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In the three years we've been married, Colin Luther never touches me once. Living in the room next door is Rebecca Jennings, his adopted younger sister with no blood relation to him. She supposedly suffers from severe androphobia. Whenever she sees any man other than Colin, she trembles uncontrollably. Whenever she has nightmares in the middle of the night, Colin immediately leaves me and rushes to her room. So, the master bedroom is given to her. I sleep on a folding bed in the study, and Colin sleeps on the floor outside her door to stand guard. Every week, my mother-in-law, Alicia Brooks, comes by with the soup she made herself. The first thing she does is go into Rebecca's room. Only after that does she spare me a glance. She says, "Nat, remember to hand-wash Becca's underwear. Her skin is sensitive, so it can't go in the washing machine." My father-in-law, Isaac Luther, is even worse. At our last family gathering, he slaps his thigh in front of their relatives and says, "If Becca weren't sick, I'd want her to be my daughter-in-law!" I simply smile while serving the dishes and say nothing. For three years, I endure everything in silence. But yesterday, I find two items hidden beneath Rebecca's pillow. There is the silk camisole that went missing six months ago and a pack of birth control pills with only two tablets left. Androphobia? Well, today is our third wedding anniversary. It's time for a proper celebration.

Josie Jackson, who had been cold to me for ten years, suddenly changed her attitude. Not only did she take me on a worldwide trip, but she also personally cooked a lavish dinner for me. I thought our relationship had finally improved, but little did I know, she had put an excessive amount of sleeping pills in the food. I was taken to the hospital, where I was forcibly castrated without any anesthesia. By the time I regained consciousness, I saw Josie and her so-called brother close together. "Josie, you're so good to me! I only mentioned being envious of Andrew's health. I can't believe you actually emasculated him all for me." Josie's expression remained calm. Her eyes were filled with nothing but affection for Alex Carter. "This is what he deserves. If it weren't for him back then, you wouldn't have been in that accident and ended up with a physical disability. "I'm only returning what he took from you." Ten years ago, during an earthquake, I gave up saving Alex and chose to save her instead. So she took all the pain Alex suffered out on me. Since I felt guilty, I endured her torment for ten years. This time, I finally gave up. After finding out I didn't have much time left, I called my mother. "I agree to the heart transplant for Robert."

I wasn’t even pregnant, yet I ended up popping abortion pills like they were candy. It was all because in my past life, the moment my widowed sister-in-law got pregnant, every single side effect of her pregnancy became mine. She strutted around happily with her big belly, consuming spicy tamales, while I was rushed to the hospital for violent nausea and stomach pain; she showed off her flawless skin in crop tops every day, while my stomach broke out in hideous stretch marks. When I told my husband what was happening, he just shoved me away impatiently. “Enough with the jealousy! My brother’s dead, and she’s carrying his only child. Of course, I should look out for her. Do you really have to put on such an act?” After that, my sister-in-law went even further. She kept testing her limits during pregnancy and even ate a mango she was allergic to. And me? I went into anaphylactic shock, landed in the hospital, and nearly died. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They just brushed it off, saying I was overly jealous and it was all psychological. Later, my sister-in-law tried to brand herself as a “hot single mom”. She went live, belly and all, to show off her weight-loss workouts. She jumped around for three straight hours. And me? My uterus literally gave out, and I hemorrhaged to death. When I opened my eyes again, it was the exact day she first announced her pregnancy.

In the third year after my fiancée, Iris Ford, falls off a cliff during a sketching trip in the mountains, I accidentally walk into her personal art exhibition. The person I have longed for day and night is right there, gently adjusting the scarf of the young man beside her. The walls are covered with portraits she once promises to paint only for me, but every subject of her paintings is that young man. Violet Bardot, Iris' best friend and the one who once helps me handle her funeral affairs, grabs me anxiously. "Graham, don't do anything rash. Iris has her reasons. After Jack Glenwood saved her, she suffered from a head injury and lost her memory. She didn't mean to stay away." I smile at how ridiculous she is. "It's one thing if Iris lost her memories, but did you lose yours too? Since Iris is still alive, why do you not bring her back? You've watched me live in pain and misery for three years. I had to rely on sleeping pills just to get by. Do you find that amusing?" Violet falls silent and doesn't dare to look at me again. The young man named Jack hides behind Iris timidly. In the next moment, Iris turns to look at me with a frosty expression. "Mr. Stevens, I do not wish to go back. The person I love now is Jack. Since I've forgotten my past, just treat it as memories from a previous lifetime."

I had proposed seven times, but Winnie Smith continued refusing to marry me. This was because the Smith family had a special test. To marry their daughters, their sons-in-law had to refrain from sleeping with their fiancees after being drugged. I tried seven times. However, every time after I regained consciousness, Winnie would be sleeping naked next to me. She would cry and throw herself into my arms. “It’s fine. We can try again. I trust you.” It was not until the eighth time that I overheard her instructing the butler, “Switch the aphrodisiac to sleeping pills, and make sure it’s a high dosage. “After he falls asleep, I’ll take it from there as usual.” While I kept my eyes shut tight, I could hear her taking off her long dress. Then, she came over to unbutton my shirt. I heard her sigh. “I’m sorry, Benjamin Lowe. Joe Anderson’s been diagnosed with cancer, and his last wish is to be with me. “Don’t worry, though. After he passes, I’ll marry you immediately.” Right then, I realized that her family’s test had been a lie she told just to marry her childhood best friend. The next day, my parents pressured me again to leave the country and inherit the family business. So, I agreed to their request. Since she wanted to marry Joe, I would wish the couple well.

On the day I'm diagnosed with dependent personality disorder, my family treats me like I'm the most fragile porcelain. My parents put me first in everything. Mom even quits her executive job to stay by my side during treatment. The day my condition finally stabilizes, they smile with genuine relief for the first time. Even my adopted older sister, Winifred Linberry, smiles. She says, "I told you Sadie wasn't that sick. She just wanted to hog your attention." That day, my parents scold her for the first time and insist she apologize to me. On the night she goes to a class reunion, I quietly mention that my heart feels a little uneasy. Dad suddenly slams the medicine box in his hand onto the floor. He roars, "Can't you be a little more considerate? Your sister just lost her competition and she's already upset! We've spent every day revolving around you. Can't we spend just a few hours with her? "If you don't feel well, take your medicine yourself. We've had enough!" The pills scatter across the floor. He grabs his jacket and storms out, slamming the door behind him. Mom looks at me, as if she wants to say something. In the end, she says nothing and follows him out. I don't say a word. I simply dig my fingernails into my arm as my breathing becomes more and more difficult.

Today is Morgan Franklin's 30th birthday. It also marks the day he brings up divorce in front of me for the 99th time. He doesn't sound guilty and tentative anymore, unlike his demeanor when he mentioned divorce for the first time. Instead, he has a cigarette dangling between his lips while looking at me mockingly. "I've already called the ambulance for you, Milana. Have you thought about how you're going to commit suicide this time? Are you slitting your wrist or overdosing on pills?" Everyone in the private room bursts out laughing. "I bet she's going down the sleeping pill route! She did that the last time, and she had to get her stomach pumped for three hours!" "Hell no! She's definitely jumping off a building this time! But she'll just wait for the firemen to lay out the safety mat before pretending to jump! She's not going to die at all!" "Nah… Ms. Brook is very creative when it comes to suicide. Every time she commits suicide, she always uses a different method!" Everyone is curious as to which suicide method I will use in order to get Morgan to stay this time. But when I notice the smiles on everyone's faces, I suddenly feel exhaustion weighing down on my soul. The anger that has been sustaining me for so long finally dissipates. I lower my gaze before stating calmly, "I'm not doing any of that. This time, I shall grant you your freedom."

On the day my father died, his seven most trusted men all met violent deaths within the same twenty-four hours. Hugh Castillo sacrificed his legs to butcher the gang and put me in power. “Taz, don’t be scared. Those monsters are gone. You’re finally free.” In the years he lay paralyzed, I tried over a thousand experimental drugs and prayed at every church across the country. I hunted down every possible remedy, praying for just one that would bring him back to his feet. When Hugh learned of this, he swallowed a bottle of pills one night to end his life. After he was revived, he smiled and wiped the tears from my face. “Taz, I don’t want to be a dead weight. You deserve a better life than this.” That night, we held each other and wept. We swore that from then on, no matter what, we would never leave each other behind. But seven years later, a sweet-looking girl showed up at my door with a thousand photos I was never meant to see. “Every month, while you were praying to God in churches, Huey was busy trying out new positions with me. “Ms. Sheargold, don’t you know that used goods like you kill a man’s desire? It was no wonder he’d rather play the cripple than touch you.” I looked through every single photo, then put them up for auction underground.

Isabella Romanov thought her body was broken. She thought the man holding her while she bled was the only thing keeping her alive but she was wrong about all of it. The pills in her green juice, the best friend in her bed, the forged signatures waiting in a lawyer's desk, Marcus Whitfield didn't just betray her. He hollowed her out and sold what was left. But Marcus made one fatal mistake. He forgot who her father was. When Isabella walks out of her suburban prison and back into the world of blood and power she was born into, she finds an unlikely ally in Luca Moretti, the most dangerous man on the East Coast. He'll destroy Marcus and burn every bridge her ex-husband ever built. But his protection comes at a price: her hand, her name, and her presence in his bed. Isabella isn't stupid enough to trust another powerful man. She's just desperate enough to marry one. As she rises from discarded wife to mafia queen, Isabella uncovers a conspiracy far darker than infidelity, stolen embryos, Russian bounties, and a family ledger worth more than the city itself. The deeper she digs, the more she realizes that everyone around her wants something, and the man who swore to protect her might have wanted it first. In a world where blood is currency and love is leverage, Isabella must have to decide what she's willing to burn to get back what was taken from her and whether the man beside her is worth keeping.

At my dad's funeral, Dawn Arnold pushes my wheelchair from behind. Suddenly, she speaks up. "I heard you screaming for help the day you and your dad got roped into that tragedy." I stiffen up instantly before looking up at her in disbelief. "Didn't you tell me that you weren't home at that time?" Dawn's gaze falls on Dad's portrait on the altar. She replies coolly, "It was a lie. At that time, I had just finished having sex with Felix. My legs were awfully limp, so I didn't open the door for you." I remain rooted to the wheelchair, my throat closing up from shock. "After you went through the amputation, you suffered from the phantom limb pain so much that you had to take sleeping pills in order to be able to sleep. So, Felix and I keep screwing on the spot next to you in bed. "We aren't exactly quiet, you know. But you've never woken up. Isn't it thrilling, Shane?" I can only stare at Felix Tanner, who's quietly wiping his tears a short distance away. He's the survivor of the break-in case from ten years ago. Back then, Dad was the one who helped him throw the killer behind bars, only to get murdered in cold blood by said killer, who had just gotten out of prison. In fact, that killer is also the one who chopped off my leg…