White Death Sniper

Seven months pregnant with our heir, I was on the front lines, fighting for my Alpha mate, Ethan. I’d just secured a thirty-million-dollar territory for our pack and rushed home, eager to surprise him with the news. But as I neared the council room, the broken sobs of his adopted sister, Tessa, stopped me cold. "A low-born Silver Wolf like Sophia... she's not worthy of being our pack's Luna." "Ethan, we're the ones who are fated to be together. Mark me... please?" My blood ran cold. I expected Ethan to shove her away, to defend my honor. Instead, he caressed her cheek, his voice a soft, gentle murmur that cut me deeper than any blade. "Just give me a little more time, Tessa. On the next blood moon, I'll sever my bond with Sophia." My world shattered. I fled, only to be cornered and brutally murdered by Tessa. She framed my death as an attack by a rogue wolf before tossing my body from a cliff. It wasn’t until the news of my death reached him that Ethan finally broke. He fell to his knees at the edge of that same cliff, his agonized howl echoing into the night. "Sophia… I was wrong. Please, just come back to me."

My twin sister, wanting to be with her thug boyfriend, secretly planned to apply for a junior college. When I could not talk her out of it, I told our parents and managed to stop her. However, just a month into the new semester, her thug boyfriend cheated on her. She left a suicide note, blaming it all on the long distance between them. She wrote that if she had gone to that junior college, her boyfriend would never have cheated. Grief‑stricken, my parents turned all their rage on me. "You wretched girl, this is all your fault for meddling! What business was it of yours which school your sister went to? Even if she didn't go to college, we could still support her. We didn't need your big mouth!" "If it weren't for your spiteful tongue, your sister wouldn't be dead!" "We were cursed to have a vicious, unfilial daughter like you!" They locked me in her room, ordering me to repent. Then they took her ashes on a trip, saying they wanted her to see the beautiful mountains and rivers she never got to visit in life. A month later, they returned from their travels to find me long dead, starved to a withered husk in front of my sister's photo. Their eyes held no grief, no guilt, only a faint, scornful curl of the lips. In their eyes, my death was nothing more than justice served. My broken soul saw their icy expressions, and despairing tears burned my eyes. Then my sister's familiar voice rang out again: "What business is it of yours which school I go to? You're just jealous that I have a boyfriend, aren't you?"

My mom is a retired supermodel. She's added a monitor to the weight scales at home so that she can monitor my and my sister, Abigail Teller's perfect body weight. If my data goes up by 0.1%, Mom will ban me from eating for the next three days. But the thing is, Abigail keeps eating fried chicken every day, yet her monitor's light is always green. Mom claims that Abigail's still going through puberty. I defend myself, saying that I've gained weight because of the bloating caused by my period. As Mom points at the red light emitted by my monitor, she exclaims, "The data is never wrong! If you've gained weight, that means you've been snacking far too much!" After getting punished many times, I begin believing that being fat is a sin. On the night of my 20th birthday, the long-term diet I've been placed on has triggered my kidney failure, which causes me to bloat up everywhere. I kneel on the floor and plead to Mom that I'm seriously ill. But that's when the monitor lets out a shrill alarm. When Mom sees the 5% increase in my body fat data, she puts me through a devillish punishment. I can feel the electric currents jolting through my body. "It's bad enough that you've secretly snacked on cake, but to even lie in my face about your illness? I'd like to see how long you can stay stubborn for!" Having said her piece, Mom locks the door and takes Abigail out to celebrate her birthday. I guess Mom is correct. Monitors never lie. I'm the one who's at the wrong for being a glutton. That's why I've transformed into a monster who doesn't deserve any love at all. I'm sorry, Mom. I'll only drink water in my next life.

My sister ate the half plate of mango I had left on the table and broke out in hives from her allergy. My brother stormed over, pried my mouth open, and poured the mango juice straight down my throat. "You love mangoes so much, don't you? Today you'll get your fill." The juice flooded my lungs. I choked, fighting for air as my throat swelled in agony, begging him to save me. Instead, he turned and locked me in the basement. "Betty suffered because of you, so don't expect any comfort. Stay down here and reflect on what you've done. Growing up without any real guidance. No wonder you're so vicious." Two days later, my mom remembered me. "Ralph, that's enough. Let Catherine out. If she stays there much longer, she might start resenting Betty." My dad chimed in casually, "What's the big deal? Just buy her something nice to make up for it." My spirit clung to his back, floating along with them toward the basement. I'd like to see how they were going to compensate a dead girl.

My younger brother, Andrew Midler, pushes me off a cliff, and my life hangs by a thread. Yet my mother, Edith Callahan, the leader of the rescue team, only busies herself with checking on Andrew, who has sprained his wrist. I beg in a faint, faltering voice for her to save me. She, however, looks at me with cold indifference. "Your brother is hurt! Why didn't you protect him? And now you're pretending to be weak? Well, you can stay here by yourself and reflect on what you've done!" She turns and orders the entire rescue team to leave, forbidding anyone from helping me. In the end, I die alone in the desolate wilderness. Upon learning of my death, Mom hysterically holds my already decaying body close, calling me her precious son repeatedly.

Five years after my death, my daughter, Emma, dialed Xander Green’s number. She cautiously asked, "Do you like my mom?" She was trying to get an answer to the question I once wrote in my diary. "Xander, do you like me?" Unexpectedly, the voice on the other end sneered, "Did your mom put you up to this? Using her own daughter like a pawn? What an unfaithful woman! She’s already with your dad, yet still trying to rekindle things with me?"

My wife, Christine Leigh, forced me to the brink of death all for her first love, Henry Carson. To give him a liver transplant, she sent me to the surgery table. I told her I had cancer and that the doctors had advised against the surgery. She just looked at me with an undisguised contempt, "Jason Lowe, stop with your petty tricks. Don't forget, you owe our family your life!" I lowered my head and smiled bitterly. I never left the surgery table.

After my eight-year-old twin sister was kidnapped, my dad became the person who wished for my death more than anyone else in the world. He would always say, "Zachary is an ungrateful brat! A good-for-nothing!" So, when the news of my disappearance reached the school, my dad leads everyone in cheers. He even spreads word of my misdeeds everywhere. "Zachary stole a poor student's tuition fees and even made a false police report accusing the teacher of hitting him!" "That's right! He even helped traffickers kidnap children—his own sister was almost sold by him! I hope he dies soon!" Five years later, my memories are extracted and projected onto a large display screen. And yet my dad, who hates me to the core and wishes for my death, falls to his knees and begs for my forgiveness the moment he learns of my death.

My dad is a fan of tough love parenting. When I was a kid, there was a time when I obtained full marks on two subjects. But he told me, "Your grades don't mean anything in life. If you were a true man, you'd leap down five floors without batting an eyelash." Some time later, I was awarded for my act of bravery. But Dad scoffed in my face. "Not even a hair is harmed on your head. Why should you be awarded anyway?" I thought Dad wanted me to go through more training in life. On Christmas Eve, he ditched me on a snowy mountain under the guise of wanting me to go through more training. He didn't give me a tent or a lighter. Later on, Dad even brags about his parenting method to his relatives and friends. "A real man should survive and thrive in a desperate situation! I told Julian that he can forget about being my son if he can't even make his way back to the summit!" But the red dot on the GPS tracker installed in his phone hasn't moved for the past three hours. The truth is, I've already frozen to death in the mountains. Trapped in my fist is a scrap of paper detailing the SOS number that Dad had torn apart earlier. Meanwhile, my soul is currently floating above the dining table while watching Dad brag about his tough love parenting.

When a turbulence strikes an airplane that's tens of thousands of miles above ground, the pilot, Kevin Glover, uses the opportunity to confess his love for the co-pilot, Serena Burke. Both of them come clean about their feelings for each other, not knowing that Kevin's wife, Henley Johnstone is on the plane as well. The brimming affection in Kevin's tone hurts her ears. "Serena, I'll marry you." At the same time, Henley's son, Isaac Glover, who sits in the row in front of her, pipes up in a disgusted tone, "My mom isn't worthy of remaining as my mom. I want Serena to be my mom instead." Henley feels crushed and defeated. Sorrow overwhelms her senses as well. Once the plane overcomes the crisis and lands on the tarmac, she calls her assistant, Edith Pratt. "I want to sign up as the test subject of the death-faking pill. I don't want my husband and son anymore." Henley sets the date of her death on her wedding anniversary. Once all preparations are done, she takes the death-faking pill. When she wakes up, she'll embrace her new life. Some time later, when Kevin finds out about Henley's death, he wails like a madman.