Karma

J'étais enceinte de huit mois, mais mon compagnon Alpha, Damien, m'a enfermée dans une cage en argent au sous-sol pour retarder la naissance de notre bébé. Quand j'ai appelé à l'aide, il m'a simplement dit d'attendre. Parce que la compagne de son frère défunt, Victoria, accouchait elle aussi ce jour-là. Le voyant de la meute avait prédit que seul le premier louveteau recevrait la bénédiction de la Déesse de la Lune et deviendrait le futur Alpha. « Le titre revient à l'enfant de Victoria », a-t-il dit. « Elle a perdu Marcus. Elle n'a plus rien. Tu as déjà tout mon amour, Hélène. La cage en argent garantira que tu accouches après elle. » Les contractions étaient insupportables. Je l'ai supplié de m'emmener à la clinique. Il m'a saisie par le menton et m'a forcée à le regarder. « Arrête de faire semblant. J'aurais dû comprendre que tu ne m'as jamais aimé. Tout ce qui t'importe, c'est la richesse et le statut ! » « Déclencher ton accouchement juste pour voler ce qui revient à mon neveu… Tu es vraiment ignoble. » Pâle et tremblante, j'ai murmuré : « Le petit arrive, je ne peux plus l'arrêter. Je t'en supplie, je ferai un serment de sang. Je me fiche de l'héritage. Je t'aime, c'est tout ce qui compte ! » Il a ricané. « Si tu m'aimais vraiment, tu n'aurais pas forcé Victoria à signer ce contrat pour renoncer aux droits de naissance de son petit. Je reviendrai te chercher une fois qu'elle aura accouché. Après tout, c'est aussi mon petit, là-dedans. » Il est resté planté devant la salle d'accouchement de Victoria. Ce n'est qu'en voyant le nouveau-né dans ses bras qu'il s'est souvenu de moi. Il a ordonné à son Bêta de me libérer. Mais la voix du Bêta tremblait. « Luna… et le petit… ils sont morts. » Et à cet instant, Damien a perdu la raison.

Um das Meervolk vor der Auslöschung zu bewahren, beschloss ich, an Land zu gehen und meinen Sandkastenfreund Cyrus zu verführen, der inzwischen zum Alpha-König aufgestiegen war. Tatsächlich liebte er mich noch immer – drei Tage und drei Nächte verbrachten wir in leidenschaftlicher Ekstase. Kaum war ich aus dem Rausch der Lust erwacht und wollte mich freuen, da übergoss er mich mit ätzender Flüssigkeit. Ich schrie vor Schmerz auf, doch Cyrus lachte nur kalt. „So kann also auch eine unsterbliche Meerjungfrau Schmerzen empfinden?“ „Das ist erst der Anfang. Solange du mir nicht sagst, wo meine Eltern sind, wirst du keinen einzigen ruhigen Tag mehr haben!“ Er war überzeugt, dass das Meervolk für das Verschwinden seiner Eltern verantwortlich war. Von da an musste ich mit ansehen, wie er absichtlich mit seiner Geliebten Emily flirtete; musste die Meerjungfrauen-Perle aus meinem Herzen nehmen, um Emilys Gesundheit zu stärken; musste unter höllischen Schmerzen barfuß tanzen, um Emily in den Schlaf zu wiegen … Er hasste mich bis ins Mark, doch jedes Mal, wenn ich dem Tod nahe war, nahm er mich auch in die Arme und flößte mir Medizin ein. Mal war er grausam: „Glaubst du etwa, ich liebe dich und kann dir deshalb nichts anhaben? Alle quält sie weiter!“ Mal war er sanft: „Sei brav und sag mir – wo sind meine Eltern wirklich?“ Schweigend ertrug ich seine widersprüchliche Liebe. Bald würde ich das Geheimnis über seine Eltern nicht mehr hüten müssen. Denn wenn eine Meerjungfrau drei Jahre an Land bleibt, ohne ins Meer zurückzukehren, wird sie unweigerlich zu Schaum. Bis zu meiner Todesstunde blieben nur noch drei Tage.

After Dad cheated and divorced Mom, I did not choose Mom, who walked away with nothing. Instead, I chose Dad, who clearly favored his illegitimate son, Oliver Brooks. It was only because after their divorce, Mom's obsession with reconciliation romance novels got me killed twice. In my first life, Mom was so desperate for Dad's respect that she willingly gave up everything in the divorce just to take me with her. In the end, my heart condition flared up, and without money for treatment, I died in agony on that hospital bed. In my second life, I went against Mom's wishes and asked Dad for the surgery money upfront. However, Mom was hell-bent on pushing Dad onto a so-called redemption path, forced me to go bungee jumping the day before my surgery. Dad tried to stop me from jumping, but he was speeding and ended up in a fatal car crash. Mom blamed everything on me. With pure hatred in her eyes, she shoved me off that cliff. "Useless piece of trash! Not only can't you help me win your father back, but you got him killed too. You might as well die with him!" That moment made everything crystal clear: Mom never actually loved me. She just saw me as a tool to get Dad back. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Mom demanded a divorce from Dad, for the third time.

While they slice me apart, I desperately call my brother, Nathan Slade. He finally picks up as my consciousness starts to slip and answers in an annoyed voice, "What now?" "Nathan, help—" I don't get to finish before he cuts me off. "Can't you ever go a day without drama? Gemma's graduation is at the end of the month. Miss it, and I swear I'll kill you!" Then, he hangs up without a second thought. The agonizing pain swallows me whole, and my eyes close for good, tears still trailing down my cheeks. Well, good news, Nathan… You won't have to kill me because I'm already dead.

Two months after I died, it finally occurred to my parents that they'd forgotten to bring me back from their trip. My father scowled in frustration. "She was supposed to walk back herself. Does she really need to make such a big deal out of it?" My brother, ever smug, opened our chat and sent an emoji, along with a message. [You'd better die out there. That way, Scarlett and I will split Grandma's inheritance.] He received no reply. With a frosty expression, my mother said, "Tell her if she shows up for her grandmother's birthday on time, I'll let the whole pushing-Scarlett-into-the-water thing go." They never believed I hadn't made it out of those woods. After digging six feet into the ground, they finally found my bones deep in the forest.

My mother sells special éclairs. Each one costs a thousand dollars, but the female customers fight each other to buy them. They look like they can't get enough. My sister wants to take a box to share with her boyfriend when she sees how popular they are. However, my mother firmly rejects her. She says she's the only one who can touch those éclairs. My sister refuses to listen. She secretly sneaks into the freezer in the basement. Then, in the middle of the night, I hear her wanton moans.

"Miss Jackson, are you certain you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once the hypnosis begins, it cannot be reversed. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you will fall into a sleep from which you will never wake up again," the doctor asked in a grave tone from the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm certain," Nina Jackson replied calmly.

On New Year's Eve, Facebook blew up. The reason was that Bennett Miles, the golden boy of Crestmoor’s elite, posted an update. In the photo, a shy young woman hid her face as she leaned against his shoulder while he grinned. His eyes were full of affection and mischief. His caption read, "What do I do? Looks like I'm officially taken." Friends in his circle flooded the comment section with congratulations. The real frenzy began when Bennett announced that the first 10,000 followers to like, share, and comment on the post would each receive a gold bar. The internet went wild with envy and curiosity. Everyone scrambled to find out more about the woman in the picture. Then, someone claiming to have inside information started a livestream. "Stop guessing. Her name is Kara Sierra. You know Sierra Hall at Crestmoor College? That building was named after her! "Two years ago, she had kidney failure. Bennett personally donated one of his own kidneys to save her!"

Seberapa memalukan hukuman cambuk di Diusz? Di bawah tatapan beberapa pria kekar, rokku disingkap ke atas dengan kasar dan aku langsung dicambuk. Akan tetapi, suamiku malah bersemangat, sampai-sampai tubuh bagian bawah miliknya bereaksi. Malam itu, akhirnya aku bisa merasakan kembali kebahagiaanku yang telah lama hilang ….

The day I went into labor with the twins, I bribed the family doctor to shoot me up with every heavy-duty suppressant he could get his hands on. Anything to stall the birth. Why? Because in my last life, Vincent—my husband, the Don—claimed to have a low sperm count. To guarantee an heir, he lined up ten mistresses and told the whole house: whoever popped out a son first, her kid would be the next Corleone Don. He promised if I delivered first, he'd ditch the others. Said our baby would inherit the throne. I bought every word. When I found out I was carrying twins, I couldn't stop shaking—I thought I'd won. But after I gave birth, he tossed me and the babies into the freezing wine cellar and locked the place down. "Lucy came from nothing. I just wanted to give her kid a name. You started rumors, pushed her into despair, and now she's dead—her and the baby. You're vile. Not fit to be the Don's wife. Think about what you've done. I'll open the door in three days." Then he had the butler seal it shut. What he didn't know? That night, the cellar caught fire. Me and my babies? Burned alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—right before labor. This time, I'm not staying. Soon as I deliver and get back on my feet, I'm taking my kids and disappearing for good.