Skylar Astin In Pitch Perfect Novels & Stories

My husband's beloved lover suffered from menstruation complications. A traveling doctor claimed that a fresh placenta was needed to cure her. His gaze fixated on my seven-months-pregnant baby bump. And thus, I was pinned down on the bed as they ripped the placenta from my body. My son was carelessly tossed aside. He didn't even get the chance to cry before his tiny body fell silent forever. My husband pinched his nose in disgust, frowning as he looked at me—bleeding out, feebly reaching for my child. “It’s just a premature baby. He'll be fine after a few days of care. Why are you making such a fuss? Sandra is waiting for her medicine." He left and locked the door behind him without looking back. He claimed it was a lesson I needed to learn. By the time he finally remembered us, my son and I had long since bled dry, our bodies cold and stiff.

At my wedding to a billionaire heir, Malcom Blair, I leaned down and kissed a filthy, ragged man begging by the entrance, right there in front of everyone. While the guests were still too stunned to react, I grabbed Christine Wagner, Malcom's cousin and my maid of honor, by the hair and slapped her across the face three dozen times in a row. Everyone thought I had lost my mind and tried to have me locked in a psychiatric hospital. Inside, I spent the whole night popping champagne and celebrating. In my last life, not long after the wedding, Christine, a pediatric nurse, set fire to a children's hospital. Many kids died on the spot. The police and the victims' families surrounded my house, screaming that I was the arsonist. I stood there, completely confused, while Malcom pulled out surveillance footage and pointed the finger at me. "You used to complain all the time that taking care of sick kids was worse than dealing with a dog, that it'd be better if they just died and got it over with. I never thought you'd actually be this cruel!" The families lost control. They doused me in gasoline and burned me alive…

The wealthy Hanson family makes it clear that whichever sister gives birth to the family's first grandson will inherit the billion-dollar fortune. In my previous life, my sister, under our parents' arrangement, married the strong and healthy third son, Jerome Hanson. I, on the other hand, was given to the gloomy eldest son, Lester Hanson, whose legs were paralyzed. Under my treatment, Lester regained full use of his legs. I became pregnant with the Hanson family's first grandson. Meanwhile, my sister was driven to madness by Jerome's abuse, becoming the laughingstock of every wealthy woman's dinner gossip. On the day I went into labor, my sister stabbed my belly with a knife. Then, she pulled me off a rooftop with her. Now, in this life, we start over. The moment Lester sends over a golden bridal bouquet, my sister snatches it without hesitation. "I want to marry Lester!" she declares.

I called my wife, a forensic specialist, after learning that my in-laws were involved in a car accident. It was on the 80th call that she finally answered, "I'm just trying to celebrate Justin's birthday for him. What's wrong with you? Can you not get jealous over just about anything?" I informed her that Mom, Dad, and sister had died in a car accident, and that she should hurry back to arrange for their funeral. To my surprise, she scoffed at my suggestion and replied, "What does your family's death have to do with me?" She was not involved in the funeral arrangements at all. On top of that, she even falsified evidence for her love interest—the culprit who killed her family—in court as a forensics specialist. Eventually, on the day I informed her of my intention to divorce, she threw a fit. "Patrick, it's just the death of a few of your family members. Justin didn't do it on purpose. It was just an accident. "Moreover, it's because of your parents' and sister's carelessness on the road that led to the accident. Why are you making things difficult for me and insisting on divorce? I've truly misjudged you…" Noticing the indignance in her response, I finally understood. It seemed she had no idea that it was her family that died in the accident all this while.

Harry Pate fails in his plan to secure a fortune from my family. He tries to drug me, hand me over to his friends, and even film it to control me. Luckily, a kind netizen overhears him plotting with his mistress at a restaurant. The netizen posts a missing person alert online. "Please share widely. Looking for Freya White. Her boyfriend is trying to drug and assault her." I see the post and quietly pour the drug into the pot they are about to drink from.

At the concert, my husband James Felton and his assistant ended up on the kiss cam. They made for a beautiful couple, and the clip immediately went viral. In the video, I saw my son cheering in between them. The next thing I did was share the video on my Instagram feed with the caption, [How sweet.] James immediately gave me a video call, labeling me a jealous woman. “We were only acting to fool her ex! Stop making a fuss out of everything!” Our friends in the know were all laughing behind my back, placing bets on when I would apologize. This time, however, I was not going to play to their tune.

After I shared my five-million-dollar commission with my department colleagues, they drag me to a hotel and celebrate with me for three days straight. But when I walk past the bathroom, I overhear a conversation between two of my colleagues that stops me cold. "Have the results of the vote come out yet?" What vote? Confused, I check my phone and find that I've been removed from the Project Department's group chat. "Who else could it be? Our hero, Zane Carter, received eleven votes. It was unanimous, and the motion was passed." "Serves him right. I've never liked him anyway." I freeze. I can't believe that my colleagues would betray me after what I've done for them. After taking a moment to calm down, I immediately decide to resign. The next thing I know, I receive a call from the company chairman, Wilson Smith. "Have you made up your mind? Quitting now would breach your contract. As a result, your five-million-dollar commission would be revoked. "You're also a key technical staff member. If you leave, your entire department would most likely be dismissed. Once that happens, your colleagues will end up unemployed. Are you sure about this?" I lower my gaze and let out a cold laugh. "Absolutely."

My mother-in-law, Daisy Rothbart, gets pregnant around the same time I do. We even give birth to baby boys via cesarean sections on the same day. However, her infant dies later, and that's when she suddenly starts showering my son, Casey Dyson, with all her love and attention. After Casey officially takes over the family business one day, my husband, Jerome Dyson, and I die in an accident out at sea. However, my spirit remains close to Casey even after my death, and that's when I find out that he starts calling Daisy "Mom" while crying in relief. It is only then that I learn that the son I'd been bringing up for 20 years had been secretly switched at birth by none other than Daisy. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I'd traveled back in time to the day when Daisy and I were both scheduled to undergo cesarean sections at the hospital.

My mom decides to implement an income-based rationing system. Everything at home is delegated to everyone based on their income. At a holiday dinner, I decide to grab myself an extra helping of pasta. As soon as I fill up my plate, my mom snatches it from my hands. "Hold on. Just look at the spread on the table. The sea bass is already worth 180 dollars. The scallops are worth 200, whereas the lobster goes for 300 dollars. "You only earn 3,000 dollars per month. If you want a second serving, you must pay up first. I'll charge you based on the family rate. It'll be three dollars, thank you very much." My mom sticks out three fingers while smiling at me.

My sister-in-law finally became pregnant at fifty. But the family parrot, Pip, suddenly said, “Abort it. Abort it.” Hearing this, I immediately forced my sister-in-law to go to the hospital to get an abortion. My brother and parents desperately stopped me. They shouted, “Have you gone mad? Do you trust an animal’s words?” I nodded and answered firmly, “Yes. I believe everything Pip says.”