Obsessive

Ian Tost was the prince of the notorious underworld. Everyone in Harbor City knew he spoiled me rotten. He even went so far as to hire ninety-nine female bodyguards to keep me from harm. It did not prevent a kidnapping attempt on me. One of those bodyguards, Cece Yates, ended up with nothing more than a scratch. Ian immediately brought in the nation’s top medical specialists to treat her. To comfort her, he even took her to the Maldives for a vacation and gifted her an island. Not long after they returned from their trip, Beatrix Kazinsky, my mother, suddenly suffered a stroke and was hospitalized. Then, Michael Kazinsky, my younger brother, died in an accident during a competition. I burst into the morgue while in tears, only to overhear Ian comforting Cece. “All right now, it was my fault you got hurt last time. I’ve made Mira’s family pay for it. You’ve got too much grace to hold a grudge against her.” With my nails digging into my palms, I finally realized everything that had happened to my family was Ian’s doing. It was all just because his precious bodyguard got hurt because of me! I stumbled out of the hospital with my brother’s death certificate in a daze. On my phone, messages from that person kept coming. It added up to ninety-nine share transfer agreements, along with his promise. [As long as you want me, my arms will always be open for you.]

I tried to die a hundred times to make him notice me. For two years, I was Shawn Scott’s wife in name only—an unwanted bride bound by a scandal, left to live in the shadow of another woman. My parents only saw my faults. My husband only saw my mistakes. As for me? I saw no way out. Every time I tried to end it, I’d wake up again, bruised and humiliated. I was greeted not with concern, but accusations such as "Why are you so selfish, Zoe Jennings?" or "Why can’t you be more like your sister Yvonne?" It wasn’t until my hundredth suicide attempt that I finally understood: I was the only one fighting for a love that never existed. So, I stopped. I walked away. I disappeared. I gave them what they wanted—my absence. However, when I left, the man who never looked at me twice started chasing the ghost of the woman he thought he knew. By the time he realized what he truly lost, I was already learning how to live again.

There is a medical dispute at the hospital. A patient's family member comes at us swinging a knife. Without hesitating, I push my husband, Maxwell Conner, out of the way. But then, he grabs my hand and pulls me in front of his beloved junior, Karina Burton. The knife plunges straight into my abdomen, killing the baby I had just conceived. As my horrified colleagues cry and rush me toward the ICU, Maxwell violently pulls me off the gurney. He barks, "Save Karina first! If anything happens to her, I'll fire every last one of you!" The doctors are stunned and furious. "Maxwell, have you lost your mind? Karina only suffered a minor injury. Your wife is the one in critical condition!" Clutching my bleeding abdomen, I nod slowly. "It's fine. Just forget it." Maxwell, I owe you nothing after this.

Nine years into my "non-cohabiting partnership" with Simon, his father passed away. The first condition in his will was simple: Simon and Ella had to conceive a child. On the day the child turned one month old, Simon would inherit his father's fortune. Simon told me this himself—the night I walked in on them tangled in our bed. Afterward, as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, he murmured, "Lily, just wait a little longer. Once I get the inheritance, I'll marry you." But he went back on his word. From then on, every time Simon planned to meet Ella at our house, he would hang a string of bells on the door. Since his father's passing, those bells had chimed ninety-nine times. After the ninety-ninth, the news arrived—Ella was pregnant, and their engagement party was set. My daughter saw the invitation, hesitated, then softly asked, "Mom, is Daddy's name on this?" I forced a smile and gently smoothed her messy hair into a neat ponytail. "Daddy is marrying the one he loves," I said. "And I'm taking you home." Simon never understood—I never cared about that marriage certificate.

Married to Jasper Brook for six years, I found out that he was keeping a mistress under his wing. She was stunning but timid, shrinking back at the slightest raised voice. Because of this, Jasper never lost his temper around her. He indulged her fragility and treated her preciously. However, the mistress wasn’t as obedient as she appeared. When she stirred up trouble with me, Jasper’s patience snapped, and he unleashed his fury on her. The next day, she sent me a photo of her neck covered in hickeys. “Selena, Mr. Brook is so scary. I’m terrified.”

Love is both salvation and torment. If Bella Ramsey were given another chance, she swore—she would never fall in love with Seth Rogan again.

Every time my husband cheated, he gave me a bracelet. I collected 99 bracelets in four years of marriage—I forgave him 99 times. He was away on a business trip for three days lately. When he came back, he brought home a rare bracelet worth Ten Million Dollars. That was when I knew it was time to ask for a divorce.

My husband is a geologist. He took his soulmate, who was suffering from a terminal illness, to an active volcano, to fulfill her wishes. However, I was pushed into the lava when we were there. His soulmate then said, "Don't worry about me, just go and save her. I'm going to die soon anyway." I cried for help, "Please save me, I'm pregnant." However, my husband scolded me coldly, "A cancer patient has the right to live too. How can you be jealous of her and claim you are pregnant? Celine doesn't know anything, unlike you. You're an expert at this, you should know what to do. Just save yourself!"

I finally recovered my sight. Just as I was about to tell my parents about it, a slip of paper on the table caught my attention. "Don't tell your parents you've recovered your sight."

After confessing 101 times to my childhood sweetheart, Morgan Lambert, he marries his first love, Cassandra White. With my heart in ruins, I leave him behind and marry his younger brother, James Lambert, who has pursued me relentlessly from the start. After marriage, James dotes on me to an extreme. His love is bold and intense. Everyone says I am unbelievably lucky to have married such a devoted man. As Cassandra and I sink into the water together, I can only watch as James dives in recklessly. He struggles through the water toward her, giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I thrash and struggle in desperation, begging him to look at me even once. He never does. His entire focus is on getting her to shore, leaving me behind to be swallowed by the sea. While I am unconscious, I hear him and Morgan fighting violently in the hospital, arguing over who gets to stay by Cassandra's bedside. He roars in anguish, "I sacrificed myself by marrying Elsa so she wouldn't stand in the way of you and Cassie's happiness. Can you at least let me see Cassie once?" That is when I finally understand that none of them has ever loved me. I immediately arrange to fake my death, preparing to vanish from their lives completely. Yet after hearing the news of my so-called death, James—who's always calm—loses control. He pushes Cassandra aside, bends over, and coughs up blood. Overnight, he seems to age decades.