Story Bucin

On the day of Zephyr’s art exhibition, I saw people stand around a portrait of myself. My cheeks were flushed, and I was bare. My posture was the one we used in bed last week for fun. Zephyr even got the mole on my chest right. As people stared at me mockingly, I demanded, “Why did you do this to me?” He was unbothered. “It’s not as if I asked you to sleep with someone else.” But he did let people see how I looked when I was having an intimate moment with my own boyfriend! “It’s just a painting. Why are you being so petty?” I was stunned by the mockery in Zephyr’s gaze. Then, I called my assistant. “I’m attending the international art festival as the organizer.”

On the day I go to the car dealership to pick up my car, I'm told that the previous salesperson has resigned, so a different salesperson will attend to me. Yet the first thing the salesperson does is say that I paid too little for the car and demand that I pay more to make up the difference. "The other salesperson is truly an idiot. How could he sell a car for 300 thousand dollars in cash? It's no wonder he got chewed out and quit. If you want to take the car, you'll have to switch to a five-year loan with an interest rate of 12%." I'm rendered speechless as he blatantly tries to extort me. "I've already paid and signed the sales contract. You're breaching the contract!" The salesperson scoffs. "So what? The car is with us anyway. If you're not going to pay the difference, don't even think of taking the car with you!" I can't help but chuckle. I calmly pull my phone out of my suit pocket. "Walter, place Mr. Paul Roland's loan application on hold for now. He's earning big bucks for his business. It seems like he doesn't need it anymore."

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

In my last life, my mother, Lydia Hudson, gave me a pair of earrings worth millions at my coming-of-age ceremony. The moment I wear them, I go from being a rising beauty in the entertainment industry to looking like an old woman in her 80s. Mom stays completely calm. She locks me in the basement and cuts off all contact with the outside world. It isn't until my brother's girlfriend, Stephanie Meyer, kindly rescues me that I finally see the outside world again. But before I can even thank her, I'm stabbed to death by a mob of obsessed fans. "When I visited the first time, your mom only gave me a one-million-dollar gift. It's only your birthday, yet you get earrings worth tens of millions? The Quinton family fortune is mine. If you dare to fight me for it, this is what'll happen to you," she told me. It's only after my death that I learn that she was furious about Lydia giving me the earrings. She spread rumors online that I was a gold-digging opportunist and incited her followers to kill me. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day of my coming-of-age ceremony. Without hesitation, I hand the earrings to Stephanie. If she wants the Soul-Sworn Earrings, I will give them to her.

I was raised by my mother, a single parent who never revealed the identity of my father. For years, that part of my life remained a mystery until her final moments. With her last breath, she asked me to find him. I shared this with my best friend, who had never known her own parents. With tears in her eyes, she confided in me that she longed for a father, too. She tried to manipulate me, suggesting I work as a housekeeper for my father so she could claim him as her own. Soft-hearted, I agreed to the plan. When I finally met him, he was stunned. The resemblance between me and his first love was undeniable. He wanted to take me under his wing as his mistress. "Come to my room tonight and wear something… revealing," he said. To protect myself, I laid all my cards on the table.

As soon as my husband sat at the dining table, he couldn't stop himself from talking. The humiliations of my school days had become his favorite entertainment, served up to his drinking buddies like appetizers. "Back then, she got her clothes torn off in the bathroom, beaten so badly she crawled on the ground like a dog, too terrified to make a sound. If it weren’t for my kindness—" That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him I wanted a divorce. He laughed it off, utterly unbothered. "Seriously? It’s just a joke! That was ages ago. You’re way too uptight—it’s just for a laugh, right?" For a laugh? Was I the only one with a past? Did he think he was untouchable? Maybe I should tell a few embarrassing stories about his precious childhood sweetheart. Fine. If it’s all about “fun,” I hoped his sweetheart found it equally hilarious when her turn came.

The care center called. "Hi, just wanted to ask if you're happy with our service so far." Well, that was odd. I was only eight months along. My baby wasn't even born yet. I had no need for the care center at the moment. So I kept digging. I pressed my husband for answers. He was the one handling the talks with the care center. I wanted to know what was going on. He gave me an apologetic look. "This center costs 120 grand, honey. We can't afford that. They must've gotten the wrong number. You should stay at home instead. I'll give you the perfect care you need." That was it. I wasn't going to waste my time talking to him. My sister, Jessie Gibson, owned the care center, so I called her instead. "Jessie? Yeah, it's me. William sent another woman to your place and stole my spot. I want you to find out who. He's cheating on me, and I'm getting proof!"

My in-laws go on a jungle trip and are stung by venomous bees. An exorbitant sum is needed for their surgeries, so I hurriedly call my husband for help. However, as soon as the call connects, he berates me. "They can die if you don't have money to treat them! Why waste the money? Your family isn't mine—what does it have to do with me if they die? Also, Chloe has no money for food. I'm transferring what we have to buy her a meal." He hangs up abruptly and transfers whatever money I have. Meanwhile, his parents die because we didn't pay to save them.

I was separated from my family at a young age and was adopted by my adoptive parents, who treated me very well. The day I turned eighteen and became an adult, my biological parents called me and begged me to meet them. Even though I had not seen them for years, I decided to fly to the city where they lived for a meetup. On the day I arrived, I shopped for gifts to give them as a gesture of goodwill, all while waiting for my biological brother to come and pick me up. When I finally picked up the gifts, a young woman decided to take them for herself. “I want the smoking pipe, the tie, and the necklace she’s holding!” She signaled to the shop assistant with a quirk of her lips, and the latter snatched the gift boxes from me. “Hey, I saw them first!” I was furious, but she looked me up and down with a sneer. “All these items are from the most expensive brands in the store. They cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Can a penniless loser like you afford them? “I am the daughter of the Ferrero family. My older brother is the heir of the Roccia Gang, the city's most powerful gang. Over here, no one dares fight me over things I’ve set my eyes on.” ‘Ferrero? Isn’t that my biological family?’ I thought. As it turned out, she was the girl my parents had adopted after they lost me. I raised an eyebrow and called my older brother, who was coming to pick me up. “Hey, your adopted sister snatched the gifts I bought for you all. What’re you going to do about it?”

I am the orphaned hybrid of a vampire and a werewolf. After my parents died, I was sent to the Silvermoon Pack, taken in by a distant relative on my father's side. They had three sons—triplets—each carrying the noble Alpha bloodline. In public, they were the epitome of grace and charm. But behind closed doors, they were my living nightmare. They despised me. To them, my blood was a stain, my existence a mistake. But in their world, I was more than just an outcast—I was prey. They made a bet: who would be the first to have me? To them, it wasn't just about desire. It was about possession, control. A way to chain me to them, to turn me into their plaything. They drugged me and watched as I collapsed at their feet, powerless, theirs to toy with as they pleased. In the end, they ruined me. Smeared my name until the whole pack sneered at me. Then came the bonfire festival. They tricked me away from the crowd and threw me into a pit—a collapsed silver mine, its air thick with toxic silver dust. Torches rained down, their flames licking at the walls, while the silver seeped into my body. It poisoned me slowly. Bit by bit, my body unraveled. And finally, my consciousness dissolved into the dark. But when I opened my eyes again, everything had reset. I had returned to the beginning. One of the triplets, Reine, smirked as he leaned in, his voice laced with amusement. "Ayla, what a beautiful name. May I invite you to the bonfire festival?" The bonfire festival? Of course. This time, let's make it your last night.