Kellys Family

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."

I was reborn on the day of my first birthday party. Even though I had the power of good luck, I ignored my parents' requests. In my previous life, I used my luck to help my parents become the richest family. My eldest brother became a business tycoon. My second brother became a famous doctor. My third brother became a superstar in the music world. Only my family's adopted daughter, Jade Baker, was unaffected by my luck because we weren't related by blood. She failed her college entrance exams at eighteen, was kidnapped at twenty, and died in an accident at twenty-five. Before she died, she wept and said, "It's not Mindy's fault. I've always been an outsider. She has no obligation to help me." Everyone thought I was jealous and let Jade suffer on purpose. They locked me up and ran all sorts of experiments on me, hoping to use my luck to bring Jade back to life. In the end, they tortured me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my first birthday party. My dad smiled and asked me, "Sweetheart, do you think I should sign this million-dollar deal?" I blinked. And smeared a handful of mud on his face.

To find the missing fake heiress, my family forced me to undergo a memory extraction. They were convinced that I had bullied her for the past three years and driven her to run away. I gave a bitter smile and let them continue. As the memories surfaced one after another, the truth became clear. I was the one who had been bullied all along. My parents, overcome with guilt, clutched my hands so tightly they nearly fainted. My brother’s eyes were bloodshot, his teeth grinding until he drew blood. In their arms, I looked up in confusion and asked softly, “Who are you?”

My husband brings a pregnant Meryl Cleat home and lies to me, claiming that she's his stepmother. I'm wholly against the idea, but she says, "The children will call you their mother when they're born, so you don't have to go through the pain of childbirth. Think about how lucky you are, experiencing motherhood without the suffering!" I demand a divorce in the heat of the moment; Meryl is so infuriated by this that she faces labor complications and later dies. Out of guilt, I become a stay-at-home mother to care for her two super male kids. Yet they scaled me with boiling water and blind me in one eye. My health deteriorates under their intense torment, and I'm diagnosed with uremia. That's when I accidentally discover Meryl isn't my stepmother—she's my husband's mistress! I'm in despair when I return home. To make matters worse, I catch her—when she's supposed to be dead—and my husband in bed together. Her two super male sons ultimately stab me to death. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day she fakes her death!

My daughter has leukemia and desperately needs a bone marrow donor. After a blood test, it turns out my blood type doesn't match hers. However, my husband's blood type does. This confuses me. I gave birth to her, so how could my blood type not be a match for hers? I'm puzzled by this when my long-lost best friend suddenly appears with her son, who's about my daughter's age. She wants him to do a blood test to see whether it matches my daughter's.

The day that I divorced my third husband, the system told me that I had completely failed my mission. I had married three times in this world and they were all targets that were supposed to fall for me. But every single one of them chose to divorce me because of Wendy Somerfield. The system pitied me for doing my best for the past 30 years, so it asked me to target my son. It said that if my son could confidently choose me, between me and Wendy, then I could live. However, it was no exception that the son I gave birth to after 40 weeks of pregnancy chose Wendy, just like my three ex-husbands. They all even pinned the cause of Wendy's illness on me. My first husband, who was my childhood sweetheart, pretended to be softhearted, but he was actually ruthless. He actually tried to convince me to donate one of my kidneys to Wendy. My second husband, who I met on a blind date, used a scalpel to personally cut open my body. My third husband, who I fell in love with at first sight, even threatened me with my son. While spitting out blood from my mouth, I agreed to their requests with a smile. However, when they saw me being pushed out of the operating room, those people who turned their backs on me went crazy.

When my body was being dismembered, my fiance was helping my cousin choose her wedding dress. When he received my distress call, he said with disgust, "I hope you never come back! You can die with the bastard in your womb! Don't ever call me again. The mentioning of your name makes me sick!" After that, he found a body part of me in a water tank on the rooftop of a hotel. He thought it was a prank, so he actually ordered white lilies and candles to be delivered to my doorstep. Only when he found my head buried in the grass under his feet on the day of our wedding did he realize that it wasn't a prank.

After failing the mission, the System gave me one final chance, and to succeed, I had to give birth to a child. The System promised that if the baby were born safely, it would reveal the truth to my target and give me one last glimmer of hope. However, six months into my pregnancy, just when things seemed stable, I was dragged onto an operating table in the middle of the night by my husband and family. My husband stopped the anesthesiologist from giving me any pain relief. “Let her feel the pain,” he said coldly. “We need to keep the kidneys as fresh as possible.” My parents instructed the doctor to draw my blood. “She’s the same blood type as our precious girl. Let’s take some for backup.” Even my childhood friend, the boy who had always been by my side, was the one to slice open my abdomen.  They wanted my kidneys to save my sister, who was dying from kidney failure. No one believed I was pregnant. No matter how much I begged, they went ahead with the operation, tearing me open. The baby couldn’t survive, and I died on that operating table. However, as my soul began to fade away, something strange happened. Those who had murdered me—my husband, my parents, my so-called friend—they all lost their minds.

My husband spiked our child's formula with sleeping pills to sneak away for a Christmas date with his assistant. As I frantically rushed my feverish child to the hospital, I unexpectedly spotted my husband carrying his assistant upstairs. "Peyton twisted her ankle, so I'm here to help her get it checked!" Even though our child was in the operating room fighting for her life, he did not so much as glance in her direction. I tightened my grip on the ten-million-dollar winning lottery ticket in my pocket. It was time to end this seven-year marriage.

I accidentally ruined the cake at the fake daughter's birthday party. As punishment, my parents and brother locked me in the basement. "You’ve let your jealousy ruin a perfectly good celebration. Stay here and think about what you’ve done!" they shouted. They left me in the basement and went off to the Maldives to throw another birthday party for the fake daughter. When a gas leak occurred at home, I was still locked in the basement. As soon as they remotely turned the lights on, the whole house exploded, taking my life with it. After my death, my spirit drifted over to where my family was celebrating. I saw them gathered around the fake daughter on a beach. When a luxury three-tiered cake was brought out, they watched her make a wish with a smile. The fake daughter put on a show of concern about me. "Darling, you’re too kind-hearted. People like her deserve to be locked up and taught a lesson. Let’s see if she dares to take anything from you again," they said. Hearing that, I completely gave up on my family. When they returned home and saw the destroyed house, however, my parents and brother went mad.