Picture Perfect

On the day of my birthday, my best friend, Bella Johnson, gifted me a polaroid camera. I took that to the zoo. I took some photos of the animals in the zoo. In my past life, I took the polaroid camera she had gifted me and happily took photos for my whole family. Unexpectedly, after a week, my mother got into a car accident and passed away. My father suffered from a stroke, which left half his body paralyzed even after treatment at the hospital. The company that I was managing ran into problems and almost went bankrupt. In merely a month, my hair had gone gray. There were wrinkles and red marks on my face. I gained a lot of weight due to the stress. My boyfriend felt that I was jinxed. He claimed that it was my bad luck that had caused my family to fall apart. He broke up with me. I was ranting to Bella when I accidentally discovered that she had suddenly become a millionaire. Her parents, who were hospitalized, suddenly became healthy again. It was as if they had not been sick to begin with. I almost lost my mind when I found out about that. On my way to the hospital, I was run over by a car and died. After I died, I found out that everything had happened because of the polaroid camera that Bella had gifted me. She had already been having an affair with my boyfriend for a long time. When I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day Bella gifted me the polaroid camera.

The moment my best friend dashes into the lottery shop ahead of me and rattles off that familiar string of numbers, I know instantly that she has been reborn, too. In my past life, my best friend and I were shortlisted for an interview at a Global 500 company just before graduation. However, there was only one opening available. On the day of the interview, I had a sudden urge to buy a lottery ticket, but as a result, I missed the interview, and my best friend got the job. As it turned out, I won the jackpot, totaling 50 million dollars. After graduation, I lived a carefree life, lounging at home and living off the interest. Meanwhile, after entering the company, my best friend was paid little and got bullied every single day. Eventually, she vented her anger on me and shoved me off a rooftop. I died from the fall instantly. After my death, my boyfriend covered for her, twisting the story to claim that I'd gone mad from idling too long and jumped on my own. The two of them fed on my misfortune, becoming influencers with millions of fans and raking in fortune. When I open my eyes again, I am reborn to the very day I bought that lottery ticket.

My son was caught in a car accident. My husband said that without a cornea donor, he would be trapped in darkness forever. Heartbroken, I let him sweet-talk me into signing away my corneas. Blind, I overheard my son gloating, "Dad, the plan worked. Mom fell for it, and Rachel's got her sight back. She won't be miserable anymore." "Yeah, now we're a real family with her," replied my husband. The truth gutted me. They'd played me like a fool to save my husband's old flame. When I confronted them, Rachel Huffman shoved me down a staircase, and I died in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my son's car accident.

My sister, Aria Sawyer, stumbled drunk into a billionaire's room one night. Now, she was pregnant and wanted the whole family's advice. Something about it felt off. Forget about how mismatched they were. How could a billionaire's suite possibly have no security, letting anyone just wander in? When I pointed that out, Aria actually agreed. She decided to end the pregnancy and start fresh. But the very day she left the hospital, headlines exploded. The billionaire was marrying another woman carrying his child. Aria went mad with jealousy. Right in front of our parents, she grabbed a knife and stabbed me to death. "This is all your fault! That spot in high society should have been mine!" And then, my eyes opened again. Aria sat there, blushing sweetly, calling a family meeting. "I think I might be pregnant with Mr. Moore's child. What should I do now?"

After being reborn, the first thing I did was switch my newborn daughter. In my previous life, soon after she was born, a blood test showed her type was AB. But mine was B, and my husband's was O—there was absolutely no way we could have an AB-type child. My husband flew into a rage and demanded a paternity test on the spot. To everyone's shock, the results proved she was biologically related to me, but not to him. He slapped me hard across the face, his voice trembling with disappointment. "I've always treated you well. I only ever loved you—and this is how you repay me?" My mother-in-law wailed and cursed me for cheating, accusing me of bearing another man's child to steal their family fortune. I was completely stunned. I knew better than anyone who the father of my child was—how could she possibly not be my husband's? In no time, everyone turned against me. They called me a cheater, a tramp. My husband divorced me and went online to play the victim, stirring up a storm of hate and harassment that never seemed to end. With nowhere to go and no one left to believe me, I took my baby in my arms and jumped from a building. Even in death, I couldn't make sense of it all. And when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my daughter was born.

After I got a second shot at life, the very first thing I did was enroll in an intensive weight-loss boot camp. In my past life, my boyfriend was always on my case about my weight. He flat-out told me he wouldn't put a ring on it unless I got down to a hundred pounds. I tried every diet and workout plan out there—I pushed myself to the edge—but instead of losing, I packed on even more pounds. Meanwhile, my so-called best friend ate cheeseburgers, fries, and pizza like it was her job and still dropped from 130 pounds to a hundred in less than a month. The second she hit that magic number, my boyfriend's head turned. They started sneaking around behind my back. When I finally confronted them, they shoved me off a rooftop. It wasn't until after I died that I discovered the truth: my "best friend" had linked herself to a weight-transfer system. Every single pound I struggled to lose went straight to her. And every ounce of fat she should have gained? It landed right back on me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day my boyfriend gave me his hundred-pound ultimatum. With every memory of my past life intact, I couldn't help but smile. My best friend wants to be skinny, does she? Well then, let's see how she likes being nothing but skin and bones. Let's see if forty-five pounds is skinny enough for her.

I'm back to that night I was drugged with an aphrodisiac. My sister, Rosa Spencer, drags the most aggressive guy in the village, Theo Dawson, into the woods without hesitation. In my previous life, both Rosa and I had been drugged at the same time. She jumped at the chance to be with the promising young intellectual, Dexter Newman, and I was stuck with Theo. After what happened, Dexter took responsibility without a second thought. He threw a huge wedding in the village and married Rosa. Meanwhile, I ended up marrying Theo in a rush, with nothing but a tattered quilt. Seeing this, Rosa burst into laughter. "You were born unlucky, and you'll never beat me! My husband's going to college. His future's limitless!" Yet, to my surprise, Theo changed completely after we married. He spoiled me endlessly and even became the richest man in the state. Dexter, on the other hand, failed his college entrance exam due to cheating and could only make a living by doing odd jobs. After seeing me become the wife of the richest man in the state, Rosa suddenly ran to my house in tears. "My husband's a total loser. Years have gone by, and we can't even afford a decent apartment!" Out of sisterly sympathy, I landed her a well-paying job. But when she came to thank me, she smashed a whiskey bottle over my head. "We're sisters! How come you get to live better than me?" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to that very night Rosa and I were both drugged with an aphrodisiac.

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.

Connor Greene, a golden boy in Brookhaven, is unwittingly drugged, and I end up being the cure for his "predicament". It's exactly a month later when I discover that I'm pregnant during a routine medical examination. Upon learning the news, Connor offers me 50 million dollars to carry the baby to term, and then another ten million dollars to take full custody of the child. It's then that Julie Sutton, my so-called righteous friend, persuades me to terminate the pregnancy, saying, "You ought to know that money isn't everything, Queenie. If you throw away your dignity for just 60 million dollars, then you're no better than those women who entertain men in clubs!" In my past life, I had an abortion at Julie's suggestion and pursued legal action against Connor, accusing him of assault. I later sought financial assistance and support from Julie after my parents fell gravely ill, but Julie slapped me hard across the face instead. "Your parents are seriously ill, and instead of figuring things out on your own, you come running to me, huh? You're truly shameless, Queenie!" Julie broke off our friendship right then, and I also lost the lawsuit against Connor. I couldn't afford the treatment, so my parents' lives were cut short by their illnesses. In the end, the grief of losing them was too much, so I decided to take my own life by jumping off a rooftop. When I open my eyes, I find myself returning to the day Julie tried to persuade me to get an abortion.

When I turn 18, my family suddenly strikes gold. Dad makes a fortune in business. We move into a huge house with a driver and a housekeeper. My younger brother, Vincent Becker, is sent to study in Basmar. After that, he graduates and marries a rich heiress. Their partnership makes our family's business soar. I'm the only one who misses my college entrance exam because of stomach cramps, and my parents marry me off to a lonely man in some rundown countryside. He locks me in a basement and hurts me every single day. I crawl my way back home, half-alive, but my parents only look at me with disgust. "Useless brat! How did you not die out there?" Vincent says that he'll take me out to clear my head. Instead, he shoves me in front of a truck. I'm rushed to the ICU with nearly every bone in my body broken. Right before I die, he leans down in his designer suit and whispers in my ear. "Let me tell you the truth before you die. Our family didn't get rich from business. We got rich because of the hundred-million-dollar lottery ticket you bought. "We cashed it behind your back and never told you." I die full of resentment, and right after my death, they sell my organs for 120 thousand dollars. I open my eyes, and suddenly I'm there again—to the very day I bought the lottery ticket.