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I foolishly endured five rounds of IVF, suffered through endless pain, and nearly died from severe prenatal hemorrhaging before finally giving birth to the first grandson of the Newton family, all because Bryce told me that we would get married once the baby was born. However, Bryce publicly took his first love, Selina, by the hand on the day of the baby shower and announced with a smile, "Thank you all for coming for Selina and my child." At that moment, I froze at the top of the staircase. When he spotted me, he walked over with a smile and said, "I knew I couldn't keep this hidden forever, so I thought it would be better to tell you now while the baby's still young." Then, he raised his glass toward me as if he were negotiating a business deal. "You got pregnant before marriage, so everyone looks down on you. Plus, your parents have disowned you. You have nowhere else to go. Don't worry. You can keep raising the child, but Selina would be the child's legal guardian. "You'll come with me to the City Hall to handle the registration tomorrow." He thought I would lose my mind and swallow my pride for the sake of my child. Instead, I quietly left and sought out the true heir of the Newton family, who had just returned from abroad. A few days later, my child and I were officially become members of Newton family. I became Bryce's stepmother on that same day. Naturally, my child became his younger brother. I had sole custody over my child, and that wasn't all. No, the best part of this deal was that the Newton family inheritance would eventually belong to me as well.

My roommate had a peculiar knack for pestering everyone into liking her posts on social media, all so she could collect enough likes to claim some prize or another. It was her way of life—nagging, nudging, and guilting us into clicking that little thumbs-up. One time, the campus beauty queen liked my roommate's ad for a facial mask. Not long after, she was in a horrific car accident. The vehicle caught fire, and her face suffered severe burns, leaving her disfigured beyond recognition. Meanwhile, my roommate seemed to undergo a miraculous transformation, her complexion turning porcelain fair and flawless as though she'd been kissed by the heavens. Then there was the academic prodigy, a shoe-in for graduate school, who liked her tutoring service post. Shortly after, he was exposed for academic fraud, and his once-brilliant reputation was reduced to ashes. Strangely enough, my roommate's research paper suddenly won an award, catapulting her to fame and fortune. And me? I fell into her trap too. I liked her rental agency ad, and before I knew it, my world crumbled. A scandal erupted, revealing that I was the result of a mix-up at birth. It turned out she was the long-lost child of wealth and privilege—a hidden gem cast into the rough, now reclaimed by her rightful family. As for me, I was packed off to the countryside village she had escaped from and forced into a brutal marriage with an old man. My life became a living hell, and eventually, I died there, broken and forgotten. But fate wasn't done with me yet. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day my roommate begged me to like her post in exchange for yet another prize.

My husband was ruled by his obsessive-compulsive disorder, enforcing rigid schedules that governed our household. On our daughter's birthday, he and his assistant showed up late. The girl, who mirrored her father's need for order, wasn't upset. She just smiled and invited them to cut her cake. My heart shattered as I watched their cream-covered faces and joyful photos. The next day, I handed him the divorce agreement, confusing him. "Just because Edith didn't cut the cake with you?" "Yes."

On the day I successfully conceived through IVF, my CEO boyfriend—the sole heir to a nine-generation business empire—finally agreed to marry me. Yet, after a flight of more than ten hours, I landed only to be greeted by a public announcement of his marriage to his secretary, with journalists watching from every angle. The secretary eagerly showed off the marriage certificate, fresh off the press. "Don't worry, everyone. From now on, I'll personally supervise Mr. Lane for the rest of our lives." When the journalists spotted me, they all focused on me, hoping I'd cause a scene. However, I merely smiled and congratulated the couple. "You and Mr. Lane are perfect for each other, Ms. Quinn. I wish you both a long and happy marriage." Everyone was shocked. No one had expected such generosity from me—Harold's girlfriend of nine years. As I turned to leave, Harold darted over to defend himself with a scowl. "Leila worked day and night with me on this international project. She refused every bonus and only asked to experience the fairy-tale romance of marrying a CEO. We already agreed to divorce once the project is over. I'll make it up to you with an even bigger, better wedding." Then, his voice softened. "For the sake of our baby, don't cause trouble, okay?" With a bright smile, I slapped his hand away. "Who told you the baby's yours?"

My wife, Sophia Shelby, spent a fortune snatching a kidney donor from my mother, only to save her ex-boyfriend’s life. Meanwhile, my mother had been waiting for three years. Before my mother died, she wanted to see our child. I told her it was gone. Sophia had aborted our child for the sake of her infertile ex-boyfriend, James Carl. She had chosen to go through IVF with him. I had charged into the hospital and confronted Sophia, but James stopped me. “She’s my wife! What gives you the right to keep me from seeing her?!” “She’s pregnant with my child.” I flew into a fit of anger. Barging into the ward, I shouted at Sophia, “I want a divorce!” Inside, Sophia replied to me with irritation, “Divorce it is! Why are you yelling at James?”

The financially disadvantaged student I was sponsoring secretly went behind my back and sold my small island, which was worth two billion dollars. I was furious and confronted her, but she publicly slandered me in front of the entire school. She exclaimed, "I saw you doing unspeakable things with eighteen men on that island! You're still young and you can't keep making mistakes like this. I sold the island for your own good!" I was so enraged that I kicked her to the ground and prepared to call the police, but my brother stopped me. He and my fiancé stood in front of the student, protecting her. They accused me of being violent and in need of medical treatment. Before I could resist, they joined forces and threw me into a psychiatric hospital, where I died that night from food poisoning. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I discovered the island had been sold.

I was suffering from period cramps, so I ordered some painkillers. I asked for a woman to deliver my painkillers to me, but a drunken man came over instead. This time, I did not call my brothers for help. I called the police instead. In the past, not only did my brothers send all of their bodyguards to me, but they also rushed back. In the process, they ended up missing the theater performance of our adopted sister, Gloria. Gloria was sad and grabbed a prop to stab herself. My brothers comforted me. “Don’t blame yourself for it. At the very least, you’re safe.” But, right after, they arranged my kidnapping and gave me over to a group of drunkards. “That was just a drunkard. You could have just chased him out. Did you have to call us? Look! Gloria’s dead now! You’re not getting out of this alive either!” When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the time when the drunkard was knocking on the door. This time, I did not call them, and my brothers got to watch Gloria’s theater performance and cheered her on. But once the performance ended, they regretted it.

My husband is known as a ruthless CEO, but somehow, he is tender and warm with me. I'm passionate about art restoration, especially antique paintings, so he transforms his private collection room into a professional-grade studio just for me. He even brings in top experts to mentor me. Once, I spent three sleepless nights restoring a rare 12th-century painting. He ends up buying the entire museum that the painting belongs to, just so I can study it without restrictions. To marry me, he goes head-to-head with his powerful family, even stages a hunger strike, until they finally give in. At our engagement party, he gets down on one knee in front of everyone and says, "Ash, you deserve nothing but the best in this world." The ring he designs himself has an engraving on the inside that says, "Art brought us together, love holds us forever." Everyone says Vincent Hawthorn loves me like a maniac, and I believe it—until I restore one of his late mother's paintings…

With a bag of vegetables gifted by the previous tenant in hand, I was on my way to collect rent from the third household when I unexpectedly ran into someone at the entrance of the community. The man frowned, his eyes fixed on the vegetables I carried, as though he couldn't fathom how I had ended up like this after leaving him. Following his gaze, I instinctively shifted the vegetables behind my back. My eyes dropped to the muddy water on the pavement, and I never would have imagined bumping into my ex-boyfriend—the one who had grown up with a silver spoon—in this aging neighborhood. He noticed my movement, and for a moment, something flickered in his expression: a mix of pity and recognition. "Since you've already learned your lesson," he said, "come back with me." At his words, I instinctively stepped back half a pace. "Who said I'm going back with you?" My rejection seemed to sting, darkening his face. "I know you're still blaming me for giving Rachel a child," he muttered, "but it's been three years. Isn't it time to stop? As long as you come back, we can be the same as before." Three years, huh? How quickly time had passed. Thinking of my little girl at home, still babbling her first words, I couldn't help but smile and shake my head. "Let's leave it at that. Go home and live your life with Rachel. My daughter's waiting for me to go back and make her food."

My husband Norman had always hated how his childhood friend Julia clung to him no matter the occasion. He even cut her off for my sake. One morning, I woke up and realized that I had mysteriously swapped bodies with Julia. I wanted to find my husband and figure out what to do, fearing he'd turn me away because of Julia's appearance. I cooked up a hundred explanations in my head until I finally arrived at our home. When Norman opened the door and saw me, he frowned and quickly shut the door, pushing me away. Just as I was about to explain that I wasn't Julia, he suddenly pulled me into his arms. "What are you doing here? Can't stand being apart from me for even two days, huh?"