Not Cool Dudes

When I was 14, I ran away from home and met Rosalie Burke, the real Burke heiress who had been living on the outside. After her family finally brought her home, I was the one who helped her turn their business into a success. I spent ten years at her side, and on the day they named her heir to Burke Group, she shoved me into the sea. "My fiance is the next heir to Swain Group. You have no power or influence. You're beneath me now." I blink awake, and suddenly I'm back at the moment Rosalie returns to her family. I watch her shamelessly flirt with my enemy's son, then turn on my heel and head back to my own family. I'm not helping her in this life. This time, I'm going to watch her fall off that pedestal.

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

My mother-in-law needed blood when she fell down the stairs and suffered major blood loss. The doctors were worried that the blood bank did not have enough of her blood type, so I called Rebecca Chilton on the phone to get her to hurry to the hospital to help her mother. Fortunately, she arrived on time, and my mother-in-law was saved and was no longer in danger. Before I could relax, I found out another piece of bad news. When Rebecca was not by his side, her severely depressed crush jumped off the building. It happened not long after she left for the hospital. Rebecca was filled with regret and blamed me for everything, so she pushed me off the building as well. When I opened my eyes again, I found out I had been reborn. This time, I decided to respect her choice, but she ended up regretting it instead.

My wife was gone for 6 months on a business trip. The day she returned, however, she was not alone. Hand in hand, my wife showed up with her lover—my client. This was not even the worst part—she was also 3 months' pregnant. My client, in all his beer-bellied arrogance, hurled the contract at my feet, smirking. "Mr. Carter, your wife has gone to so much trouble for this partnership. Truth be told, I would never, not even in a million years, have agreed to partner with you if it wasn't for her!" My wife caressed her pregnant belly and said smugly, "I was the one who successfully got Mr. Lewis' business! I'll let you have it, though, as long as you agree to get a divorce!" I tore the contract into shreds and roared, "You want a divorce? Fine! I'll give it to you, but I'll never sign this!"

When my wife, Rebecca Walsh, misses my chemotherapy session for the 99th time, I come across a post on social media. "I won my lover's heart with a kidney. She will surely love me to death, right?" The attached photo shows a couple kissing on a street in Targon. The woman has a small heart-shaped scar on her neck. What a coincidence—it is exactly the same as Rebecca's. The woman who nearly dies for me falls in love with someone else so easily. The comments below are full of encouragement from strangers. "Man, you're so brave. Wishing you everlasting love." "If I were the woman, I would love you to death." I leave a comment too. "I hope you are together until you are in the depths of hell, you cheating pair. As for me, the husband, I will step aside to make way for you." One minute later, the post disappears. It doesn't matter. I post on my own account. I write, "After I spent three years battling cancer, my wife fell in love with the man who's supposed to be the kidney donor." The attached images are our marriage certificate and the same photo of them kissing from earlier.

Eight years ago, my first love, Zyla Garcia, dumped me. Right in front of me, she threw herself into the arms of a rich scion named Brett Salway. She said condescendingly, "Kieran, you asked me to wait for you for three years. But how many three years does a woman have?" I begged her desperately, but she remained unmoved. Brett even ordered someone to pin me to the ground and force me to finish a bottle of red wine before letting me leave. "You should thank me, Kieran. Otherwise, you would never have the chance to drink such expensive wine in your life!" Brett sneers. I watched as they got into a luxury car and drove off. Eight years later, I am one of the most powerful figures in this city—and I run into them again.

I went abroad for a year to further my studies and kept in touch with my girlfriend through video calls every day. One day, I saw her first love posted a photo with a caption: [We are finally back together after ten years!] In the photo, my girlfriend was visibly pregnant, holding the arm of the man next to her with a sweet smile.

In a world where traditional roles are shattered, meet the enigmatic pair—Alpha and Omega. The Omega defies the stereotype of weakness, while the Alpha discovers he's not as omnipotent as he once believed. Forget about white fur, black fur, or any fantastical notions. In this reality, she doesn't cook, he does, and they both possess an unexpected allure that transcends the ordinary. There are no damsels in distress here, and crowns like "Alpha King," "Red Alpha," or other such titles are merely empty words. She's a rogue, and he's an alpha, but fate has a way of twisting expectations. Bonds form and bonds break, but who said they were meant for each other? Mates may come and go, but that doesn't define their worth. He doesn't require a Luna, and she has no use for an alpha. When the Alpha stumbles, it's the Omega who tends to his wounds. And remember, the Alpha and Omega here aren't bound by conventional gender norms. Buckle up for a story where "forever" takes on a whole new meaning. Discover their captivating journey in "Alpha and Omega," where the lines between strength and vulnerability blur, and destiny takes its unpredictable course. Don't miss out on the secrets that await. Enjoy the suspense!

Back when I was 15, I gave my extraordinary luck to Whitney Johnson. Six months later, her wealthy parents showed up at the orphanage and took her home. At 18, I stopped her from dating the school heartthrob, who later died in a car accident. Whitney blamed me for his death. She tore up my admission ticket for college entrance exam, made me miss the test, and completely ruined my life. I ended up homeless, yet it wasn't enough for her. She pushed me into the river and drowned me. Now, as I open my eyes, I realize I've been reborn and returned to when I was 18. This time, I'll never give her my extraordinary luck again.

When I was fifteen, I lent my rabbit’s foot luck to Shawn Crawford. Half a year later, his wealthy parents found him and came to the orphanage to take him home. When I was eighteen, I stopped him from getting involved with the school belle who bullied me. Later, the girl died on the spot in a car accident. Shawn blamed her death entirely on me. He prevented me from taking the college entrance examination and ruined my life. Forced into wandering homelessly, Shawn still refused to spare me. He sealed me inside a coffin and buried me alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn to when I was eighteen years old. This time, I would reclaim what was mine, my rabbit’s foot luck.