Melodramatic

I endured hundreds of injections just to give Stanley Brighton a child. He was moved to tears and held me, promising that even if we couldn't have children, he would love only me. I diligently followed the doctor's advice and underwent treatment. The day I confirmed my pregnancy, I was so excited that I wanted to rush home and share the good news with Stanley. But what awaited me was unimaginable. Stanley and the female tenant we shared the apartment with were lying naked together in the bathroom, sharing an intimate bath. He was behind her, holding her close, his lips incessantly biting at her earlobes. "I'll give you as many children as you want! Ten, eight—whatever it takes! Just divorce her!" "Alright, just give me some time. I'll divorce her for sure!" Hearing their whispered entanglement, I turned away, stepping into the rain, determined to leave. I would disappear to a place where Stanley could never find me, not in this lifetime.

My secretary replaced me on my wedding day, walking down the aisle in a white wedding gown. The man I had loved for ten years threw the bridesmaid dress in my face and ordered me to wear it instead. "She is the bride now. You'll be next," he said coldly. My grandmother was so furious that she fell ill on the spot. Meanwhile, he and the secretary smiled brightly as they completed the wedding ceremony. After the grand wedding, the secretary posted photos of herself in her wedding gown on social media. The comments were overwhelmingly congratulatory. [Today is such a beautiful day, I finally got what I wanted. I hope those who try to ruin someone else's relationship will wake up soon.] She wrote. Chester Morrison replied to her post: [It is a great day. Don't ruin your good mood by some trash.] When I returned home, holding my grandmother's photo, who had passed away, I found them tangled together on the bedspread my grandmother had lovingly sewn for me, the one with a pair of Swan that symbolizes eternal love.

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.

I leave my boyfriend without a word when he's at his lowest. He later makes a name for himself and forces me to marry him. Our relationship goes viral online and becomes the subject of everyone's envy. They all say he's desperately in love with me, but he later sleeps with other women in our bed. I fall from grace and become the city's biggest laughingstock. I don't cause a scene. Instead, I move into the guest bedroom and leave the master bedroom for them. He's furious as he grips my neck roughly. He bites my lips, drawing blood. "Why aren't you mad?" Because I'm sick. I don't have the time to wait for him to see the error of his ways anymore.

For three years of marriage, Jeanette Schafer had devoted herself completely to caring for Skyler Weisberg, who was confined to a wheelchair. Yet, Skyler harbored nothing but contempt for her. He hated her touch so much that the last time she accidentally brushed against his legs, he locked her out of their home for 99 days. The day finally came when Skyler's legs had healed enough for him to stand again. Yet, the first thing he did was to drive straight to the airport to pick up his first love. Years of selfless devotion and tender care meant nothing compared to his 'the one that got away'. Swallowing the heartbreak, Jeanette made a call. She whispered, "The contract is fulfilled. I'm filing for divorce." Only after she walked away did Skyler realize what he had lost. But by then, it was already too late.

The night of our mating ceremony, my destined Alpha, Alex, basically tossed a three-year temporary mate bond agreement at me. He said he only had eyes for one wolf girl, Lily, an Omega. He told me he’d wait until the day he was in charge of the pack, then he’d personally cut our mate bond. Lily would be his one and only. That was until Lily had a huge fight with him and just up and vanished. Alex, after too many nights drowning his sorrows, accidentally marked me. It seemed like he was finally starting to get that I was his real mate. He even started willingly holding me as we fell asleep. Just when I thought Alex had totally accepted me, Lily came back. To save Lily’s mom, Alex didn’t think twice about giving up his own precious life force. To make Lily happy, he publicly shamed me at the Moon Festival, even snatching the only moonstone bracelet my grandma had left me. Lily smashed the bracelet, and my heart broke right along with it. On our third bonding anniversary, Alex booked my favorite restaurant, wanting to say sorry. But what he didn't know was that I’d already broken our mate bond. I wasn't going back.

Everyone in our circle knew I had always been obsessed with Daniel Rothman. I followed whatever he did—went to school, learnt eight different languages, studied finance. After all, the Rothmans and Fosters were destined to merge through marriage—our intertwined business empires depended on it. However, on our wedding day, Daniel flew overseas to rescue his crush in distress. Our childhood bond, once the envy of everyone, became the biggest joke of all. There I was, wearing a wedding dress worth millions, standing alone as I completed the grand ceremony by myself. The headlines were everywhere. For the first time, my name came before his in the news. How foolish. Men were a dime a dozen. But there was only one well-established business empire. I did not just want his body. I wanted his money, too.

His precious childhood sweetheart got drunk one night and ended up in a stranger’s bed. When she showed up again, she was pregnant—just like me. On the day I gave birth, Harold handed me the divorce papers. "Rachel’s about to return to acting," he said coldly. "She and the baby need a proper title. If a scandal breaks out, it’ll destroy her." Dragging my frail body, I calmly signed the papers. In my previous life, I refused to step aside. I went live, holding my daughter, and exposed the award-winning actress Rachel Underwood for knowingly becoming the other woman. The internet turned on her. She lost every endorsement and was driven to the edge by massive fines—eventually jumping off a building. Harold quietly took care of her funeral... and then stood by as her fans harassed me in the streets, even tried to burn my child and me alive. It was not until I saw him lock the door behind us that I realized—he had wanted us dead all along. Then I woke up. And it was the day he gave me the divorce agreement... again.

#While returning home from a late-night shift, I was knocked down by a delivery rider. The girl riding it was deaf and mute, looking no older than a teenager. I couldn’t bring myself to make things difficult for her, so I paid for the medical expenses at the hospital on my own. Limping back home, I saw a familiar delivery helmet lying at the doorway. From inside, laughter echoed through the walls. “She’s such a fool. I was just pretending but she believed it anyway.”

I’d been dead a month before my family even noticed. It wasn’t concern that brought them to that realization. It was my silence after the so-called “dinner” with Adam Rossi, the infamous mafia boss. My father scoffed like always,“She probably shacked up with that bastard. Too busy spreading her legs to pick up the damn phone.” My sister texted me a photo of them smiling under the Christmas tree, ornaments twinkling like nothing was wrong. Bitch, she wrote. You better talk Mr. Rossi into working with Dad, or you might as well be dead already. And my mother—once the softer one—was now colder than the frost on their windows. “I told you, we should’ve sent Gia to charm Mr. Rossi. Serena always screws things up.” They didn’t think I would die. Not until they found my body—broken, rotten, and forgotten—in Adam Rossi’s basement.