Years And Months

The day my brother, Chester Rodney, came to the orphanage to take me home, my boyfriend Dominic Huxley looked at me coldly and said, "If you choose to acknowledge your birth family, we're over." I knew he had his pride—he could never accept the difference in our social standing. So, for him, I turned my back on the family I had yearned for my whole life. In the decades that followed, I toiled without complaint, saving every cent to help him rise to success. By the time I was not yet fifty, overwork had worn me down. Lying on my deathbed, my breathing shallow and weak, I watched Dominic on television. He was now an acclaimed scientist, just awarded the nation's highest research honor. Tears welled in his eyes as he thanked another woman. "All these years," he said, "I never felt worthy of Alicia. But now, maybe I can use this award as the prologue to a love I've owed her for decades." The "Alicia" he spoke of was the woman mistakenly switched with me at birth—the false heiress the Rodney family raised as their own. The camera zoomed out. Alicia Rodney stood radiant, graceful, and perfectly preserved by years of luxury, blushing as she accepted the trophy. "I waited for you for decades," she said sweetly, "but marriage is still something I'll need to ask my brother about." Chester, who had long taken over the family, looked at her with an indulgent tenderness tinged with something unspoken. "I was adopted by our uncle back then for one reason—to protect Alicia. Making the only princess of the Rodney family happy has always been my life's mission." Only then did I realize—everything I thought I had chosen freely, every sacrifice I made without regret, was nothing but a trap, carefully woven by two men, all for Alicia. The betrayal pierced my heart. I died without peace. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Chester came to take me home from the orphanage. I glanced past the two men eyeing me with subtle disdain. Without hesitation, I stepped into the car. "Take me home," I said. This time, I'd send whoever stole my life back to the gutter they slithered from.

I was twelve when Henry Shaw took me home from the orphanage, gave me a new name, put me through school, and gave me a good life. Ten years later, his first love returned from abroad. Her name sounded like mine, and her face looked like a mirror image. I quickly realized I had been a stand-in all along. Crushing the diagnosis in my pocket, I decided that I was going to live the rest of my life for myself, even if I did not have much time left.

After falling head over heels for Joe Smith for three years, I finally got the proposal I had been waiting for. However, on the day of our wedding, he did not show up until the wee hours of the morning. When I found him, Joe was drinking happily with a young girl in his arms. “I’m already tired of her clinginess. She’s a joke. Who else would want her?” Much later, he made me a wedding ring and proposed with my favorite jasmine flowers. But a muscular man opened the door instead. The man had two scratch marks on his neck and smirked at the disheveled Joe. “Isn’t it a bit too shameless of you to propose to a married woman?”

I was locked in a fridge for 40 days while the uncensored photos of me spread like wildfire across the internet. In the face of the salacious rumors about me, my mother reacted by reposting them. Then, she turned to warn my sister, "Look at how disgusting the entertainment industry is. Don't join it, alright? Stay home and inherit your sister's assets instead. My dearest daughter must be innocent and pure, unlike her." She forgot. She forgot I only joined this 'disgusting' industry to pay for her cancer treatment.

I'm having a mental breakdown as I face a clogged drain with my feverish and fussing daughter in my arms. Meanwhile, my husband has reserved a hotel to celebrate another woman's birthday. My mother-in-law spits on the floor. "This is what you deserve. You can't even capture a man's heart!" I clench a fist around the winning lottery ticket in my pocket. I want to get a divorce.

In front of the orphanage gates, Rebecca Schwartz, the impoverished student I had been sponsoring, stood glaring at me with a face full of disdain. "If you don't let Freddie come along, I'm not going to your house either," she declared, her tone sharp and unyielding. In the past, blinded by love and hopelessly infatuated, I would have caved to her demands, humbling myself just to keep the peace. But things were different now—I had been reborn. Staring at this despicable pair, who had once caused my tragic demise, a tidal wave of fury surged within me. Yet, it settled into nothing more than a faint, icy smile on my lips. "Then stay here," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Rot in this place alongside your precious Freddie. After all, trash like you belong in the garbage heap."

Five years ago, Esther Quill, who was six months pregnant, was sent to prison by her husband, Bradley Warner, himself.Five years later, Esther went to Bradley with a DNA paternity test paper in her hand and tearfully questioned, "Bradley Warner, how does it feel to kill your flesh and blood with your own hands!?"Ten years of secret love in exchange for five years of imprisonment; ten months of pregnancy in exchange for five years of separation from her flesh and blood.After Esther redeemed her sin with her life, Bradley turned white overnight and offered a sky-high reward, desperately searching for his wife and vowing to find her even if he had to overturn the world.The world thought that Bradley loved Esther to death... Only Esther knew that the man had no heart.It was until Esther appeared on the news with her two daughters and son one day.Bradley looked at the woman he had been yearning for and apologized, "Sweetheart, I was wrong!"The three little ones put themselves in front of Esther."Mr. Warner, our mommy is single, and there are too many people who want to be our daddy. Please go to the end of the line!”

Trapped in a marriage that promised security but delivered only pain, Isabella Rossi has spent ten years surviving under the cruel dominance of her husband, Felix. Bruised, betrayed, and broken, she has known no love, no comfort — only duty and silence. Her world shatters the day she learns the truth: her ten-year contract is finally over, and Felix was never meant to be her husband at all. Ten years stolen. A life built on lies. After trying everything to make Felix let her go, Isabella fails miserably. Just when she’s ready to give up, he makes her an offer — stay with him for three more months, and he’ll release her, with job opportunities and a chance to start over. It should have been simple. Three months of pretending. Three months to freedom. But nothing goes as planned. Somewhere between shared glances, late-night conversations, and the man she swore she hated showing a side she never thought existed, Isabella finds herself torn between anger and affection. And just as her heart begins to soften, her rightful husband returns to claim what was taken from him. Will Isabella reclaim the life that was meant for her, follow the path of truth and destiny, or surrender to the dangerous pull of the one man she was never supposed to love?

Caroline Rossi was finally happy. Three months pregnant, with loving husbands, the Rossi twins. They knew about her dark past, and she knew about theirs. And they had just accepted each other. But what happens when their ex wife, who had been murdered years ago by the twins enemy, returns, alive?

My boyfriend suddenly posted something on his Instagram. [I’ve offered my body and soul to the country.] I was about to ask what he meant when he sent me a plane ticket to the northwest. He explained that the mission was confidential and that he could not be in contact with me during this time. Ten months passed. He was supposed to be away, but he came home unexpectedly and caught me at a prenatal checkup. When he saw my eight-month-pregnant belly, his face turned pale with anger. “I’ve been gone for ten months. How are you pregnant?” I shrugged and said, “Weren’t you supposed to be gone for three years? Why are you back after just ten months?”