Independence Library Apartments

I set fire to my painting in front of the entire academy. Thunderous applause erupts from the crowd as everyone thinks it's some kind of performance art. Unlike them, Willow Laurent is distraught. She rushes up and grabs my hand, questioning in a shrill voice, "Cassidy Seymour, have you gone mad? This is your only chance to prove yourself!" I shake her hand off me coldly. My only chance? No… What she means is that it's her chance. In my past life, I created this masterpiece with all my heart and soul. But she stole it from me and submitted it as her entry first. Whether it was the composition, the colors, or even my original dot-stippling technique… She replicated every detail flawlessly. Then, she won the National Young Artists Gold Award, signed with a top gallery, and became a rising star. And what about me? I was condemned as a shameless plagiarist. Insults and curses gradually drowned me. "You shouldn't be an artist!" "Plagiarists are scum! They should just die!" Her fans stormed into my studio, smashed my art supplies, and broke my right hand. As I saw no end to the hell that I was living in, I jumped down from the top floor of my studio. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the very day she first accuses me of plagiarism.

Xena Xander returned to the past and found herself back in 1989. That year, she was thirty. Her husband, Julian Zane, was thirty-five. He had just become the youngest academician at the National Academy of Sciences. He was a national talent, and his future looked exceptionally promising. They had a pair of ten-year-old twins. Everyone said she was lucky. She was so lucky to have a good husband and sweet children. But the first thing she did after returning to the past was consult a lawyer and prepare two divorce agreements. She called Julian’s office. When the assistant realized it was her, the response was brief. “Xena, Professor Zane is busy. He doesn’t have time.” She went to the research institute to look for him, but the guard stopped her at the entrance. “Sorry, Professor Zane is unavailable right now.” After three days, she took the divorce agreement and went to see Julian’s first love. She placed the agreement in front of Moon Jensen and calmly said, “Please have Julian sign the divorce agreement. From now on, he and the two children belong to you.”

The pills I keep by my bedside have been swapped with vitamins. I almost die after getting a heart attack. After the stent surgery, I ask my husband, Evan Whitmore, to find out who did it. I just want the truth. However, he doesn't even look up and just brushes me off. "It was just a mistake. Cecilia probably grabbed the wrong bottle. She bought those vitamins for me. "Don't push this. She has asthma. She can't handle stress." I stare at him in shock, my chest tightening. I can't tell if the pain is from my healing heart or from the words he just threw at me. Cecilia Monroe is his secretary, and he always takes her side. That moment is when I realize that our five years of marriage mean nothing to him at all.

My fiancé’s pampered niece, Jenna Quinn, had just returned from abroad. The moment she got back, she caused a scene at our engagement party, throwing out so-called “evidence” of my alleged affair in front of the media. Zac Quinn had no choice but to leave me with the mess, clutching his hysterical niece as they left. His parting words? “This is just an engagement party. Jenna’s well-being is far more important.” After I painstakingly managed to control the public narrative and was waiting for Jenna to make a public clarification to settle the matter, she instead curled up in Zac’s arms, crying softly. Zac’s expression turned cold. “Jenna only has me, while you have so many people who love you. Why must you target her?” At first, I thought Zac was just being overly protective of his niece, who had lost her parents at a young age—until I saw the two of them kissing. “You’re the precious girl I’ve raised with my own hands. From now on, Nina will be your aunt, and she’ll shower you with love, too,” he said. I clenched the ultrasound report in my hand and, without hesitation, tossed it into the trash. Love that can’t be held onto isn’t worth keeping. I decided to return home, accept my family’s marriage alliance, and fully embrace my role as the heiress of the Walker Corporation.

I wheel myself into the birthday celebration that Wales Price has thrown for me. The atmosphere is originally lively, but a brief silence descends when everyone sees me. The guests are there for different purposes, but celebrating my birthday is not one of them. "Is that Mr. Price's crippled fiancée, Joey Hertza?" "Yeah, but the one he really loves is Anna Giovanni. I saw them kissing in a corner earlier." They use their wine glasses to block their mouths as they speak loudly. They think I'm still the crippled deaf I used to be. They don't know that I regained my hearing last week. I can hear every mocking comment they make. Meanwhile, Wales stands there and allows it to happen. He doesn't stop the guests from talking about me. He seems to have forgotten that I only ended up like this while protecting him. I shoved him away when the accident happened and got trapped underneath the car myself. When I was rescued, Wales swore to stay with me and care for me for life. It's only been three short years since then, but he's already changed. I receive a message on my phone. "Ms. Hertza, the lifelike corpse that you've ordered is now complete. Reply to this message with your confirmation, and your death-faking service will be immediately effective. We will send the corpse to your and Mr. Price's wedding in five days." I don't even hesitate as I reply with my confirmation. Enjoy your wedding, Wales.

At Ryder Quinn’s kindergarten parent-child sports day, I expected my husband, Michael Quinn, to be away on a business trip. Instead, I found Michael on stage, dressed in a ballet tutu, dancing as one of the "little swans" in the fathers’ performance. I had barely taken a step forward when a little girl in a floral dress darted into his arms, calling out to him in the sweetest voice, "Daddy!" There they stood: Michael, his assistant, Janine Carter, and her daughter—all in matching family outfits. The moment our eyes met, Michael quickly pulled away from her, fumbling for an excuse. "Janine’s a single mom. It isn’t easy for her. I was just helping out." I smiled, cold and steady, and handed him the divorce papers. "Then, do me a favor too, Michael. Stop wasting my youth."

My grandfather is hit by a car, and his skull is shattered. I take the driver to court. That's when I find out my husband, Stuart Creed, who was supposedly abroad on a business trip, is suddenly at the hospital. He looks at me coldly and snaps, "Do you have any idea how important Maddy’s valedictorian announcement is? Her future can't be ruined by some car accident! Drop the case right now, or I'll cut off all your credit cards and have your grandfather kicked out of the VIP ward!" He slams the door and storms out. Before that, he snarls, "Come home when you agree. Until then, forget about calling yourself Mrs. Creed!" While I'm out desperately trying to gather money for my grandfather's surgery, a team of lawyers contacts me. Turns out the patent my grandfather once authorized to Creed Group has expired. And now, I'm the new legal owner.

On the day of my daughter Eleanor Baldwin's second birthday party, my entire family stood nervously by the banquet hall entrance. They were not there to greet guests, but rather to keep me from showing up and causing a scene. Mom's face was written all over with anxiety. "Lucas wouldn't actually crash the party, would he?" Dad's brow stayed tightly furrowed. "Who knows? That disgrace of a son is capable of anything." My younger brother, Cody Baldwin, had his arm wrapped gently around my wife, Kendra Clarkson, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. If Lucas dares to show up, I'll keep you and Ellie safe." Kendra nodded slowly. "If it really comes to that... maybe we should just let Ellie be his goddaughter. At least then, we're still family..." However, the party came and went, and I never appeared. I had already made up my mind to join a classified national defense research program. Only this time, it was for good.

Jack Cooke—my husband, who'd never so much as scrambled an egg—suddenly went full kitchen freak. He bought a ton of pots and spatulas, then spent all day just... polishing them. When I called him out, he shrugged. "I like things clean. That a crime now?" Behind him? A mountain of dirty socks. Then it got weirder. He dragged all the kitchen stuff into our bedroom. At night, he'd get weird with a dishcloth. Like, disturbingly weird. I was done. I asked for a divorce. Jack stormed into a private dining room and shredded the papers right in front of our investors. "You're seriously ending our marriage over this? Kinda dramatic, don't you think?" I didn’t blink. “I gave up my spot for your pots and pans. A little thanks wouldn’t kill you.”

Just one week into my new job, I was wrongfully accused of cooking the books, and it cost me five years behind bars. After that, my wife found out she was pregnant. She insisted on having the baby and promised to wait for me to come home. Out of gratitude, I threw myself into work after my release. I did everything I could to give them a good life. It was until one day, I overheard a conversation between my wife and our son. “Mom, don’t let Dad come out with us. It’s embarrassing! Why did you pin Mr. Scott’s crime on him back then?! And now, the girl next door keeps making fun of me, saying my dad’s a criminal!” My wife gently pulled our son close and comforted him, saying, “I promised Mr. Scott I’d help him. Your dad’s so naive. He’ll never find out.” It turned out that my supposed happy life was nothing but lies and betrayal!