Novel & Cerita Zero Cool Hackers

When my wife, Rebecca Walsh, misses my chemotherapy session for the 99th time, I come across a post on social media. "I won my lover's heart with a kidney. She will surely love me to death, right?" The attached photo shows a couple kissing on a street in Targon. The woman has a small heart-shaped scar on her neck. What a coincidence—it is exactly the same as Rebecca's. The woman who nearly dies for me falls in love with someone else so easily. The comments below are full of encouragement from strangers. "Man, you're so brave. Wishing you everlasting love." "If I were the woman, I would love you to death." I leave a comment too. "I hope you are together until you are in the depths of hell, you cheating pair. As for me, the husband, I will step aside to make way for you." One minute later, the post disappears. It doesn't matter. I post on my own account. I write, "After I spent three years battling cancer, my wife fell in love with the man who's supposed to be the kidney donor." The attached images are our marriage certificate and the same photo of them kissing from earlier.

Jaxon Slater and I had lived as a married couple for five years, but we had never made it official. Every time we went to City Hall to sign the papers, Lisa Clark, Jaxon's coworker, found a way to derail it. The first time, she did not know how to format a document, so he stayed behind at the office to help her. The second time, she came down with a fever. He hung up on me mid-call and left without a backward glance. The third time, she had a performance review. He got so caught up in it that he left me at City Hall for an entire day. It happened fifteen times. Every attempt to make our marriage legal was interrupted by something involving her. I saw the pattern for what it was. A man like that was not worth keeping. Thus, I left for good. And the moment I did, he came after me as if nothing else in his life mattered.

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

My wife was gone for 6 months on a business trip. The day she returned, however, she was not alone. Hand in hand, my wife showed up with her lover—my client. This was not even the worst part—she was also 3 months' pregnant. My client, in all his beer-bellied arrogance, hurled the contract at my feet, smirking. "Mr. Carter, your wife has gone to so much trouble for this partnership. Truth be told, I would never, not even in a million years, have agreed to partner with you if it wasn't for her!" My wife caressed her pregnant belly and said smugly, "I was the one who successfully got Mr. Lewis' business! I'll let you have it, though, as long as you agree to get a divorce!" I tore the contract into shreds and roared, "You want a divorce? Fine! I'll give it to you, but I'll never sign this!"

The dying heir to Silverbay's showbiz empire suddenly announces he'll select a bride at random from the city's prominent families, hoping the marriage can bring some luck and save his life. On the night before my own wedding, his men arrive and inform us that the Simmons family has been chosen. My parents have just three days to deliver a daughter to him. As soon as my sister, Roxanne Simmons, hears the news, she breaks down in tears and rushes to my fiance for help. When he sees her crying, Clinton Whitfield drops to his knees in front of me, under everyone's gaze. "Mr. Sterling enjoys tormenting virgins. If Roxanne marries him, who knows what he'll do to her? "But you're already past the marrying age, so he won't be interested in you. Please, help Roxy this once!" He looks away, his voice heavy with guilt as he continues, "Besides, he doesn't have much time left. When you return, I'll marry you." Tears well up in my eyes. I ask, stunned, "And what if I don't want to?" Clinton's gaze turns cold, his earlier guilt replaced by ruthless intent. "Then I'll make sure you go to him myself." I laugh bitterly as a chill runs through me. "Fine. I'll go instead."

I am the biggest female drug lord in Riverdale, who gets shot in the head during a crackdown operation. As soon as the news breaks, the entire internet celebrates. People even crowdfund to take over a giant screen in the city square to display my obituary photo. They say I filled Riverdale with drugs and single-handedly destroyed countless families. They accuse me of leaking operation routes, causing the deaths of my ex-husband's 13 anti-drug force teammates. Hundreds of thousands sign a petition demanding my ashes be crushed and turned into tiles for public restrooms. To calm the overwhelming public anger, my ex-husband, Tyler Lowell, who is now captain of the anti-drug force, decides to launch a public hearing across the internet to livestream my entire life of alleged crimes. On the day of the trial, people thronged the city square. "A woman like her deserves to be cut up into a thousand pieces! How many families are destroyed because of the drugs she sells?" "I hear she is ruthless. She would even stoop to making a three-year-old do her bidding. She is inhumane!" "She got so many anti-drug officers killed. I want to see her end up in hell!" Tyler presses the start button with a blank expression. The crowd's furious curses come crashing down like waves. It is as if they want to tear me apart and condemn me forever. But in the next second, what appears on the giant screen is me in a uniform, standing under the national flag and taking a solemn oath. In that instant, the entire square falls silent.

On my wedding day, Levi Robbins' "close friend" Gina Fields suddenly fainted. Without hesitation, he dropped everything and rushed to the hospital, leaving me at the altar. My mother, witnessing this humiliating scene from her seat, suffered a heart attack. Yet, none of the guests bothered to help as they were too busy gossiping and laughing at my misfortune. By the time I managed to get her to the hospital, we had missed the critical window for treatment. Just then, Levi finally called, his voice urgent and demanding. "Caitlyn, where are you? Gina's condition is critical, and she needs your bone marrow!" "Levi, we're done," I said firmly, hanging up and walking away. This time, I would not look back.

My husband Justin Lansing and I run a breakfast cart in Cratertown. We're up at two in the morning every day. We made thirty thousand dollars last year. When we drove home for the holidays, Justin had a little too much to drink and slapped the car keys onto the table. That same night his uncle pulled him into a card game. By morning he had lost everything. Thirty thousand dollars and the car. He came home and went to his knees on the floor. I rolled up my sleeves and pulled our daughter's New Year money out of my pocket. "Today you're coming with me. You're going to watch how I play."

I've founded a company that doesn't encourage overtime shifts, pays everyone on time, and doesn't impose performance evaluations on the employees at all. My employees are free to bring their pets to work. All of their applications for leave will be approved immediately. Heck, they have unlimited leave as well. I originally think that my employees will like me a lot thanks to these benefits. But I never expect my company to be featured on the Internet one day. It even gets labeled as a sweatshop, much to my shock. "Guys, I can't believe I got hired by a sweatshop company. The boss is extremely stingy who pays us low wages while pretending to be a nice guy this whole time!" My company is then shown in the video. The narrator's voice has been edited, so I can't tell whose voice it is. As I stare at the tranquil office scene in real-time, I find myself falling into deep thought. Meanwhile, the video is still going on. "Let me tell you how evil my boss is. Every other company tends to distribute gifts during the holidays that like food and luxury items. But my boss doesn't bother giving us any of the gifts. He uses the excuse that our company is a very flexible and humane company, so we don't do any gift-giving at all. As if! "He also claims that we don't have to undergo any performance evaluation. In other words, that means our wages aren't transparent at all. Maybe he's been secretly docking our pay behind our backs this whole time! "Being paid thousands of dollars for this job is already bad enough! To make things worse, I'm forced to listen to my boss boast about everything in the world! Do I look like I have that much time on my hands to listen to him blabber? I'm not his mom, for crying out loud!" Everyone in the comment section doesn't hesitate to lash out at me. "Holy shit, I can't believe such soul-sucking companies still exist! Poor you!" "Why are you still staying in that stupid company? Hurry up and leave! If I were you, I wouldn't be able to stay there for a minute longer!" "That's right! That boss of yours is an evil capitalist! He deserves to die!"

I went abroad for a year to further my studies and kept in touch with my girlfriend through video calls every day. One day, I saw her first love posted a photo with a caption: [We are finally back together after ten years!] In the photo, my girlfriend was visibly pregnant, holding the arm of the man next to her with a sweet smile.