Mari Omori Death

Ember Gilbert is a guarded and ambitious young girl with a strong will, a high school student with a rough past. Who lived through tough times, and did everything she could to live please everyone, but her love was broken when she found out her boyfriend's secret and came across Blaze who gave her an opening arms. Blaze is a young man who doesn't give any meaning to his life, he sleeps with any women he desires, but when he discovers he has feelings for Ember, it becomes a problem. Both hearts are broken, afraid to love again, what occurs when the sparks between them couldn't be resisted. This is a book, you wouldn't want to miss out.

Je suis revenue à la vie, et j'ai décidé d'écrire le nom de ma sœur sur la demande de mariage. Cette fois, j'ai laissé Laurent Hénault à ma petite sœur. Dans cette vie, j'ai été la première à faire porter la robe de mariée à ma sœur, à lui faire enfiler la bague de fiançailles. J'ai moi-même provoqué chacune de leurs rencontres. Il a emmené ma sœur à Paris, et je suis aussitôt partie dans le sud pour étudier à l'université de Nice. Tout cela, simplement parce que, dans ma vie précédente, j'avais déjà dépassé la cinquantaine, et pourtant, j'ai tout de même accepté de les voir — lui et notre fils — me supplier à genoux de divorcer, simplement pour accomplir sa dernière histoire d'amour avec ma sœur. Ayant revécu une vie, je n'ai souhaité qu'une chose : déployer mes ailes et m'éloigner de tout attachement sentimental.

I died beneath the Ferris wheel. The killer took a photo of the Ferris wheel and sent it to my mother. 'Mom, I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you too,' wrote the killer. In my mother's voice message, her tone was filled with hatred as she replied, "How dare you ask to ride the Ferris wheel with me when you killed your own sister? Why won't you just die?!" As she wished, I was dead. However, what she didn't know was that the one who killed me was my so-called dead sister.

Le jour de notre dixième anniversaire de mariage, mon ancienne meilleure amie a posté une photo. Sur l’image, sa fille et mon fils, chacun dans les bras de mon mari et d’elle. Tous les quatre serrés ensemble. La légende disait : « Une belle famille avec un fils et une fille. » J’ai commenté en dessous : « Très assortis. » La publication a disparu aussitôt. Le lendemain, mon mari a déboulé à la maison, furieux : « Sophie commençait juste à se sentir mieux, pourquoi tu l’as provoquée ? » Mon fils m’a poussée, plein de reproches : « C’est de ta faute ! Tu as fait pleurer ma petite sœur Cécile ! » J’ai sorti les papiers du divorce et les leur ai balancés au visage : « Ouais, tout est de ma faute. Alors je me casse. Profitez bien de belle famille à quatre. »

In my previous life, my husband had suddenly died of a brain hemorrhage, leaving behind a massive mountain of debt. For the sake of my son, who was still in high school, I sold the house my parents had left me, gritted my teeth, and worked three jobs to pay off the debt. Overworked and exhausted, my health deteriorated, and I eventually collapsed in the hospital. From my bed, I could hear my son, now a graduate from a prestigious university, smiling as he spoke on the phone. "Hello? Dad, it's me. Yeah, she's about to die. I bought insurance for her, so we should get close to one million. You and Aunt Rena should come back home right away." The "Aunt Rena" he spoke of was none other than my husband's childhood friend and neighbor who had known him for years. It turned out that the debts were all part of a massive money-laundering scheme between my husband and his childhood sweetheart. They had fabricated false accounts to hide their crime, and he had faked his death to escape the law. My son, eager to become the heir to wealth, had stood by and watched me work myself to death. When I next opened my eyes, I was back in the moment of my husband's feigned brain hemorrhage, the day it had all begun.

I lost my dear son, Henry, to a traffic accident. He had been on his way to one of his part-time jobs. Despite working a lot, my son was still a top scorer on the SATs. “Mom, I don’t want treatment,” he begged with his last breath. “I just want Dad.” In my despair, I called Matthew Foster, my husband, more than one hundred times, but he never answered. We had been married for eighteen years, but one day, he spent all of our savings in order to pay for the treatment of his deceased comrade’s son. That got us into a debt worth one million dollars. To help him pay for it, both Henry I and worked hard to earn money. My son went as far as working five part-time jobs a day! That accident cracked his head open and tore his stomach. He was in urgent need of money for treatment. Since Matthew was not responding, I had to leave Henry’s side to rush to his workplace, where I ended up hearing that he was throwing a party for someone else’s son because he had gotten into a prestigious school. “Mr. Foster gave Zack a seaside mansion, a luxury car, and a limitless black card in hopes that he will succeed in his future studies and have a smooth and healthy life.” As I watched my “poor” husband hug his comrade’s widow and son, I called him for the 101st time. “Henry wants to see you one last time.” “I’m busy right now, Wendy. Be good with Henry and wait a little while longer.” When Matthew hung up impatiently, I put down my phone in silence. I whispered, “Matthew, Henry can no longer wait for you.” At that moment, I decided that I was not going to wait for him anymore either.

On the day I was kidnapped, my husband was looking after his sick sweetheart. I called him, asking him for help. Yet, he merely replied coldly, "Danica, you are a bad liar." After that, he heartlessly hung up the phone call on me, causing me to get brutally murdered by the kidnappers. I failed to show up as scheduled on the day we agreed to finalize our divorce. He called me in exasperation, only for the phone call to be answered by the police. "Mr. Ferguson, are you a family member of the deceased Danica Reed?"

Le Maître de la famille Moreau a été assassiné par une famille rivale, laissant derrière lui sa femme veuve, Irina. Son frère cadet, mon mari Gabriel, a pris sa place en tant que Maître de famille. Ce titre était assorti d'un devoir : assurer la pérennité de la lignée de Moreau en donnant un enfant à la veuve de son frère. « Adrienne est stérile depuis des années, c'est à Irina de faire ce qu'elle n'a pas pu faire, la famille Moreau ne peut pas être sans héritier. » La voix d'Isoline était pleine de mépris. Gabriel m'a serrée contre lui en murmurant des promesses. « Dès qu'Irina sera enceinte, je jure de ne plus jamais la toucher. » « Adrienne, tu es la seule que j'aime. » Trois mois, et il n'a pas mis les pieds dans notre chambre. Après qu'il m'ait ignorée devant tout le monde, choisissant Irina encore et encore, je suis finalement partie. J'ai pris ce qui m'appartenait et j'ai laissé une chose en partant : un test ADN. C'était mon dernier cadeau à Gabriel.

My husband’s childhood friend was trapped in an elevator for half an hour. In his anger, he stuffed me inside a luggage bag and locked me inside. “You’re paying double for all the suffering Grace went through.” My body was forced into a curled-up state. I had a hard time breathing. I cried as I apologized, but all I got was my husband’s cold reproach. “You’re going through the entirety of this punishment. Once you’ve learned your lesson, you’ll behave.” He then locked the luggage bag in the closet. I screamed in despair and struggled to break free. My blood seeped out of the bag and soaked the floor. Five days later, he felt sorry for me and decided to end the punishment. “Let this punishment be a warning for you. This time, I’ll let you go.” Little did he know that my body was already rotting inside the luggage bag.

Mom, Dad, and Jesse—my younger sister—went out to sea on a trip, but they were caught in a tsunami, and all three perished in the accident. I was left all alone—just as I was about to start university—burdened with nothing but a mountain of debt. In the end, everything I had saved for my university tuition, along with the house Mom and Dad had left me, was taken by debt collectors. I was then forced to work in a shady factory, laboring 16 hours a day, sleeping in a shabby ten-person dorm, and surviving on nothing but thin, flavorless broth. I finally cleared the last of the debt when I accidentally discovered that Jesse—who was supposed to be dead—had appeared on television and become a famous dancer. Mom and Dad even gave an interview about her success. It turned out they had taken out a massive loan and faked their deaths to flee to Pravia for Jesse's dance studies, leaving the entire debt for me to deal with just as I was supposed to start university. I went to confront them, demanding the truth, but they threw me out like trash. I was then hit and killed by a speeding truck at the side of the road. "How could Lorraine be such a nuisance, not even having the decency to die far away from our doorstep?" I have been given another chance, reborn on the day they faked their deaths.