The Death On The Nile

After being forced to give my wife's first love my heart, I died in the hallway of the private hospital she had personally founded. My six-year-old son, Ash, had already begged her thrice by the time I had drawn my last breath. The first time was when he tugged on her hand, saying I was coughing up blood. Sneering, she claimed, "So he's finally learned something—teaching his kid how to lie." Then, she had the bodyguards throw him out of the room. The second time was when he clung to her sleeve, insisting that I rambled nonsense due to the pain. "It's just a heart transplant," she opined with a frown. "The doctor already said he won't die." At that, the bodyguards stepped in again and dragged him away. The third time was when he fell to the ground, clutching her pant leg with all his strength, crying that I had already passed out. She finally lost her temper by this point, grabbing Ash by the throat and hurling him out of the room. "I have already said it—Howard isn't going to die. Dare to disturb Skye's rest again, and I'll throw both of you out of this hospital," she warned. To save me, my son pawned the most precious thing he owned—his St. Christopher medal—to a nurse. "Ma'am," he said. "I don't need to live a long life. I just want my dad to live." She accepted the medal and was about to arrange for me to be transferred to the last available room. However, my wife's first love, Skye Whitley, had someone block the doorway with his pet dog. He mentioned, "Sorry, kid. Your mom's worried I'll get bored if I can't see my dog. This room is reserved for him."

When I was eight months pregnant, my husband's foster sister invited me to hike a snow-covered mountain. Midway up, an avalanche hit. We were both buried. My husband rushed to the scene, but before I could utter a word, his sister accused me: "She planned this! She tricked me into coming today!" I tried desperately to explain. He didn't listen. Instead, he lashed out at me. "Sandra doesn't know any better, but you should! So what if she's blunt? Is this your petty revenge? Your pathetic life couldn't even begin to repay hers if she'd been hurt!" Then he left. Took her hand. Walked away. I screamed after him, begging him to save our baby. He didn't even glance back. Worse, he unhooked my safety harness and shoved me out of the rescue group. "Since you're so clever, find your own way down." Not long after, another avalanche hit. This time, I couldn't get back up. Three hours later, Sandra was in a car accident. She needed a blood transfusion. That's when he finally thought of me. But by then, he didn't know—I was already gone. Me, and the child I'd never hold, were still buried under the snow.

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with a heart condition. To force me to save her, he hurt my brother and drove my mom to take her own life. He sneered at me, his voice full of venom. "Della, let’s see how long you can hold out!" However, later, one of his subordinates uncovered the truth about me. "Mr. Finley, Miss Jensen—she... she died trying to save you."

I loved Adriano Ferraro—yeah, that Don—for five freaking years. He wasn't just my fiancé; he was my anchor in a world where loyalty got tested, and weakness got you killed. We had it all mapped out—dreams, plans, a future we actually thought we owned. Until I lost our baby. I reached for him, shaking, desperate for anything. But comfort never came. Instead, it was her. His stepsister, propped up. "Don't buy her act. She's just fishing for attention—again." That snake smiled like she just won a prize for emotional torture, dripping venom while fanning the flames. And Adriano? He bought it. He turned away. In that moment, it hit me—I wasn't just grieving. I was completely alone. The kid I carried, the future I built in my head? Gone. And so was I. I walked out. On him. On the Ferraro Family I was stupid enough to think I could belong to. All I left behind was silence. Empty space where we used to be. Now Adriano's drowning in regret, but it's too damn late. The life we should've had, the love we should've built? Dust. And her? The stepsister who ruined it all? She's paying for every lie.

Habang brutal akong pinapaslang ng kriminal, ang dad ko, ang head ng Criminal Investigation Division, at ang mom ko, ang Chief Forensic Pathologist, ay nanonood sa laban ng kapatid kong si Lily Lambert. Bilang paghihiganti, ang kriminal, na dating nahuli ng dad ko, ay pinutol ang dila ko at ginamit ang phone ko upang tawagan siya. Isang bagay lang ang sinabi ng dad ko bago niya binaba ang tawag. “Anuman ang nangyayari, ang laban ni Lily ang pangunahing prayoridad ngayong araw!” Ngumisi ang kriminal, “Mukhang maling tao ang dinukot ko. Akala ko mas mahal nila ang tunay nilang anak!” Sa pinangyarihan ng krimen, nagulat ang mga magulang ko sa brutal na kalagayan ng bangkay at kinasuklaman nila ang kawalan ng awa ng killer. Subalit, hindi nila napagtanto na ang gula-gulanit na bangkay na iyon ay ang sarili nilang anak.

Jaroch, my mate, had a twin brother, Torma, who was the Gamma of the Shadow Grove Pack. Torma was born with exceptional combat abilities. After Torma died, my mother-in-law, Neradia, feared losing influence in the pack. She forced Jaroch to assume Torma's identity and take over as Gamma. To keep the lie from unraveling, she ordered Jaroch to sleep nightly with his widowed sister-in-law, Lezah, hoping they'd produce a pup. I was furious and protested against it. Neradia slapped me hard across the face. "As long as Lezah doesn't remarry, your husband will continue to be the Gamma. You'll enjoy endless wealth and glory too," she said. I thought Jaroch would refuse, but he had no problem tossing morality aside and getting into bed with Lezah. The worst part was that they flaunted their love right in front of me. When Lezah got pregnant, I decided I'd had enough. I wanted to leave with my daughter, Sylvia Cardin. Instead, Jaroch locked me in a room and went on a family vacation with everyone else but me. That was when a pack of rogues broke into our home. They robbed us, set fire to the house, and were about to kill everyone. I called Jaroch in a panic and begged for help, but he replied in an irritated voice, "Bityah, stop making a scene. Just behave! "Lezah agreed to get along with you. You should learn from her and be more considerate. "From now on, I'll spend Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with you. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays are hers." He then hung up. The house burned to the ground, and I died in the fire. He had already severed our mate bond. He didn't even sense that I was gone. Only Sylvia cried out in the flames. "Mommy! Mommy, please don't leave me!"

My husband's first love was scalded by boiling water. To punish me, he forced me into a customized steamer half my height, turned the heat to its highest setting, and sealed me inside. "I'll make you feel the pain Jessica suffered a thousand times over!" Trapped in the suffocating space, my breath came in ragged gasps. Heat seared my skin, and my body felt as though it would melt. I sobbed, begging him for mercy. "Please! I'm going to die!" But he didn't look back. Holding his beloved in his arms, he walked away. He even locked the door after he left the room. "Don't worry, you won't die. This is the only way you'll understand Jessica's pain." Despair swallowed me whole. I screamed, my voice raw, but the boiling water beneath me splashed up, scalding my skin, stealing even the strength to cry. He left the country with Jessica that same night. A week passed before he finally remembered my existence. "That wretched woman must have learned her lesson by now. Let her out." What he didn't know was that the water had long since boiled away, the heat had faded, and inside the steamer, my corpse lay rotting—swarmed with maggots.

After five years of marriage, the doctor told me I was pregnant. It was something I had waited for so long. Yet, along with that good news came a nightmare. My medical tests showed that I had cancer, and it had already spread. The doctor gave me less than a month to live. I froze, gripping the report so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tears streamed down my face as I thought about how my unborn child would never get to feel a mother's embrace. My grief was interrupted by the ping of an incoming text message. It was from Mom. [Since you're so selfish and refuse to donate a kidney to save Nattie's life, you should divorce Davon. Let him marry Nattie instead. At least that way, you can fulfill her dying wish.] My tears fell harder. It was not that I refused to donate a kidney to Natalie Rivera, my sister, who was in the final stages of kidney disease. In truth, I only had one kidney left. Five years ago, I had already given one to Dad. Now, with my life counting down to its final days, I decided that I would donate my remaining kidney to Natalie. I would also let my husband, Davon Parker, go with her. Before I went into surgery, my parents praised me for finally being thoughtful, saying I had finally learned to care about my sister. They said that once the surgery was over, the whole family would go on vacation together. Davon even said he was proud that I was no longer selfish and promised he would make it up to me in the future. None of them knew I did not have a future. After the surgery, what would be pushed out of the operating room would be a cold, lifeless body.

My adopted sister, Jasmine, lost a million dollars in a bad investment scheme. On that fateful day, a disgruntled client showed up before us, furious that his entire life's savings had disappeared overnight and desperate to exact his revenge. When my boyfriend, Connor Sanders, showed up to rescue us, both of us reached a pleading hand to him in fear, but he swatted mine away and snarled, "Rosie, cut the crap! I know you're just faking, and you better stop, or else karma will come back to you! Jasmine has a heart condition, so I'll need to send her to the hospital right away!" Faking it? If only he knew the truth—that the unfortunate daughter born with a congenital heart disease was, in fact, me! On the day of my funeral, my boyfriend Connor wept upon my grave and blinded himself out of remorse. From that day onwards, Connor "Hawk-Eye" Sanders would live in eternal darkness.

My husband is a geologist. He took his soulmate, who was suffering from a terminal illness, to an active volcano, to fulfill her wishes. However, I was pushed into the lava when we were there. His soulmate then said, "Don't worry about me, just go and save her. I'm going to die soon anyway." I cried for help, "Please save me, I'm pregnant." However, my husband scolded me coldly, "A cancer patient has the right to live too. How can you be jealous of her and claim you are pregnant? Celine doesn't know anything, unlike you. You're an expert at this, you should know what to do. Just save yourself!"