Not A Villain Webcomic

When I went to buy a new house, all I found was crumpled newspaper where my savings should've been. I almost called the cops—until I found out Tony Jarrett, my own husband, had blown seven years of my hard-earned cash on a shiny new motorcycle. For Pauline Schmidt. His ex. I asked why. He just shrugged. "She's a single mom. Life's tough. This way, she won't have to walk so much." I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down. Made him at least get an IOU from her. While I was busy sourcing stuff for the factory, a flood warning hit our town. And Tony? Out buying toy cars with Pauline and her kid. Our son was home alone, trying to stay above water. I was back. Like life hit rewind and dropped me into that exact day. The day he gave her the motorcycle. I saw them—laughing, tight, like their own little picture-perfect family. But I didn't cry this time. Didn't beg. Just turned and walked off.

When Nathan comes to pick me up on the day of the wedding, he loses his footing and falls down a flight of stairs that's several feet high. He's not badly injured, but he bumps his head on the steps and ends up with jumbled memories. He mistakenly thinks that I am his first love, who had once hurt him. He reacts violently whenever he sees me. At this time, I found out that I am pregnant. The doctor says that the good news might be able to awaken his memories partially. I rush off to find him, holding the medical report. However, I accidentally overhear the conversation between him and his friends. "Nate is always full of ideas. Now he's even claiming that his memories are jumbled up! As long as you don't get bored, Olivia will never be able to force you to get married." "Don't spout nonsense. I do love Liv, and she's the only one that I'll ever love. I'll just have fun for half a month more before I settle down and get married." "Half a month? That isn't even enough time to flirt with all the female models at the club. Can you really be satisfied with that?" Nathan's expression turns cold as he snaps, "I'm not an irresponsible jerk. Liv and I have been together for so many years. "I'm definitely going to marry her. Call someone now! I want the one from yesterday with a tiny waist and a big bottom. It excites me to look at her!" Trembling, I tear up the notice from the hospital and turn to leave.

I Alpha Ryan Black Bishop rejected you, Bella Adams as my mate and Luna" The last hope of Bella died after hearing this. His words stabbed her heart like a sharp knife, cutting her heart into tiny pieces. She looked at him for the last time. His commanding glare and disgust in his eyes showed clearly that it was over. Bella bent down her head. 'I, Bella Adams accept your rejection" She whispered then turned away. Tears rolled down on her cheek. She started taking slow steps.

One day, in the school's group chat, I accidentally revealed that I was the daughter of Sanfiric Inc.'s chairman. Out of nowhere, Sally jumped in with a scathing remark: [Do you have no shame? Clinging to some random man and calling him ‘Dad' just because you're desperate to be an heiress. Have you lost your mind?] Her accusation left me completely baffled. I didn't even bother responding, but she wasn't about to let it go. She bombarded the chat with photos and videos, all claiming to prove that she was the real heiress. In a video she shared, she was clinging to my father's arm, acting sweet and coy. I stared at the screen in shock, my mind reeling. Before I could even process what I was seeing, the school advisor kicked me out of the group chat entirely. "How could we have such a vain and shameless student? You're a disgrace to the school!" Furious, I whipped out my phone and called my dad. The moment he picked up, I exploded, "Roger Burberry, do you have another daughter I don't know about?!"

Keaton Rourke and I get in a car accident. My liver ruptures, and I'm drenched in my blood. Teresa Bellamy, my wife, leaves me to die and runs off to save Keaton, who only has a scratch on his forehead. I'm unconscious and clinging to life in the emergency room, but Teresa fusses over how to keep Keaton's forehead from getting a scar. I wake up feeling nothing but disappointment and toss the divorce papers right in her face. She rips the divorce papers to pieces like a lunatic and makes it clear that divorce will only happen over her dead body. I used to bend over backward to make her happy. Now I'm ready to divorce her, no matter what it takes.

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.

“What do you mean? What cyst?” Sebastian blinked, staring at the small screen on his phone, feeling his heart beat faster. The emergency information he had just received made him pause in front of his door, but then he ran to the car without thinking. He knew that something serious had happened to his wife. He had to get to the hospital immediately. His voice was hoarse as he spoke to the hospital operator, trying to get a grasp of the situation as quickly as possible. “This is a complication… You need to come to the hospital immediately and sign the consent form for surgery as soon as possible.” The voice was flat but urgent.

My fiancé’s first love Chloe had returned. Rumor had it she’d been overseas, treating some rare disease. I hadn’t believed it—until the day she showed up at my engagement party. And I watched as the man I’d been hopelessly in love with since I was sixteen left our party with her. “Wait for me,” Nathan said, “She is fragile. I need to make sure she is well.” He ignored me, but accompanying her to everywhere. I threw away the rings, trashed the wedding gown. When I was pale and trembling from a heart failure later. Nathan finally showed up. “Don’t you dare die on me, Emily,” His hands were shaking. His voice cracked. “We still have a wedding.”

His name is Raive. The one who, 700 years ago, had lost. The necromancer who conquered half the world with an army of the undead, but then was buried alive under a terrible curse: never to die, never to be saved. He was so feared that all necromancy curses were buried with him, so that never again could such a dangerous magician arise. Angelina – a weak historian-necromancer whose only talent was a flawless grasp of the language of the dead. Fate willed it that she find a mysterious gravestone and break the seal holding the one who was never to be released: Raive – the King of the Dead! What will happen to them next? Will the Undead King help this unknown girl or will he use her mysterious blood to regain his own power and speed his way to the throne? What can they both do when passion begins to ruin all their plans, and dark desires call forth the worst poison?

One day, shortly after I had experienced a miscarriage, Alan brought me a bowl of chicken soup—and a divorce agreement. "Sophia's pregnant," he had said. "So let's just leave each other like mature adults do." Chicken soup had never tasted so bitter in my life. I knew Sophia Mason—he had sponsored her education before. She was also the one who caused my miscarriage. I did not cry. I did not throw a fit. I just asked why. He looked relieved. Then, he looked at me blankly. "The truth is I can't stand you over these seven years. Every time we lie together on our bed, I just can't help but be disgusted by what your body has gone through. "I know you suffered that because of me. But I can't do it. I can't stop remembering how defiled it is. "Our kid is gone. We owe each other nothing now—so let's end it here, right now." So that was it, huh? Hilarious. He had no idea who the "defiled" one was—him. Seven years ago, I inserted a memory chip into his brain to save him. And now, in three days' time, the chip will cease to function. He will remember everything… and he will wish he were long dead.