Valiant Statue Real Vs Fake

After a venomous snake bites me, my husband, Daniel Dawson, injects the only antivenom into my adopted sister, Grace Winton. Before I black out, I see my parents, Daniel, and my son, Ethan Dawson, all gathered around Grace, while I lie alone on the grass, completely ignored. When I come to, my colleague shakes his head and tells me the toxin has already spread. Within 48 hours, my body will begin to rot from the inside, and I'll die in unbearable pain. I give up the conservative plan and swallow a potent painkiller instead. Over the next two days, I transfer the hospital my grandfather gave me and every asset in my name to Grace. I divorce Daniel and place both his and Ethan's hands into Grace's. When I put Grace's name on the amyotrophic lateral sclerosis treatment protocol I've spent five years developing, they finally smile, hold my hand, and tell me we're finally a real family. I stay silent and only smile at them. I wonder what their faces will look like two days later when they see my body.

Aku menunggu donor jantung selama dua tahun, tetapi jantung itu malah ditransplantasikan oleh suamiku kepada putri palsu keluarga kaya, Inara. Dokter mengatakan aku hanya memiliki sisa waktu hidup satu minggu. Karena itu, aku memutuskan untuk membekukan jenazahku. Aku menyumbangkan jasadku sendiri kepada studio milik Inara. Pada hari aku menandatangani surat donasi, anakku berlari memelukku dan berkata bahwa akhirnya Mama dan Bibi sudah berdamai kembali. Orang tuaku memujiku karena akhirnya aku mengerti arti kasih sayang antarsaudari dan mau saling membantu. Suamiku pun merasa lega, mengatakan bahwa aku akhirnya melepaskan ganjalan di hati dan menjadi lebih pengertian. Aku tersenyum tipis. Ya, kali ini aku benar-benar sudah belajar untuk patuh. Aku akan mengembalikan identitas putri Keluarga Mahardian kepada Inara dan mengabulkan keinginan kalian semua.

I'm dying at seven months pregnant, and the one behind it is my husband. Hearing that a premature baby's blood can save my sister, he conspires with a shady clinic to take the baby out through surgery. After draining the baby's blood, he walks away—leaving my fragile preemie to die. Later, my parents say, "You owe Yvie. It's time to repay her." My husband says, "We can always have another child. A baby's life can't possibly be more important than Yvie's, can it? The overwhelming rage and grief cause me to bleed to death. My soul floats above them as I watch them prepare my sister's surgery. They don't even bother to change me into clean clothes. No one mourns me. No one loses their mind over my death. Without a care, they wheel me into the morgue and celebrate Yvonne's recovery. When I open my eyes again, I've gone back three months earlier—to the day my whole family forced me to divorce.

My wife—Nancy Valente—had been "missing" for three months after some fake skiing accident. I spotted her at a bar. She was draped over Finley Bennett's shoulder, laughing like she hadn't wrecked my life. "Good thing you came up with this plan. I almost forgot what freedom felt like." Her crew kept clinking glasses, asking when she planned to pop back up. She glanced down. "Maybe in a week. I'll show up once he's lost his mind." I stayed in the shadows, watching her bask in her little escape act. Then I grabbed my phone and called a buddy at the Vital Records Office.

My husband had a heart attack on his way to work and died. All I could see was his body when I rushed to the hospital. I was heartbroken and bedridden. When I was about to die, I saw on the news that he won a lottery ticket worth 300 million dollars. My bestie cashed the prize money with him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when my husband faked his death. But I wanted to make his death real this time! “Are you from the funeral home? My husband is dead. We need to plan a cremation for him right away!”

On the day of my wedding to Elliot Wendell, a fake heiress committed suicide. In the second year of our marriage, we ended up enemies. He hated me, the true heiress, for returning and causing Celeste Dent’s death. I hated him for loving the woman who had taken my place as an heiress for twenty years. During the ten years of our marriage, we fought each other with vicious words and wished for the other to die. Then, there was an earthquake, and he shielded me beneath him. He protected me with his back. The building collapsed, and he ended up a mangled and bloody corpse. As he lay dying, he whispered into my ear, “If I had known that she would die, I would’ve never taken you home.” “If we ever meet again, it would be better if I were your only family.” In the end, I still died in the secondary quakes. When I opened my eyes again, I found that I had gone back in time. It was the day when he brought me to the Dent family to regain my rightful place among them. Elliot suddenly changed his mind and said, “Samantha, I was wrong. You’re not the daughter the Dent family lost twenty years ago.”

"เมื่อโลกเสมือนจริงเชื่อมโยงหัวใจของคู่แข่งให้กลายเป็นคู่รัก" ในโลกแห่งเกม "Kingdom Quest Online" เธอคือ J.W. หัวหน้ากิลด์ผู้เก่งกาจที่ทุกคนยกย่องว่าเป็น "ราชินีแห่งสงคราม" แต่ในโลกแห่งความจริง เธอคือ เจ นักศึกษาสาวธรรมดา ที่ปกปิดตัวตนในเกมเพื่อใช้มันเป็นพื้นที่แห่งความสุขของเธอ เขาคือ แทนไท โปรแกรมเมอร์อัจฉริยะและเจ้าของบริษัท เมกาเบิร์ธ สตูดิโอ ผู้มุ่งมั่นสร้างเกมที่เปลี่ยนโลก แต่กลับไม่เคยลืมความพ่ายแพ้ครั้งใหญ่ที่ถูกฝากรอยไว้โดยผู้เล่นปริศนา เมื่อโชคชะตาเล่นตลก กิจกรรมใหญ่ของเกมพาทั้งคู่มาเจอกันในฐานะพันธมิตรที่ต้องร่วมมือกันพัฒนาอีเวนต์พิเศษ แต่ทั้งสองต่างมีความลับที่ไม่อาจเปิดเผย ระหว่างโลกของเกมและโลกแห่งความจริง ความรู้สึกบางอย่างเริ่มเบ่งบาน แต่เมื่อทุกความลับถูกเปิดโปง พวกเขาจะเลือกเผชิญหน้ากับความจริง หรือจะปล่อยให้มันจบลงเพียงในโลกเสมือน "รักในเกม... หรือจะรักในชีวิตจริง?" 💖 เตรียมพบกับนิยายโรแมนซ์ที่เต็มไปด้วยเกมกลยุทธ์ ความรัก และการแข่งขันที่จะทำให้คุณลุ้นทุกตอนใน "ราชินีแห่งสงคราม vs เจ้าชายแห่งเกม" 💖

My husband, a surgeon, committed a fatal error during surgery. In despair at the loss of his patient's life, he chose the ultimate escape via sleeping pills on the very same night. By the time I reached his side, his ice-cold body was already being carted into the morgue. His death set the beginning of my tragedy. The patient's family, consumed by grief and rage, turned their wrath on me. Their cruel vengeance eventually took my life. As my spirit left me, I came to witness a shocking revelation. My supposedly dead husband was, in truth, alive and well! While I suffered, he enjoyed a life of luxury with his mistress and his new family. He had it all—sleek fancy cars, a stately mansion, and a mountain of wealth. The discovery burned me with rage. So furious I was, I couldn't rest in peace. When I opened my eyes again, I awoke not in the afterlife, but on the day my husband faked his death. I had returned…

I was growing up as the much-hated "fake heiress" in a wealthy family, and my life took a devastating turn after my death. My childhood friend who lived next door leaked my nudes online, branding me as manipulative and promiscuous. This ignited public outrage, with strangers celebrating my demise at my family's home. My parents, eager to sever any connection with me, destroyed our mansion that very night, even going so far as to feed my ashes to the dog. Everyone said I deserved it. On the day the true heiress married my childhood friend in a grand, live-streamed wedding, I gave them a unique wedding present from beyond the grave.

It had been ten years, and Ethan—my mate—and I still didn’t have a pup. One day, he suggested we adopt one from the Werewolf Orphan Charity Agency. “My mate,” he said gently, “pregnancy is too hard for you. You’d have to go through so many checkups and herbs. Your wolf shouldn’t have to suffer like that.” When others heard this, they all said Ethan loved me deeply—that he couldn’t bear to see me in pain. But I saw the truth with my own eyes. He took an infant pup from another she-wolf. “Luckily, Mia isn’t pregnant,” he said. “That way, the excuse of adopting an infant works—and the pup can have a legitimate status in my clan.” I knew that she-wolf well. The same one Ethan used to call a “stupid omega.” Swallowing the bitterness in my heart, I called my mentor at the Werewolf Research Academy. “I want to devote myself to herb research,” I said calmly. Three days from now, during the pup’s first New Moon blessing, I’ll fake my death in a fire. No one will be able to stop me.