Notes For Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Para kay Josephine Thomas, ang arranged marriage niya kay Nicholas Herrera ay hindi isang sakripisyo kundi isang katuparan ng matagal na niyang pangarap. Mahal niya ito mula pa noon pa man. Kahit alam niyang isa lang siyang ampon at ginamit ng pamilya niya para sa negosyo, hindi siya nagreklamo. Kahit malamig si Nicholas at hindi siya minahal pabalik, tiniis niya ang sakit. Ngunit ang akala niyang magiging daan para mahalin siya ng asawa ay siya ring sumira sa kanya. Sa araw na balak niyang sabihin kay Nicholas na buntis siya, nakita niya ito sa ospital, kasama ang babaeng totoong minamahal nito. At sa harap ng mga mata niya, narinig niya ang pinaka-masakit na salita. “Magpapakasal na kami, Josephine. Magpa-file na ako ng divorce.” Gumuho ang mundo niya, pero hindi siya sumuko. Kahit delikado para sa puso niya, pinili niyang ituloy ang pagbubuntis. Hanggang sa isang araw, nawala siya sa buhay ni Nicholas… at hindi na muling lumingon. Apat na taon ang lumipas, at muling nagkrus ang mga landas nila. Sa pagkakataong ito, si Nicholas na ang humahabol. Puno ng pagsisisi, gustong bumawi. Pero may puwang pa ba siya sa puso ni Josephine? O huli na ang lahat para sa kanilang dalawa?

Vienna finally walked out of her late ex’s shadow. She met Warren, fell in love, and married him in a flash. Until his “no-blood-relation” stepsister moved in, stirring drama, planting doubts, making Vienna question if there was something forbidden between them. Dealing with the stepsister already drained her. Then came the twist—The heart beating in Warren’s chest belonged to her ex. The misunderstanding ran deep. They both thought they were just each other’s "replacement."Divorce. Separation. Until the truth surfaced. And so did a surprise pregnancy test. Warren stared at the report, tears falling. This time—he’s not letting Vienna go again.

A group of unexpected guests suddenly barged into my relative’s funeral. The woman, Xena Carter, leading them claimed to be my husband’s girlfriend and declared that she was here to punish me, the supposed mistress. Out of respect for the funeral, I did not want to make a scene, so I calmly suggested she wait until it was over. But out of nowhere, she lashed out and ordered her group to shred all of my clothes. My relatives around us did nothing and watched coldly as it happened. I calmly dusted myself off, stood up, and led her over to the urn. "This urn for my mother was bought by your boyfriend. It cost nearly a million!" As expected, the mistress flew into a rage, smashing the urn to pieces. "You shameless family of lowlifes! Don’t think you’ll get a single cent from my boyfriend, even in death!" What she did not know was that when I said "mother," I was referring to my husband’s mother, my mother-in-law. She was causing a scene at my mother-in-law’s funeral, and she had just smashed her urn to pieces.

Gina and I were just ordinary werewolves in the Silver Claw Pack. Our incomes were modest, but we married well. Her mate was the captain of the Silver Claw Pack patrol unit. Mine, the fire squad leader. They grew up together—childhood friends—and were the youngest golden duo in the Werewolf Alliance. On the day we married, our mates each bought us a luxury high-rise apartment on the top floor of the central castle, side by side, with the promise of sharing life and death together. That is, until that fateful night. Rogues broke into the central zone. Chaos reached even the upper levels of our building. The tower caught fire. Amidst the thick smoke, I sent a desperate mind-link to my mate. He blocked it. Turns out, both our mates were busy shielding their shared first love, Lifu. They ignored our calls for help. Gina dragged me as we ran. She was six months pregnant; her pup was already kicking from the panic. Her mate never showed up either. We made it to the stairwell, where we were trapped for five hours. Toxic fumes filled our lungs. I went into labor too early. My pup didn't make it. Gina bled for three days in the hospital. Her pup was gone too. Meanwhile, our mates were digging through the wreckage—twenty-four hours straight—searching for Lifu's lost dog. That was it. Right then and there, Gina and I looked at each other and knew. We were done.

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.

I was dying from my fear of heights, but my husband, Don Vincent, was busy with his assistant, savoring the latest coffee flown in from Hawaii that morning. "You're a grown woman, Bella. What's the big deal? You're stuck on a roof, figure it out." Then he hung up on me. I collapsed onto the hot tar of the roof, my body shaking uncontrollably before everything went black. It was two hours before building security found me. When I got home, I asked Vincent for a divorce. He rubbed his temples, his patience worn thin, looking at me as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. "Over a cup of coffee? I told you, the heights are all in your head. You’re perfectly safe now. Stop making a scene alright? What's this nonsense about a divorce? I have more important things to deal with. Calm yourself down." I stared at his back as he left, tears already streaming down my face. Something important? Did he really think I couldn't hear his assistant, Sophia, murmuring in the background? Did he think I didn't know he took her to the last family gathering? I had loved Vincent for three years. Everyone knew he was the center of my world. They all thought an orphan like me could never leave him. But now, all the love I had was eclipsed by a profound, soul-crushing exhaustion. I was done. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't touched in three long years. "Uncle, book me a flight to Seattle. I'm ready to leave Vincent."

Falling in love for the first time should be the most amazing feeling in the world. For me, it was the exact opposite. See, the guy I fell in love with turned out to be a cheat. The best part, the real doozy? He cheated on me with my very own twin sister. The entire debacle left me with enough wounds, and knives in my back to last me a lifetime. I was convinced I’d never fall in love again. Ever. Until I ran into my past. Orlando was my first crush. My friend. But he’s not the Orlando I remember. He’s changed. Now he’s the silent, brooding type. The type I should avoid while nursing a broken heart. I know I shouldn’t risk it. I know I should keep my distance. But here’s the thing…I can’t.

I am heading to my job interview when my close friend, Thomas Lang—the same guy who always cautions me about meddling in other people's business—suddenly throws caution to the wind and sprints toward the wrecked limousine. I instantly realize that Thomas has been reborn, too. In my past life, Thomas and I were the top two graduates of the finance department, both making it to the final round of interviews at a Fortune 500 conglomerate. Yet, on the day of the interview, we suddenly came across the CEO, Ruth Gibson, who had just gotten involved in a car crash. I abandoned the interview to save her, while Thomas hurried off to the interview. In the end, Thomas landed the offer, while I lost my shot at working at the top conglomerate. I received sympathy from everyone around me. However, Ruth sought me out eventually, and in the spirit of profound gratitude, she presented me with an immediate proposal of marriage. I became the man who would marry Thomas' superior, achieving incredible status overnight. Meanwhile, Thomas stayed an ordinary worker, perpetually crushed by impossible metrics and corporate pressure. I was enjoying the heights of my privilege at the annual dinner, standing beside Ruth, while Thomas lurked in the background. He was a miserable face lost among the nameless guests. Consumed by jealousy, he brandished a knife and stabbed me to death right there. I suddenly open my eyes and realize we are both back at this single, pivotal day of Ruth's accident.

My sister and I got into a car crash. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery if I were to live. My mother, being the director of her hospital, sent all the doctors to my sister instead, all just to check on her. She barely got hurt. I pleaded and begged for my mother to save me, but impatience got the better of her. She roared, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!" And I died. I remember where it was. It was a freezing operating theater.

Colter Giordano, my fiancé of six years, heir to the Giordano family, took a bullet for a dancer named Mia. He didn't take one for me. A bullet tore through my shoulder. Blood bloomed across my dress, hot and sticky. But my heart hurt worse. He asked if I was okay. Just once. Then he rushed Mia to the hospital, leaving me bleeding on the floor. The next day, Mia's picture popped up on my Instagram feed. There she was, in a luxury hospital suite. Colter was fussing over a scratch on her arm that was barely there. The caption was just two words: "My Hero." I liked the post. Then I made an encrypted call. "The Falcone family's offer," I said. "I'm taking it. Get me on a plane to Sicily. Three days."