Naruto Karma

I, Cassandra Channing, don't stop my fiance, Hades Emerson, from rushing into the flames to save his non-biological niece, Olivia Emerson, this time. Instead, I watch as the fire swallows him whole. In my past life, a fire broke out at the hotel on our wedding day. Hades and I escaped in time, but Olivia was trapped inside. Seeing the flames grow bigger, I did everything I could to stop him from charging in to save her. When the fire was finally extinguished, Olivia was dead. Hades claimed he didn't blame me for the incident, and purchased diving tickets for me and our son on our third wedding anniversary. When we were 300 feet below sea level, he ripped out our oxygen tank and snarled, "You're the reason I couldn't save Olivia back then. Now, a life for a life." Crying, I begged him to understand that our son is innocent, but he swam away without looking back. In the end, my son and I suffocated to death. After dying, I learned that Hades had always been in love with Olivia. He hated me for stopping him from saving her. He blamed me for causing him to lose the love of his life. I am back on the day of the fire when I open my eyes again.

My grandfather died on a covert mission, and authorities approved a grand funeral in his honor. Concerned about my grief, my fiancé offered to handle the arrangements. On the day of the funeral, I arrived with my grandfather's ashes, only to find his portrait discarded on the ground, replaced by one of a dog. Furious, I tried to remove it, but my fiancé's adopted sister stopped me. "Hands off that portrait!" Suppressing my fury, I countered, "This is my grandfather's funeral. He was a decorated hero." "So what?" She shrugged, sneering, "Isaac said Luck deserves the grandest send-off. If you've got a problem, take it up with him. Adoring me, he'd cancel your engagement and ditch you in a heartbeat." I laughed incredulously, calling Isaac's family. "You people begged for this engagement. Since when does your adopted daughter get to call it off?"

After being forced to donate the blood from my heart to my Alpha's beloved witch, I die in the cottage that he'd built for me. Before my death, my five-year-old daughter runs to the castle in the forest to beg him thrice. The first time, she runs into the study and tells him I'm coughing up blood. My mate, Alpha Alaric sneers. "Is this one of Clara's new tricks? I can't believe she taught a child to lie!" He orders his attendant to take our daughter away. The second time, she knocks on the door cautiously and tells him I'm trembling all over. Alaric snorts contemptuously. "What's with the act? All I did was take some of her blood, not gouge her heart out. She'll heal on her own soon enough!" Once again, his attendant chases our daughter out. The third time, she kneels by the study door and weeps, saying that I'm already unconscious. She begs Alaric to save me. This time, he gets mad. He grabs her by the arm and throws her out of the castle. "I told you your mother won't die! Lie to me again, and I'll kick her out of the Wolffang Pack. She can die at the hands of those Rogues!" He breaks her arm in the process, and she clutches it. She has no choice but to pass the family heirloom—a ring—that represents her identity as the Wolffang Pack's heiress to a passing merchant. "I can give you everything valuable I have, Mr. Merchant! I don't want to be an heiress—I just want my mother to stay alive!" The merchant accepts the ring and soon brings a herbalist. However, Alaric's beloved witch, Elena has him taken away. "Sorry, but your father is worried that I'll be upset because my darling black cat is sick. He's ordered all of the herbalists in the pack to focus on treating my cat first." She snorts. "Your mother can wait."

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

On our seventh mating anniversary, my Alpha mate, Ronan Thorne, abandons me once again for his secretary, Evelyn Stone's sake. This time, I don't kick up a fuss at all. Instead, I calmly draw out a silver dagger in hopes of ending my life. The moment the tip of the dagger is pressed against my neck, I feel someone grab my wrist all of a sudden. "Why are you hurting yourself? Who broke your heart?" I looked up in a daze, only to see the 18-year-old version of Ronan. He's so anxious that his eyes have gone red. At the same time, he keeps trying to embrace me. "Tell me who that bastard is! I'll make him pay!" I don't explain anything at all. Instead, I merely utter his name softly. After that, the current Ronan personally locks me up in the dungeon. He claims that I need to reflect on myself—that I shouldn't target Evelyn out of jealousy. Just then, the younger Ronan appears again. He stares at the older and cold-looking Ronan outside the silver bars, then turns back to look at me with disbelief written all over his eyes. I just nod in response. He clenches his fists tightly. Soon, a furious roar escapes his throat. "He's not worthy of being your mate! I'll kill anyone who wants to hurt you, regardless of who they are!" As opposed to the 28-year-old Ronan, the 18-year-old version of him loves me more than anything else in the world. Naturally, he will definitely stick to the promises he has made to me.

Three days before my blood oath ceremony, someone planted a silver crucifix in the bridal shop and set it ablaze while I was inside trying on my ceremonial gown. My fiancé — Vampire Lord Damien — had the arsonist thrown into the silver prison, sentencing them to the harshest punishment our laws allowed. I lay in the healing chamber, my body covered in severe burns, refusing to wake fully as the reality of my disfigurement sank in. In my semi-conscious state, I heard Damien speaking with the coven's apothecary. "My Lord, we can still heal her completely with the ancient blood rites. If we wait any longer, Serena will bear these scars for life! You just want Miss Vivienne to be your Consort at the blood oath ceremony. This is cruel beyond measure!" "Let her keep the scars. I'll provide for her for the rest of her life, but if she's healed, she'll definitely cause trouble at the ceremony." "I promised Vivienne that her child would be welcomed into the coven with full honors. Only when Serena is completely disfigured will she be grateful enough to raise Vivienne's child as her own. The scars are necessary - at least this way, she won't dare mistreat the boy." In the corner of the room, where no one was watching, a tear slid down my burned cheek. So this was the truth. The blood oath ceremony I'd dreamed of was nothing but a lie. The blood bond I longed for would be my death sentence. If that's how it had to be, I would give him what he wanted.

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen. But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment. The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens. Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker. "Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?" I froze. Alex was here? A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?" It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards. He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims. Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company. I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise. Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button. Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony. The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides. Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die. Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die." He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me. They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

On my wedding day, my fiancé’s childhood sweetheart arrived, wearing the exact same custom wedding dress as me. They stood together, greeting guests, while I smiled and praised them as a match made in heaven. Humiliated, she left the venue in tears. In her defense, my fiancé publicly accused me of being petty and unreasonable. After the wedding reception, he left with her for the honeymoon we had planned together. I didn’t cry. Instead, I called my lawyer immediately.

My stepsister falsely accuses me of causing her allergies to act up. My three brothers stuff me into the cramped cellar and chain the door shut. I pound on the door and beg them to let me out. My eldest brother, an outstanding businessman, snaps, "It's bad enough that you keep bullying Lori. How could you make her eat seafood when you know she's allergic to it? Isn't that just murder? Stay in there and reflect on your mistakes!" My second brother, an award-winning singer, and my third brother, a genius painter, scoff contemptuously. "It's unbelievable that someone as evil as you is making excuses to garner pity. You can stay in there and repent for your sins!" After that, they take our shuddering stepsister to the hospital. The oxygen in the cellar soon runs out, and it gets difficult to breathe. Ultimately, I die in there. My brothers only remember me three days later when they bring our stepsister back from the hospital. Unbeknownst to them, I've already died of asphyxiation.

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.