Lagu Barat Perfect

An employee blasted me on TikTok, accusing me of not approving her wedding leave. Ainsley Castillo ranted, "Our marriage rates are low; birth rates are low. It's all because of toxic capitalists like you! You won't even approve my wedding leave. In your eyes, am I just a workhorse? Not even a person? I believed your nonsense about building an all-women company and a women-friendly workplace. Now your true bloodsucking capitalist face is showing!" The video blew up instantly, and countless young people empathized with her hardcore. They piled on online, cursing me, even doxxing me and sending razor blades. As the boss, I went live and confronted her head-on. "Sorry, but I can't approve her wedding leave. She can quit and go through labor arbitration, or sue me, but her wedding leave is out of the question." The live stream exploded in views that day. Among the supporters for her, some claimed to be lawyers, offering to sue me pro bono. But Ainsley looked troubled. "I just want my wedding leave. I never thought about quitting, let alone suing her."

There's an earthquake. My husband, the captain of the rescue team, abandons me to save Wendy Smith, his true love. I don't stop him. I let him go. Why? Because when he was faced with the same choice in my past life, he saved me because I was eight months pregnant. Meanwhile, Wendy remained trapped under the rubble. She ultimately died due to a lack of oxygen after the delayed rescue. Later, on the day I went into labor, my husband brought me to Wendy's grave. He watched me coldly as I collapsed on the ground from the searing pain. He ignored my pleas. "Does it hurt, Yelena? Wendy's pain was a thousand times worse when she was trapped under the rubble!" I stared at him in disbelief as he descended into insanity. "You were safe that night—you were in the safe triangle zone! Wendy would never have missed the best time for rescue if not for you using your pregnancy to threaten me! I want you to experience all the pain she went through!" He forced me down on my knees and bumped my head on the ground before Wendy's grave. He ignored the blood that flowed down my legs. Ultimately, I died after major blood loss from a difficult labor. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day the earthquake happened. This time, neither I nor my child will wait for him.

The night I brought my boyfriend home to meet my parents, my dad insisted on playing cards with some relatives. When he came back, he collapsed to his knees in front of me, crying. Not only had he lost half a million dollars, but he had even gambled away my boyfriend to my cousin. He slapped himself and begged me for forgiveness. However, instead of yelling at him, I helped him to his feet. Then, I took out the savings I’d set aside for my future wedding and the deed to my house. “Let’s gamble one more time.”

I send my sister, Lola Graham, to my couture boutique to pick out a wedding dress. As she is leaving, a trainee clerk, Kayla Larson, demands three million for the gown. Helpless, Lola says my name. "I'm the owner's sister. I don't have to pay." Kayla rolls her eyes. "You're pranking the wrong store. Our boss doesn't have a sister. You're just broke and trying to scam us!" she snapped, blocking my sister's way. "This is your last warning—either pay up, or I'll rip that dress off you and throw you out!" Stunned, Lola calls me. When I rush over, I hear my long-time store manager standing deferentially behind Kayla, warning Lola, "You'd better behave. The woman in front of you is our boss' wife. Cross her, and you'll regret it." "Trying to fake your way in here? You've got some nerve," Kayla sneers, adding to my sister's humiliation. My hand freezes on the door. Without hesitation, I cut off my husband's secondary credit card and call him. "Have I been too generous with you? Or did giving you too much money make you think you could afford another woman behind my back?"

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!"

In my past life, my sister, Kyra Wood, and I got married at the same time. My husband, Callum Gray, was a navy captain, while hers was a farm director. Both of our husbands shared the same childhood friend—Eliana Sullivan. Kyra and I had the same blood type as Eliana. After she got into an accident, we both donated blood to her. When she woke up, she unexpectedly started being able to hear the thoughts of Kyra and me. Callum and I got into an argument, and I wanted him to apologize. However, Eliana told him that I'd never forgive him, even if I died. On Kyra's wedding anniversary, she decided to ask her husband, Anthony Stone, for a bicycle. However, Eliana told Anthony that Kyra wanted a sports car. Callum thought my personality was too fiery and decided to divorce me. Anthony thought Kyra was too much of a spendthrift and divorced her as well. My sister and I were abandoned and lived in loneliness for the rest of our lives—until we died. When I open my eyes again, I realize that Kyra and I have been reborn. This time, Callum and Anthony can hear our thoughts too.

I came back to life the day Cedric Gramont got drugged. This time? I didn't offer my body to him. I called his so-called soulmate instead. In my last life, I stupidly fell for the uncle who wasn't blood-related. When I found out he'd been hit with something strong, I ignored his plea to call Elyna Humbert—and "helped" him myself. A month later, I was pregnant. He had to marry me. On our wedding day, Elyna, who'd gone abroad to "clear her head," got kidnapped and killed. Before she died, she called Cedric 199 times, begging for help. He didn't pick up once. Too busy sealing the deal with me. Later, he just stared at those missed calls, not saying a word. Then the day I went into labor, he locked me in the basement. I begged him to take me to the hospital. He just smiled, cold and empty, and watched me die screaming, the baby still inside me. Last thing I heard? "If you hadn't gotten pregnant, I wouldn't have married you. I wouldn't have missed Elyna's calls. You deserved to die." When I opened my eyes again, it was that same day—Cedric was drugged, but this time, I knew better.

On the day of the wedding, my best friend, Elena Hartman, can't bear to part with me, so she threads my wedding shoes with a string and ties them snugly around her slim waist. The groomsmen turn the whole place upside down, and we end up late for the ceremony. She eventually cracks up and tugs at her billowy bridesmaid dress, revealing the outline of the shoes at her waist. "I dare you to come take them. As long as I'm here, she's not getting married!" My fiancé, Miles Lawson, shakes his head and chuckles. "You just love tormenting us, don't you?" Miles exchanges a look with the groomsmen, and they charge at her at the same time. She squeals as she falls back onto the bed, squirming under her layers of tulle. "Don't be so rough! I'm ticklish…" The groomsmen flush bright red. Miles' ears turn scarlet as he feels around her waist. She giggles even louder. "How are you going to undo it through all these layers? Use your head!" Then, she gasped. "That tickles!" Her theatrics make my temper flare. I spring to my feet, lift her skirt, and rip the wedding shoes right off her. "If you're that ticklish, smack yourself with a slipper. Drop the act, or I'll yank out the nerves that make you ticklish!"

Valentine's Day. I was stuck on ER duty at Brighton City Hospital. Theodore Madoff, who was supposed to be working late, strolled in carrying his student—Cecilia Kuntzer. She had red marks everywhere and that smug little smirk. "Relax, Mrs. Madoff. Just stomach pain. Lucky me, Prof. Madoff rushed me here." Theo pushed me to treat her. Turns out? She was pregnant. From rough intercourse. And the dad? Theo. My husband. The same guy who'd sworn off kids with me for ten years. Felt like a punch to the gut. But I still saved her baby. Next day, she uploaded a video—ID in hand, cheesy PowerPoint, accusing me of malpractice. Claimed I killed her kid. Then Theo asked for a divorce. Priscilla—his mom—stormed the hospital, shrieking about her dead grandbaby. She brought a mob. All these "righteous" strangers who stabbed me to death. Right there in the ER. I died with my eyes wide open. Then—bam—I woke up. Valentine's Day. Again.

I suffer from a hereditary form of amnesia. By the time I found out, I had only seven days left. On the first day, I found my boyfriend had fallen for my younger twin sister. With a bitter smile, I suggested we break up. On the second day, my most treasured Lego set was smashed by my sister. Everyone laughed at me, saying I was disgraceful, unworthy of being a daughter of the Fleming family. On the fourth day, I forgot that my sister was allergic to mangoes. She ended up in the hospital, and my parents glared at me with resentment. Even my ex-boyfriend accused me of being heartless. On the seventh day, I woke up in a hospital bed to see my father walking in with a stern expression. He demanded that I quit my job and devote myself entirely to taking care of the family, as nothing more than a housekeeper. But I only looked at them in confusion and asked softly, “Who are you?” When they realized I had truly lost my memory, they lost their minds.