Weasley Family Tree

I'm a medical miracle by nature. My blood is a natural antidote that can cure various poisons. When Miriam Wiley, the unmaterialistic heiress of the upper crust, gets bitten by a venomous snake, her life goes into countdown. At the critical juncture in my previous life, I slit my wrist and bled in order to help her cure the poison. After saving Miriam's life, I found out that whoever saved her would become the future son-in-law of the Wiley family. But the first thing Miriam did after inheriting her family fortune was to drain me of my blood. "Back then, Cedric was already rushing to me with a special drug! If I could wait for five more minutes, I'd be able to marry him! "You just had to interfere with my plan by stealing the position of the son-in-law from him! You made him slit his wrist and take his own life out of despair! "You claimed that your blood is an antidote to all the poisons in the world, right? I'd like to see how many antidotes I can actually produce from your blood!" After I got my blood drained, I was tossed into a cage filled with predators. My corpse ended up being battered and broken. As for my parents, they took some poison and ended their own lives after the Wileys forced them into bankruptcy. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Miriam gets poisoned. Her mother, Verna Seymour, looks at me expectantly. "I heard that you're a medical miracle. Are you willing to save my daughter's life?" I quickly turn her down. "Those are just rumors, Mrs. Wiley. Besides, it's unsanitary to use blood as a form of antidote. You don't have to worry, though. I heard that Mr. Campbell is rushing toward this place with a special drug as we speak. Surely Ms. Wiley will live to see the day!" I'm starting to look forward to the outcome. Without my antidote, Miriam can forget about inheriting her family fortune. In fact, it'll be a miracle if she can live for an extra month.

I had not asked my mother for money in three months. She thought I had finally learned to be a good, obedient son and, in a rare act of mercy, sent me a message. "I already had Calvin pay the registration fee. Learn to be more sensible from now on. Stop thinking about scamming money from the family. "I know your dad is having a hard time right now, but since you chose to stay with me, you need to be on the same side as me." When she said this, she did not yet know that I had already transferred my in-state residency out. No one believed that I, Miles Hart, who appeared on the surface to be the young master of a wealthy family, had a closet filled entirely with clothes bought before my parents’ divorce. For three full years, there was not a single new piece of clothing. Every dollar I spent privately had to be submitted through an internal approval system, with a written application and justification. Even fees for school activities required screenshots of official notices and formal quotations. All expenses had to pass the review of my stepfather, Calvin Pierce. Just because my mother constantly suspected I was siding with my father and was afraid I would secretly funnel money to him. A month ago, I needed $500 for a math competition registration fee. Calvin rejected the request again and again. "There isn't enough justification. "Why do you have to participate in this competition? "Wait until the end of the month for unified approval." By the time approval finally came through, the registration window had already closed. Mom did not know that I had endured these three years for only one reason: an in-state residency, which would make college admissions easier. Now, I was officially recommended for admission to a top university. This family was no longer a place I needed to stay in.

I specifically accompany my wife, Sophie Caldwell, to visit her family during the holidays. My mother-in-law, Margaret Jackson, brings over a basket of apples. Then, she says in a half-teasing manner, "These apples are meant for the Jacksons. Once you've had your apple, you'll be blessed with a life as sweet as these apples. By the way, outsiders aren't allowed to take the apples." Everyone begins fighting for the apples happily. So, I grab an apple of my own too. The next thing I know, the atmosphere in the living room goes eerily quiet. Sophie drags me to a corner and starts berating me. "Are you so poor that you can't even afford to buy your own apple? Must you steal apples from my family? "Didn't you hear my mom saying that outsiders aren't allowed to take the apples? Why did you even take one from the basket? "Thanks to you, now Julius doesn't have an apple!" I look around my surroundings. It turns out that there are only eight apples in total, while we have nine people sitting in the living room. So the "outsider" she was talking about is me. I decide to hand the apple over to Sophie's godbrother, Julius Sterling. Then, I call my dad on the phone. "Dad, you don't have to bring the holiday gifts over now."

Reborn as the long-lost Rogers heir, missing for fifteen years, I avoided every chance to bond with my two brothers in this family. When they tossed me Vivi’s discarded, ill-fitting gown for the family gala, I smiled and put it on. When they sent Vivi to get an elite education while ordering me to scrub the utility room, I picked up the mop without a word. When they let Vivi chase love and dumped her rejected suitor on me, I didn’t fight. I accepted her leftovers with a calm nod. This was all because in my past life, I had spent my entire life desperate for my brothers' approval, only to end up despised by everyone for it. When I died in the crossfire of a gangland shootout, my own son pushed my body away in disgust. "Mom, did you really waste your whole life on such a petty fight with Aunt Vivi? Dying for the family would have been a more dignified end. At least then you wouldn't have disgraced our name." I left this world filled with resentment, only to open my eyes and find myself back at the moment I first set foot in the Rogers estate. This time, I'm done fighting. The power, the name, the honor. I'm letting them have it all. I’ve already been accepted into a closed-door medical project. Soon they will never see me again.

After my parents died, the family went bankrupt, leaving my brother and me with a large sum of debt. To pay it off, he became a haunted-house test sleeper, while I acted as a corpse on film sets. For five years, we worked tirelessly, not daring to rest a single day—and still, the debt wasn't cleared. By the end of the year, only 13 thousand dollars remained. Gritting my teeth, I signed up as a clinical trial volunteer. When it was over, I dragged 13 thousand dollars in cash, brimming with joy, to show my brother. But I found him frowning, on the phone. "Dad, Mom, Lily's doing well. Have fun abroad," he said. "She's stopped spending recklessly. The punishment ends next year." What? Our parents weren't dead? Our family wasn't bankrupt? The five years of hardship, every ounce of struggle—I'd endured it all as punishment for my love of spending. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spilled out.

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

During my night shift, I refused to help my adopted sister administer fluids to her patient. After the wrong drug is given, I watch a seven-year-old boy die after he suffers an allergic reaction right before my eyes. In my previous life, the boy's family stormed the nurses' station after I'd just finished administering his IV medication. The next thing I knew, I was violently beaten up. "You poisoned my grandchild by giving him the wrong medicine!" But the fluid I introduced into his bloodstream was a simple glucose solution. It couldn't have led to such a disastrous outcome. When I was on the brink of passing out, someone called the police. I thought help had finally arrived, but I was sorely mistaken. The police officer—my brother—pinned me to the ground. "We found your prints on the drug vial. You're a murderer." Then, my childhood friend, a forensic pathologist, held up an autopsy report and accused me of the same crime. "The patient's time of death is around 5:00 am. That's the same time you administered drugs into his system." Unable to prove my innocence, I was ultimately beaten to death by the boy's enraged family members. My brother and my childhood friend had always loved me. Even on the brink of death, I couldn't understand why they would do this to me. Now, I open my eyes and find myself back on the night it all began.

On my way back from a business trip, I scrolled past a video. A newborn was abandoned by the roadside, crying so hard. As a first time dad, I couldn’t help looking at the baby a little longer. I froze because that baby looked exactly like my son. I had booked the best confinement center in the city for my wife. I had checked them into a VIP suite. I had employed a nanny and a nursing team to look after my wife and my son full-time. I broke out in a cold sweat. My wife didn’t check her phone, so I immediately called the center's manager, Ms. Thompson. She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith. Your wife and baby are perfectly fine. They just fell asleep.” The next second, she sent me a photo of my sleeping baby. I stared at the tiny, unfamiliar face. In that instant, the blood in my body turned to ice. I was only gone for four days. So how was my son a different person?

I'm attacked after the murderer who took my sister's life is released from prison. He pins me to the forest floor, allowing me to scream and shout until I run out of strength. As the fireworks explode above me, blood pools around me. Two months later, my husband becomes his next victim. I burst into manic laughter when I see the torment he has to suffer.

In my previous life, I was taken away by a poor family. My younger sister, Elsa, was adopted by a wealthy family instead. Unexpectedly, Elsa only got to live there for less than five years before getting cast out. She ended up dying on the streets. Meanwhile, I got into the best school thanks to my outstanding grades. Then, I furthered my studies overseas with my adoptive older brother, Flynn Cullen. With my own hands, I built my own business empire brick by brick. Years later, Flynn and I received our parents' blessings and got married. Soon, we had children of our own. I had a happy and smooth-sailing life. Now, I'm reborn. This time, Elsa makes an entirely different choice. She runs into Flynn's arms and greets him in a sweet tone. After taking the adoptive parents' hands, she shoots a smug glance in my direction. "Enya, you should have a taste of the suffering that comes with that wealthy family. I can't bear to spend a moment longer in that cruel place!" I looked at Flynn, hoping that he'd say something. Instead, I saw him shielding Elsa from me protectively. He just looked at me icily. "Don't get close to my sister!" In the end, I walked toward the limo while Elsa watched me victoriously from behind.