Toji Wife Death

Nikita's curse wasn't something that could simply be fixed, like a broken chair or a shattered vase. It was an immutable part of her, woven into the very fibres of her being. Accepting this truth had been a necessary act of survival, one she had embraced long ago, and she knew that the sooner others accepted it, the better. Cursed at a tender age due to her father's unkindness, Nikita was fated to bring death to anything she touched. This curse was a punishment meant to ensure that her father’s bloodline ended with her. The gravity of her curse revealed its brutality when, at just six years old, she accidentally killed her own mother with a simple touch. As years went by, her father's harsh reign eventually met its end, and Nikita inherited his throne, becoming the leader of her pack. However, at her father's funeral, destiny intervened in the form of Rykor, the son of a man who had so cruelly cursed her. Intrigued by the dark and cold Nikita, Rykor saw more than just the curse that shadowed her existence.

After three years of pretending to be dead on livestreams, I finally earned enough money to treat my daughter. I was about to go home and tell my wife and daughter when I overheard a call between the platform administrator and my wife. The administrator said humbly, “Chairman Morgan, Mr. Wells’s livestreams have generated tens of millions in revenue over these years. “The company withheld ninety-five percent of it. Should we keep withholding more?” Stacy fell silent for a moment before answering, “No need. Three years of testing him is enough. He barely moves year-round. He even developed muscle atrophy and didn’t tell me.” John’s voice came through the phone next. He said, “Stacy, Sam can even pretend to be dead, so what if this is an act too? “Besides, Emma’s already used to Sam being gone, so she probably won’t accept having a dad again anytime soon.” After some hesitation, my wife said indifferently, “If that’s the case, then withhold it for another six months.” I smiled and tossed the diagnosis report confirming amyotrophic lateral sclerosis into the trash. There was no need for them to test me anymore. I no longer needed to pretend.

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

I used to be the most promising composer of my generation. But while I was working on my latest piece, my husband Charles Lambert's childhood friend destroyed everything I had. She slashed my face, stole my compositions, and set fire to my house—leaving me to burn alive alongside the kitten I'd just adopted. Then, as if my death were just a spark for her success, she posted my compositions online, claiming I'd plagiarized her. And people believed her. Everyone did. Strangers on the internet sneered and spat my name, and my own husband, Charles, chose to believe her over me. Even the International Musical Society rescinded my award and handed it to her without a second thought. My students, who once followed me loyally, were now fawning over her. I became the laughingstock of the entire internet—mocked, discredited, erased. It wasn't until a week later, when someone stumbled upon the charred remains of my lakeside studio, that they found what was left of me.

Is it possible to fall in love when you don't know what love is? Turns out it is. Chiara had no idea what love meant, she could not comprehend complex emotions. She had lived her life based on logic and certain principles, until he comes in and the sensible way no longer seem right. Murder came easy to her, it was like breathing, yet she could not kill him. For the first time ever, she could feel and it was all because of him. Feeling was something unexpected and strange, it was something she could not control, yet she wanted it. Nothing would make her give up the feeling, not even him. She was everything he despised, covered up in an alluring beauty. Death surrounded her, it lurked around her and so did he. He ought to stay away from her because she was a psychopath, but he could not. There was something about her that attracted him, pulled him in when he should have been repulsed. He hated her with about the same amount of passion that he loved her. Everything about her made him crazy, but he was ready to be crazy for her.

Abductors bind me in a basement, subjecting me to the torment of dozens. Meanwhile, my husband, Evan Foster, dines by candlelight with his lover, Carmen Locke. My abductors grant me one chance to call for help, and I dial Evan's number. I'm certain he will come for me. I believe Evan would give his life for me, as he once vowed that his future held no meaning without me. Clinging to hope, I call the number etched in my heart. However, Evan scolds me for interrupting their date. "You think I'll come get you? Dream on. Maybe I'll bother to collect your body if you die out there." His words crush me, and I do die. Five days later, Evan stands before the autopsy table, grimacing at the mangled remains before him. Even as the police department's finest forensic expert, having dissected thousands of bodies, he condemns the killer's brutality. Yet, despite his cold dismissal of my desperate plea over the phone, he now wears a look of pity. Evan, if you knew these fragments belonged to me, would you still find me worthy of your compassion?

HER : I had to leave, i had my reasons. Leaving changed me. I had to forget my past, to adapt with my present, to face the future. I suddenly came back, but the problem is...I am different now. HIM : She left, without any reason, she didn't even say goodbye. Losing her changed me. I couldn't forget my past, my present stopped, i can't face the future. She suddenly came back, but the problem is...I am different now. We saw them fight, laugh, shout, cry. We saw them fall in love, we saw them get married and start on with their lives. But one man from her past -suddenly comes back- knocks on her door, enters her life and everything after goes downhill. Secret reveals, dreams get shattered, hearts get crashed, old wounds open again, and new scars start to show. They split apart, they hate , they change. And right now; they're not dead, yet still not alive. And the question stays; Will they ever get their love back, or will it just be the death of them both?

At the entrance of the airport, as I watch my best friend, Jenna Bryant, taking the initiative to accept a passerby's request to help bring a USB drive back to the country, I know that she's gotten reborn as well. In my previous life, the passerby had sought us out and requested us to bring the USB drive with us to the country we were flying to. "Once you get off the plane, someone will meet up with you. Don't worry, we'll make sure to reward you for your help. "When we're sure that the USB drive has made it to the safe hands without a hitch, I'll give you a monetary reward." The passerby looked very anxious, not to mention there was money being promised as a reward. It was only natural for Jenna to feel very tempted to accept the request. But I quickly shook my head and turned him down. Then, I whisked Jenna through the security customs and made sure to explain the danger of such requests to her. What I didn't know was that the USB drive belonged to the richest man in the city, and that the one who helped deliver the USB drive would receive tens of millions of dollars as a reward. After finding out about the news, Jenna was enraged. She rushed to my house and stabbed me immediately with a blade. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be the one receiving that reward!" I could only look at my husband, Ricky Manning, in hopes that he'd save me. But he merely replied mockingly, "You lost our ten-million-dollar reward, Valerie! Death is just an easy way out for you!" After I died, Jenna moved into my house and lived a romantic life with Ricky. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day that passerby has stopped me and Jenna. I just chuckle as I look at how greedy Jenna is. What she doesn't know is that this is actually a deadly USB drive.

Catalina made one wish, a wish to bring her parents back. Death answered in form of the Reaper. William El Sega, the Reaper, agrees to grant it for a price. Tied down by his rules, Catalina must let him stay by her side at all times while she fulfills his impossible demand. Catalina doesn't like William and William thinks she is annoying. They barely survive each other everyday but somewhere in the chaos, Catalina falls in love with him. That's when everything starts to fall apart. The people she trusted with her life, turns against her. The wish she wants so badly will cost her losing William too. Now Catalina must choose: get her parents back… or keep the man she was never supposed to love.