How To Comit The Perfect Murder

My student, Renee Blue, comes from a poor family, and her mother suffers from uremia. Out of sympathy, I lent her some money. She promised to pay me back after graduation. However, on graduation day, she handed me an ultrasound and told me, "Your money comes from your husband anyway, right? I’m pregnant with your husband’s baby, so I won’t be paying you back. Also, you should step aside." I was in shock… because my husband had been dead for seven years. It wasn't until I saw Renee with my driver that I understood how she got pregnant.

The daughter of my father's first love suffered from heatstroke because she was left in the car, so he tied me up in a fit of anger and locked me in the car boot. He looked at me with utter disgust and said, "I don't have a vicious daughter like you. Stay here and reflect on yourself." I begged him, apologized to him, and pleaded for him to let me out, but all I got in return was his ruthless order. "Unless she dies, no one is allowed to let her out." The car was parked in the garage. No one could hear me no matter how much I screamed for help. Seven days later, he finally remembered me and decided to let me out. However, he had no idea that I had already died in that trunk and could never wake up again.

I've been engaged to my boyfriend, Evan Shaw, for five years. He's a military commander, which is probably why he has delayed our wedding 56 times so far. The first delay has occurred because one of his female soldiers, Chloe Brooks, has gotten injured. Evan needs to rush back to the military camp due to the incident, which causes the wedding to be delayed. The second delay has occurred because Chloe has received a promotion. After sending me to the church's entrance, Evan quickly leaves with the celebratory gifts. … The 56th delay has occurred halfway throughout the ceremony. Apparently, Chloe has called Evans on the phone and crying about her break-up. Of course, Evan gets ready to ditch me at the altar without hesitation. I've begged him to not leave me, only for him to remove my hand coldly. "We can always delay the wedding. The thing is, Chloe wants to jump off a building right now because she's gotten her heart broken. How could you ever compare the importance of your wedding to the life of a nation's pride?" Evan has told me before that if I want to become a military wife, I need to have a higher endurance limit than others. I need to get used to the fact that he prioritizes others before me. But I've never even had a proper wedding of my own. How can I be considered a military wife just yet? So, I submit an application that makes me a covert operative that needs to be transferred back into the government's ranks. But after I've left, Evan breaks down in tears. With the wedding ring in hand, he tries to make it up to me by promising to complete the unfinished wedding ceremony with me.

For a decade, my world had been measured in laundry cycles, grocery lists, and the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink. I was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing the remnants of another family meal, when it happened. A sudden, silent cascade of text flickered at the edge of my vision, like subtitles for a movie only I could see: [Gosh, the heroine is so tragic. Her husband's entire family has been feeding on her luck like parasites!] [Her husband stole her graduate school admission and her career!] [The in-laws are literally siphoning her health away. No wonder she's always sick.] [And the sister-in-law took her "romance" stat! No wonder her love life is a desert.] [Heads up! Her husband's about to give her another "gift." Let's see how much more he takes from her this time.] My hands, clutching a greasy plate, froze. Right on cue, my husband, Tristan, sauntered into the kitchen. A smug, self-satisfied smile was plastered on his face as he took my wet hand. He slid a flimsy, garishly colored plastic bracelet onto my wrist. "Look what I got for you, sweetheart," he announced, his voice dripping with pride. "I made a special trip after work. Found it at the dollar store. It's romantic and economical, just like you always say you want. You love it, don't you?"

The intern secretly submitted a voluntary pay-cut application on my behalf. As a result, my salary dropped from $10,000 to $2,000. When I found out and confronted him, my boss and colleagues all defended him. "The company is not doing great right now. Oscar was just trying to save costs for us. Do you have to nickel-and-dime over this?" With my salary so low, I couldn't afford the special medication for my chronic migraines, and one day I passed out at my desk during an attack. But the intern snuck a video of me unconscious and posted it on the company's website. He even whipped up a detailed 100-page slideshow breaking down how I was slacking off on the clock and dumping all my work on him. Overnight, I was labeled a workplace bully. My boss gave me the cold shoulder, and my colleagues whispered about me. Even worse, some extreme "anti-workplace-bullying" activists tracked me down to my home, showed up with two cans of gasoline, and burned me and my parents alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the intern had submitted my pay-cut form. In this second chance at life, I would make sure everyone saw the intern for who he truly was.

After I dropped out of school, my parents didn't pressure me to do anything. But Nicole Hicks kept calling nonstop. She was my boyfriend's childhood friend who had established a reputation as a genius. I was too busy helping out in the fields, growing vegetables, and splashing around in the creek, living my best carefree life. Writing code wasn't even on my mind. In my past life, she had turned in a project just one day before I did. Her codes were exactly the same as mine. Everyone called me a fraud and said I had stolen it. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. Later, she even did a livestream, accusing me online of being a school bully. People went wild. They didn't just come for me—they went after my whole family. Some obsessed troll chased my parents in a car, and they died in a crash. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped off a high-rise, my eyes still wide open, refusing to accept the way it all ended. Even in my last moment, I couldn't figure it out. That code was mine. My hard work. So how did she manage to post it before me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back, right before everything fell apart.

My so-called best friend pretends to be me and steals my identity as the CEO. She spends money recklessly and announces she'll buy apartments in the city for our long-time employees. Everyone praises her as the perfect boss. Not only that, but she also steals my husband. Even my son calls her "Mommy". So, when I'm accused of having bipolar disorder and other mental health issues, no one speaks up for me. My young son has no idea that I am his birth mother. The company and assets my parents have left me have been taken by my best friend, too. In the end, my body ulcerates, and I pass away in a psychiatric hospital. When I open my eyes again, I realize I'm back on the day my best friend used my money to buy apartments for our employees. She stands in the center of the crowd, taking in all the praises. "You're beautiful and so is your heart, Ms. Moore! You care about us so much, always handing out bonuses. And now, you want to set up a fund to help us buy homes? I'd work for you until I die!" And so, I quietly change the password on the bank card that funds all this. This time, I'll make sure my dear friend and my beloved husband experience the "wonderful" life they truly deserve.

While I was driving my bus, I spotted my boyfriend's car ahead. He was kissing the woman he had always been hung up on. I could not help tapping the horn. That was all it took. He and his dream girl stepped out and blocked my bus in the middle of the road. I glanced at the passengers behind me. I could not afford to delay everyone, so I swallowed my pride and asked him to move his car. She lifted her chin, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Not happening. Unless you get off that bus and apologize to me right here, you're not going anywhere.” Traffic was completely jammed. There was no way forward and no way back. My face went pale, but I had no choice except to lower my head and prepare to apologize. My boyfriend grew impatient. "Why are you still standing there? Get down and apologize to Sally. Right now." Humiliated, I inched my way towards the door. However, the doors unexpectedly swung open and the passengers rushed out of the bus. “Do you think we have time for this? I'm already late for school. Are you going to take responsibility?” “My perfect attendance this month is ruined because of you. You two are unbelievable!” “If you shameless idiots want to act like this, don't blame us for getting physical!”

My best friend asked me to conduct a blood test on her before she got married to the richest man in the city. That was how I found out that she had AIDS. Due to patient confidentiality and her claim that her fiance would not mind, I did not tell him about her diagnosis. Later on, he contracted AIDS as well. When this happened, my best friend went online and pointed the finger at me. “Maya Sullivan intentionally kept the results of my blood test a secret. That’s why my husband got AIDS. It’s all her fault!” Even my boyfriend added fuel to the fire. “This isn’t the first time Maya has set Pearl up. She only got AIDS because Maya used an infected needle to take her blood sample!” No matter how much I insisted otherwise, everyone kept hounding me about it. To avoid the fallout, I was forced to move myself and my parents to another city to start fresh. However, in a fit of rage, Pearl’s husband crashed into our car and killed all of us. He was later sentenced to death, so Pearl inherited all of his assets. She then lived in luxury with my boyfriend. When I opened my eyes again, I discovered that I had gone back in time. It was the day that Pearl had undergone her health checkup.

After being reborn, the first thing I did was switch my newborn daughter. In my previous life, soon after she was born, a blood test showed her type was AB. But mine was B, and my husband's was O—there was absolutely no way we could have an AB-type child. My husband flew into a rage and demanded a paternity test on the spot. To everyone's shock, the results proved she was biologically related to me, but not to him. He slapped me hard across the face, his voice trembling with disappointment. "I've always treated you well. I only ever loved you—and this is how you repay me?" My mother-in-law wailed and cursed me for cheating, accusing me of bearing another man's child to steal their family fortune. I was completely stunned. I knew better than anyone who the father of my child was—how could she possibly not be my husband's? In no time, everyone turned against me. They called me a cheater, a tramp. My husband divorced me and went online to play the victim, stirring up a storm of hate and harassment that never seemed to end. With nowhere to go and no one left to believe me, I took my baby in my arms and jumped from a building. Even in death, I couldn't make sense of it all. And when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my daughter was born.