Realism

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

The first thing I do after being reborn is secretly keeping six stunning male models behind my wealthy husband’s back. I seduce them and sleep with them for 999 days to get myself pregnant. I do all this because in my past life, my husband found out that he had asthenozoospermia and married me because I am known for being fertile. He wants to carry on the family line so that he will have a successor to inherit the family fortune. I try everything I can to get pregnant, but nothing works. Conversely, my infertile best friend gives birth to twins and triplets within two years after marrying a 70-year-old man. When my wealthy husband hears that my best friend is blessed with children, he is immediately captivated. They get together behind my back and even arrange for someone to run me over with a car when I find out the truth. After my death, I discover that my best friend has bound herself to the child switch system. Any child I am impregnated with is transferred into her womb. My best friend's infertility is transferred to me in return. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day when my husband married me and brought me home. I smile happily when I think about all the things that took place in my past life. My best friend wants lots of children, doesn't she? If so, I will make her experience the joy of having 18 babies in one pregnancy!

My sister-in-law keeps calling me a deadbeat, swearing I just drift around in slides with an iced drink glued to my hand. She's always stirring things up at home, running her mouth about me to my wife day after day. What she doesn't get is that this is just how landlords in Galanor roll.

On the very first day after I moved into the neighborhood, my neighbor, Fiona Harper, took me to court. She stood in the courtroom sobbing uncontrollably, accusing my son, Lucas Cole, of assaulting her daughter, Daisy Harper. "My Daisy just turned eighteen, and she was ruined by that sick pervert, Lucas! A piece of trash raised without morals like him deserves the death penalty!" Her daughter also insisted it was my son. "Lucas said if I did not take off my clothes, he would strangle me... I was so scared..." The moment those words were spoken, the spectators acting as the jury erupted in righteous fury, angrily demanding severe punishment for my son. "Animal! Lucas is nothing but an animal!" "Punish him harshly. Do not let that demon get away!" Then the judge summoned my son to appear in court. Everyone present was stunned into silence.

I witness my wife, Janice Grant, sleeping in the same room as her childhood friend, Bruce York, in nothing but a skimpy nightgown. But Janice claims that she has gotten bound to a conquest system, so she has to conquer Bruce's heart just so she can complete the mission. I know that this is just a lie Janice has come up with, but I decide to endure her antics for the sake of our daughter, Millie Grant. But one night, Millie lapses into an asthma attack. My father-in-law, Phil Grant, and I rush her to the hospital immediately. Unexpectedly, as soon as we arrive at the hospital, we stumble upon a group of people who are there to cause trouble. Phil ends up getting stabbed in the chest just so he can protect Millie from harm. I quickly call Janice on the spot. But after hearing my explanation, she thinks I'm lying to her. "Evan, I told you I'm in the middle of a mission! If I don't complete it, I'll get punished by the system! Can you stop being so unreasonable?" Despair and rage overwhelm my senses at that moment. Since Janice is adamant on casting her own father and daughter aside for her beloved Bruce, she can forget about inheriting the hundred-million-dollar assets!

On a rainy day, I gave my pregnant neighbor a ride home since it was on my way. As a result, she became clingy and started insisting I drive her home every day. When I refused, she teared up and accused me of lacking compassion. Her husband even showed up at my door, demanding, "Why won't you take my wife to and from work? Are you looking down on us?" In the end, I sold my car and moved to a new place. If I couldn’t afford to offend them, at least I could avoid them!

While I was eating, I came across a post on X. [Found out my girlfriend has a nasty disease and is pregnant. I want my buddy to be the one left holding the bag. What should I do?] I was just about to comment that the poster was out of his mind when I scrolled down and realized people were actually giving him advice. [That's easy! If you two are close, just invite him on a trip.] [Get your girlfriend and your buddy drunk in the middle of the night, then have them stay in your buddy's room. When the time comes, catch them in the act. You can break up and push the kid onto your buddy to take responsibility…] Reading that comment, I couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. I was about to show my friend this mind-blowing post so we could rant about it together when he suddenly looked up at me and asked, "Tyler, are you free this weekend? How about we go on a trip?"

I had my meal and was about to leave my sister's restaurant, but the manager stopped me. "Sorry, sir, but you haven't paid your tab." I never saw this guy before. He probably had no idea who I was. Kindly, I explained, "Put it on your boss' tab. She knows what to do." The manager instead gave me a look of derision. "Sir, we're a 3-star Michelin restaurant. We do not put anyone's bill on another person's tab." He handed me an itemized bill. The guy had it ready and printed. I went through the list. The meal alone cost 75 grand. The 'dining utensil gleam maintenance fee' ran up to 45 hundred. There was also an exclusive air purifier fee, which would cost 75 hundred. And there was a 'VIP calm headspace service fee' that ran up to 15 grand. Those were the ones that stood out, but they were far from the last. I had no idea my sister was running an extortion gig. Mirthlessly, I laughed. "I'm your boss' brother. Tell her she's talking to me when she comes home." The manager did not let me go. "Just say you can't afford it. You're not the first one to try and claim you know Ms. Grayheim. I know leeches like you well enough." I texted my secretary. 'Tell my sister she either fires this guy, or I pull my funds out.'

After Mom passed, it was just me and Dad, depending on each other. I’ve always had poor health, and people used to taunt me, calling me a “sickly, doomed child.” He kneeled by my bedside, making a promise. “I swear, I’ll get you the best treatment, no matter what. You’ll never suffer again!” Eventually, he became a powerful CEO, going so far as to buy an entire private villa just so I could recover in peace. However, his assistant assumed I was his mistress.  She came in with a group of security guards and surrounded me. “So, you’re the cripple who’s been seducing Mr. Johnson?” “Let’s see if you can still act high and mighty after I’m done with you!” She kicked over my wheelchair, yanked me by the hair, scratched up my face, and finally cut off my hand. Barely clinging to life, I lay there until Dad came back. She held up my severed hand, presenting it to him. “Mr. Johnson, this was a spy sent by a rival company. I took care of her for you.”

My daughter, Tina, locked herself in her room, crying so hard her body shook. I pried the door open and saw that she was clutching a test paper that was torn to shreds and pieced back together. It was a math Olympiad selection test. She should have gotten a perfect score, but was given a score of zero instead. "Mom," she sobbed, "the teacher said 3x5 is not equal to 5x3; that it's taking shortcuts. She tore my paper up in front of everyone, revoked my eligibility for the competition, and told the whole class not to talk to me…" I looked at the deep red scratch marks on my daughter's wrist and immediately picked up the phone to call the principal. "What good does it do for your school's reputation to drive a kid who loves math to their breaking point?"