Male Mary Sue

It was my twentieth birthday. My father presented me with the photos of many rich heiresses across the nation. He wanted me to pick the one to have a political marriage with. I told him I wanted to leave that in the hands of fate. Why? In my previous life, I picked Rachel Osborne, an heiress from Shampton. And I did that without hesitation. After we got married, I found out her true love, Zacharias Newman, had gotten himself drunk at a bar. The reason? He was heartbroken that we got married. And while he was drunk, a robber mugged him and cut off his hand's tendons. He tried to kill himself three times, and who did my wife blame? Me. She extracted my family's assets and gave them all to her beloved. My family was left as an empty husk. And she let him cut our brake lines. Thanks to him, my family and I died in a horrifying car crash. This was my second life. This time, I chose Seraphina Oliviera, an heiress from Fortunopolis. She was someone who couldn't care less about worldly matters and was a God-fearing woman. Eventually, I showed up at the engagement with Seraphina, but that apparently drove Rachel mad.

The night before our wedding, word spread like wildfire through high society that my fiancee had thrown herself a bachelorette party with ten virgins. When I storm into the villa, I find her nestled in the arms of my chauffeur's son, her skin blotched with fresh red marks. "It's just a wild night before the wedding. You get that, don't you?" Melissa Young says. She looks up at me with indifference, not bothering to explain herself. I catch the smug challenge in the eyes of the man holding her. My eyes burn red as I hurl the wedding invitations to the floor. "The scandal is everywhere! Have you even thought about what tomorrow's wedding will look like?" I yell. "This isn't just about you and me. It's about the future of both our families' businesses! Call a press conference and explain yourself." She frowns, irritation flickering in her eyes, but gives a grudging nod. Yet the next day, the internet explodes with a new bombshell—the Zucker heir is impotent, leaving his fiancee unsatisfied. When I demand answers, Melissa puts her foot down, her voice dripping with venom as she says, "All I see now is Nicky." She snaps, "No matter how many times you threaten to pull your investments, my mind's made up!" In that moment, the last ember of love I feel for her goes out. I call my dad, my resolve steeled. "Cut off all funding to Young Group, and buy out every one of her partnerships at triple the price!"

After regaining my hearing, I happily march over to the room of my arch-rival, eager to flaunt in front of him—only to hear him moaning my name as he does what all guys do for pleasure.

My fiancee was diagnosed with cancer and needed a liver transplant. When I found out I'm a match, I agreed to undergo the surgery without a second thought. They removed two-thirds of my liver. The pain is excruciating, but the moment I wake up, I force myself to check on her. Outside her hospital room, I overhear her talking to a friend. "Trish, you're a genius! This revenge plan is brilliant!" her friend exclaims. Patricia Zeller laughs. "If I weren't trying to keep it low-key, I would've taken a kidney just for fun. It's all his fault that Warren messed up his college entrance exam and had to study abroad. Warren's coming back in a month. Once he does, I'm done with him for good."

In the third year of our marriage, my wife, Lucy Sloan, asks me to perform a striptease in place of a nightclub host, Oscar Reilly, who loses a dare. She says, "Oscar is too timid. You do it for him!" The crowd erupts in cheers. "Lucy is so generous to let her own husband entertain us!" "I hear Garrett has eight-pack abs! Looks like we are in for a treat." As I listen to the crude remarks around me, I finally break down. In a trembling voice, I say, "Lucy, let's get a divorce..." A glass of red wine splashes straight onto my face. Lucy chuckles mockingly. "The Mueller family has already gone bankrupt. Where could you possibly go without me?" But this time, I am truly exhausted.

I run into a group of rogues on my way home for my daughter's birthday. I call my wife for help, but she blocks my number. I'm dragged out of the car, stabbed a dozen times, and thrown into the bushes to die. My neck is broken, and my organs are spilling out of my body. The rogues think I'm going to die—they even mention each other's names before me. Then, they drive off in my car while whistling happily. I hold onto my head and organs as I crawl to the roadside, hoping against hope that someone will save me. Before I'm taken to the hospital, I see my wife's social media update—she and her secretary have taken a sweet photo together while celebrating our daughter's birthday. The first thing I do after being discharged is demand a divorce.

On a trip to Chicily, my wife, Rosa Stone, and her first love, Jack Cud, insisted on feeding wild, starving wolves. I simply reminded them, "You might attract more hungry wolves." They turned on me, calling me a heartless monster. In the end, I was right. A pack of wolves really did show up. They circled the car, watching us hungrily. Jack was bitten by one. To my surprise, Rosa kicked me out of the car, yelling, "Jack is hurt! He needs to be taken to the hospital! Distract the wolves, I'll come back for you!" I watched them drive away, leaving me behind, surrounded by hungry wolves closing in from all sides. My heart sank. But, Rosa forgot one thing—I was a great Wolvesmith.

Caked in mud, her eyes bloodshot, my mother grabbed me by the shoulders. "Elliot, the company's collapsed. I… I killed a competitor. It was an accident. There's no way out now. You're the only one who can come with me." I believed her. I swallowed my fear and followed her into the mountains, deeper and deeper until there was nothing left of the world I knew. To keep her alive, I searched for food, forcing down insects, drinking whatever murky water I could find. When a pack of wolves began circling our shelter, my first instinct was to step in front of her. "Mom, I'll lead them away. You go." I glanced back at her one last time…and made my choice. I would give up my life for hers. However, when I leapt from the cliff and my body shattered against the rocks below… I still saw her. She was inside a descending helicopter, calm and composed, lifting a glass of champagne. Celebrating. That was when it finally clicked. The desperate escape that had driven me to sacrifice myself… was nothing more than a carefully staged show. She had been acting the entire time. I…was the only one who had actually died.

The first thing I did after being reborn was add penicillin, a drug the patient was severely allergic to, into his pre-surgery medication administration record. The hospital leadership exploded. “Have you lost your mind?” “Are you trying to kill the patient?” I smiled as I accepted the suspension notice they handed me. In my previous life, I had been the lead cardiac surgeon for this operation. Back then, I refused a request from my wife, Shannon Wright, whose childhood friend, Jonah Hill, wanted to use my patient as ‘practice’ during the surgery. Right there in, Shannon threw a tantrum and demanded a divorce. In the chaos, she ripped out the patient’s blood transfusion line and even knocked over the blood bags, causing the wealthy patient to die on the table. However, they pinned the entire medical malpractice scandal on me. With the security footage wiped clean, I was sentenced to death in the end. My parents sold everything they owned and gathered eight million dollars. They gave the money to Shannon, begging her to hire a lawyer and help overturn my case. Instead, she told them that she and Jonah had been having an affair. From the very beginning, I had only been their scapegoat. The shock shattered my parents. While driving home in a daze, they lost control of the car and plunged off an overpass bridge. Both of them died on the spot. Now, when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day of that wealthy patient’s surgery.

My name is Adrian Hart. The day my sister Serena found me and brought me home, I thought I finally had a family again. I was wrong. In Serena's eyes, her adopted brother Evan mattered more than I ever would. When he was too scared to marry into a powerful family, I walked down the aisle for him. When he wanted out, I swallowed a fake-death pill and disappeared. Every time, Serena swore it was the last. The seventh time, she poured the pill down my throat herself. And that was the time I actually died. My soul stayed behind. I watched Serena stand over my body in the morgue and fail to recognize me until it was too late. And the cruelest part wasn't dying. It was knowing that, until my very last breath, my sister still wasn't on my side.