Tf Family 3rd Generation

I'm Akira Sapphire Santos-Montenegro, nineteen years old, currently taking Business Administration. 3rd year na ko. Oh if it isn't obvious. I'm already married. I'm the secret wife of my obnoxious professor Thunder Rein Montenegro Written by: @KayeEinstein

My brother Raymond hated me for seven years. After a bitter fight on a freezing winter night, I stormed out and drove away. I never expected a blizzard to fall so suddenly. It blinded my vision. I was attacked by a rogue, injected with a poison that could erase memories and sever blood bonds. My memories became fragmented. When I woke up in the pack’s infirmary, Raymond stood there with a cold expression and casually pointed at a gravely ill male werewolf lying in bed. “He’s your brother. Stop bothering me.” I was stunned. The male werewolf pushed himself up and took my freezing hand, his eyes gentle.
“Come on. I’ll take you home.” After that, I no longer saw Raymond as my brother—just as he wished. So why was he suddenly begging for my acknowledgement after casting me aside so eagerly?

My husband, Gabriel Buckner, and I had been married for three years. I'd gotten pregnant twice, but I'd lost both babies. It was all because of my in-laws' parrot that could talk. The first time I got pregnant and went to their house, the parrot stared at my belly and kept repeating, "Get rid of the baby! Get rid of the baby!" The second time, the same thing happened. It looked right at my stomach and said the same words. I thought it was just nonsense, but to my shock, my in-laws actually took the parrot seriously and forced me to end the pregnancy. I even showed them the prenatal checkup report from my doctor to prove that the baby was perfectly healthy and begged them not to do it. But they dragged me to the hospital anyway and made me have an abortion on the spot. When I got pregnant a third time, I wanted to be extra cautious. I went straight for an amniocentesis. The report confirmed the baby was healthy and even showed a 99.9% DNA match with Gabriel's. I thought everything would be fine this time. But as soon as the parrot saw me again, it repeated the same words—"Get rid of the baby." And just like before, the Buckners immediately tried to drag me to the hospital. I couldn't understand it. The baby was perfectly healthy, and the DNA report proved it was Gabriel's child. So why would they rather believe a parrot and insist that I get rid of the baby?

My son accidentally burns my husband's first love's hand. My husband cruelly breaks my son's hand to teach him a lesson. He's in so much pain that he can't see straight and falls into a lake. Blood dyes the water red. I hold him close as I sob and call my husband, pleading for help. My husband doesn't care, though. "It's just a broken hand—he'll be fine once it's set in a cast. He'll only do worse things in the future if he's not taught a lesson now!" Later, my son drowns in the lake because he's not rescued in time. My husband loses his mind when he sees his body. "How could he have died when he only had a broken hand?"

After graduating from a socialite training course, my sister swears to marry into a wealthy family. To create encounters with Pierce Holden, the prince of the upper crust, she drives my car, wanting to tailgate him and run into his car. I slam the brakes and tell her the Holdens aren't fools. We can't afford to pay for Pierce's car, even if we were to give up everything we have. Later, Pierce throws a lavish wedding that stuns the country. My sister goes crazy with jealousy, saying that she would've been the bride if not for me stopping her back then. Out of resentment, she rams her car into me and kills me. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the front passenger seat. My sister smirks confidently, her gaze fixed on the expensive car ahead of us. "I'm sure Pierce will be enchanted by me once he sees me. I won't need to drive a dump like this once I get together with him." This time, I don't stop her. She puts the pedal to the metal, making the car crash against the sports car worth a fortune.

After my beloved boyfriend dies in a fire, my sister marries a rich man. So, I marry her husband, Jason Grant's father. We go from being sisters to being mother and daughter-in-law. We're still a family, aren't we? Later, Jason pins me to a corner while breathing heavily. "Money is all you want, right? I can give you everything he can. Wouldn't it be much better for you to be with me than with a paralyzed old man?" Oh, he's got this all wrong. Money isn't what I want. His life is what I want.

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."

During my night shift, I refused to help my adopted sister administer fluids to her patient. After the wrong drug is given, I watch a seven-year-old boy die after he suffers an allergic reaction right before my eyes. In my previous life, the boy's family stormed the nurses' station after I'd just finished administering his IV medication. The next thing I knew, I was violently beaten up. "You poisoned my grandchild by giving him the wrong medicine!" But the fluid I introduced into his bloodstream was a simple glucose solution. It couldn't have led to such a disastrous outcome. When I was on the brink of passing out, someone called the police. I thought help had finally arrived, but I was sorely mistaken. The police officer—my brother—pinned me to the ground. "We found your prints on the drug vial. You're a murderer." Then, my childhood friend, a forensic pathologist, held up an autopsy report and accused me of the same crime. "The patient's time of death is around 5:00 am. That's the same time you administered drugs into his system." Unable to prove my innocence, I was ultimately beaten to death by the boy's enraged family members. My brother and my childhood friend had always loved me. Even on the brink of death, I couldn't understand why they would do this to me. Now, I open my eyes and find myself back on the night it all began.

My younger sister, Sophie Sawyer, got pregnant before marriage, gave birth to a baby boy in a small clinic, and then disappeared. The doctor used the address she left behind to find my family and handed the child to me. My parents knelt and begged me to raise him, and that was how I, an unmarried young woman, struggled through life with a child on my hip. When I finally managed to raise him, Sophie came back, standing beside a big-shot boss dripping in gold. She held her son and cried, accusing me of being jealous of her, stealing her child, and tearing them apart. My nephew cut ties with me without hesitation, choosing her over me. My parents kicked me out of the house. The neighbors all condemned me. In despair, I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Sophie gave birth.

After Mom passed, it was just me and Dad, depending on each other. I’ve always had poor health, and people used to taunt me, calling me a “sickly, doomed child.” He kneeled by my bedside, making a promise. “I swear, I’ll get you the best treatment, no matter what. You’ll never suffer again!” Eventually, he became a powerful CEO, going so far as to buy an entire private villa just so I could recover in peace. However, his assistant assumed I was his mistress.  She came in with a group of security guards and surrounded me. “So, you’re the cripple who’s been seducing Mr. Johnson?” “Let’s see if you can still act high and mighty after I’m done with you!” She kicked over my wheelchair, yanked me by the hair, scratched up my face, and finally cut off my hand. Barely clinging to life, I lay there until Dad came back. She held up my severed hand, presenting it to him. “Mr. Johnson, this was a spy sent by a rival company. I took care of her for you.”