Good Python Programming Books Novels & Stories

I had just given birth when the country sent me on a secret mission that kept me undercover for seven years. When it finally ended, I came home on leave. I was eager to see my husband and children, whom I had missed every single day. However, the moment my car stopped at the gate, I saw my two children—my most precious treasures—being shoved down the steps by a woman. They tumbled hard, and they were covered in bruises. The next second, three snarling wolfhounds were released from the house, and they pounced on the children with bared teeth. Fury surged through me, and I charged forward. I got the dogs away with a few swift kicks and punches. Amid the animals’ pitiful howls, my ten-year-old son instinctively shielded his sister. His young face was pale with fear. Meanwhile, my eight-year-old daughter snapped out of her daze and trembled as she urged me to leave. “Miss, run! You hurt her dogs, and if Dad finds out, he won’t let you get away with it!” I forced down my anger and gently said, “She set the dogs on you first. Even if your dad were here, he’d protect you just like I did.” I did not expect this to make their eyes instantly fill with tears. Alarmed, I was about to ask what was wrong when a woman’s arrogant voice rang out. “You vagrant! I have a close relationship with Martin Gray, and I’m also the lady of the Gray family! “You and these two brats who dirtied my house aren’t leaving in one piece today!” I froze for a second before I took a deep breath and called my husband. “Martin, who’s this woman proclaiming to be the lady of the Gray family? Where did she come from? You’d better have a good explanation for this. And tell me, when did the house I left for John and Katy get a new owner?”

My best friend, Sydney Cox, is a troublemaker by nature. She thinks everyone around her owes her a good life. During summer break, she insisted on working in a factory. I was worried that she might get tricked, so I let her work in my family's factory out of the kindness of my own heart. In fact, I even gave her the easiest position with the lightest work. But I didn't expect her to think that her salary was lower than that of the veteran employees in the factory, leading to her setting fire to my neighborhood. The blaze was far too strong. Even though the firefighters came as soon as possible, my family and I still ended up dying in the fire. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before Sydney's first day in a factory.

The housekeeper deliberately reveals her busty chest when I'm out of the house. She says coquettishly to my husband, "Oh, my. This is an accident, Mr. Houston …" My husband looks like he's focusing on his drink, but he keeps sneaking looks at her. I see all of this from the housekeeper's livestream.

My wife, Charlene Weber, has taken me to the Scumbag Court. If I'm found guilty, all my assets will be taken from me, and I'll face 10 years of imprisonment. Charlene, on the other hand, will get to marry her ideal man—Joel Quinlan—as she wishes. If I'm acquitted of all charges, Charlene will be made to divorce me without alimony. She'll also be cursed with bad luck and disfigured so badly she'll be the ugliest woman in the world. Conversely, I'll be given 10 million dollars in reparations and gain a lifetime's worth of good luck. Everyone is advising me to admit to my mistakes, but only because Charlene has always been a virtuous, devoted wife in their eyes. They think that there must surely be some complicated grievances between us at the moment. However, they are unaware that I've been reborn. This time, I'm going to tear off Charlene's mask of hypocrisy.

During a charity gala, my boyfriend bids on a pair of matching watches but gives one of them to his true love. The media excitedly capture the scene and ask, "You bought a million-dollar watch without even batting an eye, Mr. Loewe. You've been single all these years—is it time for you to make an official announcement on your relationship status?" Everyone off stage applauds him, and I join them. I give him my blessings for his so-called announcement. To make it up to me, he attends my birthday celebration. Yet he pushes me into the cake to make his true love happy. Unbeknownst to him, there's a steel rack in the cake to keep it steady. I end up bloodied and on the brink of death.

My wife—Nancy Valente—had been "missing" for three months after some fake skiing accident. I spotted her at a bar. She was draped over Finley Bennett's shoulder, laughing like she hadn't wrecked my life. "Good thing you came up with this plan. I almost forgot what freedom felt like." Her crew kept clinking glasses, asking when she planned to pop back up. She glanced down. "Maybe in a week. I'll show up once he's lost his mind." I stayed in the shadows, watching her bask in her little escape act. Then I grabbed my phone and called a buddy at the Vital Records Office.

My family was supposed to be the richest of the land, yet I had to refund even a cheap delivery. Why? In my previous life, my housekeeper's daughter got her hands on a trading system. Every cent of money I spent would be hers. She started trying to guilt-trip me into donating to all the impoverished students in her school. It was charity anyway, so I signed a check worth 300 grand. The moment I did, that money became part of her savings, and the amount on my check was zero. Everyone called me names, called me a charlatan. Even the boy toy I spent good money on broke up with me. That girl used my money to donate to charities and became the kind and beautiful heiress. She told everyone I was the housekeeper's daughter instead. Furious, I grabbed my black card and started shopping like crazy. I wanted to prove I was the real heiress, but the balance in my account was cleared immediately. That girl then spent 1.2 million right away, like it was one dollar. She scoffed at me. "Don't try to act like you're rich when you're a broke loser. Your mother doesn't make enough as a housekeeper." The Internet decided to hunt me down. I could not handle the stress, and my mind broke. For some reason, my body withered away at a blistering rate. Before my father could save me, I drew my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to that fateful day. The day the housekeeper's daughter made me donate to the school.

Even knowing that wailing at an Eravalen aristocratic funeral was considered disrespectful to the deceased, I let my husband's adopted sister make a scene anyway. In my previous life, my husband, Robert Baker, had a distant relative among the Eravalen aristocracy who passed away. A lawyer informed him that he stood to inherit the estate and invited him to attend the funeral. His adopted sister, Mia Carter, insisted on tagging along to see how the privileged few in another country lived. She wanted to rub shoulders with nobles and make herself look important, even planning to wail dramatically in front of everyone. I rushed to stop her. "Public mourning is taboo among Eravalen nobility. Forget inheriting anything. We'll all be thrown out!" Yet she burst into tears, accusing me of looking down on her and thinking she was not good enough to mingle with aristocrats. She stormed out and was killed by street thugs in a random attack. I thought Robert would fall apart, but he stayed silent through the entire funeral and collected his inheritance without a hitch. Six months later, on our wedding anniversary, he took me to the snowy mountains for a photoshoot. The moment we reached the peak, he shoved me into a sleeping bag and tied it shut. "If you hadn't blown everything out of proportion, Mia never would've run off and gotten herself shot." He buried me alive in the snow. I froze to death, and he used that aristocratic fortune to become the CEO of a publicly traded company. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Mia insisted on wailing at the funeral.

At my own wedding, I find out the woman behind the veil isn't even the one I'm supposed to be marrying. Instead of getting mad, I give her the wedding of the century. It's all because of what happened in my past life. I'd exposed that she wasn't my bride in front of everyone and blew up the whole ceremony. That forced Jessie Clarke, who'd been at the hospital with her childhood sweetheart, Oliver Grant, to rush over reluctantly so we could still get married. Because of that, Oliver refused treatment and died on the operating table. When I heard he was gone, I told Jessie she should see him one last time, but she refused. All she said was, "Blame it on his bad luck." After we got married, we acted just as in love as before. I kept getting money from my family to save her company every time it was on the verge of collapse. But on the anniversary of Oliver's death, Jessie shoved me off the top floor of her company. I hit the ground hard enough to end up a broken, bloody mess. As I fell, I caught one last look at her face, streaked with tears. "If you hadn't forced me back to marry you, Oliver wouldn't have died! You get to keep me, but I lost him for good! Why do you get to live a happy life?" So that was it. She'd blamed me for Oliver's death from the start. She'd never loved me at all. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back at our wedding ceremony.

I don't kick up a fuss when Jasper Sutton's childhood sweetheart once again takes my spot in the front passenger seat. Instead, I obediently head to the backseat to sit with his good friend, Jonathan Clayton. When we drive along a bumpy road, my knee brushes against Jonathan's toned thigh. I deliberately leave it there, and he doesn't move. We stop for a break at a rest area. Jasper's childhood sweetheart clings to him as they head to the restroom. As soon as the door is shut, Jonathan grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. As I descend into the throes of passion, I can't help thinking it's no wonder people like to cheat.