Intelligence Emotional

Ginny White, tall and curvy, was a graduate from a famous university. She wore a long white dress. I'd fallen for her since I saw her for the first time, but she didn't pay any attention to me. I never expected that just half a day later, Ginny would be on her knees begging me to do such a thing to her, just to get a bite to eat.

I had promised my son that when he turned three, the three of us would go to the amusement park together as a family. But he never lived to see that birthday. My husband, Daniel Shaw, who was a perfect match for the bone marrow transplant, disappeared just before the surgery—phone off, leaving no trace. Without him, our son lost his last chance at survival. When Daniel finally came home, he asked, "Where's our son? Weren't we supposed to take him to the amusement park for his birthday?" Then his eyes fell on the urn. That was the moment he truly lost his mind.

I applied for a popular online job as a personal chef. I thought I'd be cooking simple, home-style meals, but I quickly found myself trapped in a world of surprises. The food they were craving was me, served on a platter. The wealthy women were looking for excitement, torturing me night after night. But what they didn't realize was, the real thrill came when the dogs turned on each other.

Due to my heightened sensitivity, even the slightest touch causes an uncontrollable reaction. My husband, concerned, sends me to the hospital for treatment. As I lie on the operating table, the attending doctor unexpectedly triggers a wave of intense response from me—right in front of my husband.

I finally became pregnant after my husband and I underwent over a dozen rounds of IVF. However, to my horror, I discovered that the embryo growing inside me was the fertilized egg of my husband and the family maid. They even schemed to have me disappear so that the child could inherit everything. I pretended not to know, carried the child to term, and took care of him, raising him with love and care. It was not until 20 years later that they forced me to sign a share transfer agreement by my hospital bed, along with a divorce agreement that left me with nothing. "After 20 years, we finally have our happy family. You never saw this coming, did you? The child you fought so hard to give birth to is my biological son!" Even my son, without any remorse, said, "Honestly, your illness is beyond help. It'd be better for you to just die." With a knowing, almost bittersweet, smile I replied, "For your happiness, I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

I, Zadie Weatherby, am the daughter of Jacob Weatherby, the richest man in the country. Three years ago, I donated my bone marrow to my paternal grandmother, Marissa Notley. After that, I stayed in a nursing home so that she wouldn't worry about me. But when I return to Jirvia, I find that my brother, Luca Weatherby, who once spoiled me rotten, is telling everyone that Sally Weatherby is his sister and the true Weatherby heiress. But in reality, Sally is just an adopted child. The grandmother I risked my life to save holds Sally's hand and says, "Sally is my one and only precious granddaughter." They then claim that I was the adopted child the driver had found near a heap of trash. And so, Sally takes my place as the Weatherby heiress and even marries my fiance, Aidan Yorke. In my last life, I let them take my wedding dress and the trillion-dollar heirloom necklace my maternal grandmother left me. All I wanted was for them to acknowledge me as family, but they cruelly drove me to my death. Now, I have a second chance at life after going back in time. I rush to the venue where the wedding is being held. Once there, I tear the necklace from Sally's neck and strip off her wedding dress. "How dare you steal from me, you tramp!"

To make me "obedient", my parents send me to a reform center. There, I'm tortured until I lose control of my bladder. My mind breaks, and I'm stripped naked. I'm even forced to kneel on the ground and be treated as a chamber pot. Meanwhile, the news plays in the background, broadcasting my younger sister's lavish 18th birthday party on a luxury yacht. It's all because she's naturally cheerful and outgoing, while I'm quiet and aloof—something my parents despise. When I return from the reform center, I am exactly what they wanted. In fact, I'm even more obedient than my sister. I kneel when they speak. Before dawn, I'm up washing their underwear. But now, it's my parents who've gone mad. They keep begging me to change back. "Angelica, we were wrong. Please, go back to how you used to be!"

In my previous life, my boyfriend's younger sister came to the CT room for a check-up. As always, I asked the routine questions about whether she was pregnant or planning to be within the next six months. After all, CT scans involve radiation. It could harm the fetus. She had confidently said no. However, when I handed her the consent form to sign, her face suddenly changed. She immediately pulled out her phone and called my boyfriend, claiming I was putting on airs and making things difficult for her. Soon after, my boyfriend called me. “Don’t make things difficult with my sister over something so trivial. You’re putting me in the middle. I swear on my life she’s not pregnant!” Trusting him, I skipped the consent form and went ahead with the scan. However, the results clearly showed she was pregnant, and not just newly. His family dragged me into court. I lost everything, buried under debt. In the end, I died from the scorching heat while hauling bricks at a construction site. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day his sister came in for her check-up.

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.

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"