Jimmy Neutron Meme Face

After my physical examination, I'm about to leave the pack infirmary located in my cousin's territory when a heavily made-up healer suddenly grabs my arm. She hisses, "Stop right there! You think you can break something in the infirmary and just run away? No way!" I look at her unfamiliar face and blink, feeling utterly confused. "What did I break?" She points to the crystal potion bottles on the shelves and wrinkles her nose exaggeratedly. "You reek, and your stench has contaminated all the potions, making them unusable! Alpha Xander bought these at a high cost, and all of it is worth 500 thousand dollars. There's also compensation for causing me emotional distress—that's another 200 thousand. "Altogether, that's 700 thousand dollars. Will you pay by cash or card?" My scent is a mix of violet and amber. It's noble and cool, like a winter dusk. Of course, not everyone loves this scent, but "contamination"? Please! I can't fathom why the infirmary in Xander's territory is operating like a scam. I laugh out of anger and say, "I'm Alpha Xander's cousin. I don't pay a single cent in his territory. If anyone has a problem with that, have Xander come say it to my face." But the healer only rolls her eyes. "You bitch, trying to use such lowly tricks to get my Alpha's attention? You wish! If you don't pay up today, I'll strip you naked and throw you onto the street so that everyone can smell how foul you are!" She has no idea who she's threatening. I take a deep breath and quickly contact my Beta. "Tell Xander—either banish this healer from the pack, or I'll banish him."

Elena Jones and I became orphans on the same day. Her parents are killed in a mass murder, and my father—the killer—is executed on the spot. For a month straight, Harborfield's most notorious playboy waits outside the courthouse, intent on keeping Elena. However, she throws his black card right back at him, like a headstrong heroine straight out of a movie. "The Mr. Carter I admire is refined and noble. How could he have a nephew like you? I'd rather starve than accept anything from a thug." He lets out a sharp, amused laugh and crooks a finger at me. "A death row convict's daughter and a thug make a fitting pair. I'll back you. Are you willing?" While clutching the ten-million-dollar IOU my father left behind, I nod without hesitation. Later, he orders me to get into his uncle Daniel Carter's bed. "With all that sin on your shoulders, you're an even better match for him. That way, Elena will finally give up on him for good."

When my husband, Austin Hart, and I participated in the earthquake disaster relief, he discovered the corpse of his first love, Stacy Deleon, in the collapse zone. That night, Austin left a suicide note behind before jumping off the building with our son, Clifford Hart, in order to reunite with Stacy in the afterlife. Only then did I realize that both Austin and Clifford never cared about me, to begin with. When I was reborn, I returned to the moment when Austin first asked for a divorce. This time, I agreed to the divorce immediately. I even gave the custody of the three-year-old Clifford to Austin right away. Five years later, we meet again at an auction. Austin laces fingers with Stacy while taking Clifford's hand with the other. He mocks me, "It's only been five years, Kendra. You're really that shameless now, huh? You can't wait to latch onto me again now that you've found out I'm here!" Clifford mocks me as well. "Mom… Wait, you should be Ms. Powell to me now. You should stop pestering my dad already. My parents and I are living a very happy life right now." I just ignore them. Instead, I grab my daughter, Faye Gilmore, who has been sneaking food off the table, and steer her back to our seats. But Austin flies into a fit of rage instantly. A vein pops out of his hand, which is still laced with Stacy's fingers. "You really are shameless, Kendra Powell! We've only been separated for five years, yet you already have a daughter that old? I can't believe you're willing to resort to such despicable methods just to make me jealous! Which bastard did you have that bastard child with, huh?"

When Sienna lost her pregnancy, the only thing she wanted by her side was her darling husband, but instead, a divorce paper was placed right beside her by him. “Let's get divorced. The only thing we are holding on to is gone. I love Lisa, and I want to be with her.” Sharon didn’t expect her husband to divorce her, his uncle’s wife. Left broke and devastated, she left the city, but Sharon returned four years later, stronger and better with a four-year-old daughter. Now darling ex-husband regrets and wants her back. But now, Sienna has three more men at her feet: her ex-husband's uncle, who is ready to help her get revenge. A celebrity who is willing to go to any length to make her happy, And a famous pianist who wants to be her baby's favorite father.

My newlywed husband wants to kill me. He's backing me to the balcony with a knife in his hand. The blade pierces my heart, and he shoves me off a 20-story building. At the same time, I see the tear streaks on his face. He says, "Long time no see, my perfect lover."

My husband asked me if bras were more comfortable without underwire, and I was happy that he had finally become more mature. The next day, his assistant snatched the parcel I received in the mail, saying that it had the wrong address. That night, I saw Samantha Davis post on her social media, with the caption, “My boyfriend bought this for me. Isn’t it pretty?” It was a selfie taken in a hotel mirror, and there was a beautifully decorated box containing a bra lying beside her. So, as it turned out, it was not that men became mature later in life, it was that you weren’t the one they were willing to become mature for. Naturally, I gave the post a like and took a screenshot before sending it to my husband. "What a waste. You could have gotten an 20% discount if you bought the whole set."

In my previous life, my sister thought that since my husband and I had high-paying jobs, she could swap her son with my child without anyone noticing. But twenty-five years later, the tables turned. My son had grown into a street thug, while her son—raised under my care—rose smoothly through life. Young as he was, he had already become a CEO. He was dutiful, bought me a villa, and even sent me traveling around the world. My sister barged into his company, waving a DNA test report, kicking up a scene, only to be thrown out by security. "Mr. Kieran said that even if you are his biological mother, you never gave him a single day of care," they told her. "So he refuses to acknowledge you." Breaking down completely, she drove her car into me and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, we had returned to the very day she switched our babies. This time, my sister clutched her own child tightly, a wild, triumphant grin on her face. "From now on, you can be the mother of a street thug," she sneered. "The villa and all those riches—they're mine!"

I knew perfectly well that people from the Emirates do not eat pork. Yet this time, I watched in silence as my husband's childhood sweetheart insisted on placing a pork dish on the table. In fact, I even supported her decision. In my past life, when our company hosted a welcome banquet for powerful investors from the Emirates, she had been desperate to flaunt her cooking. Against all reason, she forced a pork dish onto the menu. I stopped her then. I explained that pork was forbidden by religious belief, and that offending the investors could cost us everything. If they withdrew their funding, the company's finances would collapse overnight. She took my warning as jealousy. In a fit of rage, she ran out of the banquet hall and was struck by a car, leaving her in a permanent vegetative state. I thought my husband would break down. Instead, he remained calm, stayed through the dinner, and secured the investment in surprisingly calmness. The truth revealed itself later. After the company went public, he brought me abroad under the guise of business, only to drag me onto a medical ship in international waters. As my kidney was cut from my body, I cried and asked him why. His answer came with a slap. "If you hadn't been jealous back then... If you hadn't tried to sabotage her, she wouldn't have ended up like that." I died in agony on the operating table. After my death, he used the money from selling my organs to cure his beloved childhood sweetheart, and the two of them went on to live rich, comfortable lives together. And then I opened my eyes again, back to the very day she decided to serve pork to the clients.

In the fashion industry, I was known as the most mysterious designer. I worked hard to keep my identity from the public. As I stood at the top of business, I was invited to be the secret judge of the Innovating Design Competition’s final round. The organizer reserved a VIP seat for me in the middle of the front row and ensured that my presence would not be revealed. Just when I was about to sit down, a new male influencer pushed me aside and threw his hand bag onto my seat. “What are you looking at, bumpkin? How dare you show up at the VIP section dressed like a beggar? Where’s the security? Throw this person out!” I swallowed back my anger and replied coldly, “This seat was reserved for me.” The influencer laughed. “Yours? Do you know who I am? Ms. Reid spent eighty million dollars in sponsorship to get me to come here! Ms. Reid has the final say in this industry. Do you understand me?” I could only scoff at him. How bold of the Reid family! Did they really think they could make this kind of decision without consulting me?

I donated 45 million to the city's best kindergarten, but my daughter failed the enrollment interview. She was a polymath. Furious, I demanded an explanation from admissions. She hurled an assessment file at my face. "Your daughter's brilliant, but you're the exact opposite! You're dead last among the parents!" She continued, "The others have tech domes! You're nothing but a regular Ivy League graduate! Your degree's worth about as much as toilet paper!" The other teachers laughed as well. "If we admit her daughter, it's going to look bad on the other kids. She can't take that responsibility." "Yeah, I can't believe she's demanding an explanation from Ms. Johnson. Her husband is the kindergarten's biggest stakeholder. He can make sure her daughter has nowhere to go." The admission teacher shoved me away. With disdain in her eyes, she said, "Out of my sight if you know what's good for you. My husband is picking me up in his Rolls-Royce. His car plate alone is worth more than your life! It's lucky 777! Only one in Georgeport!" Three sevens? That was my husband's car. I laughed mirthlessly and texted my husband. "I had no idea you had another wife behind me."