Melodramatic

On the way to a dance competition, a massive truck rammed into me. My legs were shattered, and my mother was sent flying from the impact after she tried to protect me. My stepbrother, who was also my secret boyfriend of six years, went crazy after hearing the news. He had the driver dragged off to a lawless borderland and called in the best doctors in the country to save me and my mother. Not many people knew, but I was born with a rare sensitivity to pain. The more it hurt, the clearer my mind became. That was how I ended up lying wide awake on the bed, listening to Luke Quinton and his friend, Harvey Lane, talking just outside my hospital room. "Luke, are you sure about this? You really want to let Queenie practice on Natalie's mother's heart?" "She deserves it. That vile woman seduced my father and drove my mother to her death. If not for revenge, do you think I'd stomach being with her daughter for six years? "She should be honored that Queenie is dissecting her heart. Keep it from Natalie for now. If she loses it, she might ruin my wedding with Queenie. What would I do if that happened? The only woman I'll ever have as my wife is Queenie. No one will ever take her place." So, that was the truth. What I thought was a love strong enough to defy the world had been a lie from the very beginning—just a carefully crafted act of revenge.

One day, Ginnie Sullivan overheard Adam Grant, her husband, talking to his private doctor. “Mr. Grant, ever since your wife’s arm was hurt, she could hardly hold a pen to draw. Miss Warma has replaced your wife. She has become a famous artist. “Mrs. Grant’s arm tissues are almost completely dead. Are you sure you want to continue hiding this from her and refuse to treat her arm?” Adam replied coldly. “This is the only thing I can do in order to secure Snow’s position as a genius artist. As for Ginnie, at worst, I’ll make it up to her for the rest of my life.” Ginnie stumbled back in shock, unable to believe that the savior in her heart had deceived her for a total of three years. Since his love had all been a lie, she would just leave.

My father was the CEO of a major corporation, and I was his illegitimate daughter—the one no one was supposed to know about. Growing up, I was the child nobody cared for. My father didn’t love me, and my mother wasn’t much better. From a young age, it was just me and my little brother looking out for each other. When I got into college, my father’s family decided to take my brother in. However, only a few days later, I received the news that my brother was dead.  I knew, deep down, that his death wasn’t just some accident. From that moment on, I worked even harder, determined to succeed. When I finally returned, I had a special gift prepared for my father’s family. This one’s for my brother!

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

Three years ago, Samantha Jade and her parents were trapped in a raging fire. She watched with her own eyes as the flames devoured her mother and father. At the critical moment, it was Connor Parker who charged in and saved her. She fell hopelessly in love with him. For the following three years, she drowned in the tenderness he wove so carefully around her. But later, Samantha discovered the truth: that fire three years ago—Connor had set it. He had approached her on purpose, loved her on purpose, all to avenge his first love. Every bit of love, every gentle word, every beautiful moment between them—none of it was real. It had all been a lie. Since he hated her that much, Samantha decided to play along. Amid Connor's revenge, she faked her death. But when he saw the charred body—believing it was hers—Connor lost his mind.

To make up for past regrets with his first love, my husband, Pierce Ronan, lied that he could see everyone’s lifespan. He told me I had sixty years left, but his first love, Jessica Stone, had only seven days to live. So, for those seven days, he said he had to fulfill the promises of their youth. He brought her home, cared for her, and when they went back to their old college campus to relive their love, I didn’t protest. When he confessed his love to her and planned the wedding of the century, asking me to be the bridesmaid, I didn’t raise my voice. It wasn’t until he wanted to break the final taboo — in our marital bedroom — that he looked at me with guilt in his eyes and begged me to move out. The housemaids watched, snickering behind their hands, but I only smiled and nodded in agreement. I packed my bags, carried our child, and moved into the guest room next door. Seeing how obedient I remained, Pierce was touched. “I promise, this will be the last time I wrong you. Once Jessica passes, I’ll make it up to you.” What he didn’t know was that I had already seen through his lies. What he also didn’t know was that the one truly dying of cancer, the one with only seven days left to live, was me. Three days remained. Then, I would be gone.

Sated from their passionate deed, Jonathan Sheffield rises and gently scoops the worn-out Eloise Carter into his arms. He cleans her in the bathroom, carries her back to bed, and lets her settle in. Normally, Eloise will have fallen asleep by now. But she won't allow herself to doze off tonight, not before she takes out the birthday present she's carefully prepared for Jonathan. Jonathan is making a phone call out on the balcony when Eloise quietly takes out the present she has hidden. It's a red velvet box, containing the ring she plans to give him when she proposes. She inches closer to the balcony and is about to speak when she freezes. A shocked, male voice rings out from the other end of Jonathan's phone, which he's casually left on the balcony ledge. "What the hell? You must be out of your mind, Jonathan! You're planning to take Eloise's heart and give it to Sonia?"

The Langston brothers once vowed that they wouldn't marry anyone but me. However, when it's time for me to pick one of them as my husband, they both turn me down. Nigel says, "My career is my priority. I'm not considering marriage at the moment." Shawn says, "Sorry, but I haven't had enough fun yet." Shortly after, they make my asthma act up during my engagement party just so they can please their new princess. As I writhe from the lack of oxygen, they cover her eyes so she won't see. They also mock me, saying I won't die from this. That kills me inside. When I wake up in the hospital, I call my father. "I'll marry the heir of the Blackwell family."

Elijah Morris has been fooling around for four out of the five years we've been married. And from the very first month, he openly betrays me. Meanwhile, I spend my time warding people off with expensive contracts, one after another. Eventually, all that's left between us is constant fighting. One day, his younger stepsister, Abigail Wright, returns. And just like that, he finally settles down. That's when the system tells me that I can finally go home. For the next five days, I no longer ask about his schedule. I don't care if he is with Abigail, nor do I care if she is pregnant with his child. I even move out of the master bedroom myself, listening to them going at it all night. The fifth day after Abigail's return is our wedding anniversary. Elijah bursts into the room, tears up our marriage certificate in front of me, and smashes my most treasured vase into pieces. He grips my throat tightly and growls, "Why did you put mango in Abby's cake? She's allergic, and she almost died! How could you be so cruel?" For the first time, I don't argue with him. Instead, I go along with his accusations. "So what?" I then pick up a shard from the broken vase on the floor under his disbelieving gaze. Then, I draw it across my artery. Just like that, I end my life in this world.

Joel Gleason, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, promised he'd marry no one but me. But then, to help Jenny Swisher, my adoptive sister, get through her depression, he secretly married her. I didn't hesitate for a second before agreeing to marry Conrad Lennon, Jasselton's most untouchable heir, who'd been in love with me for years. After seven years of marriage, he still spoiled me rotten. He clung to me every night like he couldn't get enough. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for me. I really thought I'd found happiness at last. But one day, after we'd slept together, I heard him talking to his best friend. "Jenny's an international best actress now. When are you dumping Jean?" "It doesn't matter. I wouldn't end up with the person I love either way. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jean. I can't let her ruin all the happiness Jenny worked so hard for." I booted up the computer in Conrad's study and stumbled upon a hidden folder. Inside were over 100,000 photos of Jenny, plus 100 unsent love letters. I'd been fooling myself long enough. It was time to wake up. I got myself a fake body and got ready to start a fire. That was it. Conrad and I were done for good.