Perfect Family Webtoon Ending

In my previous life, my brother took his sugarbaby to see a meteor shower because she said she wanted to. He drove to the countryside with all his bodyguards to create a perfect stargazing night for her. Unfortunately, business rivals whom my brother had bankrupted saw this opportunity and broke into our estate seeking revenge. My mother fought desperately to protect me, suffering severe injuries that left her fighting for her life. I called my brother repeatedly, begging him to return quickly and help us. He finally had to come back with his security team. The intruders were captured, but then terrible news came from the countryside. His sugarbaby had left a suicide note, her fate unknown. In her letter, she accused me of deliberately drawing my brother away, causing her to be tortured by his enemies before she took her own life. My brother coldly burned her letter and told me not to worry about it. Afterward, my brother was blamed for what happened, and my father promised to put me in charge of the company. However, after the celebration dinner ended, my brother brutally murdered me in my bedroom. His face showed no emotion as he coldly said, "Someone as treacherous as you should have died long ago. "You should have been the one to die, and the family inheritance should have been mine!" I died with my eyes wide open in disbelief, and when I opened them again, I could hear our enemies breaking down the front door of our mansion.

My parents think I'm not ladylike enough, so they buy themselves a docile and sweet AI daughter called Serafina Moretti. On the day Serafina is brought home, I get bullied by the entire family. Papa hates the fact that I'm really bad at studying, unlike Serafina, who's quick to pick up on the knowledge after being taught for the first time. Mamma wrinkles her nose at my bright and active personality. Apparently, I'm not quiet enough, which annoys her and gives her a pounding headache all the time. My older brother, Dario Moretti, even berates me all the time. "You're a disgrace to the Moretti family! What else are you capable of doing other than eating and sleeping?" Even Serafina has the gall to make fun of me, so I shove her to the floor out of anger. Mamma's expression darkens immediately. Then, she delivers a heavy slap across my cheek. "Serafina is your sister! If you're as docile as she is, you won't annoy me to the point I keep having headaches! "It's time for you to learn how to be a docile and understanding daughter in a behavioral correction academy!" So, I'm forced to study there. Two years later, my family picks me up from the academy. They keep calling my name, and yet I never respond to them. Professor Luca Caruso corrects them smilingly, "Mrs. Moretti, you must say the words, 'Activate.' Only then will NS-5 boot up on her own."

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

My husband and his beloved mistress died together in a car accident. They left me with a pair of illegitimate children. Eighteen years passed in a blur. I poured my heart and soul into raising those children until, at last, they earned admission to Corvell University, the country's top university. But on the very day they received their acceptance letters, my 'dead' husband returned. And beside him stood his mistress. She clutched my husband's arm and beamed at me. "Thanks to your tireless care, my two sons finally made it into Corvell. If not for you, the two of us wouldn't have been free to live so happily together all these years..." Later, my husband demanded a divorce. He wanted to marry his mistress and reunite their perfect little family of four. I didn't cry, nor did I rage. I only smiled and said, "Sure."

The night I find out I'm pregnant, my family's villa suddenly goes up in flames. I endure the suffocating smoke and run the risk of being disfigured as I run to my son's bedroom. However, it's empty. Just then, I hear his excited exclamations outside the window. "Monica, you look so cool when putting out fires! I bet you'll get first place in this upcoming Firefighter Challenge!" I'm about to head downstairs to lecture him when a wall collapses and crushes me. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I hear my stern, stoic husband praise Monica Sloan for her courage. If I'm guessing correctly, my husband and son have started this fire to please her. I stare at the door, which is so close and yet so far. I send out one final text before dying of asphyxiation.

I used to be the apple of my family's eye, but Suzanne Nilson changed that when she showed up on my birthday with a DNA test result. The Nilson family cruelly kicks me to the curb and throws me back to my biological parents, leading to me being sold off to the village idiot. Xavier Gubbens, with whom I've grown up, kicks the door down and saves me. Later, he etches a word on my face. "Do you think you're done repenting for your sins with this, Suzanne Nilson?" Later still, his eyes are red as he pleads, "Can't we go back to how things used to be?" How things used to be? There's no such thing. Everyone has to look to the future.

My sister and I were caught up in a severe car accident during a family road trip down the mountain for the New Year. Shattered glass pierced straight through my heart. Amid the excruciating pain, my fiance and family insisted the rescue team take my sister, who only had a scratched arm, to the hospital first. As I cried out for them to save me, my fiance snapped at me. “Carol, you should know when to stop vying for attention! “Delila is bleeding so much. Why must you compete with her?” Dad shook his head and sighed while Mom looked at me with disgust. I forced my stiff neck to look over. They were all surrounding my younger sister. She only sported a faint red mark on her arm. No one saw the blood gushing from my chest. No one heard my fading heartbeat. I died during that snowy, bitterly frigid night. When they finally remembered me and came across my cold body, my fiance and family went mad.

I knew that my father did not like me since I was young. When I wanted to commit suicide to end the pain caused by my illness, he was celebrating another child’s birthday. He hated my mother and me alongside her. So, when I told him that I was sick, he did not believe me. “Is this your new tactic to get money from me?” No one believed that the daughter of the Powell family could die because she was too poor to pay the hospital fees. My father did not believe it either. However, when he saw my dead body, the famous actor who hated his daughter actually went insane.

When I received the news that my fiancé, Ellison Perez, had postponed our wedding for the 18th time, I happened to be walking out of the hospital, clutching my medical report. Once again, he had delayed our wedding for an entire month, all because of my adopted foster sister, Becky. I thought about what the doctor had told me. After hesitating for a long time, I finally dialed Ellison's number. "I can't wait until next month. If we can't get married tomorrow, there won't be another chance." However, Ellison only took my words as another fit of childish willfulness. "Don't be unreasonable, Lily. Have you forgotten how Becky took your place as the hostage? She was tortured for a whole month before being rescued." "It's because of you that she developed severe trauma. Now you can't even wait one more month for her to recover?" I could hear my parents' voices chiming in over the line. "Becky still suffers from extreme fear of men. Ellison is the only one who can calm her down. Isn't it your fault she ended up like this?" "You're being selfish, Lily. A wedding can wait, but Becky's condition can't!" I had known for a long time that ever since that incident, my entire family had chosen Becky's side. Even so, tears streamed down my face. "Fine," I said softly. "Postpone it." I clenched the medical report tightly in my hand. They did not know that just moments ago, the doctor had told me the truth— I was in the final stage of liver cancer. I only had one month to live.

My family was attacked by rogue wolves when we entered their territory. My wolf was gravely injured, and in the end, I was the one who saved everyone.
As I collapsed, exhausted, no one came to me—they all ran to my adopted sister, Fiona, fussing over a few shallow scratches.
By the time pack members carried me to the infirmary, the healer delivered the cruel news: my wolf had been struck by a silver dagger, and the one-month-old pup in my womb wouldn’t survive.
Yet my mate, Luke, had given the only life-saving treatment to Fiona. With no other choice, I refused the healer’s remedies and numbed my wolf’s pain with crude herbs—knowing it would only buy us three days before death.
In those last days, I let everything go. I gave Fiona all my possessions and insurance money while my parents smiled in approval. I signed the bond-severing agreement Luke slid across the table without a second thought. Luke was satisfied, believing I was considerate. Kane, my brother, nodded his head when I told him to give my room to Fiona.
Even my son, Jim, squealed with joy when I asked him to call her “mom.” No one questioned why I gave all my belongings to Fiona, and their approving gazes said it all: “Good. The old Emma is back. But as the clock ticked down, one thought haunted me:
When they find our bodies—my wolf and my unborn pup—will that satisfaction turn to regret?