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My mother claims my husband has cheated on me and pushes me to get a divorce. I want to collect evidence before proceeding with anything—if it's true, I have to uphold my rights. Yet she causes a scene at an art exhibition I've worked on for three years, humiliating me in public and making me sound like a gold digger. "How are you any different from a prostitute when you're holding this dumb exhibition with a man's money? I didn't raise you to be a gold digger! How can you be so revolting?" She slashes the million-dollar paintings in the exhibition, claiming that she's doing this for my good. She wants me to see the error of my ways and return to the right path. Meanwhile, I clutch my bloody hand, which she slashed with her blade. I say, "You say you want me to return to the right path, but is that what it really is? You want me to divorce my legally wedded husband, who's a CEO, without a penny to my name. "Then, you want me to marry a 45-year-old cheap man who has a child and no money? He even wants me to support him!"

On my 50th wedding anniversary, I took my worn, crumbling marriage certificate to City Hall to renew it. The clerk glanced at it—and froze. “This certificate is fake. Our records show you’ve never been married.” I stared. “Impossible. I’ve been married to Damien Slater for fifty years.” The clerk pulled up his file. “Well…Yes, Mr. Slater is married—but his wife’s name is Vanessa Grant.” Vanessa. His widowed sister-in-law. A military doctor who’d spent decades living among the troops. My hands shook as I returned home and confronted Damien. He didn’t even try to deny it. “I’ve treated you well all these years. Isn’t that enough? Vanessa is my true love. I only ever wanted her—our children, our life.” My son counseled me and said, “To spare your feelings, my parents kept it a secret their whole lives. You’re getting old now. What more do you want?” Only then did I learn the truth. The child I had raised with my own hands was never mine by blood. Decades ago, Vanessa and I gave birth on the same day. To ensure her child would grow up with intellect, privilege, and a future that I could provide, Damien switched our children. My own son? Damien drowned him in the pond the moment he drew breath. And I—fool that I was—raised Vanessa’s boy as my own. I even got him all the way to Claremont University. The truth broke me, and I collapsed. When I opened my eyes again—I was back. Back to the day I went into labor.

I'm severely allergic to many things, so my husband buys a separate villa for me. It's supposed to be sort of a nursing home. When my future daughter-in-law learns about this, she thinks my son is cheating on her. She breaks my bones to vent her anger. When she finds out I'm her future mother-in-law, she caresses her belly and looks at me smugly. "I'm already pregnant with Shawn's child. Think about whether you want this child to make it into this world." What she doesn't know is that the Ziegler family's fortune belongs to me and that Shawn Ziegler is only my adoptive son.

On the way back to work after the New Year, my wife Liana Corn and I got into a car accident. Opening my eyes again, I realized that we had returned to the time we just started dating. In our previous life, we were married for eight years. Life was good, but she refused to have any children. Later, I learned that she had always kept her childhood sweetheart in her heart. After our regression, I decided to set us both free. We both deleted each other's contacts without a word, stopped seeing each other, and became complete strangers. Eight years later, Liana became a top investor. At our class reunion, she made a high-profile announcement with her childhood sweetheart Serge Gibson. Seeing that I had come to the reunion alone, she teased me. "Ryan Carter, I know I'm attractive. You love me for two lifetimes and still can't let go, but you don't need to cling to me like this." I pretended not to hear and took my son by the hand. Liana's face instantly turned pale, her eyes bloodshot. "Didn't you say you'd love only me for life?" she demanded. "How can you have a son with someone else?!"

At the New Year's Eve dinner, my mom suddenly assigns some rules to me and my siblings. She claims that those who don't fit the criteria aren't allowed to eat at the table. Rule number one: One must have spent at least 50% of their time keeping Mom company at home last year. Rule number two: One must have gone shopping with Mom all the time. Rule number three: One must keep giving Mom allowance. But it appears that I, the oldest sibling, am the only one who doesn't meet the requirements. My little sister, Chelsea Cage, begins acting coquettish immediately. "All Cassidy cares about is her business, unlike me, Mom! I care about you!" Meanwhile, my younger brother, Cameron Cage, lectures me with a frown, "What's the point of you being able to earn more money than average people? No matter how good a breadwinner you are, the fact that you don't care about Mom completely nullifies it!" My mom tells my siblings to sit around her happily. Then, she criticizes me in a sarcastic tone. "As parents, when we become old, what we need is our children's company, not cold hard cash." I'm pissed off, to say the least. I'm the breadwinner of this family, and yet these freeloaders get to put on airs in front of me. The reason why I don't go shopping with my mom is that she's never satisfied with whatever gifts I've picked out for her during the times I did go out with her. That's why I gave her money straight away. I didn't give my mom any allowance at all because all the money is regularly deposited into the supplementary card, which she has. Since my long-term efforts are worth nothing compared to my siblings' sweet talk, I suppose I can quit being the ATM of this family.

I was just about to drink a soup meant to supplement my pregnancy, a frantic voice suddenly called out. "Mommy, don't drink it! It's an abortion drug. Someone's trying to harm you!" Startled, my hand jerked, and I knocked the soup over. My husband's cousin teared up, her voice choking, "B-But I cooked that soup myself as an apology…" I didn't pay her any heed, only checking the contents of the medicinal soup. There was a large amount of poison in it, enough to not just harm the baby, but even make it impossible for me to ever conceive again! "Mommy, it was me! I protected you!" I caressed my pregnant belly, listening as the child inside told me that he was the incarnation of a lucky star, sent to bring me good fortune. Because of this, we even gave him the nickname Lucky. And sure enough, under his guidance, I helped my husband secure numerous contracts. The whole family was overjoyed. I grew to love him even more, consuming precious supplements as if they were free. Within just three months, my family's assets grew tenfold, while I grew thirty pounds. Just as I stuffed the roast pork into my mouth, I heard a weak, faint voice. "Mom, don't listen to him! He was switched into your womb, and he stole my good luck! "If you continue listening to him, he'll be the death of us both after he's born!" Confused, I stopped eating. Who was I to believe, when there were two voices within my womb?

In a world ravaged by global nuclear fallout, I struggled to survive alongside my fragile, sweet-faced best friend, dodging one radiation storm after another. The route to the Central Safety Zone was blocked—we had no choice but to use two detonators to blast open the tunnel. Otherwise, we would be caught in the storm, our bodies rotting away until we either dissolved into blood sludge or turned into zombies. … In my previous life, I had risked everything to secure those detonators, only for my best friend to hand them over to a complete stranger without hesitation. "They have elderly people and children on their side too," she said earnestly. "One detonator can save many lives. Iris, you can't be selfish." I was so furious my blood pressure nearly exploded, but with no other option, I went straight into a horde of zombies to steal backup detonators. I lost an arm in the process, drenched in blood and barely standing. Yet, she complained that I was covered in gore and had frightened the children. After finally regrouping with the main convoy, I rushed to deliver the formula for anti-radiation medicine to the research institute so that more people could be saved. But she accused me of stealing supplies and trying to flee, which led to my expulsion from the base, and death, my body rotting away under the radiation. When I opened my eyes again, there was still one hour left before the radiation storm hit. I looked down at the two detonators in my hand, then at my pitiful, tear-brimmed best friend—and I smiled. Since she loved being a good person so much, this time, I would let her be one to her heart's content.

After my mate, Drew Bruce, vanished from the pack warzone, I cared for his gravely ill parents in his stead for three years. In the end, he returns with his wolf missing and a young she-wolf by his side. He begs for the Alpha King to break our mate bond. Drew taunts me, "Jenny Watson, your peaceful life in the pack is thanks to my bloodshed on the battlefield. You'll never be someone like Sherry Lowe, an outstanding physiotherapist, who can fight alongside me. "It's a good thing our mind link has disappeared ever since I lost my wolf. Being with Sherry made me realize how dull you are. "You're useless. If it weren't for the Moon Goddess' guidance, you would've never been worthy of being my mate." When his parents find out, instead of talking him out of it, they fully support his decision. They completely disregard the dedication and sincerity I showed them over three years. Heartbroken, I turn and leave for the field hospital. He has no idea that I come from a long line of healers. When I earn the title of chief field healer with nothing but my own skill, he goes mad with regret.

Trevor Farren cheated on me—with a hostess, no less. He bought her a villa, handbags, necklaces, and even whisked her away to the Maldives. Everything I had, she had too. In my fury, I resolved to retaliate. I found myself in the smoky halls of a nightclub, learning shameful, provocative moves from the women there. I would seduce him and make him fall for me all over again. I vowed to crush him in the end. I'd ruin him. Strip him of everything he held dear until he tasted the bitterness of despair, the way I had. Standing before the mirror, I traced my curves with a sly smile. "Trevor, do you like what you see?"

When I was seven years old, my father began subjecting me to extremely strict parenting. Not only did he withhold any support for my food, clothing, housing, or daily necessities, but he even charged me for drinking water in our own home. As a child, I endured relentless suffering and bullying. When I was critically injured by a vehicle that broke the law, I was severely injured, and my father refused to save me. Only after my death did I learn the truth that he already had a son somewhere out there. Everything he did to me was meant to drive me to my death. After rebirth, I no longer adhered to rules nor endured silently. Exploiting the fact that I was still a minor, I stabbed his secretary, bullied my classmates at school, and even set a fire on campus to force my father to give up on his brutal methods. When I grew up, I took everything he owned and sent him to prison. Only then was my revenge completed.