Perfect A

Due to my husband's unique status, I did not reveal his identity to my mother after we secretly married. My family was about to be relocated during the holidays, and I took the opportunity to visit my hometown. When I got home, my mother locked me in my stepbrother's room. I questioned my mother about it, and she said, "We're about to be relocated. If you get pregnant, the baby will be counted as an extra person. We'll be compensated with one more house and millions of dollars extra." I begged my mother to release me, but she said that it was better for me to stay in the family than marry into another one. "You and your brother aren't related, anyway. We can even save on dowry." I refused, so my mother got my brother to beat me up until I bled. As the date for the entire town to relocate approached, the developers arrived to distribute the compensation. My husband was among those who arrived. When he saw my bruised cheeks and the bump on my stomach, he went crazy.

My girlfriend Chloe Bennett's childhood buddy, Daniel Miller, binds himself to a transfer system. Everything he eats gets sent straight into my stomach. He creates a live stream channel and eats nonstop for 12 hours a day to rake in money. Meanwhile, I end up in the ER with acute pancreatitis. I try to explain everything to Chloe, but she just looks at me like I've lost my mind. "How could something that ridiculous exist? If food could magically transfer, nobody would starve in the world. You're just jealous he's making money from streaming." Afterward, Daniel's every live stream triggers another pancreatitis episode, sending me back to the ER until I'm barely holding on. I get tested, but the doctors can't figure out what's wrong. They even want to admit me to psych. Later, in a desperate bid to outdo another streamer, Daniel downs ten pounds of mashed potatoes at once. The overload destroys my spleen and stomach, causing massive internal bleeding that kills me. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day of Daniel's very first live stream. This time, I rush out and order 20 takeout dishes before him. "This time, I'm eating first."

In my previous life, I was betrothed to my childhood sweetheart, Zachary York, yet he fell for our junior, Tracy Graham, and planned to elope with her. I told his parents of their plan and asked for canceling our engagement. Yet, under their "persuasion", I lay with Zachary while he was unconscious from the drug's effects. That very night, Tracy, who had waited for him at the station, was murdered by a vagrant. I thought Zachary would rage against me. However, he merely said everyone was tied to their own destiny. He even proposed marriage to me at once. I was ecstatic, but on the night I had longed for most, he shoved me into a room filled with men. I begged him desperately to let me go, but his face twisted with hatred. "You should taste the suffering that Trace endured. If not for your jealousy, she would be my bride now!" In the end, I was brutalized to death. Because of Zachary, I was marked as the vilest woman in Riveria, denied even a shred of honor after death. Reborn, I wake to find myself on the very day of their planned elopement. This time, I'm not exposing their plan to elope. I'll even lend them a helping hand.

Valentine's Day. I was stuck on ER duty at Brighton City Hospital. Theodore Madoff, who was supposed to be working late, strolled in carrying his student—Cecilia Kuntzer. She had red marks everywhere and that smug little smirk. "Relax, Mrs. Madoff. Just stomach pain. Lucky me, Prof. Madoff rushed me here." Theo pushed me to treat her. Turns out? She was pregnant. From rough intercourse. And the dad? Theo. My husband. The same guy who'd sworn off kids with me for ten years. Felt like a punch to the gut. But I still saved her baby. Next day, she uploaded a video—ID in hand, cheesy PowerPoint, accusing me of malpractice. Claimed I killed her kid. Then Theo asked for a divorce. Priscilla—his mom—stormed the hospital, shrieking about her dead grandbaby. She brought a mob. All these "righteous" strangers who stabbed me to death. Right there in the ER. I died with my eyes wide open. Then—bam—I woke up. Valentine's Day. Again.

When the village chief delivered the items for my wedding, my fiancé's adopted sister, who was the apple of his eye, suddenly burst into tears. She cut my wedding dress and smashed the wardrobe that my older brother made for me. Every time I was about to lose my temper, my fiancé, who was also my childhood sweetheart, would immediately side with her. He claimed that she was still young and did not understand jealousy; she was just insecure. Even my own brother defended her, saying I had a birth brother who doted on me. It would not hurt to give in to her. When an earthquake happened, they both ran to her and protected her tightly beneath their bodies. Meanwhile, I was trapped under the ruins for three days and three nights. My brother and fiancé tried every possible way to cheer up her, leaving the villagers to rescue me instead. When they looked at me with wounds all over my body, they only said, "Don't overthink it. Jenn is timid and frightened. We couldn't leave her alone." I was on bed rest for a month, but not once did I see them. Only the village chief came to see me. He tried to persuade me, saying, "You're the first college student in our village. Are you really going to give up on your studies just to get married? This—" I interrupted him, "I made my decision before you came. I'll report to the college on time!"

My mother-in-law gets into an accident and is taken to the emergency room. I call my attorney husband, but he only answers after over 20 missed calls. "What are you on about this time? Gigi has a bit of a problem, and I'm helping her. Stop being unreasonable." I suppress my grievance and say, "Mom's gotten into an accident. Transfer 100 thousand dollars to me." However, he believes Gigi Norris' lies and snarls, "What does your mother getting into an accident have to do with me? Don't even think of getting money from me to provide for your family. Now, leave me alone. I'm busy!" He hangs up, and my mother-in-law dies. Three days later, I see my husband in court. Gigi has been taken to court for driving under the influence, and he's there to defend her. He speaks eloquently and manages to get her off based on a lack of evidence. I lose hope in him and ask him for a divorce once the court is out of session. That's when he panics. "Think about how well my mother treats you! You'll break her heart by divorcing me!" I sneer. I throw the hospital bill and death certificate in his face. The idiot doesn't even know he no longer has a mother!

The night I brought my boyfriend home to meet my parents, my dad insisted on playing cards with some relatives. When he came back, he collapsed to his knees in front of me, crying. Not only had he lost half a million dollars, but he had even gambled away my boyfriend to my cousin. He slapped himself and begged me for forgiveness. However, instead of yelling at him, I helped him to his feet. Then, I took out the savings I’d set aside for my future wedding and the deed to my house. “Let’s gamble one more time.”

On my thirtieth birthday, Gideon Salton told me to meet him at city hall. He made sure I wore a wedding dress and brought my papers, hyping it up as a huge birthday surprise. But when I showed up, all dressed up, he turned to his trashy crew and laughed. "No way—she actually did it. Dress, docs, the whole thing. Pay up, fifty bucks each." Then he looked at me. "Come on, Madison. You didn't seriously fall for that?" I didn't answer. He smirked. "If you're that thirsty to get hitched, go inside and grab some rando to register with." His friends cracked up. They called me Gideon's loyal simp, his forever backup plan. Said I'd never end up with anyone else. But when I came out with my husband and a legit marriage certificate, Gideon just froze—pale, silent, wrecked.

I was a top-tier heart surgeon. The kind they gave a government-issued black SUV with diplomatic plates—armored, red-light-skipping, cleared-for-anything kind of ride. I parked it at my fiancé Marco Varonetti's place so he could keep it in shape. Bad call. One day, I got an emergency call: heart transplant for the Chancellor—yeah, that Chancellor, the one with state secrets ticking inside him. I rushed over to Marco's to grab the car. Right as I was about to leave, some rando slid into the back seat like she owned it. "Mall first. I need a mani," she barked. "Then get the ice cream Marco ordered. If it melts, I'll kill you." Excuse me? "This is my car," I said, trying to stay chill. "I've got a critical airport run. You need to get out." She rolled her eyes. "You're just the driver. Open those eyes and check the plate." Then the maid chimed in. "Everyone knows Mr. Varonetti takes Ms. Caro out in this car. Nobody says a word." I froze. Marco used my federally issued SUV... to chauffeur her? This wasn't just messy. This was criminal.

My best friend's boyfriend was cheating, so I tagged along to bust him at a hotel. Fifteen hours until go time. Felicity Cook booked a room right next to Jake's, jaw tight. "They'll be here tonight. When the time comes, we'll catch them red-handed." Inside, I could barely keep my eyes open. She'd been a wreck since last night, and I hadn't slept a minute trying to keep her sane. Figured I had time, so I set an alarm and crashed. When I opened my eyes, a guy was lying next to me. Felicity kicked the door in and pointed at me. "Lydia Lloyd! I can't believe you betrayed me! You're my best friend! Why would you sneak around and steal my boyfriend?" I just stared, mind blank, trying to get words out. She snapped, yanked out a kitchen knife, and in front of everyone, drove it into me again and again. I hit the floor, drowning in my own blood, eyes stuck open like my body refused to let me go. I came here to catch a cheater—how did I end up the side chick? Then I blinked... and I was right back at the moment I first walked into that hotel with Felicity.