Russian Male Names

My wife sent a whistleblower letter to the airline that I worked 15 years for. It was a PowerPoint that was 56 pages long. She reported that I was a playboy captain that cheated on her 999 times and that I embezzled millions of company funds. When the Disciplinary Department found out the truth, everyone fell silent. The funds that I had embezzled were just a couple of packs of tissue and some paper cups. The total cost of these things wasn’t even worth the superior’s time. The person who cheated on their partner was actually someone else.

My wife is the daughter of a top jewelry tycoon. She accused me of pushing her mother down the stairs to steal the family fortune and had me thrown in prison. While I was locked up, her people disfigured my face and crushed my hands—the same hands that once played the piano. After my release, I run from her like a madman. Just like she said I would, I give up and start mooching off a wealthy woman. But then, she clings to me and begs me not to leave.

In my previous life, my parents made me choose a bride from the three most powerful families in the capital. I did not hesitate. I chose the one I loved most: Holly Smith. However, on our wedding day, she died in a car accident on her way to the hotel. The Smith family was devastated. Though they did not dare blame my family, I was consumed with guilt. I transferred all my assets and shares to them without hesitation. Twenty years later, while on a business trip overseas, I saw Holly, alive, locked in a passionate kiss with my former best man on the street. The other two heiresses stood nearby, watching with envy. "Faking your death for twenty years just to end up with your true love? Worth it," one of them said. "And Hayden, that pathetic lapdog, stayed faithful to you all this time. What a joke." I lost control and rushed over to confront them, but Holly had people waiting. They dragged me into a pickup truck and beat me half to death. With a twisted smile, she sneered, "You've got some nerve showing up here. "You wanted me so badly back then that you had Jack beaten, he almost lost his memory and forgot about me! "Since you came all this way, I'll make sure you experience what it feels like to wish you were dead." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my parents asked me to choose my bride. I pointed to the maid's daughter standing in the corner. "I'll take her."

The city was overrun by zombies. My girlfriend, Callie Bernson, the team leader, had taken my best friend, Dan Harrington, and fled in our only armored vehicle, leaving me behind in the shelter to die. Outside, the scratching of claws against metal echoed through the corridors. The defensive barricades were already starting to fail. My heart sank into despair. I raised my gun to my temple, ready to end it quickly, when a stream of floating text suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [It’s hilarious. That cheating couple thinks they’re heading to Paradise, but that place has fallen. It’s packed with high-level zombies now.] [Don’t die, PC! The person in a coma in the shelter—the one your so-called best friend called dead weight and abandoned—is actually the only S-class ability user. Once she wakes up, she’ll wipe the floor with everything!] [Just you wait. When your buddy crawls back here in disgrace and finds the big boss awake, he will go to step in and steal the credit for saving her.] [Hurry up and die already, cannon fodder. I can’t wait for the tragic apocalypse romance between the best friend and the big boss.] I lowered the gun and sprinted toward the quarantine room. Inside, a woman lay on the bed, sleeping peacefully. I strode over and slapped her hard across the face. “Honey!” I shouted. “Time to get to work!”

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

The new intern in the unit had to be chronically incompetent. He handled my mother's post-surgery medication and somehow mixed up the drug. He gave her a potent blood thinner. That night, she died from a hemorrhage after her operation. Before I could even accuse him, the intern had his puppy-dog eyes ready. "I'm sorry, Dr. Benford, but I thought that was the drug you wanted me to mix. Who was I to question my superior's order?" Then the hospital director, who was also my wife, chimed in, "Your mom is the idiot for taking her meds without checking. She brought this on herself." I was so enraged that I had a heart attack, which meant I had to undergo surgery in the same hospital. The intern insisted on redeeming himself and assisted Victoria during the operation. He could not even thread a needle because his hands kept trembling. In the middle of the procedure, this medical fraud removed his mask and wet the end of the surgical thread to force it through. I died in the ICU the next day. The cause was a bacterial infection. As I neared death, I heard the intern whine through tears, "How could I be so careless? If I weren't so clumsy, Dr. Benford would have lived." Victoria gently ruffled his hair. "Don't take it to heart, pumpkin. Everyone knows how risky medical procedures can be. You're just starting out, so don't be so hard on yourself." Because of my wife's efforts, both my mother and I were cremated without any investigation or disciplinary action. You would think that was the end. It wasn't. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugo Spencer first joined our hospital as an intern.

Evelyn Larson's nephew, Maxwell Larson, has been staying at my home for 12 years. On top of sponsoring everything he has in life, I even view him as my own son. Heck, I'm the one who paid the down payment for Maxwell's new family home. But on the night we're having a holiday dinner, he throws me a list in front of everyone. "Uncle Lawrence, I've already hashed out the details with my fiancee's family. We'll be giving her family 700 thousand dollars as a wedding gift. You've raised me for so many years, so you need to prepare this amount for me." I frown instantly. "Didn't I just settle your down payment for you? Besides, Tiffany's about to get married soon. I need to save some money for her own wedding gift." But Maxwell instantly smashes a plate out of anger. "Since she's marrying into another family, that means she's no longer a part of this family! Are you saying that you're willing to give your money to an outsider rather than your own nephew? "If you refuse to agree to my terms, I'll make Aunt Evelyn divorce you right now!" I turn to look at Evelyn out of instinct, only to see her pulling out a gift agreement that she has already drafted. "We don't need to prepare any wedding gifts for Tiffany, seeing as she's the one marrying into another family. Max, on the other hand, is the only son of the Larson family. You should give your money to him instead."

When my cousin, Rita Pike, brings her boyfriend, Benny Booker, home to meet her parents, I get labelled as a freeloader for some reason. As soon as Benny steps through the front door, he shoots me a disdainful glance. "You're the cousin who refuses to move out of my girlfriend's villa, right?" I just stare at him in confusion. Yes, I do live in this villa. But my parents have left this property to me as a part of my assets. My name is the one printed on the property deed. Heck, I'm the one who told my butler to give Rita a room to stay here! Why is it that I'm painted as the poor relative who refuses to move out now that she's dating another man?

Flynn Watson, the actual heir of the Watson family, reported me for cheating during the exams. As I stared at both copies of the test papers with perfect grades and the same answers, I found it difficult to explain what happened. Everyone took Flynn's side. Because of that, I was painted as a cheater, which resulted in my exile from the Watson family. The Watsons went as far as to get me blacklisted from all industries just so they could appease Flynn. I ended up on the streets as a homeless person, where I got tormented incessantly. In a daze, I got hit by a car. I still failed to understand why my test papers would show the same answers as Flynn's even when I was on death's door. When I open my eyes again, I've gotten reborn on the day of the exams. This time, I choose to not write anything on the exam papers at all. I'd like to see just how I can be branded as a cheater now that I'm not given any marks at all.

Mabel Landry and I have been in love with each other for ten years. Our relationship has started since our school days, and we've been married for years. All in all, we're the perfect couple that everyone envies. But I get into an accident on our tenth year anniversary. When Mabel arrives at the hospital, she looks at me with pain and sorrow in her eyes. "Why are you this careless, Dustin? If anything does happen to you, I might as well die!" I'm about to console Mabel when I suddenly see two live comments streaking across my vision. "Mabel Landry is nothing but a filthy cheater! Despite that loving facade of hers, the truth is, she's already slept with her side piece behind Dustin's back!" "When will Dustin finally realize that Mabel has already cheated on him with someone else?"