Jojo Ceaser Death Theme

Ang mga magulang ko, ang pinakamayaman na magkasintahan sa bansa, ay sikat na mga pilantropo. Kailangan ko hingin ang permiso nila kung kailangan ko gumastos ng higit pa sa limang dolyar. Sa araw na nadiagnose ako ng terminal cancer, humingi ako ng 100 dolyar, pero sa halip na tulungan ako, sinigawan nila ako ng tatlong oras. “Anong klaseng sakit ang makukuha mo sa edad mo? Kung hihingi ka lang ng pera, galingan mo naman sa palusot mo.” “Alam mo ba na ang 100 dolyar ay kayang suportahan ang mga bata sa naghihirap na mga lugar ng matagal na panahon? Mas may sense pa kausap ang kapatid mo kaysa sa iyo.” Kinaladkad ko ang katawan ko na may sakit pabalik sa maliit na basement. Pero noong dumaan ako sa mall, nakita ko ang mga magulang ko, live sa malaking screen, gumagastos ng malaking yaman para lang rentahan ang Disneyland para sa kapatid ko. Ang isang daang dolyar ay hindi sapat para sa isang round ng chemotherapy. Gusto ko lang bumili ng bagong damit at lisanin ang mundo ng may dignidad.

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.

At Sullivan Group's annual banquet, a female university student approaches Peter Sullivan and offers herself to him. The usually cold and distant Peter suddenly freezes because this young woman looks exactly like his deceased first love. He can't help but tease, "You're asking to be my mistress in front of my wife. Are you so sure you won't be thrown out?" The young lady lifts her chin, and her stubborn expression is identical to that of his lost love. "You two got married for business reasons and mutual benefits. Does she have any say over what you do? Peter, only you can save my mom. Will you do it or not?" She's right. I'm just a pawn in a marriage of convenience. How could I possibly influence Peter's choices? But then, I catch a glint of tenderness in his eyes that I've never seen before, and a self-deprecating smile forms on my lips. Maybe, instead of clinging on and being thrown out like trash, it's better if I give up my place willingly.

I'm diagnosed with a rare, incurable disease. A wonder drug that is being auctioned off is my last chance at survival. However, upon winning the bid for the said drug, my parents hand it to my older cousin, Annie Harper, who is suffering from infertility instead. This time, I will not make a fuss. I will even purchase a variety of supplements for Annie. My fiance tells me that Annie deserves to be married off splendidly. He wants to give his wedding gifts, which were originally meant for me, to her instead. I consent willingly. On top of that, I transfer both the house and the car he purchased for me to Annie. My parents have relief and delight written on their faces. "You've finally grown up and understood that Annie needs this medication more than you do because she's getting married." My dad says, "Once I've attended the medical symposium for rare diseases and completed the dissection of a patient's cadaver, I will be able to develop a cure for you." Nonetheless, seven days later, I have become the cadaver meant to be cut open by my father. My primary physician calls my father out in public at the symposium, pointing him out as an unethical doctor who gave my life-saving medication to Annie. My parents and boyfriend are criticized by the audience for being murderers. Yet, they firmly believe that this is how I'm getting back at them. They intend to reveal my memories to the public so that everyone learns that I deserved to die.

When Joseph Belfort was at his lowest, he caught me lying in bed with another man. Later, he made it big and married me in a wedding of the century. Everyone said he loved me more than life itself, but I knew he only did it out of revenge. Every day, he brings different women home. He sleeps with them to my face, even telling me to serve them. I do as told as long as he pays me. He's thoroughly disappointed in me and asks for a divorce. Then, he gives everything I once wished for to Yarra Quinton. He doesn't know everything I did in the past was just a lie, though. I'm about to die.

Ang boyfriend ko ay forensic doctor. Nakidnap ako at may nakadikit na bomba—meron na lamang sampung minuto bago sumabog. Ang mga nagkidnap sa akin ay pinilit na tawagan ko ang boyfriend ko, pero napagalitan lamang ako. “Ano bang kailangan mo, Michelle? Anong pinaplano mo, ginagamit ang buhay mo bilang palusot dahil lang nagseselos ka?” “Ang pusa ni Vi ay hindi makuha mula sa puno ng tatlong araw na. Mahal niya ito na parang ang buhay nito ay buhay niya! Kung idedelay mo ako sa pagligtas dito, magiging mamamatay tao ka!” Nakarinig ako ng malanding boses sa kabilang dulo ng tawag. “Salamat para dito, Kev. Ang husay mo!” Nakilala ko ang boses na iyon—pagmamay ari ito ng childhood friend ng boyfriend ko. Tinext ko ang boyfriend ko ng sasabog na ang bomba. “Paalam habang buhay. Pinagdadasal ko na hindi na tayo magkita pang muli sa ibang buhay.”

To make up for past regrets with his first love, my husband, Pierce Ronan, lied that he could see everyone’s lifespan. He told me I had sixty years left, but his first love, Jessica Stone, had only seven days to live. So, for those seven days, he said he had to fulfill the promises of their youth. He brought her home, cared for her, and when they went back to their old college campus to relive their love, I didn’t protest. When he confessed his love to her and planned the wedding of the century, asking me to be the bridesmaid, I didn’t raise my voice. It wasn’t until he wanted to break the final taboo — in our marital bedroom — that he looked at me with guilt in his eyes and begged me to move out. The housemaids watched, snickering behind their hands, but I only smiled and nodded in agreement. I packed my bags, carried our child, and moved into the guest room next door. Seeing how obedient I remained, Pierce was touched. “I promise, this will be the last time I wrong you. Once Jessica passes, I’ll make it up to you.” What he didn’t know was that I had already seen through his lies. What he also didn’t know was that the one truly dying of cancer, the one with only seven days left to live, was me. Three days remained. Then, I would be gone.

On the day I died, my boyfriend was with another woman. He was a man I had rescued from the clutches of rich women. My condition was for him to be my boyfriend for three years, and he agreed. I showered him with money, resources, and connections, single-handedly making him famous. Yet, while he told me we could not date publicly, he casually engaged in fake romance rumors with others for publicity. One of his rumored girlfriends even came to me with a voice message. "If it weren’t for using her as a stepping stone, who would bother with someone so dull and boring?" But after I died, why did he go mad?

I was slowly dying from Silverthorn Wolfsbane, and there was only one cure—the Miracle Elixir. But my mate, Leo Ashford, bought it and gave it to my adoptive sister, Jane Smith. He did it because he thought I was faking my illness. I gave up on the treatment and swallowed a potent painkiller instead. It would kill me in three days by shutting down my organs. In those three days, I gave up everything. I handed over the fur manufacturing business I built from the ground up to Jane, and my parents praised me for caring about my sister. I offered to sever our mate bond, and Leo praised me for finally being sensible. When I told my son he could call Jane "mommy", he happily said that his new mommy was the best! I transferred all my savings to Jane, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were just pleased with my "better behavior". "Viola is finally not so bad." I wondered—would they regret it after I was gone?

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."