Magical Realism

To retrieve the engagement ring my wife shared with her first love, she actually sent our five-year-old daughter into a haunted house alone. Terrified by the bloodstains inside, our daughter accidentally fell down the stairs. A steel rod pierced her stomach, and even in her final moments, she clung tightly to the ring, refusing to let go. I cradled her lifeless body, crying uncontrollably, and called my wife countless times. When she finally answered, she impatiently warned me, "Robert’s daughter is about to undergo heart transplant surgery. Stop causing trouble!" Devastated, I made another call. "Hello, this is Lily's father. I'm sorry, but we can no longer agree to the heart donation." If they were responsible for my daughter's death, they could forget about taking her heart!

During the holiday, my six-year-old son received his cleft-lip surgery. He wore a mask and sat quietly in our family bookstore, engrossed in a picture book. A young man came in, pinching his nose dramatically as he swaggered up to the manager. "Why did you let someone with an infectious disease in here?" he demanded loudly. "Get them out!" The manager winced. "Sir, I'm sorry, but I don't have the authority to remove other customers." Undeterred, the man marched up to me. "Be wise and get out of here. My girlfriend is Imogen Slater, CEO of the Slater Group. You don't want to mess with me." I froze in stunned silence. Imogen despised all men except me, and this guy claimed she was his girlfriend.

Fresh out of college, Clara Stewart asked me to take on a $500,000 mortgage for her. When I refused, she turned around and bought an $800,000 villa in full, for another guy. Holding up the property deed, she told me: "Jayden, the truth is, I'm actually rich. I've been pretending to be poor to test you. Unfortunately, you failed. I'm disappointed in you. Let's break up." I simply smiled and walked away without a second thought. The irony? I'm the son of the richest man in the country. I was pretending to be broke, too. Fast forward four years, we met again at the National Wealth Summit. Clara had just barely made it into the top 50 on the list, clinging to the arm of Henry Brown as they entered. She spotted me in simple clothes with no visible brand, holding a child in one arm and the keys to a Porsche Cayenne in the other. Thinking I was someone's driver, she sneered: "Jayden, you really went all out just to see me again? Let's be real, you're just a driver now, and I'm on the wealth list. We live in completely different worlds. Don't waste your time fantasizing." I did not bother replying. Honestly, I was only there because my billionaire dad insisted. I had finally cleared a day to spend with my son and now I had to waste it on that.

My younger brother told me he was overwhelmed by school stress and had developed depression. I tried to help by encouraging him to seek treatment, drawing from my own experience with the illness. However, my mother blamed me, accusing me of passing the depression onto him. She took me to a witch, who locked me in the house. Every day, the witch used willow branches to drive away evil spirits, beating me until my skin was raw, forcing me to drink filthy water, and making me bleed. "This is the only way to banish the evil and bless your little brother." After enduring days of torment, my depression worsened, and I chose to end my life. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my brother first confessed his depression. I looked at my body—whole and unharmed. This time, I will make them pay for everything I endured.

At the age when I should have been attending university, I was framed by my biological parents and sent to prison. My sister had been cruelly killed by her kidnappers when she tried to save me, and they blamed me for her death. On the day of my release, I was kidnapped and had one of my ears cut off. When I found the opportunity, I immediately called my father, asking him to save me. Instead, he snapped, saying, “You’re no longer my son! Don’t contact me!” I was then burned alive. After I died, my sister returned. However, when my parents found out that the charred corpse was mine, the family crumbled.

After my elder brother passed away, I took my sister-in-law home. She and my wife were identical twins. I always mixed them up. Fortunately, my wife had a red mole on her upper body. “Wyatt, can you tell my elder sister and me apart?” My wife pestered me while throwing amorous glances my way. I eyed her fair upper body and replied confidently, “Of course…”

The day after the new year, during a family gathering, my aunt sneered at me as I worked overtime, reviewing a proposal. "Why are you pretending to be so busy? It’s not like we don’t know you only make three thousand a month. Real money-makers are people like my daughter, a designer so successful she doesn’t even have time to come home!" I ignored her, but she directed her spoiled son to delete all my files while I was in the bathroom. My hands trembled with rage. "This proposal is due in ten minutes—if I don’t submit it, everything is ruined!" She scoffed dismissively. "He’s just a kid. What could he possibly know? Besides, your job isn’t even worth much. If you lose the files, you lose them. Worst case, you get fired." I chuckled coldly but said nothing. She had no idea it was the proposal her daughter had spent an entire month working on. And I was the client who held her daughter’s fate in my hands.

For eight years, I was James Carter's secretary and secret lover. Eight years of giving him my heart completely. I truly believed he loved me back - he was always tender and attentive when we were intimate, seemingly caring about my every need and desire. But then I overheard him telling others, "She's nothing but a stand-in, just someone to satisfy my physical needs when I'm bored. Did you really think I would marry her?" In that moment, I finally found the strength to let go and stop loving him. I handed in my resignation and walked away from it all. Yet after my whirlwind marriage to someone else, why did he suddenly start searching for me desperately across the city? Now he's here with tears in his eyes, claiming I'm the one he truly loves? Wasn't I just his convenient replacement all along?

On the day we decided to get a divorce, I saw Miranda’s account book while I was packing up my stuff. Aside from our daily expenses, Miranda had also set up a scoring sheet for me. Miranda had taken notes of all the things I had done ever since we started dating. Some of them were such miniscule things that even I had forgotten. She took note of them all with a red pen, and she scored them by either awarding me points or deducting them. However, the further down the sheet, the more points were deducted. In the end, I saw Miranda add one line in black ink. [He’s no longer the Henry Jones who used to love me: -100]

Our family is planning a ski trip at a luxury resort. However, my mother gives my snow-view room to my adoptive sister and makes me, her biological daughter, stay in the storage room. I'm about to protest when my father and brother accuse me of being selfish. "We've always given Madie the best of everything; she won't be able to sleep in any other room." "Madie is our family—she's the one who's lived with us this whole time. We're a family, so we have to stay together." I'm the one who shares their blood, yet they consider me an outsider. If that's the case, they can go on vacation without me. I board a cruise and travel the world for a month without ever going home. That's when they panic.