The Turtle And The Rabbit Story

My husband and his beloved mistress died together in a car accident. They left me with a pair of illegitimate children. Eighteen years passed in a blur. I poured my heart and soul into raising those children until, at last, they earned admission to Corvell University, the country's top university. But on the very day they received their acceptance letters, my 'dead' husband returned. And beside him stood his mistress. She clutched my husband's arm and beamed at me. "Thanks to your tireless care, my two sons finally made it into Corvell. If not for you, the two of us wouldn't have been free to live so happily together all these years..." Later, my husband demanded a divorce. He wanted to marry his mistress and reunite their perfect little family of four. I didn't cry, nor did I rage. I only smiled and said, "Sure."

My parents take me to court to get my heart and save my adoptive sister. The judge uses advanced technology to extract our memories. A jury of 100 people decides the verdict. If my parents win the case, my organs will go to them. They think I won't dare to show up for the trial because they think I'm evil. However, everyone is overcome by tears when they see my memories and the truth of what happened!

Because I saved my husband during a car accident, I lost my eyesight. He wept, promising to treat me well for the rest of our lives to repay my sacrifice. I cooperated with the treatment wholeheartedly, hoping for a full recovery. But on the day I finally regained my sight, I stumbled upon something that shattered my world. In our marital home, his first love lay beneath him, her flushed face betraying the passion of the moment. Their bodies intertwined, and the air around them thick with stifled moans—a vivid tableau of infidelity. "She's just a blind woman. Why haven't you divorced her yet?" the woman murmured impatiently, her voice laced with disdain as she moved against him. My husband, immersed in pleasure, still mumbled an excuse. "My love, just a little longer. Soon, we'll be together openly…" I turned and left without a word, pretending I had seen nothing. As I walked away, I remembered the witch's sacrificial ritual in the misty forest—only a few days away. My husband's betrayal cut deep, carving wounds I couldn't ignore. I made up my mind to return to the forest, to embrace my identity as a witch once more, and to sever all ties with him. Yet, after I disappeared, word reached me that he was searching for me everywhere like a madman. Rumor had it he had completely lost his mind.

I had just placed the winning bid on an outrageously expensive piece of jewelry, but the auctioneer refused to close the sale. When I pressed her for an explanation, she turned to my husband with tearful eyes and claimed that I always bring different men here to spend money. “Ma'am, as a professional, I can’t sit back and watch you keep deceiving people. “Sir, I’ll refund your money and even cover the loss myself. Just open your eyes and find someone who truly loves you.” My husband looked visibly moved, their gazes locking in front of everyone as if I wasn’t even there. With all eyes on me, I snatched back my black card. “It’s my card, my money. Why are you giving it to some social-climbing chauffeur?”

From a stall in the office restroom, I overhear someone badmouthing me. Henry Fielder, the intern I've been mentoring for three months, grumbles, "The guy's got zero people skills. He's a total fossil, like a robot stuck in one mode." I'm about to push the door open and jump in when someone laughs and piles on. "The paperwork is incomplete. The receipts aren't compliant. I can't reimburse it without a manager's signature. We could recite his canned empathy lines in our sleep!" Once they're gone, I quietly head back to my office. Later, Henry drops a thick stack of expense reports onto my desk. "Quit waving the rulebook and rejecting everyone's reimbursements." I skim the fake receipts, and for once, I don't call him out. Instead, I give a thin smile and say, "I have a headache. I can't make out the words."

I was cleaning up the house on the second day after my wife went for a business trip. I casually instructed the smart speaker. “Smart, play some music.” However, I heard a husky, strange male voice. “Sure. I’m the Sun that loves you. Plus, Lindy, I would like to remind you not to forget about your birthday surprise for Sam tonight.” I stiffened and found the music particularly annoying. Linda Clark was my wife, but I had no idea who Sam was. I immediately called my wife. “Did you use the smart speaker at home?” Linda paused for a moment before she laughed indifferently. “Oh, my friend visited me a few days ago. She might have connected her account to it. What’s wrong?” I laughed and told her it was nothing. After hanging up, I found the login record of the speaker and hailed a cab. I headed straight to the registered company associated with the unfamiliar account on the record.

My three-year-old son looked nothing like my husband. Suspicious, my father-in-law secretly took my son for a paternity test. The results showed that there was no biological relationship between them. Furious and humiliated, my father-in-law erupted in anger, hurling insults at me and even threatening to kill us. My husband, just as enraged, slapped me hard across the face. "You shameless wrench! You've made me raise another man's child for three years!" As I stared at their accusing faces, I calmly produced another report—the paternity test between my husband and his father. It confirmed they weren't biologically related either. Their expressions froze in shock. With a faint smile, I said, "Looks like we don't know for sure who isn't part of this family, do we?"

My neighbors across the hall had a nasty habit of stealing. This included my food deliveries, my shoes from the cabinet, and even my clothes drying on the rooftop. Nothing was safe from them. I had enough. One day, I placed a pair of shoes borrowed from my friend, who was battling an extreme case of athlete’s foot, outside my door. Not long after they stole them, they came banging on my door in the middle of the night, furious about the outbreak on their feet. They even filed a complaint at the hospital where I work. I was so furious that I invited a few homeless patients to move in. A muscular man with HIV, an elderly woman with syphilis, and a young man with severe mental health issues became their new neighbors. The thieves could not handle it and begged the landlord to evict them. However, the joke was on them. My family owned the entire building. If anyone was leaving, it certainly was not me.

I suffer from extreme mental illness. My sister, Ava Monroe, became a facial model to earn money for my expensive medical treatment. She was 5’3” tall but was noticed because of her beauty by a wealthy young man by the name of Dominic Pierce with a leg obsession. He imprisoned her. “This is the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. If only your legs were a bit longer, I’d die with a smile.” Ava was forced to have leg-lengthening surgery. After the operation, her legs began to rot. Dominic found her disgusting and locked her in the basement. He tortured her until she died. I got kicked out of the mental health institute because I could not pay the medical fees. I found Dominic surrounded by beautiful women with long legs. “Those are the prettiest legs I’ve ever seen. If only your face were a little cuter, I’d die with a smile!” I pointed to the painting of Ava and scoffed, “What if I become her?”

With my refreshing and elegant appearance and my kind heart, I became a top-rated celebrity in the entertainment industry.However, the elderly woman I helped ended up deceiving me, trapping me together with her mentally retarded son.While I was raped, she just watched with cold indifference and even took a video to blackmail me."Leona Hansom, since you are so kind, why don't you help me have a grandson?" she said.I tried to escape, but she posted the video online, claiming that I was her son's wife.My career was ruined. My fiancé suffered greatly, but he still killed that woman's son, ending up badly. Yet those I had helped were only interested in the videos the woman had shot and asked for related resources online.Abandoned by the whole world, I leaped from a building with hatred and despair.And so, I was reborn.