Tula Para Sa Teachers Day

La sœur adoptive de Nolan Leclair a simplement bu la tasse dans la piscine. Il m’a alors ligotée et jetée dans la piscine, ne me laissant qu’une bouche d’aération de deux centimètres. Il a dit : « Pour la peine de Clara, tu dois en souffrir plus ! » Je ne savais pas nager. Je n’avais d’autre choix que de m’efforcer de respirer, les larmes aux yeux, suppliant qu’il me vienne en aide. Mais il ne m’a fait que des reproches d’une voix froide : « Sans punition, tu ne seras jamais sage. » Je ne pouvais que me débattre désespérément… Cinq jours plus tard, il a finalement fléchi. Il a décidé de mettre fin à cette punition. « Je te pardonne pour cette fois. Si cela se reproduit, tu vas voir de quel bois je me chauffe. » Pourtant, il a ignoré que mon corps décédé a déjà gonflé.

My dad collapsed from a sudden heart attack and died. The shock hit my mom like a freight train, and she blacked out cold. By the time I raced home from college, his body had already been reduced to ashes in the crematorium. Grief barely had a chance to sink in before the debt collectors pounded on our door. That was when the ugly truth emerged. My dad had secretly racked up billions in loans, saddling my mom and me. A year later, the relentless harassment from those goons drove my mom to despair. She ended her life, and I was forced to drop out of school, scavenging dumpsters just to scrape by. But fate had a cruel twist in store. I spotted my "dead" dad, alive and thriving, hosting an extravagant birthday bash for his secret son. I stormed in, desperate for answers, only to be hurled out by security. My head cracked against the pavement, and everything went black. When my eyes fluttered open again, I was inexplicably back on that fateful day of my dad's heart attack.

The day I found out I was pregnant with twins, Vincent Castellano celebrated like a man who had been handed heaven. Fireworks over Brooklyn. Vows whispered against my stomach. Promises that his empire, his loyalty, and his life were mine. That same day, I found out the hospital built in my name had been sheltering his affair. While I was throwing up and fighting to keep our babies safe, he was holding another woman in the next room. So I made my choice. I would keep the twins. But Vincent Castellano would lose all three of us.

My husband, Julian Sutton, is busy with work on the day of my prenatal checkup. His childhood sweetheart, Vera Levine, with whom he's been amorous for years, offers to drive me. On the way there, she suddenly swerves and rams into the back of a truck. The car is flattened. Julian is a doctor in the emergency room, but I don't call him. Instead, I dial 911 and wait for assistance. Why? I called him in my past life, and he took me to the hospital. Our child was saved, but Vera died due to significant blood loss. Julian claimed not to blame me and even arranged for me to stay in a private hospital ward. But on the day I was discharged, he dragged me to Vera's grave and stabbed me. I lost the child and was on the verge of death as I stared into his bloodshot eyes. They were filled with unbridled hatred as he snarled, "Vera wouldn't have died if you hadn't grabbed the wheel! Don't think I'll believe you just because you're acting innocent! An eye for an eye—I want you to die for her, but only after experiencing the pain she felt in a hundredfold!" He twisted the blade and stabbed me repeatedly. My blood splattered on Vera's gravestone, dying it red. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to the scene of the accident.

After getting laid off, I come across a post when I'm looking for a new job. "What sort of job is the most lucrative these days?" There's a comment with the most likes in the comment section. "Find yourself a sugar daddy, duh! My sugar daddy is already the CEO of a company even though he's only in his 30s! He gives me 100 thousand dollars every month. Not only is he handsome and caring, but he's also amazing in bed! Hoo boy, we can keep going around seven times every night!" Someone asks the commentor, "How did you find such an amazing daddy?" "Last May, he was at a bar drinking his sorrows away after an argument with his girlfriend. I consoled him for a bit. That's how we ended up being together. "He kept complaining that his girlfriend was like dead fish in bed, so he was already sick of her a long time ago. You know what men are like, always going for excitement in life." My fingers curled around my phone slightly. Last May, I did get into a huge argument with my boyfriend, Brian Dicht. He never came home that night. The next morning, he returned while reeking of alcohol. I continue scrolling down the comment section, only to see the commentor posting a photo. "See? I was acting all cute and whiny to him just now by telling him that I cut my finger when I was preparing a meal for myself. He agreed to drop by my place to keep me company tonight." In the photo, there's a diamond ring adorning the ring finger that has a plaster wrapped around it. That ring looks exactly the same as the set of engagement rings Brian and I have. At the same time, my phone starts ringing. Soon, Brian's voice drifts from the other end of the line. "Bella, something came up in the company at the last minute. I'm not coming home tonight."

During the outdoor orientation boot camp, Wanda Lawson, the daughter of the richest tycoon, suddenly suffered from a heart attack. She collapsed to the ground and went through a seizure, her complexion bluish-gray. My boyfriend, Joseph Jensen, the drill instructor of the boot camp, overheard my pretentious roommate, Ella Ziegler, murmur, "She's usually fine, so why is she suddenly suffering from some sort of attack when it's time for the drills to start? She must be faking it in order to laze around!" Because of those assumptions, Joseph kicked the medication that Wanda managed to pull out of her pocket into the nearby river. "Get lost if you want to play dead! Don't drag us down with you!" I quickly dived into the river and scooped the medication out. Thanks to my efforts, Wanda's life was saved. Her father was enraged when he found out about the news and wanted to hold someone responsible. With tears streaking down my face, I begged Wanda to not expose Joseph. She nodded quietly to me. Joseph narrowly escaped the judgment. But Ella was expelled by the university right away for her malicious and provocative words. She even had a permanent stain of poor conduct marking her record. On the third day after Ella returned to her village, her family forced her to marry an older man who had remained single for far too long because of his violent temperament. Wanda's father was grateful to me for saving Wanda's life, so he listed me into the list of beneficiaries of his family's trust fund. The amount of money I received was second only to Wanda's portion. On the night news of Ella getting beaten to death by her husband got out, Joseph lovingly invited me to the place we first met so that we could go hiking. When I stood on the steep slope of the mountain, Joseph suddenly snatched the backpack filled with supplies, which included a life-saving whistle, from me. Then, he shoved me off the slope. "Why must you be such a busybody? If you never saved Wanda, she wouldn't have been able to testify against Ella because she'd have died! A murderer like you should just die!" Having broken my spine from the fall, I ended up dying at the foot of the mountain. After my death, not only Joseph got to receive the trust fund thanks to his relationship to me as my fiance, but he also began sponsoring low-income students by using Ella's namesake. That was how he reaped both wealth and reputation in one go. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Wanda suffers from the heart attack.

Right after finishing a meeting, I opened a forum and saw a warning post. The location tag was our company. The title read: “Red flag! What a cheap company. Anyone who joins is a total sucker. They can’t even afford a decent coffee break.” The photo attached showed the expensive coffee and five-star desserts I had just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frowned and tagged the entire group chat, asking if anyone had suggestions about the afternoon tea. A Gen-Z intern who had just joined, Julian Hayes, instantly replied with a voice message: “Boss, no offense, but these assembly-line desserts are full of trans fats. Nobody would eat them.” “A truly humane company hires a Michelin chef to cook and slice everything fresh on site. That’s what real respect for employees looks like.” I laughed in disbelief. Our company’s daily coffee break budget was thirty dollars per person—already considered top-tier in the industry. So I replied, “Since it’s impossible to satisfy everyone’s taste, we’ll cancel afternoon tea from now on and convert the budget into cash for everyone instead.” Less than five minutes later, that post was updated: “Guys, can you believe this? I made a perfectly reasonable suggestion and the lame boss immediately canceled the whole coffee break perk! This is the true face of corporate greed—can’t handle even a little bit of honesty!”

I've died on my wedding day. When I'm in the middle of getting cruelly tortured by the thugs, my parents, older brother, and my fiance are all comforting my younger adopted sister, Arianna Capuano, who's bawling her eyes out. Before I die, I've called them for help. But Diego Atzori, my fiance who's the next Don of the Atzori family, sounds extremely angry at me when he picks up the call. "Carlotta Capuano, Arianna's life is more important than our marriage! Stop putting on an act just to attract attention!" The call goes dead. My life is also entering its countdown. I can only lie in my own puddle of blood, my body broken and mutilated, until I stop breathing entirely. No one can find me at home. They think I'm just throwing a tantrum because the wedding has gotten canceled. Perhaps I've chosen to run away from the altar just so I can attract their attention. What they don't know is the fact that I've never left home. In fact, I've died in the basement of my own house. I died right beneath their feet.

Je l'aimais pendant cinq ans, jusqu'à ce qu'il me pousse dans le feu de ses propres mains. Je pensais simplement être tombée en disgrâce, mais j'avais tort. Il épousait la fille qu'il avait appelée sa « sœur » pendant son enfance. Pendant le mois que j'ai passé à l'hôpital, il n'est pas venu une seule fois. Lorsque je suis enfin rentrée chez moi, je l'ai vue assise sur ses genoux et sourire doucement. Et moi ? Je n'étais rien d'autre que la « chercheuse d'or », « l'étrangère éhontée » à ses yeux. Jusqu'à ce que je tourne le dos et prenne le trône d'Alpha de la meute de la Lune de Sang, il est devenu fou, me poursuivant, le visage baigné de larmes. « J'ai rompu les fiançailles. » a-t-il crié. « Reviens, nous allons nous marier tout de suite ! »

Enquanto toda a família comemorava o aniversário da minha irmã, Jessica Almeida, eu estava trancada em uma fábrica abandonada, sangrando sem parar. Jessica havia contratado quatro capangas que me torturaram até me deixarem por um fio de vida. Com as minhas últimas forças, rastejei pouco a pouco para pegar o celular e ligar para o meu marido. — Otávio, eu estou gravemente ferida, venha rápido me salvar... Estou em uma fábrica não muito longe, não vai tomar muito tempo. Ao ouvir a minha voz fraca e implorante, o meu marido soltou uma risada de escárnio: — Yolanda, já que chorar e fazer escândalo não funcionou, agora resolveu se fazer de coitada, não é? — Você realmente não mede esforços para estragar a festa de aniversário da Jessica. Volte logo com um presente para pedir desculpas a ela, senão desta vez eu não vou te perdoar tão facilmente. Antes que eu pudesse dizer qualquer coisa, a voz de Jessica chamando por ele ecoou do outro lado da linha. Ele não sabia que, no instante em que a ligação terminou, eu já não precisava mais do perdão dele. Nem sabia que aquele cadáver fétido, que o faria franzir a testa e se afastar, mesmo sendo um médico legista experiente... Era exatamente a esposa que ele odiou por tantos anos, Yolanda Almeida...