Joey Fisher Leaks

An accident occurred during my graduation trip, causing me to get my left leg amputated. Surprisingly enough, Britney Lambert, the campus belle whom I had a crush on, proposed to me afterward. We were married for the next 30 years. Throughout our marriage, we respected and concerned each other properly. Before I passed away, I found out that all 199 love letters that I had written were thrown into the trash pile. Meanwhile, Britney kept the love letters another person had sent her in a safe. Obviously, she treated those letters like her most cherished treasure. When my illness took a turn for the worse, I could only lie on my sickbed with one foot in my grave. Britney arrived at my ward later than usual. Before I closed my eyes, I heard the final words she uttered to me. "Next time, don't save me anymore." I finally understood her real feelings for me. She'd rather die than be with me, it seemed. When I wake up again, I've returned to the timeframe before the graduation trip starts. This time, I decide not to have anything to do with Britney. We shall be strangers in this lifetime. But when the accident occurs once again, Britney is the one rushing toward me. "It's my turn to save you now."

BLURB; Diva Crest is the Luna of her pack and has always been the weakest, powerless, unwanted wolf in her pack. But when the pack’s soothsayer announces her mate, her life takes a dangerous turn. She is fated to Alpha Derek Valen, the ruthless and merciless leader of the Blackfang Pack, known for killing without hesitation. Stuck in a bond she never wanted, Diva vows to escape, but fate has other plans. Derek is just as unwilling as she is. Cold and dominant, he never expected to be mated to someone so weak. But as much as he tries to resist, something about Diva pulls him in. There’s a connection between them that feels unnatural. When a rogue pack led by the vengeful Alpha Ronan launches an attack, Diva learns a horrifying truth—her mate's bond with Derek was never real. Ronan, once Derek’s trusted beta, manipulated fate itself, cursing them both in his twisted game for revenge. Bad still, Diva was never meant to be weak. Her true powers were sealed away, hidden beneath layers of deceit. As the truth unravels, Diva is faced with an impossible choice: embrace the power she was born with and fight for her freedom, or give in to a love that was never meant to exist. But when the bond between her and Derek starts to break, they must both decide,was it ever just fate, or something far more dangerous? Will Diva rewrite her fate, or will she lose herself to a love that was never meant to be?

The moment I was born, I took her life. They called me a murderer. Marcus used to burn me with cigarette butts, and Dad would say it was my fate. “You’re a curse. If you had any conscience, you’d have gone to join Mom a long time ago to repay what you owe.” When Marcus was diagnosed with kidney failure, that same cold, distant father knelt in front of me. “Please… save him…” I put my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Dad, I’ll do the surgery. But can you promise me one thing?” Dad performed the surgery himself. It was a success. He saved the son he loved most and took the life of the daughter he hated. But after I died, Dad turned himself in to the police, and Marcus lost his mind.

My girlfriend called me frantically out of the blue, saying her mother's water had broken. She begged me to take them to the hospital. But I lazily hung up the phone and turned away, buying myself an ice cream bar instead. In my previous life, her mother had also gone into labor late in life. I had risked everything to rush her to the hospital, running twelve red lights, pushing my car to the limit until the fuel gauge nearly burst. Yet, despite all that, her mother had lost the baby. Worse still, she turned around and accused me of killing the baby. My girlfriend had hated me for it, blaming me for her mother's inability to have children again. That very night, she and her shameless relatives took over my family's house, forcing my parents into such anger and despair that they ended up in the hospital. My company went bankrupt, and as if that weren't enough, I was beaten so severely that both my legs were broken. In the end, I fell into a deep depression and took my own life. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn. This time, I uncovered the secret her mother had been hiding.

In the third year of our marriage, my husband's first love got a divorce. He gave her the forty-five thousand dollars we had saved for a house because she was left with nothing and struggling to make ends meet. I urged him to ask for the money back, but he pointed at my face and angrily shouted, "You used to be so gentle and virtuous—what happened? Why are you so selfish, so shallow now?" "Is forty-five thousand dollars really worth you making a fuss over?" "Chloe is starting over with nothing, raising a child on her own. Don't you feel any sympathy for her?" Fine. He was noble, he was merciful. I did not argue further, because the one who needed money for cancer treatment was him, not me.

On a trip to Chicily, my wife, Rosa Stone, and her first love, Jack Cud, insisted on feeding wild, starving wolves. I simply reminded them, "You might attract more hungry wolves." They turned on me, calling me a heartless monster. In the end, I was right. A pack of wolves really did show up. They circled the car, watching us hungrily. Jack was bitten by one. To my surprise, Rosa kicked me out of the car, yelling, "Jack is hurt! He needs to be taken to the hospital! Distract the wolves, I'll come back for you!" I watched them drive away, leaving me behind, surrounded by hungry wolves closing in from all sides. My heart sank. But, Rosa forgot one thing—I was a great Wolvesmith.

I've had a crush on my fiancée for years, and we're finally about to get married. Yet I'm willing to jump off a building just to avoid marrying her—all because I've been reborn. In my past life, she and I were married for over two decades. We were the perfect couple in everyone's eyes. However, the fairy tale came to an abrupt end on our 25th wedding anniversary. She took her own life, and she did it with her true love. As I kneeled before her grave, I asked, "Did you regret marrying me?" I knew I wouldn't hear her response, so I answered myself. "I regret marrying you." When I open my eyes again, I find myself back to before the wedding happens. I decide to run away. This time, I want us to become nothing but estranged acquaintances. To my surprise, she comes to me, looking like she's terminally ill. She says, "I've never regretted marrying you. Whether in this lifetime or the past, you're the only one I've ever wanted to marry."

Mr James Thompson followed me. Look at me. I shouldn't like it, but I do. I was desperate to get the job done and tried to ignore his sultry gaze. I've never had an opportunity like this before - working for someone so talented and powerful. James is unlike any boss I've ever had. He can't. Domineering, ruthless. But he also has a protective side. He only showed me a part of him. But working together late at night pushes every boundary. I tried to keep things professional, but James made it very clear. He wants me. Not his secretary, but a very different position.

After reuniting with my birth family, my wealthy biological father tossed me a black card and laid down one rule: I could spend as much as I wanted, but I was never to call him Dad—that title belonged only to his adoptive daughter. Clutching the black card, I cautiously bought myself a two-dollar-fifty ice cream cone. Just as I was happily licking the sweet ice cream, the adoptive daughter dropped to her knees before me. "Alice, are you mocking me because I can't even afford something that costs two-fifty in the future?" My brother immediately slapped me twice. "You have money now, but you can't split love. Natalie is my one and only sister!" Then my father splashed boiling water onto my face. "No disgraceful wretch deserves to be a Gervais." To punish me, they sent me off to Rimala, forced to work as a child laborer in the mines. Ten years later, I walked into a grand banquet hall with an ice cream in hand and came face-to-face with my brother, Ansel Gervais, dressed in a hand-tailored suit. "All these years and you're still a disgrace," he sneered, but I couldn't be bothered to argue. "Let go. My dad's waiting for me—and if I'm any later, the ice cream's going to melt." He looked down at me with contempt. "Dad? Who gave you permission to call him that? Natalie will forever be the only Gervais girl—no one can take that away from her!" I rolled my eyes. Who said I was talking about that cheap excuse for a father? I was talking about my adoptive father—the oil tycoon with an incurable sweet tooth. I was in a hurry to let him taste some ice cream.

The day Eve Jones came back to town, Zac Gibson did not come home all night. The next day, I saw a post on her social media, showing a photo of two hands tightly intertwined, along with Zac’s peaceful, childlike sleeping face. When he finally came home, he threw divorce papers at me and said, "You’ve been standing in Eve’s place this whole time. Now that she’s back, it’s time for you to move on." It did not matter anymore. I was not going to live much longer anyway. Whoever wanted the title of "Mrs. Gibson" could have it. Later, I died. But Zac cried at my grave, kneeling, promising he would never hold anyone else’s hand again.