepsister, Lila.

My father suffered a heart attack and collapsed. Emergency treatment required the installation of a cardiac stent. I asked my husband to approve an expense of 10 thousand dollars for the surgery. Cameron Lister, the CEO, refused coldly, "The company and family accounts have been frozen recently because of a major project. Your father has medical insurance, so just use a cost-effective domestic stent for now." He was the sole administrator of all the bank cards in my family. His reply made me sorrowfully realize something. Even though I was a genius architectural designer with an annual income of 600 thousand dollars, I was still not worthy of choosing a better life-saving device for my own father. It was a Twitter post forwarded by a colleague, freshly and gleefully posted by the company intern Wendy. [Cameron is so nice. I just said I liked painting, and he gave me a million dollars to organize an art exhibition. I love him so much!] I looked at my father lying on an extra bed in the hospital corridor, groaning in pain, and then looked at the photo of them sweetly embracing each other. I finally understood that Cameron had perhaps never truly loved me. He had only treated me as a stepping stone for his soaring career, and as a tool for him to exploit without limits. 'If this is what you want, Cameron, then don't blame me for being ruthless,' I said inwardly.

To everyone else, I'm the wife of Stefano Pace, the man who runs this city's underworld. To others, I am living the kind of luxury every woman in town envies. But what no one knows is that in three days, I'm leaving my husband for good. It started when I took Stefano's car to wash and spotted a black stocking that wasn't mine wedged in the passenger seat cushions. It was balled up and still reeked of sickly sweet perfume. The sight of it was like a knife to the heart. I knew that perfume. It is Isla Torelli's. She's Stefano's underboss, the only woman besides me who's ever taken the passenger seat. My hand trembled as I gripped the stocking, but I kept my cool. I thought back to our wedding seven years ago, when Stefano stood in front of the whole family and vowed, "If I ever betray you, then betray me a hundredfold!" He probably did not think those words would come true.