Thunderclap In The Good Dinosaur

I'm the daughter of Don Falcone. After I got back from studying abroad, my family threw a welcome-home banquet, conveniently setting me up to meet the fiancé my father had handpicked for me—Santino Moretti. My father praised the guy to the skies in his letters: he was the heir to the Moretti family, elegant, ruthless, drop-dead gorgeous, and holding half the city’s underground operations in the palm of his hand. I arrived at the Elysium Hotel right on the dot. Just as I was about to take a seat, a hand shoved me hard. A woman's shrill voice pierced my ear. "Livia, what's a Sicilian peasant like you doing here? This is the Imperial Suite. Do you think you even deserve to breathe the air in a place like this?" I recognized the woman. It was Bella, a bitch who had always had it out for me back in college. She was clearly trying to humiliate me. Instead of getting mad, I smirked. "Whether I deserve to be here or not—is that for you to decide?" Bella sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm Mr. Santino's personal assistant. Today, Mr. Santino is hosting the eldest daughter of the Falcone family here. This isn't an occasion for bottom-feeding trash like you." "Be smart and crawl back to your slum." I pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé. I wanted to ask him if it was a tradition in the Moretti family to let their dogs bark at the front door.

On the eve of the National Robotics Championship, I smashed my carefully designed bot to pieces and announced my withdrawal. Everyone said I was a fraud who was quitting out of fear of being exposed. Online, the netizens mocked me relentlessly. Only one person, Adrian Cross, the so-called genius of the century, spoke up in my defense, his voice dripping with false sincerity, "I believe in River Lowell’s skills. Only he deserves to be my opponent. No matter what setbacks he’s facing, I hope he comes back to the arena and proves himself." In my previous life, the robot I built was identical to his. No matter how I tried to prove he had copied me, Adrian stood before the cameras, wearing his benevolent mask, and said, "It’s fine. This robot can go to River. I can always build something even better." His fans swarmed me, tearing me apart online, and no one believed in my talent. I swallowed the humiliation and vowed to rebuild my robot from scratch. However, when I was assembling it, the Power Core in my kit exploded, shattering my skull. That same night, I was rushed into the ICU. Netizens clapped and cheered, saying I got exactly what I deserved. That night, my girlfriend, Lila Hart, signed the hospital’s DNR consent form without hesitation. Until the day I died, I never understood how Adrian had gotten my robot’s data or why Lila had joined forces with him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day of the competition.

After my mate, Drew Bruce, vanished from the pack warzone, I cared for his gravely ill parents in his stead for three years. In the end, he returns with his wolf missing and a young she-wolf by his side. He begs for the Alpha King to break our mate bond. Drew taunts me, "Jenny Watson, your peaceful life in the pack is thanks to my bloodshed on the battlefield. You'll never be someone like Sherry Lowe, an outstanding physiotherapist, who can fight alongside me. "It's a good thing our mind link has disappeared ever since I lost my wolf. Being with Sherry made me realize how dull you are. "You're useless. If it weren't for the Moon Goddess' guidance, you would've never been worthy of being my mate." When his parents find out, instead of talking him out of it, they fully support his decision. They completely disregard the dedication and sincerity I showed them over three years. Heartbroken, I turn and leave for the field hospital. He has no idea that I come from a long line of healers. When I earn the title of chief field healer with nothing but my own skill, he goes mad with regret.

I've been married to my Mafia Boss husband for 15 years. When we first got married, he couldn't even afford a ring, but I didn't care; I loved him. I hid my identity. I secretly used my family's influence to help him build his empire from scratch, and I even bore him two children. His adopted sister always mocked me, calling me an old-fashioned housewife and saying I wasn't good enough for him. To avoid embarrassing him, I always endured it. Until our 15th anniversary, because both me and his adopted sister wore red dresses, he told me to stay in the kitchen: "Sofia's right. That red doesn't suit you. Don't come out until the banquet actually ends. Stay in the kitchen. I don't need the Dons from New York seeing you and getting the wrong impression." I was completely heartbroken and didn't argue anymore. I dialed a number I hadn't made in 15 years: "Principessa?" "It's me," I said, my voice steady. "Tell those old fossils on the Council... Isabella Corleone is coming home."

My company hosts an appreciation gala to thank long-time clients. I go to the company's cold storage to retrieve the batch of wine just flown in from overseas when a stream of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "That was close! She almost caught Daisy covered in red wine and looking all seductive. Good thing Tristan reacted fast and hid her in the freezer." "Can Scarlett just leave already? Look how cold Daisy and Tristan are. They are shivering. What if they catch a cold?" I pause mid-step, my gaze landing on the freezer behind me. Red wine is dripping out, and a piece of fabric is caught in the door. On it, I see the motif I personally sew onto my fiancé's clothes. Just then, the comments appear again. "Tristan plays it cool, claiming he is all about platonic love and staying chaste for Daisy. What a touching romance!" I smirked coldly. The platonic act is fake. The truth is he's cheating on me. Without a word, I turn around and toss the clothes they leave on the floor into the trash. Then, I lock the cold storage door and call the boss, who is in the middle of giving a speech. I exclaim over the phone, "A thief broke into the company! I locked them in the cold storage. Please bring some men and come over quickly!"

In my previous life, my girlfriend's childhood friend impersonated a rich heir and messed around with the fake power he had. I exposed him, and he crashed his car into me. In my final moments, my girlfriend's sister begged on her knees, pleading for my girlfriend's aid, hoping she could save me, but my girlfriend did nothing. "He wouldn't do that. Zacharias is beyond this. He would never dirty his hands for a nobody like this guy. He might be my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean he can do anything he wants. He'd better know his place." My girlfriend's sister remained on the ground for three days. In the end, Zacharias dragged her away, violated her, and killed her. Even at my dying breath, my girlfriend was still covering up for her childhood friend. She refused to believe Zacharias hit someone with a car and violated her sister. And then I was reborn. This time, I did not beg and plead for my girlfriend to give me a moment of her time. I called my brother instead. "Hey? Yeah, it's me. Some bastard impersonated me and is dragging my name through the mud. I need you to take that guy out. Also, I'm not marrying Annabelle Lawson. I'm taking her sister instead." I gave the Lawsons a lot of resources so they could grow, and what did I get in the end? An ungrateful woman who would leave me stranded and dying all for another man. With all their resources pulled, Annabelle and her childhood friend would be saying goodbye to their good old days and hello to their personal hell.

"Kylie, this year's annual bonus is evaluated based on two factors: performance and peer reviews. "Since your team never participates in company social events, your coworkers all gave you poor ratings. That's why this is your year-end bonus." Around me, the male employees were receiving bonuses in the tens of thousands. And yet, the women I led—developers who had worked for over ten years and built every core system the company relied on—each received nothing more than a coffee gift card and a mug engraved with the company logo. I laughed out loud. Then I turned and walked into my office and submitted resignation requests for the entire technical team. The manager, Preston Alec, sneered. "Good riddance. AI can replace women like you who only know how to have children." A few days later, the very people who had mocked me were standing in front of me, begging me to come back. I smiled in return. "AI conquers everything, doesn't it?"

To defuse the bomb strapped to the hostage, I had no choice—I cut off all her clothes. My clueless new wife, Dana Poole, blasted it online. She cried as she faced me. "Why not at least leave her underwear on? You were saving her, I get it—but did you have to take everything? Doesn't a girl's dignity matter? With cameras everywhere, how is she supposed to live after this? You couldn't even cover her up?" The backlash exploded. The unit benched me to calm things down. So I stopped caring. I followed procedure, no improvising, no extra effort. Then one day, at the busiest mall in the city, Dana's mom got strapped into a brand-new linked bomb. This time, the whole unit panicked.

I lapse into unconsciousness for a few days after a high fever. When I wake up, I see my boyfriend and his best friend standing by my bed. I want to enliven the atmosphere, so I joke, "Who are you?" Eric Cobb, my boyfriend, is taken aback. I almost laugh at the look on his face. Then, he points at his friend, Jonah Mullen. "Don't you remember? Your boyfriend's been panicking over you. As his best friend, I have to be here with him." This time, I'm the one who's taken aback. Unexpectedly, Jonah steps forward and says, "That's right. I'm your boyfriend, Jonah Mullen."

My roommate had a strange obsession with taking cold showers on the balcony. She claimed it helped detox her body and brightened her skin. I warned her, “You should be more mindful of your privacy.” However, she only laughed, accusing me of being jealous of her flawless figure. Then, disaster struck. Her shower photos were leaked online, and soon after, thugs showed up at our door, demanding to humiliate her. Instead of taking responsibility, she turned on me. “It’s her! She’s the shameless one showering on the balcony!” Betrayed and defenseless, I was dragged into the woods and left to die, my life snuffed out in humiliation and pain. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on that fateful day—the day my roommate took her first cold shower on the balcony.