Telos Karma Novels & Stories

I came back to life the day Cedric Gramont got drugged. This time? I didn't offer my body to him. I called his so-called soulmate instead. In my last life, I stupidly fell for the uncle who wasn't blood-related. When I found out he'd been hit with something strong, I ignored his plea to call Elyna Humbert—and "helped" him myself. A month later, I was pregnant. He had to marry me. On our wedding day, Elyna, who'd gone abroad to "clear her head," got kidnapped and killed. Before she died, she called Cedric 199 times, begging for help. He didn't pick up once. Too busy sealing the deal with me. Later, he just stared at those missed calls, not saying a word. Then the day I went into labor, he locked me in the basement. I begged him to take me to the hospital. He just smiled, cold and empty, and watched me die screaming, the baby still inside me. Last thing I heard? "If you hadn't gotten pregnant, I wouldn't have married you. I wouldn't have missed Elyna's calls. You deserved to die." When I opened my eyes again, it was that same day—Cedric was drugged, but this time, I knew better.

I suffer from a hereditary form of amnesia. By the time I found out, I had only seven days left. On the first day, I found my boyfriend had fallen for my younger twin sister. With a bitter smile, I suggested we break up. On the second day, my most treasured Lego set was smashed by my sister. Everyone laughed at me, saying I was disgraceful, unworthy of being a daughter of the Fleming family. On the fourth day, I forgot that my sister was allergic to mangoes. She ended up in the hospital, and my parents glared at me with resentment. Even my ex-boyfriend accused me of being heartless. On the seventh day, I woke up in a hospital bed to see my father walking in with a stern expression. He demanded that I quit my job and devote myself entirely to taking care of the family, as nothing more than a housekeeper. But I only looked at them in confusion and asked softly, “Who are you?” When they realized I had truly lost my memory, they lost their minds.

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.

After being Nelson Jackson’s devoted simp for five years, Sarah Paterson became pregnant. Just as she was excitedly waiting for him to propose, Nelson had a change of heart when his high school sweetheart returned from studying abroad. Sarah didn't fight to keep the relationship. Instead, she went straight to the hospital, had an abortion, and immediately agreed to the arranged marriage her family had set up with a business partner's son. But Nelson came to regret his decision. He begged Sarah to keep his child, but she only gave him two words in response. "Too late."

The first experiment in the world of retrieving memories after death succeeds, and my memories are going to be broadcast live all over the Internet. My dad has just learned about my death, but he only says in a disgusted tone, "Who would want to see the memories of someone who is selfish, mean, and has nothing commendable at all about them? Today is the wedding day of Zoe and Cameron. Pause the live broadcast and stop being so sickening!" Zoe is my stepsister, and Cameron is supposed to be my fiance. After that, my father finds out the truth from the live broadcast of my memories. He begs for my forgiveness tearfully but… I'm already dead.

On the day of my mate-bonding ceremony, someone threw a corrosive potion at me, leaving my face disfigured. In front of everyone, Oliver Fielding—my fated mate, the one promised to me for eight years—coldly rejected me and claimed the Alpha's younger stepsister, Isabella Dorsey, instead. That same night, Alpha Lucas Dorsey placed a moonstone ring in my hand. "If Oliver won't claim you, then I will. And I'll make sure you get justice." He brushes his fingers over my corroded, scarred cheek and whispers tenderly, "Evelyn, even in such a state, you're more beautiful than anyone else." Since he claimed me, Lucas has treated me like something sacred. He remembers every little thing I love and hate. Even when the painful memories overwhelm me and I lash out in panic, he just presses a kiss to my palm, his pain lingering in the touch. How could I not be completely lost to him? However, three years later, I overhear Lucas speaking with his assassin outside the council chamber. "That silver-laced corrosive potion I had you prepare—was the dosage correct?" The assassin hesitates before replying, "Alpha, if you care about Evelyn so much, why would you—" "Isabella wants Oliver, so I'll help her by removing the obstacle—Evelyn." He runs his thumb over the herbal sachet I made him and murmurs, "It's just… I've grown strangely reluctant to let Evelyn go. She's my pawn, after all." I wipe away my tears. If I'm nothing more than an obstacle to him, I'll save him the trouble and walk away on my own.

Conan Hamilton's true love secretly wears my wedding gown. She's pregnant, and she slips and falls when we argue. After being taken to the hospital, she's told that she'll never have another child. Conan is furious. He banishes me abroad to be a nun. A year later, he comes to the nunnery to take me home. However, all he finds is that I've long since broken free. I even have a child in my arms. His eyes are red as he snarls, "Are you trying to use the child to force me to marry you? Or do you just want to mock Queenie for not being able to bear children anymore?" He has no idea that the child isn't his. He also doesn't know that I'm about to marry someone else.

Three years after I died, Stella, my wife, decided to divorce me and marry her dying ex. She stormed into my old house like she owned the place, forcing me to sign the divorce agreement. Mom told her the truth—I was already gone. Stella rolled her eyes. "Why's he still pretending? Harvey's dying. I just wanna be there for him. What's so wrong about that? If he won't come out, I'm done paying your medical bills." She thought threatening Mom would shake something loose. But what Stella didn't get? Mom had already stopped treatment. She was just hanging on to watch her crack.

A car accident leaves me unconscious for a full three years. When I wake up, my family bursts into tears of joy. They care for me with the utmost attention. But from their behavior, I sense something is wrong. There are women's clothes in the house that don't fit me. My mother's shopping cart is filled with mysterious baby items. My father's friends send congratulatory messages about a new child, and my husband is always working overtime. When my husband once again leaves me alone under the pretext that there is something urgent at the company, I secretly follow him. Inside a warmly decorated house, my parents and husband sit around a table. A woman who looks almost exactly like me is holding a baby just a few months old, gently coaxing the child to call my husband "Daddy".