Original Story

My father-in-law, George Lane, suffered from a brain aneurysm and fell onto the ground. The floor was covered in his blood. I calmly picked up a mop and wiped the floor clean. As his daughter-in-law, I gave up on saving him within the most critical time. In my last life, I was the first person who found out that George was injured. I immediately got an ambulance and sent him to the hospital. Before the surgery, the hospital required his immediate family member to sign off the consent form. However, when I asked my husband, Brian Lane to come to the hospital to sign that document, he thought that I was acting out of jealousy because he was spending time with his first-love. He thought I was making an excuse to get him home, so he refused to go to the hospital. In the end, George passed away as he did not receive the treatment on time. Brian did not manage to see George for the last time, and he blamed it all on me. He then hacked me to death. “It’s your fault! My dad was so old, and you didn’t take good care of him as a daughter-in-law! Since you’re not doing your part when he’s alive, then you should continue your duties as a daughter-in-law in hell!” When I opened my eyes, I found myself on the day when George died again.

I'm dressed in flip-flops and shorts when making an inspection of the five-star hotel my husband just acquired. When the front office manager spots me, she immediately calls for security with a disgusted look on her face. "The hotel's WiFi isn't meant for people like you to use. Hurry up and pay me 200 thousand dollars in Internet costs, then get lost!" I calmly tell her that I'm the owner of the hotel, but that only makes her sneer. "The owner of the hotel? Hey, old hag, you're putting on an act in front of the real deal! This hotel was a birthday gift from my husband to me. Aren't you fantasizing a bit too much?" Oh? Since when did Ian Lambert get another wife behind my back?

I'm reincarnated a week before the college entrance exam. Despite being the soon-to-be top scorer, I stab my eye with a syringe. In my past life, Marianne Quentin, my boyfriend Lance Russell's childhood friend, reported me for cheating off her during the final mock exam. The teacher compared our papers and found that my essay was identical to hers. He harshly criticized me and warned me not to repeat my mistake. However, Marianne reported me for copying her answers again during the math exam. Once again, my answers were found to be identical to hers. The teacher scolded me for being incorrigible and sent me home to reflect on my actions. I couldn't understand what had happened. Clearly, I'd never cheated, but my answers were nearly identical to Marianne's, whether in writing and language or in math. As the SAT exam loomed over me, I could only suppress my doubts as I stepped into the exam hall. I finished the writing paper and thought I was safe. However, Marianne stepped out and accused me of cheating again. I tried to defend myself, yet the answers on my paper were identical to hers. In the end, I was disqualified, kicked out of the exam hall, and banned from taking any exams in the next two years—just because I "cheated". I succumbed to despair and leaped from the rooftop. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to one week before the SAT.

My sister and I are twins, but my mom never liked me. Once I secured admission to a prestigious university, my mom insisted that I work to finance my sister's college education. However, my sister decided to abandon her college studies during her second year, driven by the desire to marry a man a decade older than her. Things took a dark turn when her boyfriend was involved in a hit-and-run accident. My sister drained my medical treatment funds to keep him out of jail, even if it meant jeopardizing my own well-being. I didn't survive. I woke up again and had a second chance at life on the day when the admission results came out. My sister was crying and pleading, "Sister, can you let me go to college this time?" In this life, I won't give in to her demands.

I made the decision to break up with Layla Freeman as I opened my eyes once more. She wanted to take Charles Jones and his son home so she could take care of them, so I would logically leave. I had a lot of arguments with Layla in my former life because of Charles and his son. She paid for Charles’ son’s wedding using the money I had saved for my retirement. Ultimately, the bitter cold killed me in the winter. When Layla found out about that, she was not filled with sadness. Rather, she accused me of dying on her godson’s wedding day. I would leave her and not have anything to do with her in this life.

At my own wedding, I find out the woman behind the veil isn't even the one I'm supposed to be marrying. Instead of getting mad, I give her the wedding of the century. It's all because of what happened in my past life. I'd exposed that she wasn't my bride in front of everyone and blew up the whole ceremony. That forced Jessie Clarke, who'd been at the hospital with her childhood sweetheart, Oliver Grant, to rush over reluctantly so we could still get married. Because of that, Oliver refused treatment and died on the operating table. When I heard he was gone, I told Jessie she should see him one last time, but she refused. All she said was, "Blame it on his bad luck." After we got married, we acted just as in love as before. I kept getting money from my family to save her company every time it was on the verge of collapse. But on the anniversary of Oliver's death, Jessie shoved me off the top floor of her company. I hit the ground hard enough to end up a broken, bloody mess. As I fell, I caught one last look at her face, streaked with tears. "If you hadn't forced me back to marry you, Oliver wouldn't have died! You get to keep me, but I lost him for good! Why do you get to live a happy life?" So that was it. She'd blamed me for Oliver's death from the start. She'd never loved me at all. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back at our wedding ceremony.

When my mother finally found the real heiress, she was on her knees selling shoes on the street. And to my surprise, I recognized her—she was none other than my fiancé's first love. Determined to oust me, the fake heiress, she played her part well, putting on a daily show to make me look bad. I was content to play along, enjoying our little game, until my fiancé’s offhand remark, “Was that really necessary?" shattered my composure. Fine, I thought, “You can keep this husband and family. I’ve got better things to do—like finding my real parents.”

In my previous life, I inherited the family's steakhouse, while my sister asked our dad to get her a job that paid 75 hundred a month. To her shock and surprise, the heir of a rich family and I fell in love at first sight when he came over for a meal. I became his wife, and everyone envied me for marrying the richest man in Imperia. My sister lost both her legs during a work accident. Jealous of my great life, she set me up and killed me with her own hands. We were both reborn at the same time, back to the moment where we would make the decision that would change our lives forever. Right before our father, she told him she wanted to inherit Shaw's Steakhouse. I heard everything, and in a corner where no one could see me, a sneer curled my lips. Poor thing. She had no idea at all. Her nightmare would begin the moment she met Jonathan Landton.

Claire Shaw, my wife of 27 years and I had already fallen out of love with each other. Having picked up on that fact, our children, Jason and Monica Bennett, started giving me advice. "Dad, you and Mom are still relatively young. You two deserve to continue pursuing the lives you want." "That's right, Dad. You can't just force a marriage to go on. We support you in getting a divorce." With Jason and Monica's support, Claire and I soon got divorced. Monica took it upon herself to introduce another woman to me. Soon, I began a new relationship. But when I was about to get married, Claire took me to court and accused me of cheating on her while we were still married. Jason and Monica showed up at the court trial as witnesses as well. They proved that I had indeed cheated on Claire in our marriage. I couldn't defend myself at all. In the end, I was forced to give up everything I owned. My new girlfriend, Linda Calcraft, and I were heavily targeted by the entire Internet. "Hey, old geezer! Just how shameless are you to look for a mistress when you're already dying?" "You're already old enough to become a grandfather, and yet you're still filing for a divorce? You and that mistress are better off together!" Some extremists strapped me and Linda to the bed. They dumped gasoline all over us before setting us on fire, leading to our deaths. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Jason and Monica try to convince me to get a divorce.

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.