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Life Is a Poker Game

Life Is a Poker Game

I fell in love with the maid's daughter. The maid bullied and controlled me.My family fortune was cheated out, and my parents died tragically. I couldn't accept it, so I jumped off a tower to kill myself.Unexpectedly, I was reborn to the day a year ago...
Short Story · Rebirth
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I'm a Prostitute, Not a Substitute

I'm a Prostitute, Not a Substitute

She was a prostitute, she needed money, and she had to be a substitute to get the money she needed. But, why should she become a substitute for someone else who ran away from her fate? Why should she marry a man she didn't love? Her mother prayed that she would find a man who loved her and give her happiness, but she ended up marrying a man who only knew to torture her and gave her sadness. After all, that was the price she should pay for her mother's life.
Urban
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Duke’s Heiress Married Mafia Prince

Duke’s Heiress Married Mafia Prince

My mother is the Royal duchy and I am her sole heir. My mother was once deceived by my father, which nearly bankrupted our family. That bastard father of mine disappeared without a trace, taking the fortune he'd stolen from my mother and running off with his mistress. To prevent me from falling for the same kind of man in the future—to keep me from being fooled and robbed blind—my mother adopted two war orphans. She planned to raise them as potential husband candidates for me. But mother never knew the truth. These two men appeared respectful and obedient to her arrangements on the surface. But privately, they were both infatuated with my maid Josie. They constantly neglected me and made my life difficult, all to win her favor. My favorite, Marcus Reed, even gave up his own last name. He changed it to Josie's—Marcus Thompson. The betrayal cut deeper than I'd expected. Before mother died, she asked me the question I'd been dreading. "Which one do you want to choose as your husband?" But I had heard something interesting lately. There was a mafia heir—Vincent Rossi—who was notorious for his violence. He'd killed innocent people. Years of brutal fighting had left him severely injured. The doctors said he had less than six months to live. The mafia Rossi family wanted to marry him to a noblewoman before he died. I didn't hesitate to reach out to him. I offered an alliance through marriage. To my surprise, the Rossi family agreed. But on my wedding day, Marcus and the other candidate burst into the ceremony. They begged me to reconsider. "Please, don't do this!" Marcus shouted, his face desperate. "You can't marry him!" I stood there in my wedding dress, looking at the two men who had spent years ignoring me for my maid. Now they wanted me back? How interesting.
Short Story · Mafia
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The Way We Once Were

The Way We Once Were

After the tragic death of my best friend, I took her younger brother in and treated him like my own. Everyone knew how much Zach Lawson meant to me, so much so that I vowed not to marry because I could not bear leaving him. The day he turned eighteen, he got on one knee and asked me to marry him. With tears of joy streaming down my face, I took the bouquet from him, only to realize they were made of writhing snakes. Everyone laughed at my misfortune. It was an artfully crafted joke, at my expense. Thalia Lewis laced her arm through Zach's and grinned. "Sorry about that, Sydney. It was just an innocent prank. Zach is willing to do anything to make me smile!" Zach gave me a look of utter disgust. "Is this what you think of me? You're my sister! How can you even think of marrying me? This is vile! Is this the reason you took me in? Have you been secretly pining for me since the start?" My whole life had come crashing down around me. I was overcome with shock, misery, and despair, until Connor Grey showed up and asked for my hand in marriage.
Short Story · Romance
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Take What You Want

Take What You Want

In my previous life, I was eight months pregnant when my mother-in-law and husband forcibly dragged me to grab decorative gift boxes from the Christmas tree. I told them there was nothing inside, but my mother-in-law slapped me across the face while my husband pulled me into the crowd. A stampede broke out. They clutched their gift boxes and fled to save themselves, while my child and I were trampled to death. They eagerly tore open all the gift boxes with high hopes, only to find exactly nothing, just like I'd warned them. But as I lay dying, I noticed something in the final gift box. A Black Widow spider with an hourglass pattern on its belly crawled onto my mother-in-law's hand. This spider carries deadly venom. Anyone bitten either dies or suffers permanent disability. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on Christmas Day. This time, watching my mother-in-law and husband gear up to fight over those Christmas gift boxes, I won't try to stop them!
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The Comments That Tried to Own My Life

The Comments That Tried to Own My Life

An intern named Maxim Barker has joined the company. When he's in the middle of his self-introduction, I see a bunch of comments suddenly popping up in front of my eyes. "Holy shit, Maxim is finally here! Soon, Charmaine will be reunited with him. She'll then ditch William just to be with Maxim again!" "William, don't you dare start anything now! You'd better go along with Maxim's flow and help him get back together with Charmaine!" "That's right! If William stops the plot from progressing, he'll face dire consequences! He can only survive by relying on Maxim!" As soon as Maxim is done with his introduction, he walks over to my desk and picks up the document I'm about to hand in to my girlfriend, Charmaine Fitzpatrick, who works as a manager. "Let me pass the document to the manager." But as soon as Maxim enters Charmaine's office, he gets thrown out immediately. "Get the hell out of my office! Not everyone is allowed to enter my office, you know!"
Short Story · Imagination
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The Stand-In Game

The Stand-In Game

I have been married to Andrew Connolly for four years, but whenever his gaze meets mine, there is no recognition at all. Even my voice doesn't register. He remembers everyone around him, yet the one person he never remembers is that I am his wife. If I put on a hat, he asks who I am. When I tie my hair up, he assumes I am a new hire at his company. To help him remember, I repeat the same outfit, the same makeup, the same hairstyle. Still, despite my daily presence, he treats me like a stranger. I tell myself Andrew is simply buried in work, that the neglect is accidental, right up until a concert night. I watch him cut through the crowd and embrace his first love, whom he has not seen in years. When the stage suddenly collapses, I seize his arm and beg, "Honey, please save me." Andrew shoves me away, his voice flat and cold. "You're not my wife. My wife is at home." I am crushed beneath the falling debris. Choking on blood, I can only watch as Andrew rescues his first love and walks away. That is when I realize it's not that he can't remember me, he just doesn't love me. The bodyguards drag me out of the wreckage. Later, I spend a month confined to bed with serious injuries. While I am in the hospital, I get a photo of Andrew kissing his first love. The blows land one after another and mercilessly jerk me awake. I am done with love, and I am done with him!
Short Story · Romance
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I Cheered When My Mom Married a Rich Heir

I Cheered When My Mom Married a Rich Heir

My mother said I was a born beauty and was able to charm any man. She told me not to touch a man before my twentieth birthday. In the previous timeline, I listened to her, so when a wealthy heir was dosed with an aphrodisiac, I pushed him away when he tried to take me into his embrace. But the effects of the skincare routine I did transferred to my mother after my twentieth birthday. I used face masks, but my face became wrinkled and spotted. Meanwhile, my mother glowed with smooth and youthful skin. I danced, but I only became fatter while my mother became slim. Seeing how I looked like a fifty-year-old woman, my father called me a useless piece of trash and wanted to marry me off to a bald man as his second wife. I cried and begged my mother for help. But she said this was for my own good, her twenty-something face a mask of hypocrisy. I was forced to run away from home, but doing so only sped up my aging. Three days later, I died on the streets right by a trash heap. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in time to the night I met that rich heir. This time, I did not push him away but straddled him in bed.
Short Story · Rebirth
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A Heart Shattered by an Earthquake

A Heart Shattered by an Earthquake

There's an earthquake. My husband, the captain of the rescue team, abandons me to save Wendy Smith, his true love. I don't stop him. I let him go. Why? Because when he was faced with the same choice in my past life, he saved me because I was eight months pregnant. Meanwhile, Wendy remained trapped under the rubble. She ultimately died due to a lack of oxygen after the delayed rescue. Later, on the day I went into labor, my husband brought me to Wendy's grave. He watched me coldly as I collapsed on the ground from the searing pain. He ignored my pleas. "Does it hurt, Yelena? Wendy's pain was a thousand times worse when she was trapped under the rubble!" I stared at him in disbelief as he descended into insanity. "You were safe that night—you were in the safe triangle zone! Wendy would never have missed the best time for rescue if not for you using your pregnancy to threaten me! I want you to experience all the pain she went through!" He forced me down on my knees and bumped my head on the ground before Wendy's grave. He ignored the blood that flowed down my legs. Ultimately, I died after major blood loss from a difficult labor. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day the earthquake happened. This time, neither I nor my child will wait for him.
Short Story · Rebirth
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"Custom-Made" Lies

"Custom-Made" Lies

By the time I got home from my business trip, it was already past midnight—and my husband wasn't there. A woman's blouse lay on the sofa. It wasn't mine. I called him. He said he was working late at the office. I didn't bother with pretense. "Whose blouse is on the sofa?" His tone was light and casual. "Who else would it be? It's obviously a gift for you. Try it on." Suspicious, I picked it up and held it against myself. The blouse was clearly one size too small. "Honey, this is a size S. I always wear M." My husband owns a clothing company. He handles all my clothes. He's even used my measurements to design women's wear. There's no way he doesn't know my size. On the phone, he froze for half a second, then spoke as if piecing something together. "This is a new women's line I'm launching. I ordered custom pieces for you and my sister. I must've grabbed the wrong one. I'll switch it tomorrow." A moment later, his voice softened with exhaustion. "Babe, you've been gone for days. Without you, I feel so tired… I miss you so much…" It was already late into the night. Hearing him sound vulnerable—something he rarely did—made my chest tighten. I blamed myself for overthinking. But the moment I hung up, realization struck. His sister has the same build as me. She always wears size M.
Short Story · Romance
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